by G R Jordan
*
Austerley was confused by the snow and why he hadn’t disappeared into oblivion with Dagon. He was also feeling like he was on an unstoppable fairground ride. And to top off everything, Calandra was now descending from above looking like pure ice. Her body had turned to glass with little frosty patches running across and through it. They always said you can hallucinate at death to ease the pain. This was almost worth it.
Her wings were unfolding behind her and the ties that bound her snapped loose. Austerley smiled at the woman he had known intimately, with all her glorious strangeness. But his smile wasn’t returned and he saw a hate he had never known in her.
“What did you do? Where’s his bitch? She was meant to die here.”
“Cally, what’s wrong with you? You look cursed!” He didn’t know how and when, but Austerley, the expert on everything people never wanted to get close to, never mind be an expert of, recognized that something else had taken hold inside Calandra.
“She won’t take him from me. They took Ferrean, but no one will take him.”
“Who the hell’s Ferrean?” asked a bemused Austerley.
Calandra glided up to Austerley using her wings and touched his face. A searing cold gripped his cheek and he felt the moisture lifting clear, his cheek burning. Looking into her eyes, he saw someone else in there, someone he had heard of in the highest reaches of the Alps from a hermit. But she had been only a rumour.
The cold in Austerley’s cheek was spreading into his body and he felt himself judder from it. He would be dead shortly if she didn’t release her grip. But maybe… he thought about what happened the last time he tried to transfer part of a person. Tania’s foot. The young witch’s darkness had transferred to him. What could this do to him or Calandra? The hell with it, he would be dead soon if he didn’t try.
Reaching out with his right hand, Austerley grabbed Dagon’s tentacle that held his waist. With his left hand he grabbed Calandra’s hand that gripped his cheek. The power from the rift was strong, there was so much potential in the air, so much flowing through from the closeness of the worlds. Last time he had had to mix potions and bring elements into play but here he could just tap into the energy around him.
Austerley tried to chant but his chin was locked tight. The cold had spread through his face and now he was struggling to articulate any words. He desperately forced his breath out to form the chant. He saw Calandra’s eyes grow wild as it dawned on the force inside her what he was doing. His jaw cracked as he forced the words out but he felt a surge of power. This was the way to go out, thought Austerley. Take this, Dagon, you bastard!
The tentacle wrapped around Austerley began to freeze. Although dark already, it took on a new darkness tinged with red which ran along its length, disappearing into the rift. It was followed by a racing cold which froze the tentacle solid. The incessant waving stopped and was replaced by a cracking sound. The tentacle around Austerley shattered and he fell. Got you, he thought as he fell.
Calandra suddenly felt like someone had left her house. Inside, she felt empty. But her instinct took over and she dived down to grab Austerley, catching him just above the rift. With her wings she tried to climb but she was carrying too much weight. Unseen, another tentacle emerged through the rift.
*
On the platform the wind had stopped but the ice remained. Nefol had stood up and was already turning the crank handle for the rope, but the speed she was turning it at told Kirkgordon that there was no one on the end. His heart raced as he wondered what might have happened to his colleagues. Was Cally dead? Is that why the wind had stopped?
The end of the rope appeared and Kirkgordon swung the beam round. Pulling down on the rope he tied it round his waist, knotting it several times. Nefol tapped him on the shoulder.
“I’m lighter, more nimble, let me get her.”
“No. I’m stronger.”
“But how will I pull you up?”
“I’ll climb. I’ll get back up.” But Kirkgordon had resigned himself that this was probably a one-way trip.
“She’s my friend.”
“No! Nefol, no. Your father would want more than this for you. I owe him. I owe him my life. So you keep yours.”
Before Nefol could speak, Kirkgordon ran and threw himself off the platform. Dumb-ass, thought Nefol. Good thing I have a few tricks up my sleeve. From inside her costume she produced a small glass box. Inside, a small figure with fat arms looked out at its mistress. Strength comes in small packages, her father had said before giving her this for her ninth birthday. She dropped the box and it shattered. Then before her grew an ogre, thick-set with head bowed awaiting instruction. He’s built for power, thought Nefol.
*
It was like the worst bungee jump ever. The stars below hurtled up at him and he suddenly realize he had no way of stopping. The rope would reach its end and then rip into his waist or pull the pole from the platform. Beneath him he saw Calandra, wings unfurled, fighting to climb. She was looking up, smiling through her efforts as she saw him. And he was about to smash straight into her.
In sharp jerks he slowed down, his speed eventually reducing to an easy descent, then he came to rest beside Calandra who working hard to stay airborne. Austerley was hanging below her, his collar in her hand. He was shaking with fear but was conscious. Kirkgordon had reached the end of the rope.
“About time,” laughed Calandra. There were parts of her that looked like ice but there were also patches of skin, pale and milky white. Her long hair, half frozen, stuck out behind her but she looked magnificent. “I can’t hold him forever.”
Kirkgordon caught himself and grabbed the rope above him. He shimmied up the rope to leave a loose loop beneath him. Calandra manoeuvred Austerley into the loop and Kirkgordon swung himself through the open loop he had created, tying Austerley into the rope.
Calandra took a hand from Kirkgordon and prepared to beat her wings when the rope moved. Whoever was pulling three people up would require help.
Kirkgordon yelled hard into the cavern, hoping Nefol would hear. His voice reverberated into the silence and he felt the rope flinching. He looked down at Cally’s beaming face as she beat her wings. Then he saw the tentacle reach out and grab her round the waist.
In Dagon’s Grasp
The tentacle pulled hard. Kirkgordon felt it through his arms as Calandra clung on to his hands so incredibly tightly. The smile on her face turned to panic as the tentacle gripped tighter and the whole rope strained. Kirkgordon held on but they were slowly being dragged down to the rift. If they were pulled through the rift… Dagon had many more limbs to drag them all down to his worlds below.
“Austerley! Have you got anything, Austerley?” Kirkgordon shouted frantically.
Calandra screamed as the tentacle drew blood from her waist. They all slipped downwards. Her wings fought hard but gained no purchase, and the descent continued. Looking all around him, Kirkgordon saw nothing that could help.
Austerley began waving his hands and chanting. For a minute it looked like the rift had changed colour and become firmer. The edges stopped flexing and the descent stopped momentarily. Had Austerley managed to control it? But then the rift ruptured and grew; a second tentacle rushed out of the enlarged gap and grabbed Calandra’s legs.
Calandra thrashed in pain as she looked straight at Kirkgordon and cried out, “Let me go! I’m gone, Churchy. Let me go! You’ll be safe.”
Calandra looked down and saw deep into the space below the rift. Red flashing eyes passed by and a deep blackness struck all their minds. Right before Kirkgordon’s eyes, Calandra began to age and wither, her skin peeling. She looked up, eyes full of terror, and screamed. The rope was at its maximum stretch and there was only a few feet left. Kirkgordon would have to decide, and soon.
Then he saw the change begin. Calandra’s arms turned to ice and her face became a torrent of frustrated will. Her wings started to ice up and every part of her gave way to winter. Kirkgordon saw the tentacles go
pale and begin to seize up. Dammit, she’s attacking him! A crazy-paving pattern grew along the tentacles as they froze.
But then a sharp pain tore through Kirkgordon’s arms. Her hands and his own could no longer be seen; a frost had spread rapidly over them and they were now cocooned in ice. The frost ran up his arms and ripped into his shoulders. He looked into Calandra’s eyes and he knew what she saw. It was Ferrean happening to her again. She believed she was killing him. And she was probably right.
“Austerley!” There was no other hope, nothing else to call upon. But what could Austerley really do? Then Kirkgordon heard a familiar chant; he had heard it before in this temple. High above on the wall, part of the stonework began to swirl, turning into a tumbling fire. He could feel the heat but its effect was limited. The cold stayed with him and he lost all feeling in his arms. He felt like he could pass out at any moment.
The tentacles suddenly exploded, shattering into a thousand pieces and tumbling into the rift below. Austerley screamed up at Nefol but he was drowned out by an unholy roar emanating from the void.
“Nefol, pull!” he cried, and he felt the slightest upward movement. Austerley saw the pain on Calandra’s face and how she flicked her eyes to break loose the tears frozen on the ducts. But there was no time; he saw more tentacles in the rift below. “Fly, Cally! Beat those damn wings.”
Slowly they started to move upwards, a comic connection of hanging fools which began to swing as they climbed. A tentacle shot out but narrowly missed the side of the party before dropping back to the rift below.
“Nefol, faster.”
Kirkgordon’s arms were still frozen to Calandra. She was staring into a face that was now vacant, his eyes closed. Austerley continued to shout encouragement at her until they were well clear of the tentacles. Then it was quiet while they slowly ascended, dragged by the rope and pushed up by Calandra’s beating wings.
Austerley appeared over the edge of the platform and Nefol let out a gasp of relief. With another few turns of the crank handle she was able to swing the beam round and drop her friends onto the platform. Austerley lay exhausted but heard Calandra smashing the ice that bound herself to Kirkgordon.
She cradled Kirkgordon to her bosom, holding tight like a mother to a sore child. Staring in disbelief, Nefol turned and dismissed her ogre, who promptly vanished. There was silence amongst the group until they heard a sound from below.
An enormous roar ripped through the cavern, reverberating around the space and shaking the walls. It brought Kirkgordon round and he sat bolt upright, shuddering at the sound.
“What… what the hell’s that?”
“Dagon. I don’t think he’s happy.”
“Thanks, Indy. Don’t think I needed an expert for that.”
A bolt of lightning ripped through the edge of the platform, shattering the wood and starting a fire. Calandra jumped up and shouted at Nefol to get up the stairs. Moving across the platform was easier with the wind dissipated, but the ice made the path slippery for everyone except Calandra. She seemed at home on the surface and hurried Nefol along.
“Has anyone seen Havers? He went over with Farthington. Is he still here?” asked Kirkgordon.
“We need to go,” shouted Austerley, grabbing Kirkgordon’s shoulder for support. Haphazardly careering across the ice, the pair fought for footing and desperately lurched for the barrier at the side of the stairs. Another bolt hit the centre of the platform and the pole and beam dropped from their invisible footing and tumbled towards the rift.
“Go, go, go!” yelled Kirkgordon. His arms were burning with cold and were useless. Austerley, minus a foot, grabbed the barrier with one hand and Kirkgordon with the other. Together they climbed the stairs, panting and running for their lives. Nefol and Calandra were skipping up the stairs with a fleetness of foot and reached the bridge well ahead of the boys.
There was a squad of frog-men arguing on the bridge, unsure what was happening and panicking at each new bolt of lightning. They saw Calandra, still covered in ice, her enormous wings unfurled, and a determined-looking child spinning two blades. They decided that today was not a day Dagon was going to win and hopped desperately away from the girls. Nefol ran to attack.
“No!” screamed Calandra. “Track them. We need to find a way out.”
The cavern shook again and the stones on the wall began to break and fall. Calandra cleared the bridge and let Nefol track the frog-men. Turning back for the boys, something caught her eye. Alana was slumped in the tunnel, hidden in shadow and apparently out cold.
Although the blackness that had blighted her mind was gone, the memory of all that she had thought still ran through her head, and Calandra stared at the woman who only a short time ago she would have happily allowed to die. Only Austerley’s intervention had saved her. She bowed her head, a silent apology she knew Alana could not see, and pangs of jealousy grabbed at her heart. She could not remain around him, not if that was the effect.
A crash and a splintering of wood refocused her mind and she turned to see that the bridge was all that remained of the structure. Her heart skipped a beat. Had the boys fallen?
“Bloody hell, Austerley, get up. Use your arms, mine aren’t any use.”
“And I haven’t a foot, so get up yourself.”
Calandra laughed at the continual bickering she had grown used to. It was good to hear them, good to know they were still okay. A blast of lightning caused a rock to fall from the cavern’s roof and it demolished the rear of the bridge. Kirkgordon ran forward, Austerley half hopping, half hanging on to his partner’s neck, and they tumbled off the bridge and into the tunnel.
Everything started to shake as more lightning raced around the cavern. Bits of wall fell everywhere, throwing black dust into the air, and the tunnel they were standing in began to shake. Calandra reached down and picked Alana up, throwing her over her shoulder. She turned to the boys, threw up a beckoning hand and hurried down the tunnel.
As they emerged from the far end of the tunnel into another cyclopean room, Nefol waved at them from a nearby wall.
“Down there. They all went down holes at the foot of the wall.”
“What the hell are they?” asked Kirkgordon.
“Look like possible escape tunnels,” said Calandra.
“No, no, no. This is an Elder room, an Elder corridor. They wouldn’t use these holes for escape routes, they are much too small. Dagon would never fit down there. It’s a storm drain.” Austerley saw that the others were looking at him as if he was daft. “It takes the water away?”
“Escape route,” chorused the others.
The corridor shook, and lumps of ceiling fell to the floor, launching a black dust storm at the team. Throwing the others to the ground, Calandra threw out her wings to shield them from the debris.
“Damn, that hurt,” said Calandra.
“We can’t wait,” said Kirkgordon. “Nefol, go!”
The girl tucked her arms to her side and jumped into the storm drain. Its sides were several feet from her and she dropped like a stone. Kirkgordon hoped these drains didn’t twist and turn like the pipes of a house.
“Take Alana, Cally! Wrap her in your wings,” Kirkgordon cried.
Picking up Alana, Calandra did as instructed. She gave Kirkgordon a quick smile and a nod that said I have her before leaping after Nefol.
“I don’t like water, Churchy,” said Austerley.
Kirkgordon’s sworn reply was lost to a crash of stonework. His arms still frozen, he head-butted Austerley to knock him backwards into the drain. Without a second thought he jumped after him.
No screams or blood-curdling splats, thought Kirkgordon as he fell. His arms were numb and flapped around him. One struck the side but he felt nothing. Then he hit the water. He kicked hard to find the surface but felt himself being swept along. Finally his head popped up into darkness.
“Cally?”
His voice echoed around and then he was back under. Again he kicked hard and gasped the air
as he felt his head break through the surface. Eyes open, he saw nothing. The water pulled him back down and once more he fought to get above it. This time when he surfaced, there was a green glow around him, apparently from luminous algae on the walls. Austerley’s head was some distance away. Kirkgordon tried to call out but couldn’t summon enough breath.
A thunderous sound was coming from ahead and he saw Austerley suddenly disappear. The noise was familiar, he had heard it on holiday. Niagara! Bollocks.
He fell into daylight. Pale and weak, but daylight. He crashed into the water sideways and fought to surface. Exhausted, he found himself floating gently in the water until he gradually came to a stop on a sandy bank. The water still flowed across his shoulders but his mouth was clear and he gratefully sucked in air. He fought to lift his head and look around.
Across from him were two legs. One was intact, the other missing a foot. Close by was a cocoon of wet wings. But he couldn’t see a child. No, God, I can’t lose her. She has to be here. She has suffered enough.
His head was thumping and he tried to ignore the constant and rhythmic banging that was invading his mind. His arms could have been missing for all he knew. All sense of touch was gone, but he thought he could feel a presence. Something familiar. Damn, that pounding.
“Cally,” shouted the voice of a teenager, “it’s Kilon. Kilon’s here! Bogey’s come back with Kilon!”
Kirkgordon could feel the relief wash over him. Kilon was here. Bogey had made it back. There would be support and help. He concentrated hard on pushing down at the ground with his elbows to force himself up. It seemed to have some effect but he still felt no sensation.
“Cally, Cally!”
Watching Nefol shout into the face of Cally, Kirkgordon’s elation at finding a rescuer was overtaken by anxiety: had the team all made it? He heard a faint flap of wings and his heart lifted. Finally back on his feet, he splashed groggily through the shallow water to Calandra. A grimace greeted him but then it changed to a weak smile.
