ã€ŠBook 2: The Gods of Light and Liarsã€‹


 One: Hell-Bound

    Haven "Hawk" West surveyed the cacophony of supplies in front of her, an array of useful things interlaced with the unknown and unknowable. She knew what the MREs were for, why she was being given a knife, a flashlight, and mylar blankets folded in small packets; she was going to need basic survival supplies. But the climbing equipment gave her pause, and it was a pause she couldn''t afford. Time, never a friend, was running out between her fingers, fluid and poisoned. She had the potent awareness that she was running out of it.

    No, sunshine. You''re already out of time, the mental darkness whispered.

    "Kaiser," she said, because if she didn''t start talking she was going to scream, "Why do I have climbing ropes and hooks in this kit?"

    The Richest Man in the World, the Lion of Industry, and the biggest asshole Hawk had ever met looked up from his own supply bag. Kaiser Willheim was an older man, white haired, in his fifties. He looked a bit like Ed Harris met Clark Gable, and Hawk was pretty sure those were the precise instructions he''d given his plastic surgeon. Normally he wore either pin neat business clothes or something more folksy and flannel and faker than hell. Hawk didn''t know who the real Kaiser Willheim was, but she could bet money that it wasn''t any of the faces he presented to the world. This face was the impotent man, and she didn''t believe it any more than she did the folksy farmer boy he''d pretended to be, just several precious days ago. (Days. She''d been waiting days. Oh god, oh god, she was running out of time). But it served his purposes, and if she wanted to save her husband, Kaiser''s purposes were hers.

    He surveyed the scientist he''d essentially bought and paid for, and then turned back to his own collection of rope. "Well, the Rifts we''ve looked into have a significant drop. The one at the Bronx was several hundred feet down, at least. This one looks significantly deeper. We''re going to have to climb down...and hope that the bottom is somewhere we can reach with a rope."

    Goddamn the man. He''d said the word, rift, reminding her again that they had to go, and they had to go now. Because Alex¡ª

    --don''t think about him right now. Don''t you dare. You think about him, and you''re going to break. And you cannot, absolutely CANNOT break down in front of Kaiser.

    If you do, he''ll kill you.

    It was strange, looking at someone and knowing he wanted to be your murderer. But she was pretty sure that Kaiser had already tried to get her killed. Twice. Once, at a dead old woman''s house, and once more at the Bronx zoo.

    He might have gotten her husband killed already.

    No. We aren''t thinking about that right now.

    She hadn''t thought about anything else for three days.

    Three. Days. That was how long it had taken for her to get to this moment. Sixteen hours to get from Arizona to Boston. Another day lost arguing with government officials and Kaiser Willheim, who hid behind the government goons with that Mephistophelian smile of his. He''d waited for Hawk to approach him and assume the supplicant''s position, which she''d fought kicking and screaming. And then, finally, something had broken in the government ranks, and they''d given the OK to allow a team of people to go down the most dangerous hole in the world. Three days, and her husband Alex was at the bottom of that hole somewhere, waiting for her to come to his rescue.

    But if she wanted to be truly honest with herself, this had started a week ago, when her husband''s client Elizabeth Cummings had contacted him about her poisoned garden. She''d been a dotty old lady on the edge of dementia, but she''d been sure something was killing her plants. Something had been. A group the government were calling terrorists (She wasn''t sure what you''d call Edgar and Naomi Studdard now, but she was pretty sure the terror their actions had evoked was a side-effect; still, ''terrorist'' would do, for now) had opened a hole in reality, testing the old woman and her pet basset hound to see if they could survive exposure to the energies of another dimension. They could not. Elizabeth Cummings, her dog, her garden, and the yards and wildlife for several blocks around her house had all been reduced to a strange, crystalline ash. It held the shape of whatever it had been¡ªa rose would still resemble a rose, for a few precious seconds. Then it would collapse from the slightest touch¡ªbut it killed, and killed swiftly.

    It was the result of Kaiser Willheim''s experiments with lasers. He was the primary funding behind the Ararat Project, a climate-change centered initiative whose stated goals had been to either preserve the world against its own destruction, or to make terraforming other planets a viable possibility (it was not, in Hawk''s opinion). By accident, they''d shredded reality, killed several of their own scientists and endangered not only Kaiser Willhiem''s business empire, but his partner Edgar Studdard as well.

    Kaiser had finally confessed the truth to her, after lying and blaming Studdard for the hellstorm that followed. Edgar Studdard had been broken by that accident. He''d just lost two billion dollars of his own money...and watched his daughter Amelie die in his arms. So, when the accident proved that the prism-like laser attachment was actually lethal on biblical proportions, he''d climbed into the large mock-up that was terrifyingly functional with a bottle of Jack Daniels...and turned the Prism on.

    He should have ripped a huge hole in reality, which he did, destroying acres of forest and the small cottage his dead daughter had loved. Had his wife been on the property, he would have killed her too. And he should have killed himself. But what no one knew was that the Prism would preserve the life of whatever it held...by changing it. It descended into the hole Studdard had made, with Studdard inside of it. And time ran faster inside the hole, exponentially. Eons passed (presumably) while Studdard was trapped in the crystal, alone, without food or water, kept alive by an unknowable force.

    Obviously, (or so Kaiser said) he went insane. He was also presumably immortal, and he seemed to have gained the power to alter reality in subtle ways, though it was hard to tell in the handful of horrified minutes before whatever it was he''d become vanished from human sight.

    Most people would have interpreted these events as a sign from the universe that the Prisms needed to be destroyed and forgotten about. But Kaiser and Naomi Studdard had both seen the potential. Unfortunately, Naomi had proved to be faster and more on the ball. She''d begun testing Prisms immediately, trying to figure out what it would take to repeat the process Edgar had undergone...without going mad. Naomi had presumed that the isolation, not the transformation, was what had stolen her husband''s mind, and had bent all her effort, money, and heartlessness to discovering how to preserve life outside a Prism, as well as inside of it. She wanted to go down into that alternative reality. To gain the power and the immortality she assumed Edgar now possessed. But she wanted to bring other people with her.

    And three days ago, that was exactly what she did.

    She wasn''t supposed to do it now, Kaiser had said, when she''d finally treed him in his own office and demanded he tell her the truth. She was supposed to wait, and she was supposed to be inside the Prism, and it was supposed to be somewhere with no collateral damage.

    So you planned this, Hawk had wanted to say in response. You allowed this to happen. You looked at the dead and dying from countless Events, each time knowing that it was Naomi Studdard with a Prism, and you let it happen because you knew it could win you immortality. But she didn''t say that. She had to say on Kaiser''s good side.

    He was the only way she was going to rescue Alex.

    He''d called her as the world caved in around him. Called her and begged her for help, just before the phone cut off completely, and the ground gave way to the Prism''s power. Kaiser had told her the Prism that had knocked out half of Boston, that was currently turning all organic matter in the rest of it to the ash they were calling Glass, had been the size of a greenhouse. Hawk imagined Alex, handcuffed to part of the floor, doing everything he could to try to stop it.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    But there was something else she didn''t understand.

    "Kaiser," She said. "Why won''t you tell me what you think Naomi gave Alex?" Alex had told her he''d been given some sort of injection, something that made it hard for him to think. Kaiser, on hearing that part of the story for the first time, had turned pale. And then he''d refused to say anything else on the subject.

    "It may not be important," Kaiser said.

    "Oh, fuck that in the ear," said one of the other members of their little hell bound expedition. Their name was Emile Yong, an Asian Enby scientist who viewed the normal rules of polite society as guidelines they could ignore with glee. For once, they weren''t wearing something inappropriate, but rather the same paramilitary fatigues that had been supplied to Hawk and Kaiser. But they''d taken care to dye their hair a riot of rainbow shades, just to make up for it. "We''re talking about her husband, dipshit."

    Kaiser gave them a look like he''d enjoy firing them by drop-kicking them into the sun. But they weren''t one of his employees. Nor was Hawk, or Alex. They were more-or-less innocent civilian scientists (plus one Private Investigator) who had been sucked into this mess when the Ararat Project showed up to police Elizabeth Cummings'' backyard...and who had survived multiple exposures to Glass energy through Hawk''s speciality.

    Honeypot ants.

    She wasn''t sure how, because they hadn''t had time to study it, but something¡ªlikely an enzyme in the ant''s gut¡ªprotected organic matter from the Glass energy. They''d discovered it because she and Alex had eaten some before breaking through Kaiser''s security at the old woman''s residence. And as she was one of the world experts on the subject, she became valuable to Kaiser.

    She''d been eating them fairly steadily ever since, just to make sure she could safely traverse a Glass zone. She''d only been to two different Events, but she''d survived both times. Her biggest concern, however, was the scarcity of honeypots, and their growing need for safe first responders. She had no idea how they were managing the Event in the Bronx, but the Glass Event in Boston had outstripped that within minutes. In New York, jokingly, Alex and Kaiser had talked about evacuating the whole state. Now it was looking like they''d have to, only it''d be Massachusetts and not New York State.

    A Glass Event happened when a Prism, made of four specially cut and finished slabs of crystal, was activated using light. Even ambient light could do it, though Kaiser assured her that as long as the individual parts were kept separate, even by something as thin and delicate as cloth (He claimed they used an oil-and-particulate mixture that kept the various parts cushioned from each other) the Prism was inert. The Prism, once activated, vibrated and drilled a hole, not through rock or soil as Kaiser had intended, but through reality itself. The first time he activated one, it sucked three researchers and a janitor down, as well as half the lab. Those bodies were never recovered, but eventually, the Prism was.

    There was a lot of quantum physics at play here that Hawk did not understand¡ªin the words of Bones, she was a bug scientist, not a quantum physicist¡ªbut she understood enough: The Prism, once activated, went "down" into something like a pocket universe. Then, depending on the intensity of the light that triggered it, the Prism came back "up" to our reality once more, sealing the Rift and making the world safe for human habitation again.

    In theory.

    Hawk knew that theory wasn''t good enough. While a Rift was open, it bled energy that turned all organic life into crystal ashes. Which meant it very effectively sterilized everything. To the average human, that didn''t sound so bad. Clean dirt. Clean air, virus and bacteria free. No ants in the soil. No cockroaches in the house (Though if your house were built with wooden beams and drywall, you''d also have no house). But to Hawk, that was catastrophic. Humans do not understand enough about the environment to rebuild it after a total loss. As a matter of fact, they don''t rebuild. They can''t. The best humanity could do was clean up the affected area (be it by oil, chemical, fire, or Glass) and then wait for the unaffected nature to sweep back over the destroyed parts, like a wound healing from the outside in. We had no clue how to go from nothing to something. Even creating indoor ecosystems required one to find creatures from an outside source¡ªspringtail cultures, cuttings from plants both wild and domestic, animals from other places, birds, fish, the microbiome of soil and water. If asked to create such a thing from scratch, the average human would be lost.

    The Glass Event in Mrs. Cummings back yard had seemed massive when it swallowed several blocks of her neighborhood, but Hawk now counted that Event as small, sane, and contained. The Bronx zoo Event had started out as a nightmare, instantly destroying hundreds of people, not to mention the majority of plants and animals within, but it had slowed, and mostly stopped after they killed...

    Well, that was the other part of the equation. It seemed that if an example of a lifeform were placed inside the Prism when it was activated, that lifeform could survive exposure to Glass. Which was not something recognized until a desperate, depressed Edgar Studdard attempted suicide by Prism, and failed to a horrifying degree. According to his wife, Naomi, Edgar had been monstrously changed by his time in the Prism...which was longer than one would think. While it had lasted only a day in the normal time-line, time had run slower inside the Rift. To the rest of the world, the horror of his suicide had been brief. To Edgar, it had taken centuries. He''d come out of the hole, alright, but had been nearly incoherent...and then had disappeared.

    And Alex went down this hole. It had lasted for three days, so far. Three days of untold horror. Each Event was defined by lines¡ªthe point where energy exposure began killing things. There were lines where each lifeform on this planet began to fail from exposure. Ironically, mammals and birds lasted the longest, but would be the first dead things found during a Glass Event...they were the only things capable of running away. Then the insect line, where the small biological robots we called bugs could no longer function, their insides hardening and fragmenting as their carapaces turned brittle. Then, finally, the Glass Line, the point where even dead organic matter went to ash. That, the Glass Line, was considered the boundary of the Event, and the Boston Event''s Glass Line was starting to threaten other counties now. The death toll was estimated to lie in the thousands, and there was no end in sight.

    And Alex was at the bottom of that rift, waiting for her rescue.

    To get there, she''d had to talk Kaiser into first talking to her and then letting her help, which she had done. Then both of them had to persuade the government to take the risk of sending people not just to the center of the Event, but through it. And that had taken most of yesterday, but they''d done it, founded entirely on Kaiser''s promise that they''d find a way to close the Rift and save lives. And now their team was being assembled. Hawk had pulled a few strings and Kaiser had pulled the rest, and they''d gotten Dr. Henry Dyson and Hawk''s friend, Dr. Emile Yung, added to the roster. And now there was nothing left but to pack their rucksacks and troop on down to their ride, as if they were going on the world''s worst camping trip.

    Hawk had her bag packed, and was putting on her shoes¡ªshe was starting to get used to wearing combat boots¡ªwhen Emile came over.

    "You doing okay?" Emile said. They''d made a special point to never, ever look particularly masculine or feminine. Hawk suspected the only reason they went around clean-shaven was because it added to the confusion. Their hair was streaked with hot pink, gold, neon green, sapphire blue and the most annoying shade of purple Hawk had ever seen. It hung in ringlets, which was very interesting considering that Emile was Chinese.

    "I''m doing. And thanks for doing this with me," Hawk said.

    "No problem. You''d do it for me or Henry." And oh, the way Emile''s voice softened when she said Henry Dyson''s name was more than enough to make Hawk smile. Even with her own life on fire, the fact that Em had found love¡ªor something that could become love¡ªin their own worst enemy gave Hawk''s poor heart a sense of peace. She stuffed the last of the MRE''s into the sack. "They really think we''ve got enough rope to get there, don''t they?" She had four coils, but she was pretty sure that wasn''t enough.

    "I''m sure they think so. Look. I just want to make sure you''re okay."

    "I''m okay," Hawk lied.

    "Because...because I just want to be sure, you know?" Em insisted.

    Because we both know Alex is already dead, Hawk thought, dismally, but no. Alex must still be alive. They knew of two complex organisms surviving time inside a Prism: Edgar Studdard and the gorilla Hawk mentally called The Ape. Both had lived, and the Ape had seemed to live well (until Kaiser''s people had shot it), so there was a chance that Alex was still alive. As what, Hawk didn''t know. But he might still be alive.

    She just had to hope and¡ª

    The doors to their ready-room suddenly banged open, and a soldier in desert fatigues came through. "Who is Willheim and West?" she barked. At least, Hawk was pretty sure this was a she.

    "I''m West," she said.

    Kaiser just strode forward. "What is it?"

    "You both need to go to the command tent, and bring the rest of your team, Yong and Dyson. There''s been a development. They''re moving the deployment up."

    Hawk grabbed her bag...but still had the presence of mind to ask, "Why?"

    The soldier looked at Hawk with pity, and no small amount of fear. "Because, something''s happened in the Rift.

    "It looks like its being blocked off from the inside."

 Two: Protocol

    The four of them (and don¡¯t think for a moment Hawk was comfortable with Kaiser standing in for Alex; her husband should have been a part of this milieu) were walked to the rooftop command center. Glass energy seemed to cling to the ground, completely bypassing skyscrapers and other, tall edifices. This information was being passed around through the news crews: if you¡¯re in a Glass Event and you can¡¯t outrun it, climb. They were already rescuing people from radio antennas and rooftops¡­and finding the remains of people who had not climbed high enough. Hawk had spent most of last night sleepless, watching the carnage as it spread across Massachusetts. Three days, and thousands dead, and many, many more displaced, and there was no sign of stopping.

    Why is it spreading so fast this time? She¡¯d wondered then, and she wondered the same now, as they approached the command tent. It was surrounded by people in incomprehensible uniforms, and by overwhelmed civilian authorities. Three firemen stood to one side in a circle with two cops, and tears were streaming down all their faces. Another firefighter stood inside the command tent, with Commissioner Thomkirk across the base of his uniform. They were talking about ways to stem the tide of Glass flooding across the surrounding counties¡­and from what Hawk overheard, they had no good ideas.

    The soldier who had brought them here stepped forward in a salute. The soldiers, fire chief and chief of police did not seem to notice. They were saying something about dropping buildings, which wouldn¡¯t work¡ª

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    She blinked, and realized the entire command tent was staring at her.

    ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± said a man in military fatigues. He had stars on his shoulder, two of them. Maybe he was a General. She was struck by a wave of fatigue and embarrassment, and she realized she was so exhausted that she had said ¡°It wouldn¡¯t work¡± out loud.

    ¡°Who the blue hell are you, lady, and what are you doing at my command post?¡±

    She shuffled forward. ¡°I¡¯m Hawk West. I¡¯m going down that hole in a few minutes.¡± And she waited for the respect to filter into their eyes. Most of them didn¡¯t get it at all. The general¡¯s eyes softened just a bit. ¡°And dropping a building to contain the Glass won¡¯t work. It goes right through most substances. Ironically enough, the only thing we¡¯ve found that works is glass.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the scientist who¡¯s raising hell because your husband¡¯s in the hole, aren¡¯t you?¡± he sighed. ¡°You look soft. Softer than I¡¯d like.¡±

    And then an unexpected gesture of support oozed her way. ¡°I can assure you, General, the Wests are a lot of things.¡± Kaiser Willheim said, to the General. ¡°Soft is not one of them. And it¡¯ll be a lot easier letting Dr. West in from the beginning, than trying to peel her off your ass when she decides to become your new barnacle.¡±

    It was, she thought, the first time he¡¯d called her Doctor. Which was her title, and it should have made her feel better. It didn¡¯t. Manipulative kindness is still manipulative, and Kaiser had seemingly spent a great deal of time belittling her. Which she was playing along with. A Kaiser that assumed she wasn¡¯t strong enough to stand up to him would be a Kaiser unprepared when she finally did. But his disrespect rankled.

    The General turned his attention to the elderly man beside Hawk. ¡°Which makes you Kaiser Willheim. I¡¯m assuming candy-hair there is Yung, and the little guy is Dyson. There¡¯s a protocol to giving answers, but I¡¯ll cut you some slack.¡± He paused. ¡°When the hell was the last time you people got sleep?¡±

    She ignored it, mostly because he wouldn¡¯t like her answer. She hadn¡¯t really slept since Alex vanished¡­or even before that, if she were being honest. ¡°How soon can we get to the Rift? We need to get started ASAP.¡±

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s a problem with that. Twenty minutes ago we were told that the entirety of the hole became blocked, a couple hundred feet down the hole. It happened suddenly, we got nothing on the seismographs or any of the other monitors, but the whole thing is blocked off.¡±

    She didn¡¯t like the sound of that.

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®blocked off¡¯?¡± Kaiser asked.

    ¡°See for yourselves.¡± The general stepped back, gesturing towards a telescope. Hawk glanced from the military men, who stood stoic, guns at side, then to Kaiser, who looked bored. Oh, god, she wanted to hit him. To fling herself, feral, at his head until she¡¯d ripped his smug, stinking eyes from his skull. Bring him back, she wanted to yell. He¡¯s ten times the man you are, bring my Alex home! And instead, she turned to the General.

    ¡°Is that an invitation?¡± She said, drily.

    ¡°Yes, Dr. West. It is.¡± He said.

    She moved, knowing as she did that she was on a kind of stage. She was here on Kaiser¡¯s suffrage, and because she knew how to keep Honeypots alive and, thus, could keep the soldiers alive. She would be viewed as an extension of him, and unless she wanted to lose her shot at saving her husband, she had to make sure that extension was unblemished.

    At least until she chose to fucking blemish the fuck out of it. She was going to burn the fucker. Oh, yes, she was. She was going to make sure that Kaiser Willheim couldn¡¯t buy a fucking hotdog when this was all over and done with, not even from prison commissary. But that wasn¡¯t going to get Alex out of the hole.

    Those were her two questions, her guidance, her compass and sextant: What would Alex do? And will this get Alex home any faster? And right now she needed to be inside that hole. So she was quiet and pleasant, the most cooperative little bug scientist this big, important man had ever seen. She didn¡¯t have teeth, oh no. She reached the telescope and looked down.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    The hole that devoured the Bittermoss School should have been pitch black, like a staring crater, rimmed round with aural spikes of Glass energy threatening to rip all organics from anything nearby. They were on top of the tallest nearby building, a twenty-story bank, and only the top three floors were safe. And even that was questionable. Aural spikes had lit the whole area up, they arched across every surface with a strange, neon hissing sound, and left a devastation of Glass in their wake. But the hellmouth Hawk had every intention of walking into seemed to have developed a crystal plug where the gaping unknown ought to be.

    It was huge, the size of the building that wasn¡¯t there anymore, and the small showers of dirt trailing down from the violated school lawn now pooled in the crevasses between crystal spires. It was rather like the inside of a geode, if that geode were the size of an entire school campus.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she whispered. ¡°Is there any way through?¡±

    ¡°Not that we can see. We¡¯re bringing in a drill and the Army Corps of Engineers, so we¡¯ll get through. It¡¯s just going to take time, and now we have no way of knowing what¡¯s happening to the kids down there.¡±

    Hawk¡¯s stomach plummeted. ¡°The kids?¡±

    ¡°The students of Bittermoss School. They¡¯re down there, same as your husband. I got families with the kind of fuck-you money that buys Ferraris breathing down my neck, and while I don¡¯t give a solitary shit about some jumped up PI who was in the wrong place, I got six-hundred and thirty seven children, plus their teachers, plus the support staff, down there in the dark, and by god I am getting every single one of them out.¡±

    He didn¡¯t know, she thought. He didn¡¯t know that time was moving faster inside of the Event Horizon. She hoped and prayed that it was just a few days faster, that each minute up here was something like three minutes, or thirty, or even a day a minute. That might have left something to survive. But she suspected that time was moving in the order of years in a minute, maybe¡ªoh horror!¡ªcenturies an hour.

    Kaiser had told her, at last, why Bittermoss School even existed. They¡¯d been the intended breeding stock for Ararat Project, the seed for a new humanity that Kaiser had intended to build in outer space (or, more probably, out of the wreckage of some collapsed country when climate change got too severe) and finally, when they discovered the Prisms and the Rift-worlds they created, Naomi Studdard had insisted that her school was to be the start of a human empire, grown entirely within the closed pocket universe inside a Rift.

    They would have survived if they were fed Honeypots first. And then they would have grown up, lived, reproduced, and died, all down in the dark in the hole, probably within the first few hours of real time.

    But there was hope for Alex. The things that survived in the hole, in the darkness of the Rifts, were things that had a representative in the Prism, something like a Jungian Archetype. She¡¯d seen it with monkeys, ants and honeysuckle, and she suspected it was happening on a larger scale here; the Prism had been functioning as Bittermoss School¡¯s greenhouse. It reportedly also held the children¡¯s smaller 4H projects. Lots of plants. Lots of animals. Lots of breeding stock for the madwoman who wanted to create her own universe.

    She stepped away. ¡°Do you think they know we¡¯re coming?¡± She said, to Kaiser.

    ¡°They?¡± the General said.

    ¡°Naomi Studdard may be behind this blockage. She would expect a response.¡± Kaiser said. The rage in his voice was tectonic. The rumbles were things the Studdards would pay for, alright. ¡°How long will the drill take to get here?¡±

    ¡°Got here five minutes before you lot did. We¡¯ll be carting it into place, and we¡¯ll have it up and running in the next few hours.¡±

    Hawk was looking at the hole with its geode plug. ¡°It¡¯ll happen a lot faster than that. You¡¯ll see.¡±

    There was a pregnant pause after her words, and the General leaned forward. ¡°You care to explain that sentence, little girl?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± She said. ¡°Sorry, General, but it¡¯ll be easier for you to understand when it happens. But do not let your people stay down there very long, at all. Tell them no more than an hour at a time.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be thirty minute shifts.¡± The General said. ¡°You want to tell me what you think I¡¯ll be sending my boys into.¡±

    ¡°Nothing that will kill them. I¡¯m going down in there too, General. As soon as you give me permission. But I want to warn you. I have a lot of hope for my husband. I don¡¯t have that same hope for those children. And when you start letting people in the hole, you¡¯ll see why.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like sending my people in blind.¡± He said.

    She measured the man, trying to hold him to Alex¡¯s rules about people. But she couldn¡¯t see through this man the way Alex could. She just saw a competent, steady man who was trying to save children, who deserved the answer he was begging for¡­and who would never believe it. She said, ¡°And I don¡¯t like sending you in blind. But I¡¯ve spent¡ªwasted¡ªthree days trying to convince you people that you haven¡¯t even started to understand this thing.¡± She paused. ¡°Are you actually going to listen to me?¡±

    The General watched her for a few moments. Then he said, ¡°As long as I¡¯m sure that man over there doesn¡¯t have his hand up your ass, sure. I¡¯ll listen. Believe? That¡¯ll be another thing entirely.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°We think that there¡¯s a time dilation effect in the hole. Emile Yung calls it ¡®Narnia.¡¯¡± And she cringed inwardly at the General¡¯s reaction. ¡°It¡¯s not a great comparison, but it fits the behavior we saw in the Bronx Event. Time will be working faster inside the hole than outside of it. The good news is that means, to us, it won¡¯t take long to get through this barrier.¡±

    ¡°And the bad news?¡± The General said.

    ¡°We may not be able to rescue any of these children in their lifetime. I believe that we are seeing time the length of the average human lifespan go by in minutes.¡±

    He stared at her. ¡°So, lady, let me get this straight. You think that all those kids and your husband have aged and died in the time it took for us to realize we even had a problem? And you¡¯re still going in there?¡± he said.

    ¡°Yes,¡± She said.

    ¡°In my defense, I¡¯ve tried to talk her out of it,¡± Willheim said. His tone said even more. It said poor little woman, and aren¡¯t we great for babying her, and even I¡¯m Kaiser Willheim, King of the World.

    The General glared down at her. She smiled up at him.

    ¡°You¡¯re either nuts, or you¡¯ve got guts and are nuts, and I¡¯m not entirely convinced I need to allow a civilian group into the Event Horizon, as you people are calling it. But you seem to understand this more than I do, so I¡¯ll tell you what. If we manage to break through the Crystal before this time tomorrow, you¡¯ll get to run point. First ones in, first ones down. Sound like a deal?¡±

    The venom hidden in this promise could have melted steel. ¡°You gonna keep those promises, General?¡± She said.

    ¡°You calling my word into question?¡± This was said very, very quietly. The air changed. Every military person in this tent stiffened.

    ¡°You questioned mine,¡± She said. ¡°And then you made a joke out of it. It¡¯s only fair.¡± She paused. Far, far down below a crane was starting to move the first of several large crates. They were indeed about to send someone into the deep, white hole from hell. ¡°Tell you what, general. You make it through there before dinner time, I¡¯ll tell you whatever you want to know.¡±

    And she walked away before any of them could respond.

 Three: Mulligan

    She was left unmolested, so she went to the mess hall. It was set up on the floor just beneath the roof. Undoubtedly Kaiser was going to make the General¡ªhis last name seemed to be Mulligan¡ªforget every word Hawk had said, save for the ones he wanted the general to remember. She personally felt she¡¯d dispatched herself well. She hadn¡¯t vomited too much of the unbelievable truth out, she hadn¡¯t broken down in tears, and she hadn¡¯t given Kaiser an inch. But she was at one singular disadvantage here: She was a woman, and these were two men from the wonderful world of paid misogyny. Kaiser would have the General remembering a hysterical, overeducated little girl in very short order.

    She had to give her name twice, and they had to phone security, but she was given a meal of frito pie, one apple, and one container of water. She said thanks, was ignored, and went off to find someplace to eat and get comfortable. She waited another half minute, but no one from upstairs followed her. Neither Em nor Dyson. Well, her two friends were probably going to work on getting their affairs in order. You know. Just in case.

    She¡¯d been munching for a few minutes when two MPs walked over to her table. She groaned, inwardly, but said, ¡°Yes?¡± as civilly as possible.

    ¡°General Mulligan would prefer it if you stayed within eyesight.¡± They said, and rocked back onto their heals.

    ¡°Is he scared I¡¯m going to steal the chili?¡± She said. But they stared straight ahead and didn¡¯t give her an inch. Oh, she hadn¡¯t missed Alex nearly so much as she did right now, when he would have fucked with them until they all wound up as very good friends. The best she could manage was to continue eating.

    The guard nearest her, the female one with Duchamps on her lapel, said, ¡°Now.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Let me rephrase this for you people. Doctor West, would you please follow us back to the roof.¡± She motioned towards those doors with every word. ¡°That is how you ask politely.¡±

    ¡°This is a military operation, ma¡¯am. You¡¯re expected to follow orders.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m expected to follow orders. Except I¡¯m pretty sure those orders are going to be to sit down and stay out of your way while you go barreling forward in ways that will waste time that we do not have.¡±

    ¡°This is a search and rescue¡ª¡±

    ¡°No. It isn¡¯t. Not anymore. You just haven¡¯t had enough time to figure that out yet.¡± But her stomach had soured over with the chili. ¡°Fine. I¡¯m not hungry anymore.¡± And she got up, half throwing herself in front of the MPs. They lead her to the elevator without touching. Finally, the doors were closed. The elevator began to move.

    A hand reached out and hit the red stop button. The elevator shuddered into obedient stillness. The female MP, Duchamps, grabbed her shoulder and flung her into the wall of the elevator, hard.

    ¡°First off, West, I do not appreciate being treated like the enemy before I¡¯ve had a chance to earn it. Second, I understand your hostility. I have a cousin in Bittermoss School.¡±

    Hawk¡¯s gut plummeted down to her feet. ¡°Oh, God¡ªLook, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. I lied.¡± Duchamps said. ¡°But the General ordered me to see if you really believed that the children at Bittermoss were dead. Based on the way you just nearly vomited on my shoes, you do. But you think your husband is alive?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. And I have no provable way to explain it. But yes. I do believe that the children down in that hole are dead.¡± She paused. ¡°But we¡¯ll be finding their descendants, if we find a way in.¡±

    The two MPs glanced at each other. The female, Duchamps, said, ¡°You¡¯ve probably got another minute before they¡¯ll notice we locked down the elevator.¡±

    ¡°Alex would have been inside the Prism. Maybe with other people, maybe alone. I don¡¯t know. The things inside the Prisms get¡­changed. We don¡¯t know exactly why, but it seems to shield other, similar lifeforms from the effects of Glass energy. We¡¯re calling them Archetypes. I think that¡¯s what Alex has become. Archetypes are much longer-lived than normal lifeforms¡ªwe think.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°You think.¡± The MP said.

    ¡°Yeah. Listen, I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re doing this because the General does not trust Kaiser¡ª¡±

    ¡°Like a hole in the head, he trusts him,¡± The male MP said.

    ¡°¡ªand that¡¯s great. And I know that nothing says Alex is alive or that he¡¯ll be sane or even human when I find him. But I have to try, okay?¡± she said, and looked hopefully at the MP.

    ¡°We¡¯ll report all this to the general.¡± The male MP said.

    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s good, I guess.¡± She said.

    ¡°And one of us would like to hit you.¡± Duchamps said.

    ¡°She wants to hit you. When someone talks violence, it¡¯s always her.¡± The other guy said.

    ¡°You want to hit me?¡± She said.

    ¡°It¡¯ll sell the idea that you¡¯ve been roughed up by us. Keep Kaiser from thinking we¡¯re asking you questions.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Hawk said. Then, ¡°Let¡¯s go without the hitting.¡± She said.

    And then braced herself as the elevator began to move.

    They didn¡¯t exactly hit her, just roughed her up a little bit, the sort of thing you¡¯d see if you resisted the General¡¯s kind offer. She was good natured about it. They¡¯d just told her, after all, that they did not trust Kaiser either, and they¡ªor the General through them¡ªwere testing her to see if she¡¯d be useful. Could they use her against Kaiser? She hoped she¡¯d shown them she was game.

    Back on the roof, Em gave her a concerned look when they got a good look at her now mussed up uniform. She gave them a quick gesture in response, the non-verbal I¡¯m fine. Em didn¡¯t look comforted, but they kept their tone level when they said, ¡°How¡¯s the food?¡±

    ¡°Better than anything we¡¯re going to get in the hole,¡± Hawk said. There¡¯d been nicknames for the place circulating through the camp all day, enough that even she heard a few of them. One person was calling the hole ¡°Holia¡± and the missing children ¡°Holians¡±, which would have sounded better if it weren¡¯t a direct mockery of her theories. ¡°When are we going, General?¡± She said.

    General Mulligan sighed, and was silent for a long time, looking out at the ruins of Boston. Only the astral spikes of the Event Horizon moved down there. The rest was silent. Finally, he began to speak. ¡°It seems you¡¯re right about a few things, West. One of my people was supposed to report to me at 1600 hours. They¡¯re reporting back minutes after they left, but they say it¡¯s sixteen hundred. Their watch says it¡¯s sixteen hundred. And they have over four hours of camera footage they did not have when they went in.¡± And he looked at her expectantly.

    Hawk took a moment to do the math. ¡°It¡¯s noon. So eight hours passed in¡­what?¡± she said. And now her heart was pounding hard, because this would tell her the odds on even finding Alex down there. Sixteen hundred was four PM. ¡°Four hours equals¡­what, five minutes?¡±

    ¡°Faster than that. It was near instantaneous, according to his CO. If it weren¡¯t for his watch, he¡¯d be in a heap of trouble.¡± A pause, as the wind blew harsh across their faces. Mulligan kept looking at the hole. ¡°How the hell am I supposed to tell six hundred parents that their kids are gone? That this shit is a total loss?¡±

    Kaiser stepped forward. ¡°Sir, I understand your emotions. Mrs¡­Doctor West¡¯s theory about time in the Rifts is compelling and there¡¯s a lot of evidence to support it. It¡¯s not something that needs to be known beyond this¡­rooftop.¡± He said, and shrugged.

    But the General had already tired of Kaiser, because he ignored the man eloquently. He turned, full body, to Hawk. ¡°I need you to explain, Mrs. West, why you think your husband is still alive?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that,¡± she said, honestly. ¡°I just hope that what we saw in the Bronx repeats itself here, and¡­I don¡¯t know. Maybe he¡¯ll just be immune.¡± She took a deep breath.

    ¡°So let me ask you another question, Doc. Let¡¯s say that I buy the multi-dimensional whatsis theory that you and the other eggheads are parroting in my direction. I buy that down there, inside that hole is a pocket universe where time is moving faster there than it is here, and that there could be multiple generations of people in there. Do we think they¡¯re going to be peaceful?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She said.

    He nodded. ¡°Alright. Then I will make a deal with you, Mrs. West. I will let you go down to that hole right now. I will even let you sit in there to your heart¡¯s content, staring at the pretty crystal walls until judgement day or we break through, whichever comes first. But I will do this on one condition, alright? You will listen to me, and you will listen to my people. They say jump, you say how high. They say go, you go. Stay, your ass is glued to the ground until they say otherwise. Same goes for Kaiser, and the rest of your people.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good. Can I bring my things already?¡± she said.

    ¡°Why bother? In the pocket, out of the pocket, we¡¯re going to be staring at that hole and that goddamn drill for a while.¡± He said.

    ¡°Because if I¡¯m in the hole, I don¡¯t have to think about how much time Alex is losing,¡± Hawk said, and tried to pretend like she didn¡¯t see the empathy and shared pain in Emile¡¯s worried eyes.

 Four: Geode Words

    ¡°Seriously. If you need to talk.¡± Em said.

    Hawk, Em and Henry Dyson had been cleared to exit the building and arrive at the Event site. That was how it was phrased. ¡°Arrive¡±. Such a simple understatement. Like getting there wasn¡¯t a horror story all by itself.

    Bittermoss School had been near one of the more affluent parts of Boston, not quite in the neighborhood, but near enough to it to be a convenient drive. It was a large school for a private facility, aimed at recruiting the best and brightest minds to accelerate our future¡ªor so the advertising copy said. In reality, Hawk knew it had been an experiment in modern eugenics cooked up between the Studdards¡ªboth Edgar and Naomi¡ªand Kaiser, back when his ambitions were to save the world from climate change. It¡¯d been important to them to keep up that respectable front, however, so not one hint of the school¡¯s true purpose was known. Unfortunately, that meant it had been sitting next to one of the busier freeways when the Prism was activated.

    The initial round of cars had driven off the freeways, into yards and parking lot medians, and most horrifying of all, down into the Rift. From a news report, the Glass energy was survivable for humans¡ªher gut twinged. Alex!¡ªbut it didn¡¯t matter when you were driving your vehicle into a cloud of white light, or when an old-growth tree dropped its shattered self directly in your path.

    Still, Hawk thought the presence of a person¡ªAlex¡ªin the Prism was shielding the National Guard and Army first responders, who were gathered around the hole like ants. She could not see anyone inside the Rift. She suspected they were moving too fast for her to recognize. Yes, because as she watched, a soldier climbed out of the hole, out of the Event Horizon. They just appeared like some strange, celestial being, a god of fatigues and khaki and bad tempers. They also looked shellshocked, as if stunned by something the rest of the army hadn¡¯t seen.

    Hawk figured this poor kid would know where to take the rest of them. She walked her way over, picking through a ground that was mostly ground in ash and dirt. She tried not to imagine what her boots were grinding into the sterilized soil. She was just glad that, from all evidence collected so far, it was absolutely a what and not a who this time. No people were dying in this cacophonous hell. The nightmare loss of life hadn¡¯t been so bad.

    Six hundred children and teachers in the hole. Alex, also in the hole. It¡¯s bad. She thought, and reached the dazed looking soldier just as he registered her presence. ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Doctor Haven West, this is Doctors Yung and Dyson. We were told we could enter the hole here.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­I¡¯m not¡ª¡± the captain shook himself.

    ¡°We¡¯re aware of the time dilation effect. In fact, we¡¯ve warned your general about it. How long have you been inside the Rift?¡± Please say a couple days, please say a couple days¡ª

    ¡°A week. And apparently it wasn¡¯t even twenty minutes. This is¡ª¡± he paused. Looked at her. Registered the name. West. ¡°Aren¡¯t you family of¡ª¡±

    If she heard Alex¡¯s name spoken, she¡¯d break. ¡°Immaterial. We¡¯re here to help. We¡¯ve also been present at two other Events, including the Bronx Event. We know what we¡¯re doing. This the way down?¡±

    He nodded. And so she walked forward, down towards the ring of aural spikes.

    I¡¯m on my way, Alex. She thought, as she reached for the guide-rope that would take her down. All you need to do is hang on.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ***

    The Rift was, indeed, plugged off by a bulk of crystal. Hawk was pretty sure that it was the real, true, honest stone. It certainly wasn¡¯t frail ash. She stepped down off the rope ladder the military had set up, onto plastic sheeting that protected her feet from the crystal points. There was a hollow, here, the full size of the rift, and it was covered in glittering quartz points, all of it a strange and comforting cream. ¡°Sharp?¡± She asked the captain, who was following her down.

    ¡°Like a son of a bitch. Captain Matthew Specter.¡± He offered a hand as both a steady and an introduction.

    ¡°Doctor Hawk West, entomologist. I¡¯m the one who knows how the ants work. Behind you somewhere are Doctors Emile Yong and Henry Dyson.¡±

    ¡°Dyson I remember. He¡¯s going to be our liaison with Ararat Project. Emile, she¡ª¡±

    ¡°They,¡± Hawk corrected.

    ¡°They?¡± This got a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°Emile Yung was a first responder at the Bronx zoo. They¡¯re running on about as much sleep as I¡¯ve gotten in the last few days, and they¡¯re one of the few people I¡¯d trust right now. So Yes. They. Is that a problem?¡±

    ¡°No, ma¡¯am. I got a non-binary cousin. How much sleep are you running on?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Look around you. Six hundred missing kids, full faculty staff MIA, and people driving into the rift every few minutes. Would you sleep?¡±

    ¡°Right now? Yes, ma¡¯am. Or else get out of the pocket completely. If I¡¯m groking this right¡ª¡± And suddenly Hawk was upgrading her expectations with this kid, ¡°¡ªtime¡¯s running faster in here than out there, a week down here is a couple hours¡ª¡±

    ¡°Less than, it looks like.¡± Hawk said.

    A nod. ¡°¡ªso if you¡¯re going to get some sleep, it won¡¯t matter if you sleep down here. You won¡¯t lose any time. And I¡¯m going to warn you, it¡¯s been hard going through this crystal shit. Every day at about noon, it gets some kind of pulse and we get a lot of regrowth.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Hawk said. Regrowing Crystal? Well, for now, it might as well be magic; this place had told physics to fuck off a while ago.

    ¡°Any idea why?¡± The Captain asked.

    ¡°No. I¡¯ll be honest with you, Captain. We are just as lost as you are.¡±

    ¡°Kaiser Willheim, ma¡¯am, seems to think you lot have it all together.¡± The Captain said, guardedly. He¡¯d leaned back to the edge of the plastic, probably would have leaned on an outcropping of crystal, had the one behind him been just a little bit taller, and less sharp on its uppermost end.

    She looked at him, measuring tone and stance and a thousand small other things that, she hoped, added up to trustworthy. ¡°Kaiser Wilheim, sir, is mostly worried about his stock price, and how many patents he can get out of this disaster.¡±

    Captain Spectre seemed to relax like a spring uncoiling. ¡°He struck me pretty much the same way.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, Captain. A lot of people owe him loyalty. Dyson, for example, is an employee of Ararat Project first, and a member of this expedition second. Kaiser has expectations of him that he won¡¯t of the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°And Yung?¡± Spectre asked.

    Hawk measured her words, trying to plumb out the best warning she could manage. ¡°You ever been face first over a Roman Candle?¡± She said.

    ¡°Oh.¡± A grin. ¡°One of those.¡±

    ¡°Just call them ¡®them¡¯ and let the small stuff go. They¡¯re pretty good about getting the difference between a hard boundary and something they can fuck with, but they¡¯re also civilian and deserve a little slack.¡±

    ¡°Way I see it, ma¡¯am, you good people could be at home, safe in your bed, and you¡¯re here to carry some of the load. Just don¡¯t make our job harder, and we¡¯ll get along great.¡± A pause. ¡°Ma¡¯am, I gotta ask you¡­those kids. We¡¯re not getting them back, are we?¡±

    No. You¡¯re not. She considered what to tell him, and decided the truth, but one tempered with a little bit more hope than she felt. ¡°The odds are pretty good that we won¡¯t. But we might find their kids. I think they had a real good chance of surviving that long¡­and they had my Alex with them. If anybody could get somebody over the hump, it¡¯s him. I don¡¯t have a whole lot of hope of finding him,¡± and saying that out loud for the first time hurt like a thousand needles through her spine, ¡°but I can find whatever he left behind, and I can make him proud of me.¡± And she took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m going to find someplace quiet to collapse until we¡¯ve got an opening confirmed.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good. Up there, it¡¯s all hurry up. Down here, nothing to do but wait.¡± Noises above told them both the next round of people were on their way down. She could hear Em¡¯s loud criticism of the rope ladder. ¡°Looks like I get to meet your firecracker, now.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re good people.¡± She said, and walked away.

 Five: By Force and Burden

    She explained to one of the soldiers that she wanted to sleep, and they generously gave her a piece of plastic to lay over the spikier crystals. She looked around for somewhere out of the way. This geode-like cave structure was objectively beautiful. The crystals were a warm cream, livelier than the beige of Glass ashes, and they held a strange, almost lively coolness, as if they were swelling each with their own charge of energy. She reached for the nearest spire and laid her hand upon it. It was cool, but not cold. Not like stone should be. This was the heat of a sun-warmed rock, two hours into night. The stone itself was smooth as silk. She liked the feel¡­at least, until she got to the tips of the crystals, which were sharp enough to cut. She got three small, shallow, paper-cut like injuries and decided that discretion was the better part of valor. She wasn¡¯t going to go too far from the drill.

    She walked gingerly on a fallen spire, the surface slick and angle severe, until she reached a spot big enough for her piece of plastic. It was far enough away from the rumble of the Drill that she could hopefully get some sleep, but close enough that she felt safe. Someone else had set their piece of plastic and their belongings nearby, so she certainly wasn¡¯t alone. She spread out the plastic mat. It was heavy duty, more like the outside of a container than a tarp, but it would be enough to protect Hawk from the crystal points. She tossed her duffle down as a pillow and laid back to watch the show.

    The drill was huge, a mass of chrome structures and piping, support struts every few yards. While the drill itself looked cutting edge, the support system looked jury-rigged, made more of necessity than planning. There were quite a few cement bricks, a few sand-bags. It did not seem to adversely affect the drill. It worked with a regular Hum-ba-dum rhythm, something smooth and nearly soothing. Hawk watched Em slowly make their way across the sharp ground, and listened to the hum-ba-dum cycle. The crystals around were bright with their own clarity. Their milky substance did not seem to mute light one iota. With her back against their tips (albeit mediated by plastic) she could almost imagine the hum being a part of them. Every footstep seemed to vibrate through to her backbone, and if she let herself drift with the vibrations, she could almost imagine that she were home, and the hum belonged to the air/con and refrigerator, the louder thumps and kicks of rocks were just the washing machine, or the dryer churning something with too many buttons, and Alex was sitting beside her, watching¡­

    ¡­watching¡­

    She must have fallen asleep, because suddenly the crystals were actively growing brighter, and voices were shouting in discomfort and stress, and everyone she could see was running back from the drill. Watch out! Watch it! And Keep clear! And then it stabilized, the hum now exclusively the domain of the crystal cacophony around her, the light as bright as pain, though she didn¡¯t think they hurt. After a few moments the panicked voices changed to a chorus of ¡°Clear! Clear. Clear? Clear!¡±

    Then Captain Spectre¡¯s voice broke through the din. ¡°Alright, folks. We¡¯ve had that kick-back before. Just means it¡¯s time to go through and clean up the regrowth. Come on. Andrews, get that side post. Lawrence, Heybruik, Lee, go get to cracking crystals. Let¡¯s keep this going, we got people counting on us!¡±

    There was a loud Ka-chunk, and then the hum-ba-thunk of the drill bit getting seated a second time. Hawk abandoned her rucksack and plastic and climbed back across the crystal to Spectre. ¡°That was loud,¡± She said.

    Em was standing with him, looking irritated but not any more prickly than normal. They nodded to Hawk, who nodded back. And then, quick as a cat, their fingers snuck over and grabbed Hawk¡¯s hand for a squeeze. Contact, and personal empathy, granted by someone who hoarded theirs like gold. Hawk wanted to grab her friend¡¯s hand, grab on and never let go. It reminded her that she was here, that she existed, that her pain counted and was worthy and was worth being seen¡­all in an instant of contact, a squeeze of fingers. Em let go. A load that Hawk didn¡¯t know she was carrying went with her.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°I take it that was one of the regrowth episodes you mentioned.¡± She said, to Spectre.

    ¡°Yep. They seem to be getting a bit more frequent, too. Not overly much. About once a day or so we get a surge and have to go through what we¡¯ve already done. I¡¯ll probably yank the bit back and run it back down through the hole, just to make sure we got it. My guess is even with the time we lose dealing with regrowth, we¡¯ll be through it in twenty four hours, this side.¡±

    Em, who could always be counted on, said, ¡°How long is that on the other side?¡±

    Captain Spectre looked away for a moment, his lips working like he¡¯d just eaten a lemon. ¡°Maybe ten minutes. Maybe less. We¡¯re not working too hard on hammering out the equivalency right now. We just know that there¡¯s people out there waiting for their families, and that we¡¯re going to be giving them one hell of a batch of bad news.¡±

    ¡°At least we¡¯re in here to deal with it,¡± Em said, and slipped past the Captain. ¡°Come on. You seem to have a little nest over here.¡±

    ¡°I ought to go back topside,¡± Hawk said. ¡°run the time out there, so we can get moving immediately.¡±

    ¡°And what if Kaiser¡¯s got you a ten minute walk from the hole when we break through? You can sprint the distance to the Event Horizon and it won¡¯t matter. You¡¯ll still lose a week. No, I¡¯d rather be down here. If only so we have more time to plan what to do about up there.¡± Em said.

    ¡°Why do we need a plan for up there?¡± Hawk said. ¡°Alex is down here.¡±

    ¡°Because Kaiser is up there, for now, as are the several hundred very wealthy families whose kids are long gone. And you know Alex might as well be gone. You know it, I know it. We¡¯re all just¡­going through the motions and digging people¡¯s graves right now. And Kaiser is going to be the man to tell all those rich mommies and righteous daddies that Billy and Jimmy and little Francis lived and died down here. And then those people are going to take their money and do things with it. And it¡¯s going to be moves against technology and sciences that don¡¯t have massive lobbyist collectives protecting them. Or it will if Kaiser has anything to say about it.¡±

    ¡°You think he can keep them from suing the shit out of his company?¡± She said, as they climbed back over the spikes

    A very pleased smile from Emile. ¡°Not even if he begs them. His ass is grass¡­if.¡± Em held up one finger, and Hawk spun around to face them. ¡°They¡¯re gonna need a connection between Studdard and Kaiser. Bigger than Kaiser stealing, bigger than him being the OG manufacturer of the Prism. They need a way to connect what Naomi Studdard did to Kaiser Willheim.¡±

    And she heard what Em was saying. ¡°Alex.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s chance that they pulled this off when he showed up. I think that Kaiser sent him there, same way he sent the two of you into the old woman¡¯s backyard, and the same way he sent all four of us to the Bronx zoo. It¡¯s great if we accomplish something and survive¡ª¡± They raised their eyebrows to Hawk.

    ¡°¡­but he¡¯s real okay if we don¡¯t.¡± she finished, then sighed. ¡°The only way to prove that Alex is the connection is to find Alex.¡± And an idea hit her as if she¡¯d been stabbed. ¡°Which Kaiser isn¡¯t going to let us do, if he did set Alex up to fail.¡± Hawk sat down hard on her piece of plastic. In the distance, the drill made a sharper shirring sound, and the military guys around it began shouting¡ªand then broke into cheers before Hawk could do much more than worry.

    ¡°So I¡¯m thinking it¡¯s gonna be a good idea if one of us¡ªme, you, or Dyson¡ªgot lost as soon as that drill...¡± Em stopped their whisper, looked quite hard at one milky quartz wall, and sat down beside Hawk as if they didn¡¯t have a care in the world. Only their hands, suddenly clenched and shaking at their side, told Hawk things were not okay.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look now,¡± Em said, and shifted so that their back was against a smooth, quartz-like spire. ¡°But there¡¯s somebody watching us on the other side of this shit.¡±

 Six: What Big Eyes You Have

    It took Hawk a minute to spot what Em had seen. A rippling movement in the warm off-white crystals behind them, small, slight, sneaky. Its refractions were visible a bare second when Hawk turned, and then vanished. Which told her something (or someone) was not only watching her and Em, it was listening.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± Hawk whispered.

    ¡°You¡¯re assuming it can¡¯t hear us.¡± Em also whispered.

    ¡°I know. But I don¡¯t want the military to hear us either.¡± She gave her friend a definite look.

    ¡°Oh. Oh!¡± They said. ¡°Are you going to sneak off?¡±

    ¡°May¡­y¡­yes I am.¡± Hawk said, all her hesitation evaporating as she spotted Kaiser gingerly making his way down the rope ladder.

    ¡°You sounded hesitant there for a second,¡± Em said.

    Hawk tilted her head at Kaiser. ¡°I am not going to spend however long it takes to drill through the crystal smiling up that man¡¯s ass.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ll leave me to do it?¡± Em said, harshly¡­and then grinned. ¡°Sorry, babe. You¡¯re just so fun to fuck with. I¡¯m happy to stand here and smile in the fucker¡¯s face, as long as I get to punch him a couple times before all this is over. Go see what kind of alien nasty we¡¯re dealing with and I¡¯ll keep them from realizing you¡¯re gone until it¡¯s too late.¡±

    ¡°Well, when you put it like that.¡± Hawk muttered.

    She studied the geode wall of milk-colored crystal. After a few moments, she spotted it. There was a very small opening in the walls, bordered by an army of crystal. With that august guard, it almost escaped solid observation. Certainly, she only spotted it now because she was desperate, and looking for it. The military would probably have found it, just as soon as they broke through.

    ¡°Alright, Em. If I¡¯m not back in ten minutes, tell Captain Spectre that we¡¯ve already got a hole.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­but Hawk, it doesn¡¯t make sense. They did a full sweep of this place.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to see,¡± She said.

    ¡°But¡ª¡± Em sputtered for a moment. ¡°But they should have found this.¡±

    ¡°Well, I found it. Just tell them, okay?¡± She said, and began making her way to the newfound exit.

    It actually took a bit of a jump to reach the opening from where she¡¯d put her plastic sheet. She had to brace one hand on an outcropping that seemed coated with sugar¡­tiny crystals that each dug into her palm like a thousand needles. She left a palmprint of blood on that ledge, with a second one on the crystals she gripped to swing into the opening.

    It was very well hidden, a seemingly natural outcropping. The soft, milk-shaded spires of crystal roiled across the walls for perhaps ten feet, before giving way to a more pedestrian gray stone. Hawk stepped (and bled) onto this with some appreciation. Something she could stand on that wouldn¡¯t cut her. What an excellent thing.

    She knelt, searching through her pockets for something she could wind over the bleeding palm¡­but she¡¯d left all her first aid supplies in the kit. Damn it. Well, she could go ahead without. Most of the shallow cuts were sealing off, anyway. She was alright to go forward.

    Slow steps, first careful and wincing steps across a million million crystal points, then gritty on the unfinished, seemingly natural stone. It felt the way nails on a chalkboard are heard. How long had this structure been here? In its own time, not the fast flare they saw on the other side of the Rift. There, geological time moved with glacial, generational slowness. Here¡­who knew? Step by step into this tunnel. It felt damp, she realized. As if it were taking her somewhere humid.

    It was, she realized. Well, maybe not the humid part, but it was taking her somewhere, and it wasn¡¯t going to be anything she¡¯d recognized. If there was life, it had adapted to the sort of universe that could produce Glass ashes and energies that sapped organic compounds of life. It¡¯d be life with no sun, no weather as she knew it, no rain. Unless she was wrong, and there were somehow stars and comets and galactic spirals ahead¡­but she didn¡¯t think so. There¡¯d be a freshness to the air, an evaporative cheer. That wasn¡¯t here. Each breath was wet, though not unpleasantly so. It felt like a cellar. It felt like a cave.

    The occasional echo told Hawk a cave indeed lay ahead. A cave that might be filled with unknown, unknowable life. And she was walking out to face it, not only without any kind of armament whatsoever, but without even a first aid kit.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    So maybe she¡¯d go a little bit farther, and then go back.

    The hum of the drill was distant, so now she could hear something else: The howling of wind past an unseen opening. It screamed with a thousand hauntings, and tasted slightly of metal. Not like radiation. More like blood. And she could smell something heady and sweet with floral botanicals. The prospect of a place filled with life was rising like dawn. She crept closer, testing each step just in case the ground should prove unstable. The last thing she wanted was to twist an ankle while she was crawling through these darkened hallways. Pushing off with her legs, she got a solid grip on the way out of this place. She swung forward, pulling with her upper arms, getting her blood all over the stone, because of course she was. In fact, half the wounds on her palm reopened from this effort. But she¡¯d pulled herself out of a hole, out of a rock seated on another, larger spire of crystal.

    And what she saw from here was breathtaking.

    It could have been like a great cave, except that implied that its walls and floors and ceiling all behaved as matter should. Here, it did not. She watched as a trickle of water, racing across the face of the crystal she stood upon, followed a course leading not down but up. It made something nearly like a mobius strip, spinning around and up and beneath a rock, before finally joining the main spire of crystal in a downward flood to the ground below.

    There was a ground. There was a whole, great universe here, down in the dark where it could glow like ten thousand jewels across the face of the night. Their clump of crystals, the hole that lead to the world that Hawk knew, all of it, was a singular point high above, where one might expect to find clouds and sky. It was a place of subterranean in between, the definition of liminal, and a thousand great spire-like crystals rose from that dark world up and out, as if these were bridges to other places like hers. They¡¯d been calling these pocket universes. Now it felt as if Earth itself, and all the starry universe therein¡ªthe Milky Way and Andromeda galaxy, Alpha Centuri, Orion, the solar system¡ªwere the pocket, and she had come out into the real world at last.

    I refuse that. I rebuke that. My world is the real one, this one is nothing more than the pause before a plunge.

    There were vines with leaves bleached pale, crawling across the face of her entry point. There were also flowers, purple and multi-petaled, possibly some variety of clementis. Would there be clementis down here? She scoffed at her own ignorance. She¡¯d read the briefing. There¡¯d been an entire greenhouse, stocked with whatever Naomi Studdard chose. Of course there could be clementis down here. There would be varieties of roses, and the vegetables their garden club were growing. Maybe. They¡¯d gotten an entire population of highly evolved, sentient apes out of a single pregnant female and her eventual son. The students had kept their 4H projects in the greenhouse. God only knew what could be down there.

    One stress at a time, Hawk thought, and reached for the vines.

    The branch nearest her was thick, nearly the size of her wrist. The odd leaf and flower still budded off from this thickness, as if the parent plant couldn¡¯t quite accept that beauty must be awarded to the young and vivacious. She thought that it could almost support her full weight¡­maybe. She wasn¡¯t going to test it.

    Beneath her feet, the gray stone that housed the geode-like structure they were drilling through seemed eggshell fragile. And beneath that, nothingness all the way down. She got a heavy sense of vertigo, the world spinning in a thousand apparent directions, and she had to kneel on the edge of the trop down¡­where there were lights. One great blaze, like a star in all this dimness, shone radiant and clear. It looked rather like the light filtering though all this milky quartz.

    Alright. We need to go back and let them know¡ª

    ¡°What are you?¡± A voice, sudden and genderless and above all else, loud. The whole rock reverberated with it.

    She was very still, hoping it didn¡¯t mean her.

    ¡°Of course I mean you. I mean all of you. What are you, that you break this seal?¡±

    It was a Voice, the way the Ape had been an ape. These were Words and they were meant to be obeyed, and she found herself torn between the urge to let go of the sides of this hole and grovel, and hold on so that she wouldn¡¯t fall. And even that¡ªfalling¡ªseemed to pale beside the terrible act of ignoring the Voice, of holding to the rock, holding to her own life.

    But she wasn¡¯t going to capitulate. She was Hawk West, survivor of her mother¡¯s overwhelming flakiness, champion of undesirables like Ants, and wife of a man who would never have just sat here and allowed someone to scare her back down a hole. She knew that she should speak next¡ªAlex had taught her sometimes any answer is necessary, even one that makes you cringe. But she couldn¡¯t think of a goddamn thing to say that would make sense to the unknown Voice, so she fell back on decades of much loved science-fiction. ¡°We¡¯re peaceful explorers and we¡¯re looking for some of our own kind. They¡¯re lost. If you could¡ª¡±

    ¡°Silence!¡± Said the voice, not loudly. It did not need to be loud. And it did not say another word. Rather, she heard a scrabbling sound as something crawled across the geode-scape towards her. She had no problem filling in teeth, because it had wet and garbled breathing. It had claws, because she could hear them scrabbling across the stone. It was big, because only something big would breathe and move quite like that.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Hawk said, softly. ¡°Are you still there?¡±

    ¡°Silence!¡± Said the Voice, and it, the claws, the breathing, were all nearer.

    ¡°There¡¯s something out there. You need to be careful,¡± she whispered, to the unseen Voice.

    A single line of crystalline fluid dripped down from somewhere above her head. Hesitant and horrified, she looked up.

    The first thing she registered was the eyes. There must have been a thousand of them, in a myriad shades of blue and gold. All had odd pupils, like some sort of deep water thing. Phosphorescence glowed around its main pair, however, set into a feline-like head, powerful jaws, and teeth as radiant white as one could ask. All of this she caught in a handful of seconds.

    And then it went for her throat.

 Seven: The Monstrous Teeth

    She got off one scream, high and loud, and then the beast was upon her. Maws opened like horror of a Scylla, the beast shucked her from the hole as simply as she would pluck an oyster from its shell, caught her clothing in its teeth, and then began to run. First simply around the geode-sphere where the rest of her friends worked to make an opening, as if it were looking for a familiar path. Then it lanced through the air, a leap of breathless grace and deadly edges, down, down towards the ground. It was every shade of shadow, deep violets and cobalt blues fading into the soft shade of a sunlit day. There was a horrible beauty to it, like being devoured by a masterwork. The beast landed on the crystal spire that connected the geode to the world below, and her shirt tore. She fell, hard, on the ground, but had no time to react or run. The beast was on her again, breath hot across her skin. She held very still. Struggling would trigger prey drive. She needed to wait for her chance to flee, to catch the moment when escape held hope. The great cat-like beast did not allow that to happen. It held her down with both forepaws and readjusted its grip on her clothing. Its teeth grazed her skin, leaving white-hot trails of pain. She thought for sure she was about to be shredded. All it would take was a grip on her arm, or shoulder, and one very impressive shake of its head and jowls. But the pain she expected never came. It had tangled its teeth in the seams of her shirt, in the double stitched waistband of her pants. Now it began running again, every sinew rippling under its strange, scaled skin. It ran down, and down, past waterfalls of impressive size, over the streams of water that fed them. Down across plant life with bleached white leaves and flowers that glowed as the Beast ran past. The crystal spire was a descent into a decadent world rich with plants, with flowers, with scent. She watched, terrified, as the geode at the end of the crystal beam retreated, and her entire world with it.

    The beast that gripped her ran with leonine pace, down and further down. Its teeth against her back were a constant source of pain, the ripping of her clothing an even greater concern. If this thing were to drop her, she might fall¡­and more likely than falling would be a readjustment of grip into her soft flesh, a ripping of teeth and claw and a rending of life. She would die, here and now, the moment this creature decided it wanted its meal.

    Instinct had overwhelmed her. She was too paralyzed with fear to fight, but she¡¯d gained enough of her own sense of self-preservation back that when the beast suddenly dropped her, she could scramble around back to her hands and knees. She cast around for something she could defend herself with. They were no longer on the high crystal pylon jutting down from the Geode, but on firm and solid ground. Oh God. Thank God. She knelt in a clearing, surrounded by white-leaved trees of enormous size. The stones here glowed like the milk crystal above, shedding light like pale gold across the ground. There were soft blue phosphorescent grasses beneath her hands, and fist sized flowers grew from a green-leafed branch. But a few steps away loomed a dark bulk, twice as long as it was tall, phosphorescence and eyes, oh god it had so many eyes, and they were all watching her.

    ¡°You violated my peace, woman.¡± The Voice came from its mouth. No, she realized with dawning horror. Its mouths. It had what seemed like four of them, one layered inside the other, and it made her whimper with the utter terror of it all. ¡°Tell me why I should let you live?¡±

    ¡°Oh God it¡¯s talking,¡± she whispered, and looked directly in its eyes.

    ¡°Oh, Gods, indeed,¡± hissed the Beast. ¡°You are like them. Defiant to the last.¡± And it opened its mouths wide, letting her see the soft, rippling flesh of its gullet¡ª

    She thought, Oh god, Alex, I¡¯m so sorry, and braced herself for the pain.

    Light burst between the two, soundless and intense. Hawk, already frozen by the horror of the Beast, collapsed. It was radiant and beautiful and as utterly unlike the Beast before her as night was from day. It covered her with a reassuring blanket of warmth. It seemed to do the opposite to the beast. The Light exposed it, the feline shape of its head and body, the multiple thickness of jowls from its impossible maw. It had four main eyes, each fixated on her, while all the rest of its myriad oculars were closed in agony against the light. It howled and flung itself backwards, making a wreckage of the plants and grasses and flowers¡­and then it dissolved into shadows and was gone, racing through the grass until there was nothing left but the plants and the light.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°There, there, there,¡± an entirely different sort of voice said. ¡°And why don¡¯t we see what Shadow has brought to my door.¡±

    And with the last few strands of consciousness Hawk could manage, she caught a glimpse of a man in white robes and mask¡­and then everything finally collapsed into the safer dark of oblivion.

    She woke up the first time to gentle words. Hush, hush. You aren¡¯t alone. I am here. You must be hungry. Here. There was broth and there was kindness, and a hand on her wounds. Opening her eyes was agony. How had she gotten injured? For some reason she thought of anting with Alex, hunting for fertile Queen ants to start new colonies with, finding nests of honeypots with their round bellies glowing. She even felt the taste of honeypot nectar on her lips, as if she¡¯d been given it to drink. Had something happened? Had she fallen down an embankment? Maybe into a cactus, the way her back felt. The broth was herbaceous and tasted of basil, of lavender, of something gamier than chicken. She swallowed it down. What if it¡¯s drugged? Too late, too late, she tried to gag it back up again. The person feeding her laughed at first, but this shifted to concern and then to nothing, nothing at all. She was unconscious again.

    She dreamed she was with Alex, that she was back at her dining room table (was it less than a week ago? Had the world been normal so close to this moment? How was that possible? The fear, the toxic horror, that should have been clear even in those moments. It should infect the past backwards) and was going through the disturbing collection of items her mother, April Rayne, had mailed her and Alex this time. Then she was at Mrs. Cumming¡¯s house, holding the dying squirrel as she dumped cotton balls out of her ant-catching kit. Alex, she shouted, Alex¡ªand then Kaiser¡¯s office, whip-quick, in the white-plastic-walled halls where she and the Lion of Industry had met. Alex, I don¡¯t understand¡­

    The Bronx zoo, and the last time she¡¯d ever seen Alex, her and her husband making love in an office beside their makeshift showers.

    Her dreams sped her down the same path a thousand times, it seemed. First herself and Alex, before the world fell in. The death of the old woman. The interview with Kaiser. Going to Em¡¯s house, going to the Zoo. And over and over and over again, the horror of Boston, of turning on the television and seeing her whole world, her whole life, ending with the blazing glow of the Event Horizon. She felt as if someone were dragging her through her own history, backwards, as if through thorns.

    She panicked herself back into unconsciousness. Her memory had wrapped around her, boa-like, and it was cutting her off from air.

    The second time she woke, she woke completely.

    She lay in a small, low, comfortable bed that was unlike anything she¡¯d ever seen before. Logs had been lashed together and then laced with ropes. Furs¡ªthey looked and felt like rabbit furs¡ªthat were well tanned and, from the comfortable smell, well cleaned, cradled her body. There was a pad of them beneath her head, with the furs wrapped around something that smelled fragrant and pleasant. Something like lavender, or maybe chamomile¡ªnot either herb, but something new, something that was only like the better-known plants. It was like the apes had been. It was only like an ape. There was a fire. She turned her face towards it. Logs burned in a little, low hearth made of well-fitted stone. It was a rough mantle, unadorned, but it looked as if someone lived there. Nails had been driven in at regular intervals, and someone¡¯s socks¡ªa strange, silken fabric, like silk¡ªwere drying on the hearth. Herbs hung in the rafters, beside braided onions and stiffening cuts of cured meat. A little soup pot seemed to be nestled in some embers. Everything in this room was some form of white. White furs, white stones, white plants drying in the rafters, white reeds underfoot. White, milk-crystal walls.

    Primitive, was her first thought. Followed by, knock it off, because that thought was unworthy of her. Not primitive, but someone making do with the best that they had. She stood up, feeling very much in need of a wash.

    There was a door, and as she looked around (Nursing a headache) it opened and admitted the most peculiar person she¡¯d ever seen. They wore white, of course, many, many layers of pure white silk. A hooded white robe with a soft pattern in its weaving¡ªa round white disk, she thought, repeated over and over¡ªwith an over-panel of even whiter silk. It smelled musty and spicy and a little bit sweet. He had a fur mantle. The hood was drawn up to his face, which was covered by an ivory mask. This latter was quite angular and made no effort to match the shape of the face beneath it, but rather had a mouth-shape and eye-shapes that kept the being¡¯s actual eyes and mouth hidden. She was pretty sure he was male, and pretty sure he was young, though the hair pouring out from the sides of his hood and mask were also very white.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re awake,¡± he said.

 Eight: The House of the Light

    ¡°Yes, I''m awake¡± Hawk answered, and then winced. Speaking was a mistake. A very, very big mistake. Her head felt like the Army Core of Engineers were using the drill on her cranium. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have a cure for a headache, do you?¡±

    ¡°Under normal circumstances, I would. A simple cantrip that usually handles most pains. But I spent a great deal of time rummaging around in your head already, and I¡¯m afraid any further efforts will only make the headache worse.¡±

    Hawk sat all the way up, despite the pain. She wasn¡¯t in her fatigues anymore, but in a white silk shift that felt almost delightful. She ignored how nice it felt. ¡°You were inside my head? Where the fuck are my clothes? Where am I?¡±

    The man waited for her to calm down. ¡°Those are several questions. Am I to have leave to answer?¡±

    She made herself calm down. It wasn¡¯t this¡­person¡¯s fault she was here, after all. She¡¯d only been dropped in their lap by a weird monster. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m just¡­what did you mean you were inside my head?¡±

    ¡°To answer your latter questions first, you are in the Temple of Light, where you were dropped by a particularly nasty manifestation of the Shadowbeast. It might even have been the Shadowmaster themselves. Never good, clashing so directly. I recommend subtlety next time; they prefer it. As it was a manifestation, we had to make sure you were no devotee of the Shadow or any of its allies. So a rather unkind but thorough assessment of your mind was required.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Hawk said. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Well, the unconscious mind is a simple nut to crack, though my methods are a bit hard on the meat. I was trained by the Archon of Earth and Nasheth Herself, to the Gods¡¯ own pleasure, so of course I had to learn gentleness by rote. Your clothing was destroyed, for which I apologize.¡± The speaker now leaned over her bed. ¡°This is your breakfast. You have been asleep for two days.¡±

    She winced, knowing that everything else aside, she needed that sleep, and she took the tray he offered because she didn¡¯t have much of a choice. She could starve by refusing his food. Her MREs were in her rucksack back in the geode. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    He inclined his head and mask. The blank glare of his eye-holes were unsettling.

    ¡°My name is Hawk West. I¡¯m a Doctor. Do you know what that is?¡± She waited, and he shook his head, sending the band of silver in his mask sparkling. The rest of it looked like ivory. There were a few baubles hanging here and there. Now that she was looking she also spotted Honeypot abdomins on his belt, fashioned into carry-all containers. One of the cups on her tray was also gaster-like, though the leathery feel was practically ossified. Ivory. She glanced once at the Archon¡¯s mask. She hoped it wasn¡¯t actually ivory. That¡¯d be a big bone. ¡°It means I¡¯m very educated on a particular subject.¡± She paused. ¡°Though I don¡¯t think that education will be useful here.¡±

    This earned her a nod. ¡°I assumed you were educated. You seem quite gifted in the Sacred Tongue.¡±

    ¡°The Sacred¡­¡± she trailed off, shaking her head.

    ¡°The words of the Gods. It is how we are conversing now. Your name is Hawkwest?¡± he said, turning it all into one word.

    ¡°No. Two words. Hawk, my first name,¡± she made something of a square with her fingers. ¡°West, my family name. Well, it¡¯s my husband¡¯s family name. In our¡­land,¡± she chickened out of explaining what Earth was to this person. ¡°Wives take the husband¡¯s family name if they want to.¡± She thought a moment about her mother, nineteen boxes of cake pearls, and a pile of very ugly yarn. All those things belonged to another Hawk, on another planet¡­but still. ¡°I wanted to.¡±

    ¡°That is our directive towards women as well, though we view it as less a choice and more an obligation. Please, eat.¡±

    The food she¡¯d been brought looked pretty good, for somewhere that didn¡¯t seem to have microwaves or refridgerators. Two or three small rounds of flatbread, a white-fleshed root that had been cooked and that smelled like sunflower seeds, a few strips of medium-well meat (though she suspected this was less ¡®medium rare¡¯ and more ¡®cooked¡¯ to the stranger) and a sweet-and-sour sauce to pour over all of it. She tried a very small bite of each. It all seemed edible. The sauce was delicious, and served in the honeypot bowl. It definitely had honeypot nectar as an ingredient. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± She said, holding the flatbread in one hand.

    This seemed to offend the stranger. ¡°Truly? You ask that? Of me?¡±

    Oh shit. She¡¯d stepped on a land-mine without a warning. Hurriedly, she assembled the best explanation she could. ¡°Forgive me, sir. Where I¡¯m from, we don¡¯t have¡­¡± she hesitated. ¡°Where we don¡¯t have Shadowbeasts. Or any food like this. Your sacred language is just¡­language, to us. It¡¯s the words we use every day. So I¡¯m sorry I don¡¯t know your customs.¡±

    A soft breath. ¡°So you do claim to be from the Gods¡¯ own world?¡±

    Oh, GOD, she thought. She¡¯d just jumped from a slightly wobbly subject to one suspended over lethal fire, the sword of Damocles in verbal form. An alien religion. God help her. ¡°No,¡± she said this very firmly. ¡°We are not your Gods. We did not come from a world with Gods. We have nothing to do with your Gods. My people are here because someone¡ªan idiot¡ªripped a hole between¡­between my home and here. That¡¯s the best I can explain it right now. And a whole bunch of my people fell down that hole. Now, I¡¯m here to find them. I don¡¯t know your customs. I don¡¯t know how to¡­how to handle your God or their traditions.¡± She sighed. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to ask for your patience.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°So you don¡¯t know what it means, that you were brought here by the Shadowbeast?¡± the man said. ¡°And you still claim to be from the world beyond the Nexus?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the nexus?¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°The spires of crystal above our head, or rather at their terminus, the great concatenations of them. The Nexus. Created by the Shadowmaster to cut us off from the God-World. A great calamity¡­and one we¡¯ve lived with for two hundred years.¡±

    Okay, Hawk thought, and neatly dodged every fact that left her feeling overwhelmed. She¡¯d ask about Shadow masters and nexuses when she wasn¡¯t in a stranger¡¯s bed. ¡°Well¡­that¡¯s a lot. But to get back to the subject¡­I don¡¯t know why it offends you that I asked for your name. I apologize for the slight.¡±

    This brought a brightening of this person, though she couldn¡¯t see if he actually smiled. ¡°Well, then. It is a bit offensive, but not overly much. I was surprised, more than offended, by your question. It seemed like you meant it.¡±

    ¡°I did.¡±

    ¡°I am Archon of the Temple of Light. In theory, I am Archon for every Temple to the Master of Light, and I am His mouthpiece. And I will assume that is a bit more than you wanted to know. What you need to know, right now, is that in becoming Archon, one surrenders one¡¯s own name and identity. We become as slaves and mouthpieces for our God.¡±

    ¡°So¡­something like a priest.¡± She said.

    A shake of the masked head. ¡°We are more than priests. We speak for the God, my lady of Elsewhere, wherever he or she may be. We also share in their power, though mine does come from elsewhere, because my God is dead.¡±

    This statement fell like lead, and the Archon watched her as if she were supposed to be shocked. But she didn¡¯t know enough to be shocked. Comparative mythology, she thought, and did her best not to roll her eyes. ¡°So do the Gods live in the temples? Do you like¡­tend a sacred flame?¡± God she was not equipped to ask questions about religion. She felt like she was asking questions about Narnia, or Grim¡¯s Fairy Tales.

    Maybe I am, she thought, and had to bury her hysteria in her food.

    ¡°Well, something like that. Do try the Marrowroot, it¡¯s especially good this year. Yes. In most temples the God lives in Their house, and sends Their Archon to do Their bidding. And in those Houses it is a yoke of some burden. No one sane wants to be Archon, you understand. But in my case, I am merely¡­keeping stock.¡± He gestured around the small, close, and oddly comfortable room they sat in. The walls of glowing crystal were comforting, like maybe being inside of a womb. ¡°The Master of Light does not live in His House¡­or in anyone¡¯s House. The God is fled, for He is dead. I suppose I could make use of His Rooms in the Temple¡ªit is said all Archons may benefit from the largesse of their God as the price of their service¡ªbut I like my little quarters, and what little life I may glean from the excess. There are also the people¡¯s tithes¡­what little there may be.¡±

    ¡°What sort of meat is this?¡± Hawk asked, pointing a two-pronged fork at the little strips.

    ¡°Rabbit,¡± answered the Archon. ¡°Do they not even have rabbits where you are from?¡±

    ¡°No. We have rabbits. We¡¯ve got lots of rabbits.¡± She ate the meat. It tasted pretty good. Very gamey, but the Archon (or, more likely, whoever cooked this donation to the Archon) had bridged that flavor very well with a lavender-like herb. Lavender and rosemary. Very herbs de provence. ¡°This isn¡¯t bad.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I bred the rabbits myself. Furs and meat are a bit much to expect from a tithe¡­especially to a God who hears no prayers.¡± He held out a fired ceremic bowl to Hawk. It was dark black, with a radiant streak of blue and gold iridescence down one side. Whatever was inside of it smelled fragrant. If scent had color, these were jewel tones. She hesitated before taking the cup, and he managed to raise his mask without exposing a single inch of skin, took a sip, and turned the cup back to her. ¡°It¡¯s a juice made of Kine fruit and flowers. Quite delicious, and as I am Archon, unfermented.¡± This last line carried with it a note of regret.

    ¡°Can¡¯t get drunk?¡± She said, and took a sip of the drink. Oh, it was spectacular. Smooth, cool, a creamy note, and just the right balance between tart and sweet. She¡¯d compare it to passion fruit ice cream. She wondered what kind of fruit it came from. It had been sweetened with honeypots.

    ¡°It is forbidden,¡± the Archon agreed.

    ¡°Huh.¡± That didn¡¯t surprise her. ¡°How about women?¡±

    ¡°That is firmly forbidden. Though you would not be the first to try and make me break my vows.¡±

    But she shook her head. ¡°Just¡­trying to get a feel for who you and your religion are¡ª¡±

    ¡°What is religion?¡± the Archon stumbled over the repeated word.

    Hawk fumbled for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s¡­our word for the relationship between a human and their god.¡±

    ¡°Phagh,¡± the Archon made a disgusted sound. ¡°One might as well talk about the relationship between the mouse and the cat.¡±

    This surprised her. She busied herself with the delicious juice from the pretty cup, and watched the Archon out of the corner of her eye. She suspected he was doing the same from the safety of his mask. She¡¯d never envied a piece of clothing quite so much. She decided to take a venture. ¡°Weird statement from an Archon.¡±

    ¡°If you have never heard from us, how would you know I am strange?¡± This should have been delivered with a smile, an arched brow. All she got was the damned blank mask. Then he relaxed back into his own chair. ¡°But I am odd. I serve a God who is not there, and perform a life of servitude in empty halls. You are the most interesting thing to happen in the Temple of Light for quite some time.¡±

    She nodded, accepting it, and went right back to what bothered her the most. ¡°So. You said you were inside my head?¡±

    This actually got a small laugh. ¡°Yes. Forgive me. I had to seek out traces of Shadow, or any other Gods that might have had a hand in you. Their touch is seldom so hidden as it would need to be, for you to belong to it, but¡­¡± he waved a hand from side to side. ¡°You are clean. Or at least, unviolated by any God, let alone Shadow.¡±

    ¡°And this would have been a problem?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Well, if it were any God but Shadow, no. Though I would now be giving you a different sort of succor. One must always bend to the servants of the Gods, no matter how one feels about them. You would have been much celebrated. Likely in the Light¡¯s own rooms, and from the Light¡¯s own Table. But you are not that. You are, in fact, utterly mortal. And so the most I can offer you is what little I call my own.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, and wondered just how much he had given her¡­and how hard it would be to replace her meal. ¡°That¡¯s¡­very kind of you.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re suspicious of my kindness. Good. That will serve you well.¡±

    ¡°I need¡ª¡±

    ¡°Rest. What thoughts I touched were fevered and heavy with grief. It made me thoroughly regret the violation. You will rest, because your body needs it, and your grief needs it more.¡±

    ¡°My husband¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me, yet.¡± A soft hand, male, but perfumed and well manicured, pressed against her lips. ¡°What I know is a violation, and telling me your truths will not make it better. Time will diminish the effects of my sin. You will rest and let the bones of your sorrow lie buried for the night. We will exhume them all in the morrow.¡±

    ¡°Am I in your bed?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Yes. But tonight I am meant to tend to my God¡¯s hearth. This bed would be fallow anyway. You may use it.¡±

    And he took the cup from her, and the food. She laid back into her soft, furry pillow and watched the Archon carry the dirty dishes away.

    She was asleep before he¡¯d crossed all the way to the door.

 Nine: An Unraveled Catechism

    The next time Hawk awakened, the Archon was absent, but her breakfast was present. It was similar to¡­well, she couldn¡¯t call it yesterday, now could she? The day hadn¡¯t passed back home¡ªshe suspected it hadn¡¯t been even an hour¡ªand there was no sun here to mark time. Days must be a foreign concept. Her clothes were present, folded and cleaned and little more than ribbons after the Shadowbeast incident, but beside them were a collection of silk gowns and robes, and a beautifully calligraphed note: I invite you to wear our robes until you¡¯re well. If you feel up to it, you may join me in the garden. There was no signature.

    Hell with it, she thought, and went for the silk.

    It took her a minute to guess at how these garments were meant to be layered. She found her own underwear (for some reason the thought of the Archon undressing her wasn¡¯t disturbing. The man had all the sexual presence of a lamppost) out of the pile of fatigues, and figured the simplest gown of rough, cream-colored silk was an under-dress, like a chemise. A better, finer, ankle-length tunic had slits from ankle to just above the knee, and a panel of delicate embroidery, of flowers and what looked like ants on a background of circles. She suspected some religious symbolism, but she was largely thrilled to see ants as an attractive motif. The chemise felt like putting on a gentle breeze. The heavier samite was, she guessed, the outer robe. This had no slits for ease-of-walking, save for down the middle. When she put it on, she felt more modest than if she¡¯d put on a nun¡¯s wimple.

    Fortunately it was very cool down here, and the heavy outer robe was welcome. There were also a pair of soft boots, lined with fur. She put them on. PETA would probably choke on this place¡­but the Shadowbeast would gladly finish them off. There was a time and a place for that sort of activism; down here was not it. She shuddered at the memory of that¡­thing. It had been beautiful in its own right, but tigers were glorious too. They still ate you. Of more interest to her was¡­how had it gotten up to the geode where the drill and her friends still were, when it looked damn near impossible without hammers, spikes, and climbing gear. Why had it attacked her? And what sort of evolutionary chance had brought it to life?

    There were no answers. She chose to leave the room instead.

    It was her first true adventure outside, into a pocket universe. She didn¡¯t know what to expect. Riotous florals hadn¡¯t been on the list, but she faced a huge bank of some white climbing vine. Its leaves were bleached and pale, and the blooms were a vibrant, well-lit helitrope. Veins of phosphorescence traversed each petal. Pale moths flitted from flower to flower, their wings seeming dull at first. Then one of them flashed glowing eye-spots at her, a fierce visage that sent her stumbling back into a trellis of green-leafed wisteria¡­or something very much like it. The florals were soft, pinks and blues and lavenders, and the smell promised paradise. These close paths of flowers continued for a few paces, small doors tucked discretely here and there amongst the trellises. But it was the light that was impressing Hawk now. Everything architecture was made of that pale, warm milk-tinted crystal, and it glowed like daylight with an omnipresent shine. But the flowers also shed light. As she drew closer and closer to some unseen center, the flowers grew deeper in intensity. They also gained color, going from a moth-pale gray, bare as breath, to more robust shades. A vibrant orange ball of floral enthusiasm bloomed just as she passed it, a sudden explosion of pollen and floral scent that subsided only with the passionate burst of its neighbor. Each with a ping, a pop, a sigh as it settled into its own vegetative place.

    She turned a corner stepped out into a world of perfection.

    The ground beneath her feet was moss, patterned delicately around glowing orange and blue stones. Different colors gathered to different stones, and until she stepped out here, she thought it was chance that the white-veined moss stayed just so around its blue stone, the dark blue-flowering stuff clung to the orange. But the ground here had a pattern of moss, all of it spiraling round and round to a great light in the center, hovering six feet above the verdant ground. It was white and it glowed, heatless, as clear as any spring day back home. Around it were a seeming thousand thousand green leafed plants, though later Hawk would learn there were only twenty or so, each woven into the spiral around this central clearing. A band of flowers in every shade eased away from this main heart of light. There was a little spring-fed pool to one side, with a grate to let the water leave the walled-in boundaries of this garden. A sitting area bordered this, covered in moss save for one bare flag-stone in front of each chair.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Around the main light, there grew a tree. Oh, this did not do the tree justice, because the tree made up most of the temple. It towered high above it all, and light seemed to flow up with it, crystal blending into the substance of the tree until it all seemed one great towering, living spire. Up, light went, up along the branches and through the roots. It was a fine wet-work of lines, veigns of light leading to arteries, leading to deep, pulsating pylons that were as much a part of the tree as its bark. Its leaves were alive with the light, its flowers trailing in what seemed like ten thousand colors. There was a glowing section of wisteria, a dozen roses in as many shades climbing along the back of one branch, only to end in an explosion of jasmine-like florals.

    ¡°Oh, My god,¡± she breathed.

    ¡°Some say it is,¡± said the Archon. He was standing in the Light, that high-intensity orb that the roots had grown into. It made him very hard to see. This was as bright as daylight¡ªno, brighter. ¡°Some say it is indeed the remains of our First God. Others say it is the plant from which all plants come. Others say that it is nothing more than a great tree, and it may as well be felled now as never.¡±

    ¡°Felled?!¡± she said, shock sluicing through her. She was, after all, already more than half in love with the thing.

    The mask nodded. ¡°Of course, that is the first law of Nasheth¡ªthat the God-Tree is to be felled at the hour of Unmaking, when the sky does fall and the world goes right, and the Master of Light returns to his bride once more. The second law of Nasheth is that all strangers who cannot recite the names of all Gods are to be hung from the tree until the end of time.¡±

    ¡°And this is supposed to be comforting?¡± Hawk said, dryly.

    The Archon turned to her. ¡°But of course. For how can you be hanged if the tree is felled? And there is the first name of the Gods for you. Argon, master of Fire and War. These two are interchangeable, you may call them by any of the three. Firemaster, Warmaster, Lord Argon. The same is true for the other three. There is Illyris, Master of Water and Muse, Kali¡¯mar, Master of Air and Thought¡ªt¡¯was his disciplines that taught me how to read minds, with some small effort, and Nasheth, Master of Earth and the Mother of all Gods. She is also named She-Who-Waits, and Shefia.¡± This last was pronounced Shee-Fie-AH. ¡°That said, I should have you out of here and back where you belong long before you¡¯ll need to worry about such Catechisms. But should your healing be interrupted¡­¡± The mask paused and turned back to her, waiting.

    After five minutes, she realized she was supposed to answer. ¡°Um¡­Argos¡ª¡±

    ¡°Argon,¡± the Archon said, rhyming it with gone.

    ¡°Argon, Fire and War. Illyris,¡± She pronounced this ILL-lir-is and got an approving nod from the mask. ¡°Water and Muse, Kali-Mar¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kal-IH-Mer.¡± The Archon corrected.

    ¡°Kal-IH-Mer. Air and Thought. Nasheth, also known as Shefia and She-Who-Waits.¡±

    ¡°And Mother-of-All-Gods. She will settle for ¡®the Mother¡¯ when she is in a good mood. That is seldom. Mother of all Gods is a title, and one She values above all. It is said that no follower of Shadow, and certainly none of his devotees, can speak the proper name of a God, or recite Her Names at all. Nashresh, Shefia, She-Who-Waits. The most sacred of mantras. Remember it, no matter how foul the names grow on the tongue.¡±

    She let this last pass, though it left her with an unnerving feeling. ¡°How often are they spoken?¡± Hawk walked a bit across the garden.

    ¡°At waking, at fast-meals¡ªfirst and last, as you start and end duties. At night, you are also to say the Father-God¡¯s names. Ehred, All-God, Master of Light and Life.¡±

    ¡°You sound bitter,¡± Hawk said, and then took a risk. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be¡­your god?¡± she guessed.

    ¡°Well. As I mentioned, I am Archon to the Master of Light. And the Master of Light has chosen these past few thousand years or so to fuck off.¡± And he enunciated the profanity quite carefully. ¡°If you can forgive the ruder words of the ancient tongue.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not ancient to me, it¡¯s my tongue.¡± She said, laughing. ¡°And fuck is my favorite word in it.¡±

    This won a chuckle that died, swiftly. ¡°These won¡¯t keep you safe if you are grilled more thoroughly. One¡¯s piety is the most important thing one has, above everything. Even money. So here,¡± And he took her soft hands in his. Her skin seemed to leap at the touch. He set a beautiful set of ivory linked beads into it. ¡°This is a prayer. Its existence is the prayer, so you will have nothing to remember. If someone should arrive, you are a penitent who has surrendered your name. Answer the names of the gods, and then sit with the prayer beads and allow me to speak for us both.¡±

    ¡°I have surrendered my name,¡± She said, not in agreement but in memorization of her role.

    ¡°Yes. Bright girl. You are the champion of your prayer and, should you get it, you will submit to me as acolyte and future Archon of the White Tower.¡± He laid a hand on the buildings around them. ¡°Or so that is what I will say, when asked.¡±

    ¡°I take it your people are a danger to me,¡± She said.

    And this won her a chilling nod from the Archon in his mask.

 Ten: We Have A Very Small Garden

    ¡°Well. How can I get back to the Geode. Back¡ª¡± Hawk turned around, looking for the spire that had brought her down here. But there wasn¡¯t one great jutting spire of milk-colored crystal lancing away from the so-called Temple. There were ten of them, and The Temple existed precisely where each of the ten spires met. Each one of them was the size of a storm drain, as thick across as Hawk was tall, or thicker. They were faceted like Quartz, only she counted seven sides, not six. All ten reached for the ceiling, terminating each in a geode. ¡°Jesus,¡± she breathed. ¡°They must go on for miles.¡±

    ¡°I do not know miles,¡± Said the Archon. ¡°But I do agree. They do go very high. It is said, in fact, that they outrun time itself.¡±

    ¡°But which one is the right one?¡± She said.

    ¡°There is a right one? I believe they are simply crystals, drunk on the light from the Temple.¡± He continued to dig.

    An idea hit her, strong as a bus. ¡°Archon,¡± She said, softly. ¡°Does the Light ever¡­go out?¡±

    ¡°You speak of the Greater Dark? Well, you are a foreigner. Are you from a country up there? In the land of Gods?¡± he was suddenly busy over a flower bed, digging into the soft loamy soil with a modified hoe. ¡°I can see no other place that would not know the Greater Dark, or at least know the fear that keeps its name unspoken.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t drawing light from the Temple, she thought. It was light, coming in from the Sun, Earthside. The great hole in Boston was admitting this light, and it filtered down through Geode and crystal.

    ¡°What about¡­when there was no crystal at all?¡± She said. The military had reported that the Rift had gotten blocked up, very suddenly.

    His hands stilled on the grasses. He was quite for quite some time. Then he said, ¡°Yes. Once the Light did come in, and every Greater Dark occurred when the Light ebbed on its own; there has never been a Greater Dark with a Nexus in place. Fortunately, we are not likely to have a time of Greater Dark for some years hence.¡±

    ¡°And when the crystals did come?¡± She asked.

    ¡°What light we receive now is muted. We displease the Gods, we are told, because we did not stand strong against the Shadow when time demanded it. The Shadow struck the sky. These crystals are his plague.¡±

    ¡°But your temple is built on them.¡± She said.

    ¡°Shadow touched the Temple. What is here, is his doing, save for what we mortal hands have set right. We cannot tear down Shadow¡¯s crystals. We cannot reach once more for the unbroken Light to shine. So our crops starve for light and those in the outer courts of our world have no light at all. One and all curse the Shadow¡¯s touch. Otherwise we could go straight from here to the Gods¡¯ own country, if only we knew how to fly.¡±

    Hawk, parsing all that information for things that weren¡¯t mythology, fixed on the one thing she could understand. ¡°It¡¯s not where Gods are from. Just¡­people, really. Like me or you.¡± She kept looking up. There were other crystal outcroppings like the six geodes. They were spaced randomly across what should be a truly massive cavernous ceiling. Behind one of them¡ªone of the ten, she supposed¡ªwere her friends, and the military, and their goddamned drill. It all might as well be back in Sedona.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Ah,¡± the Archon said, and worked silently for a few moments. He pulled up a few pale-leafed weeds. ¡°Star-shot is all through here. Forgive me, there isn¡¯t a proper word for it in the ancient tongue. It¡¯s these.¡± And he held up the plant in question. It had silvery leaves and small flowers like drops of violet blood. ¡°They¡¯re not a danger to anything but onions and vech-leaf, but I eat quite a bit of both.¡±

    She read this, correctly, as If you¡¯re going to ask questions, try being useful, and knelt down beside the nearest flowerbed. She recognized a lot of the star-shot, which did look a little bit like purple-tinted buckshot across the otherwise silver-veiled flowers. Its leaves came in little balls. ¡°You live alone?¡± She said.

    ¡°I am Archon of the Master of Light,¡± came the answer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means,¡± Hawk reminded him, gently.

    ¡°Well¡­how can you not?¡± The Archon said. But not with confusion. It came with true delight, as if he were glad for her ignorance. ¡°Are not the Gods everywhere? Do they not dictate and organize as they see fit all things between the sky and the ground?¡± He gestured up at the cavernous ceiling overhead, and the moss-covered ground at their feet. ¡°Does one single blade of grass perish without their regard? Please. Tell me such a place exists.¡±

    She decided this was a mine field and left it alone. ¡°We don¡¯t have Gods. What does it mean to be Archon?¡±

    This shocked him. ¡°No gods?¡± He dropped his tool.

    ¡°Well¡­I mean we have people who believe in Gods, who will very much insist their God is real, but they don¡¯t, like¡­walk around and say hello. Most of us think they aren¡¯t real.¡±

    ¡°Well, Gods cannot be expected to wander around with mortals. They are merciful, and stay in their Houses away from us. But no one who has met a god can doubt that they exist.¡±

    She paused. ¡°Have you¡­met your gods?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, and went back to digging. A man pulling weeds in his elaborate, luxurious get-up was certainly unusual. ¡°Most people have. At least, they¡¯ve seen them at some point. Tall and noble and unifying, they are. A vision, I am told, and the answer of your every desire. And we Archons know our Gods face to face. We have seen them, and hold vigil for them in their absence. But for us, they are never absent, save for me and mine.¡±

    ¡°Save for you?¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°I am a most fortunate Archon, for you see I have learned the benefits and structures of faith. Mine is the loneliest road. Unlike the other Gods, mine is dead.¡± He said this simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

    ¡°Dead?¡± He¡¯d said that a few times before.

    ¡°Yes,¡± They said, and continued hoeing their garden.

    She picked at the flower bed a bit more, pulling individual blooms from their stems and looking at them. The deep purple flowers seemed to pulsate, and the patterning of color on each petal reminded Hawk of octopi photophores. She picked four of them and laid them out end to end before she worked out what was bothering her¡­and what her next question ought to be.

    Where is Alex?

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have any legends of someone¡­I don¡¯t know. Tied up in a box or something. Someone¡­¡± She tried to remember the Archetypical Ape from the Bronx Zoo Glass Event¡­and to her horror, she failed. It had been the most wonderful and terrifying thing she¡¯d ever seen, enormous power but gentled to the hand of something that loved¡­oh, everything. Those sweet memories, faded, seemed as far from here as a crater on the moon. And the point of her question throbbed with her pulse. Alex. Alex. Alex.

    A pause in his hoeing. ¡°A box? Well, not that I can immediately recall.¡±

    ¡°What about imprisonment in¡­in¡­in a tower of glass?¡± She said, wildly. ¡°Or a box of glass, or a room made entirely of crystal. One person, trapped in crystal. Are there no legends like it?¡±

    ¡°There is a legend about the imprisonment of Shadow, but that is one of the older stories. Not one we should much concern ourselves with.¡±

    ¡°Of Shadow?¡± She said, lightly.

    He stilled completely. ¡°Yes.¡± He set the hoe to one side and turned back to her, his mask impenetrable and white as prayer. ¡°Let me show you.¡±

    And he took her hand.

 Eleven: The Dwelling-Place of Gods

    Taking her hand, the Archon lead her from this small and courtly garden (¡°A little thing,¡± he dismissed it. ¡°It is enough for me, and I am comfortable in it, but really, it is rather small¡±) to a great expanse of flawless lawn. It was made of moss, but a moss that came lush and thick, springy and moist to the touch and green as emeralds. It lay beneath the brilliance of regular, small, star-like objects. These hovered three to four feet above the ground, radiant and shimmering as if it gave off great heat, but was cool to the touch. Now things felt even brighter than a summer¡¯s high noon, though the damp chill of this humid place reached tense fingers into her bones. She paused in front of one of the lights and looked to the Archon. ¡°Can I touch it?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°It is light.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s cool,¡± she said. It did have a substance, and it lapped at her fingers a bit like water. But it ignored gravity, and a small bit of it clung to a fingertip as if it were a droplet of water, only to race away skyward when it fell off her finger. She watched it race upwards, a miniature star, until it vanished from sight. ¡°No fire.¡±

    ¡°Well, when one gets to know fire well enough, one may ask it to behave. Not quite so much with the children of Light, though I can at least make cold fire.¡± He gestured, cold fire, and made an orb of it as she watched, with a singular gesture.

    ¡°How are you doing that?¡± she said.

    He put the ¡°cold fire¡± out. ¡°It is a simple matter for even the most basic acolyte. Easier if you follow the Firemaster than if you do not, but even a secular hedge-wizard could make such a thing work.¡±

    Wizard, she thought, with some alarm.

    ¡°Do you call what you do¡­magic?¡± She said this hesitantly, offended to the core of her lab-coated soul.

    A shrug. ¡°An old word, and perhaps an ignorant one, but it will do for now.¡±

    She considered pursuing this concept to one law of physics or another¡ªit had to work the way the math demanded, she was just missing a the equations¡ªand decided that was less important than whatever lay inside the temple. And the Temple itself, beneath its tree, was stunning. It was carved, she thought, from the same milky crystal as the geode, and very elaborately done. Every green and growing thing she could think of¡ªand quite a few she couldn¡¯t¡ªseemed to be represented here, as were rabbits, cats, dogs, honeypot ants, and quite a few other creatures of familiar earthly beauty. There were other things too. No Shadowbeasts (she¡¯d know them by their multitude of eyes, she thought) but things that looked like a cross between a deer and a rabbit, or crabs with wings. The carvings worked around the great tree, masking the main core of the building.

    Funny, she thought. Everything here was curvaceous, a blending of nature and human works that were breathtaking in origin and looks. But here, down near the base of the Temple¡¯s great tree, the building was angular. Square, she thought at first, but the angles didn¡¯t work. Triangular, three sides¡­and she gasped as she realized they were great slabs made of crystal. And not that milk-white substance that captured light as much as it transmitted it. These were clear, and of a horrifyingly familiar shape.

    A large, three-sided building, made of slabs of perfectly clear crystal. The Greenhouse from Bittermoss School.

    The last place where she knew Alex had been alive.

    It had been broken apart at some point, she thought, because it was not fitted entirely together. Vines had been jammed between each huge ceiling slab, both to support it and keep the parts apart. It would have been fused when it was activated, so something must have broken it apart. Whoever had fixed it must have known what it was, because struts had been inserted here and there to keep the slabs from coming down, and these holes had given the vines purchase. She imagined they¡ªthese unseen, unknown people who had known what a Prism was--had broken it up. Some of the original texture remained, the patterns she remembered from¡­oh, it must have just been last week, in her living room, in a world where things like this didn¡¯t happen. It looked a bit like the Lovre¡¯s thrilling architecture had been shored up by some poor and desperate primitive.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    She stood there staring for what felt like eternity, and felt like one white-hot pulse flash at the same time, and she must really have stood there for a while because the Archon said, ¡°Madam Hawk, are you well?¡±

    But his voice was faded and distant. ¡°Alex,¡± She breathed, and then she was running. Barefoot across a walk of slate stone, ignoring a truly impressive mosaic in gray, she pelted across that wide lawn. She ignored the flowers that were all of them almost-like. Something almost like bougainvillea, something almost like hydrangea. It didn¡¯t matter what it was almost like. What mattered was that this thing was, and it was a Prism and it was the last thing that Alex had touched before he was dragged down into this hellscape, and she was going to go inside.

    There was a barrier of golden bars, hinged like a gate. She didn¡¯t bother waiting for the Archon to unlock it¡ªshe half expected that she was not allowed back here anyway¡ªbut ducked beneath its reaching arm. She caught glimpses of the world around her, and it was all very dark and very close, with the glimmer of well-tended fires and gold, everywhere. There were other people here, not masked like the Archon but decked out similarly, in the white silk chemise and heavy robes, and they walked with dolorous faces that turned surprised when they ran¡ªor nearly ran¡ªright into a frantic Hawk.

    Halls and corridors greeted her, the majority made of milk crystal slabs, each of them glowing with warmth and comfort, artifacts displayed in a way that made them things of relief and not trophies of an unknowable era. But the Prism would not glow. At least, she didn¡¯t think it would. A glance down the first corridor found a room beckoning, its glow the tone of a comfortable place beside a fire. Not that one. She looked down another hall, where the light continued to grow in brilliance, ending in something dazzling where individual shapes melted into the glamour. Not that hall either. The third, central hallway, was dark at the end, save for a dull reddish glow, like flickering flames. That was the one. She headed down.

    She wasn¡¯t sure what she expected. The narrow hall got eerier, cooler, the deeper in she went. The slabs of glowing crystal gave way to the same plain gray stone she remembered from the outside of the geode-nexus. She came out into a great, open, bare room. There were no artifacts. No sitting areas. The room was, of course, triangular. Five enormous statues (one to a corner, and two in the middle) loomed over the bare, clear floor. A fire burned in an elaborate hearth at the feet of the two central statues, one male and one female, with hands clasped together. Hawk suspected it was some sort of eternal flame, the sort kept by vestal virgins. Of the three remaining statues, one statue was a man, muscle-bound and caught on fire. Argon, the Firemaster, Hawk thought, and that made the woman swathed in waves Illryis and the one who looked caught in a hurricane the unfortunately named Kali¡¯Mar. This place probably carried some fancy name like Tabernacle or sanctuary or scarcity. It certainly smelled of it. Burnt things, sweet smelling and foul, were dominated by a copper-char scent, burnt gore beneath sweet resins, fouled meat against flowers. Before the golden hearth, the central statues had a crust of darkness, and the floor was rank with the black, flaking traces of sacrifice. Hawk, raised in a world of bloodless religion, found herself facing the ancient sanguine ways with horror.

    But her eyes were fixed on none of that. The horrible majesty of this room paled in comparison to what Hawk found in its center.

    There were two small hooks in the crystal floor. Simple. Inelegant. Ancient, there was no doubt. They had been rusted down and polished back up, and rusted down again. They shone with the gleam of a thousand fingerprints, the polish of years and many hands. But they were there. And she collapsed down upon them, weeping harder than she ever had in her life, because she knew in her bones, this was something her husband had touched.

    Alex said he¡¯d been chained to the floor in the Prism.

    Now she had the proof.

 Twelve: Spinning Genesis

    The Archon found her. He moved swiftly, but not harshly. ¡°You are not meant for this place, Hawk of the West.¡±

    Please, she thought, with the tiny part of her mind not consumed with Alex¡¯s fate, Do not ever call me that again. ¡°Was he here?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Was who here?¡± the Archon said.

    ¡°Alex, my¡­¡± She trailed off. This masked man might be polite, he might be kind, but he was definitely a stranger. He wouldn¡¯t know Alex from Adam, or Adam from one of the white robed quasi-clerics she¡¯d just slammed past. She had to get control of herself, and she did it by forcing herself to look at the things around her. Left, at the statue of a man wreathed in fire. Argos, she thought. The next one was a woman on a dolphin. Illryis. Next to that was Kali¡¯Mar, with¡­well, with something. It looked a bit like a cross between a bat and a rabbit, and gee, didn¡¯t she hope she was never going to see one of those. Deep breaths, deep and slow, until she felt better.

    ¡°Who are the two statues in the middle?¡± She asked, when she felt steady enough.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Said the Archon.

    ¡°The two statues. I¡¯ve guessed that Argos, Illyris and Kali¡¯Mar are on the outside. So the middle two¡­are they Nashthresh and Ehred?¡±

    ¡°Quite, and I would have more praise for you if this were not the holiest spot in the Temple. Please, I know you mean well, but we should leave this place.¡± The Archon began making signs with his eloquent fingers, as if he were warding off the devil.

    ¡°What is this place?¡± She said.

    He sighed in disgust. ¡°If I tell you the sacred story, could I persuade you to leave before we both earn execution?¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± She swallowed. Execution, just for standing in a room?

    He led her out of the huge, main corridor, where the effigies of alien gods stood, remarkable in their human-ness and air of western beauty. In fact, these statues were the first things she¡¯d seen so far that looked¡­well¡­not alien. They looked, in fact, like something you¡¯d expect to see from the students of Bittermoss School. Emphatically Western, emphatically classical beauty. Nothing offensive, nothing daring. In Hawk¡¯s opinion, it was the most bland of unpalatable slop, disguised by the shape of Nasheth¡¯s breasts in her toga.

    The Archon lead Hawk out of the Temple and back to the moss lawn, down to a small stream that trickled with water, running away from one of the primary cream pylons leading up to the geode¡ªgeodes, Hawk assumed, because if their team was mining through one, there had to be more. And how did they get here? How did any of this get here? The looming overwhelm seemed threatening and immense. The Archon, kneeling beside the stream, drew a long-handled scoop out of his robes and filled it with the water, then offered it to Hawk to drink. She did. The water was cutting cold, as sharp as the crystals above had felt. It came with sanity¡­and sorrow.

    Alex! She thought, despite herself. But were those small hooks in the ground proof he¡¯d been there? Or was she stretching facts to fit an outline she wanted to stay vague?

    The Archon registered nothing, save that she drank the water and seemed reserved. Or, if she¡¯d given any sign of her true distress, he¡¯d kept his observations to himself. He said, ¡°There. No harm done. Nothing nasty let out, or let in. Calm yourself, and let me tell you the story behind the grave sin you just committed¡­with the promise this will stay just between us, yes?¡±

    And without waiting for her answer, the Archon launched into story.

    Once, long ago, when the world was young, both it and the first God were born, together. The First God was young and unafraid, and created a world of bright light, open sky, good soil and deep waters for His Children to play upon. The First God created other, lesser beings and delighted in them, naming them Man. And they were a bright and wholesome race, Man, good to the eye of the First God. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    (Hawk, reflecting on some genesis mythologies from Earth, began getting a plagiarism-related twitch right about here. It wasn¡¯t quite ¡°In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth,¡± and that was probably because somebody down here didn¡¯t like cribbing that directly.)

    But the First God was not alone. His Light was so great that all things cast his Shadow into the cosmos, and a God¡¯s Shadow is no small thing. It rose, and seduced the First God away from His creation, away from the bright limbs and great arts of Man to a world of ravenous darkness. There the Shadow did make chains of Hunger, Pain and Want, and Loneliness, which is worse than all the rest, and did bind the First God to his own flesh, and then made war with Man.

    ¡°Worship Me¡±, said the Shadow, ¡°And treat me as your God, and I will give you the seas, the skies, the earth, and all things shall be bathed in Light.¡±

    But Man was good, and faithful, and refused the Shadow, who responded with unyielding wrath. Shadow reached out his hand and took hold of creation, and threw it down into the depths, where no God hold sway. He sealed the sky and darkened the water, made the earth turn foul and sour, and hid the light from all but those with the highest of secret arts.

    But worse than all of this is what he did to the First God.

    For he was cast down into the pits of the Outer Dark, and left there until time and light had both lost meaning. Then He was taken by the Shadow and divided into five parts, with a piece given to each tribe amongst Man, that they might remember what the wrath of the Shadow has wrought.

    (¡°You could¡­like¡­summarize parts of this.¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°No, I could not. For it is a sacred story, and should be given due reverence.¡± The Archon said.

    ¡°What about revulsion?¡± She muttered.

    ¡°That is its own kind of reverence,¡± Archon said, and continued.)

    But this would be the Shadow¡¯s undoing. For two of these humans were the Mother and Father of all Gods, Nasheth and Ehred themselves. Ehred was a wise man and had foxed out the ways of the Shadow, and he commanded many men. He bade them do battle against the Shadow and worked with his wife and three of his most beloved children and the darkest of their arts-workers, until they had discovered how to save the power of the First God from the prison Shadow had made for it.

    Nasheth and Ehern took the substance of the First God and gave it to their son Argos, who ate it, and so became Master of Fire, and he did rain fire down upon the forces of Shadow and crafted spear and axe, shield and helm to do war against the Shadow. But he did not win, for the Shadow was too crafty for him.

    So Nasheth and Ehern took the substance of the First God and gave it to Illyris, who¡ª

    (¡°I get the point,¡± Hawk said. ¡°Fire, then Water, then Kali¡¯Mar and Air.¡±

    To which the Archon smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of the story.¡±)

    But yes. Nasheth and her husband did give the substance of the First God to each of their children, and each of them fell to Shadow in turn. War was bent until it was man against man. Illyris¡¯s song curses men with madness and sorrow as often as it does with Joy, and the Air¡­well, the less we speak of gasses and misery, the better we all shall be. But Shadow was, as I said, still coming against Nasheth and the Beloved one, the Bright King Ehren. And so Nasheth kissed her beloved husband goodbye and took of the substance of the First God herself, and became the Master of Earth, and of the Healing Arts, of Medicine, and the mother of us all.

    But even her power and grace was not enough to best the Shadow, and she reached out her hand with the last of the First God in her hand. ¡°Take this, my beloved husband, and do battle against the darkness. Save us all from Shadow!¡±

    (¡°Gag me,¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°This part does tend to drag on,¡± he agreed.)

    But Shadow had been waiting for this moment, and thrust out its hand to sever the life of the King of Beauty. Ehren, King and blessed God, perished at the flash of the dark-god¡¯s hand before his own glory could be born; the piece of the First God fell, uneaten, at his dead, mortal feet.

    Enraged, the Queen of Heaven Herself did raise her own two fair hands, and she did bring them down upon Shadow. Again and again did she battle against him, and he returned to her in kind. And so she did strive against the forces of Shadow for time on time on time again, until we reckoned two thousand, three thousand, five thousand years had passed us all by. Until finally the Queen of Heaven, mother of the Earth and Lady of all Light did act against her own heart. For she knows her Husband Ehred did not perish in darkness and Shadow, but did escape through the Ways of Etheria, to the Ethereal Plane and thus out of our notion of time.

    (¡°Really?¡± Said Hawk.

    ¡°I did not write this story. I merely protect it with my life because I don¡¯t favor being hung from a damned tree,¡± he said.) But one day he will return and take his portion of the First God, and his place at Nasheth¡¯s side. So reads Nasheth¡¯s promise, and one must never give lie to a promise from a God. And so do the four-square Gods do battle, in the name of the Light and the Fifth God for all eternity.

 Thirteen: Hold tight to the Bitter

    The Archon finished with the tone of one reciting a much loved tale¡­unaware that Hawk had sunk down to her knees halfway through. Her sarcasm had not been at annoyance with the tale, but at a deeper horror growing within her. Words spurted out like blood, because that was better than tears.

    Alex had been inside the Prism. That meant that Alex had been transformed, as the Ape had been, into an Archetype. He somehow became the protection for every other human within this Rift. Hawk remembered the Ape. She would definitely have called that thing ¡°First God¡± material. She also knew that Naomi Studdard and her people would have been near Alex, ready to gain and keep control of the only thing keeping them alive.

    The First God had been killed and eaten.

    ¡°Do¡­do your myths say anything else about the First God? What He was like? What He did?¡±

    The Archon shook his head. ¡°No. There are, I must say, very few myths about the First God. After all, he was murdered before he¡¯d had chance to gain even a name.¡±

    ¡°As was your God? Ehred?¡± She said.

    ¡°As was my God.¡± He inclined his head.

    ¡°Is that why you sound so resentful?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Well¡­would you not? If others of your rank and office may reach out and touch their very gods¡­they have no fear of doubt, no cause to heresy. Their God is there, in the very room. Mine¡­I have only a myth and Our Lady¡¯s law to sustain me.¡± He sighed. ¡°We servants of the White God, as He is called, keep house for one who will be forever absent.¡±

    Hawk wasn¡¯t so sure of that. She wasn¡¯t a hundred percent sure, but she thought she could read little bits and pieces of Naomi Studdard¡¯s story into the Archon¡¯s creation myth. But mostly her mind was consumed by the image of a smooth, white orb. Substance of the First God, he¡¯d said. She remembered the Ape. If she hadn¡¯t known better, if she hadn¡¯t been armed against action by skepticism and a secular education and decades of dealing with dishonest humanity, she would have laid herself prostrate before it. Not because it was better than her, smarter or faster or more powerful. It had been something that transcended better. It was something that always should have been, that in a just universe would always exist. I love you, it had said, and she¡¯d had no doubt of that love. She¡¯d known it with every cell in her body, that she was loved¡ªno, adored¡ªby this being, and it wasn¡¯t some toxic depth or mercenary thing, a love of comfort and full stomachs. It was a love that encompassed all. The Ape¡¯s death had, for a moment, been the death of all things. She lost a connection to permanence in that moment, and her soul had been wounded in a way that should have ended existence. How could the world exist, how could love continue to exist, when the thing that did it perfectly was gone?

    It had melted, when it was killed. The Ape. It had melted away into white fluid, leaving only the Orb behind. It was pearlescent and bitterly beautiful. It marked where a beautiful thing had once been, and now was no longer.

    Which meant, if she was right about the myth, if she was right about Alex being trapped in the greenhouse-Prism of Bittermoss School, that Alex wasn¡¯t just dead. He¡¯d been eaten.

    But maybe she was wrong. She had to be wrong. She hadn¡¯t done all this, survived all this, survived the fucking Shadowbeast, to lose Alex to Naomi Studdard¡¯s ambitions. No. She was wrong. If she¡¯d come to this place, this land of gods and monsters where worship was a prerequisite, she was going to cling, not to a god, but to an idea: Alex was fine. She would find him. She would dig through this hell-maze of plants and beasts and darkness, and she would find her husband and bring him out of it. Yes. That was what she was going to do.

    She picked herself up off the ground, aware at last that she was under the Archon¡¯s concerned gaze. She wiped her eyes, because they¡¯d been leaking. Took a deep breath, and chose to go with the bare bones of truth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m here looking for my husband. I think he fell in here. We live above the geode¡­thing. Up¡­¡± And she trailed off. There were five crystal pylons leading away from the Temple of Light, each terminating in a geode. And she didn¡¯t for the life of her know which one held the rest of her people. ¡°Up there, somewhere. My husband found his way down here, first, with a bunch of missing children. And I¡¯m trying to find him.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    There. She¡¯d managed it without lying, and without weeping.

    The Archon seemed frozen by her words. When he spoke next, he sounded distressed. ¡°Above the Nexus? You live above the Nexus?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what you call the geode-things. A nexus?¡± She pushed as much vocal interest into her words as she could.

    He sighed. ¡°I halfway believe your story. Only a child of the God-world would be this ignorant. Yes. One of them is the seal between the God-world and ours. It was struck two, three hundred years ago,¡± he waved a hand. ¡°Until then, there was a great hope that one day the God-world would draw near enough for the Gods to enter, and the era of peace and wealth would begin, with soils that grow food always and a light that never ends, a sky without borders, with lights out of reach.¡± She could hear a yearning in his voice for the things he described, as if they were rare. ¡°But the Shadow came¡ªHe is always and ever present¡ªand he sealed the God-world so that our Gods could not return.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± she asked.

    A hand-wave. ¡°Who can discern the will of the Shadow? It is the business of Gods, and not of us.¡±

    ¡°But he had to have a reason. No one does anything without a reason.¡±

    ¡°To keep the Gods from reaching the God-world, then. To keep the rest of us from its bounties. And, as Nasheth says on each year¡¯s turning, to feast upon our bodies when the Dark Seas rise and all turns to weeping and ashes.¡± Another wave of a hand. ¡°It means nothing. Truly. The will of the Dread is not something we should discern.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡± she stopped herself. If he didn¡¯t want to talk about it, he didn¡¯t want to talk. She shifted from there to her next concern. ¡°Our people are trying to break through the geode¡ª¡±

    Now the Archon seemed to take her seriously. ¡°They¡¯re trying to break the Nexus? Why?¡±

    ¡°Because we lost six hundred children down a hole, and we want to find out where they went. We also lost my husband. I want to know what happened to him.¡± And I¡¯d like to make sure he didn¡¯t get eaten by a principal with delusions of grandeur and too much money for her own good. And then she frowned. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s your God-World up there. I¡¯d think you¡¯d be happy we want to contact you.¡± She paused. ¡°As long as you understand, we aren¡¯t Gods. We¡¯re people like you, and some soldiers, who are looking for children.¡±

    ¡°Well enough, well enough.¡± This earned her a deep sigh.

    And then one of the acolytes of the Temple came forward. It was a girl, but layered in enough fabrics and brocades to make this meaningless. She said something in a language Hawk couldn¡¯t make heads or tail of, though it sounded like it should have been English. An English with all the rough edges knocked off. And she found herself remembering one time in college, when an English professor began reading Beowulf in Old English, to drive home his point on linguistic drift. Her first thought had been one of curious amusement¡ªhere were the roots of her own tongue, absolutely incomprehensible. But something deeper than that had underscored every word, something deeper and older than church-organ song. Foreign to her, it was the whisper of longships and braided hair, rough furs and rougher fires and a cold that wound bitterness down to marrow¡­and yet. There was space here for warmer visions; all cultures have place and purpose for war-drum pulses. She found herself reading along in the approved translation, not so that she could understand the story but so that the thrum in her bones had a greater expression.

    She was so caught in the rhythm of their words, that she didn¡¯t catch on to how they went south. At least, not until the Archon¡¯s tone changed from one of docile indulgence to one of tension. Then, when the acolyte left, he cursed and began dusting out his robes.

    ¡°Come here,¡± he said, to Hawk.

    ¡°Is there a problem?¡±

    ¡°The Archon of Earth is here. It¡¯s an official visit that I ought to have expected¡ªso technically, she¡¯s late. But she¡¯s coming to speak with me, and that means there¡¯s no time to hide you. Stand in front of me for a moment.¡± He frowned. ¡°Your dress is too simple. Well, I¡¯ll say you¡¯ve taken a vow of poverty while you learn the Holy Tongue, which would also explain why you do not speak anything else. Earth will mostly converse in the Holy Tongue, anyway. No better way to lord one¡¯s education over others than to be incomprehensible. Keep your own mouth closed unless you are spoken to¡ªlet me do most of the talking.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to,¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°Indeed. If you are asked questions, say that you defer to the wisdom of the Archon of Light. That should do for most of it. Remember, you have surrendered your name. You are Acolyte, or Acyle.¡± He pronounced this Ah-KAI-lee. Then he paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to the gates in the milk-quartz wall. ¡°I should also warn you¡ªdo not react to anything you see or hear. The Archon of Earth has reigned long and is much loved amongst Nasheth¡¯s temples¡­but her reign has been uneasy, and she has felt Nasheth¡¯s wrath. There are many reasons why being an Archon is undesirable¡­and you shall see most of them in these next few moments.¡±

    And across the mossy lawn, beneath the flameless light of the Temple, the gates in the wall opened and admitted a crowd.

 Fourteen: The Army of Green and Gold

    The gates themselves had gone unremarked. They blended into the rest of the milk-tinted crystal the walls were made from. The swoops of vine and floral facsimiles continued unblemished across their face. And they, like the rest of the walls, glowed with a brightness near daylight. Hawk had seen them, multiple times in her panicked run, but she¡¯d never noticed; you had to know they were there

    But then horns sounded. Brassy and loud, and a voice cried out in that same, unknown language, and the gate-walls split at their seams, opening like the wings of a great bird, carved about with both feathers and great, venous bat wings, and beneath the monstrous shape of huge feathers came the crowd. These were garbed, not in white as Hawk expected (given that she hadn¡¯t seen another shade of apparel this entire time, she¡¯d suspected dye a forgotten art; it was just disdained up here) but a deep hunter¡¯s green trimmed with gold. Behind these first worshippers¡ªbecause with their gestures and enthusiasm, they could be nothing else¡ªcame a throng in pure gold, waving green ribbons and carrying green banners. The livery they bore was green and gold with a standard of white leaves. It was on the banners, on the beasts of burden (None of which Hawk recognized) and on the talbards the crowd wore over the endless, endless gold and green attire.

    It wasn¡¯t a crowd, she realized, but a parade. First came musicians, with drum and harp facsimile, symbols they crashed to an alien rhythm, horns of beaten brass that they played with abandon. Voices sang songs in English, something about Her high beauty and wealth from her cornucopia, and they didn¡¯t even bother trying to make cornucopia rhyme with anything. Words were recited with an oblivious fullness, voices that knew not what they sang, but that did sing it with vigor, ignorance overcome by volume. There were dancers, too, lithe and beautiful people in green and gold, women with breasts bare save for a single band of green silk, and men that danced with nothing more than gold across their genitals. Both genders moved with streamers running from wrist to ankle as if they were chained to the dance by the shades of spring. And in the middle of it all was a green and gold palanquin, carried by nearly two dozen bare chested men in green pants. Race was something Hawk had felt vaguely curious about¡ªhow had the descendants of Bittermoss School developed? They certainly hadn¡¯t been all white¡ªand she was a bit gratified to see a few dark faces in the crowd, and a few¡ªfewer¡ªwhite faces too. But mostly she saw humanity in shades of caramel or coffee. Tones placed in a blender, with eugenic fingers on puree.

    The palanquin drew near, and at an unseen signal the music stopped. The dancers froze in mid-step, and a half dozen people ran out from behind the palanquin with a set of elaborate footstools. They assembled these into a ladder of alien design, elaborately petaled flowers, each with a foot-shaped pedal to form the rungs. This was leaned against the palanquin, whose curtains of gold and streamers of green were drawn aside, to admit what Hawk guessed to be the Archon of Earth.

    She could not tell their gender. They wore multiple layers of, of course, green and gold, and their jewels appeared to be pearls carved to look like leaves of white. Glimmering precious stones¡ªfaceted rubies, Hawk assumed, and sapphires, and amethysts, and white hot star-like diamonds¡ªformed a pattern of flowers across both jewelry and the embroidered garden on their clothes. Their shoes were gold, and they walked as if their feet were heavy. Halfway down the ladder, Hawk decided this person was female, as a few layers of robe parted and she caught a glimpse of a bosom clad in green velvet. She couldn¡¯t imagine even trying to get down that ladder in those robes, and she was impressed by the grace¡ªno, perfection¡ªthe Earth-Archon managed. This woman¡ªyes, it was a woman¡ªwas a thousand times the grace Hawk could ever hope to achieve. It evoked a raw and ruthless envy, which Hawk was just as ruthless to smother. She didn¡¯t need to be jealous of someone raised in a hole.

    As the Archon of Earth neared the ground, the dancers vanished behind the palanquin, and returned with baskets of florals. Deep purples, dark reds, jewel blues, baby pinks, all piled high in baskets of gold with green ribbons, or baskets of green with gold. There were also a half-dozen boys who ran forward with rolls of silk in their hands. Just as the Earth-Archon reached the final rung, the boys laid the silk down upon the mossy ground, covering it entirely. The girls threw their flowers down upon the silk, or else into the air, saying, Mother bless you. Mother bless your steps. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    It would have been beautiful, if it weren¡¯t for the fear.

    It hung on every banner, accompanied the music. Every symbol crash carried it, every flutist¡¯s tone trembled with it. Fear. It was in the sometimes sharp and angular movements of the dancers, the frantic way the silk-bearers came forward. Everything was timed to the second, and everything clearly revolved around the masked and robed figure now walking across the silk-strewn lawn towards Hawk and her Archon¡­and it was all made of fear.

    The Earth-Archon stopped when she stood within ten feet of the Light-Archon. ¡°Greetings, brother in service!¡± she said. And her voice was strange in a way that her mask could not explain. Definitely female, but oddly toned. Almost as if two people were speaking at once.

    The Archon of Light sighed and leaned forward on his hoe. ¡°Greetings, Sister-in-service, in the name of the Light, my master-and-god.¡± His voice was mild. There was still a solid reproach in it, and his tone was strictly formal.

    Earth sighed. ¡°Greetings in the name of the Earth and our mother. She gave me Her greetings explicitly, last fortnight.¡±

    Two weeks, Hawk thought.

    ¡°I would send my lord¡¯s greetings, but my God is dead. Oh, not dead, but merely sleeping and waiting his arousal at our Lady¡¯s pleasure.¡± He said. There was no emotion in his tone.

    ¡°As ever you remind me. Still, My Lady bids her word to her Husband, and asks: Has the Light risen once more?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Said her Archon. ¡°And I rather hope that this little ceremony is the entire reason for your coming, sister-in-service.¡±

    ¡°I would have you walk with me. Alone.¡± And the green-and-gold mask turned in Hawk¡¯s direction.

    ¡°Sister, you will walk with a dozen-odd boys to line your steps, and a dozen-odd girls to perfume the air with your Lady¡¯s flowers, and you balk at me having one cherished assistant? Besides, this girl has surrendered her name to me. She is in my service. Exclusively.¡± And one pale hand found hers and clenched around it, tightly. ¡°Whatever you have to say to me, you shall soon enough be saying to her.¡± A pause. ¡°So. Should I have your people and animals housed?¡±

    ¡°We intend to leave immediately, with your own train at our heels. My Lady bids you come, and bid so to our other Siblings-in-service. Something of great import is happening. You must come.¡±

    The archaic language was giving Hawk a headache. She couldn¡¯t imagine how it felt to the people watching them. This must make as much sense as a Shakespearian play. It was probably burning through patience at a record pace.

    The Archon sighed. ¡°Very well. Please, allow my acolytes to give you sustenance while we¡­make arrangements.¡±

    And gesturing to the other white-robes, the Archon took his leave.

    ¡°I take it I should make myself scarce?¡± Hawk said, as the Archon walked across the moss lawn, quickly, as far from the palanquin as they could get.

    ¡°The time to hide was before Earth¡¯s palanquin arrived. Had I known, I would have chosen a different way to protect you, Hawk-of-the-West. Now, I am afraid I have placed you in terrible danger. I have named you as my replacement before the Archon of Earth. If you flee now, you will be hunted down and killed.¡±

    He didn¡¯t sound too upset about it, either. She realized with a floating dread that she¡¯d been a distraction, only. He¡¯d been interested in her because (if the Earth Archon¡¯s cavalcade was anything to go by) he was a very lonely man in a lovely but empty, old temple.

    ¡°I could run, now.¡± She said. ¡°Go back up the pylon and meet up with my people in the geode. Warn them, if nothing else.¡±

    ¡°Had I taken a different path, that would work. I regret it now. I thought it would be a simple enough affair. You wouldn¡¯t have been my first acolyte to flee when named successor¡­you would merely be the one I had to report. Which would be lethal for you.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°So I¡¯ve been mousetrapped into helping you with them.¡±

    This got a shake of the mask. ¡°It was not my intent¡­and I don¡¯t know what a ¡®mouse¡¯ is. But yes. It appears you have.¡±

 Fifteen : Hustle

    She looked at the throng of people, now interspersed with far too few white robes. It was all mostly green and gold. What was the poem that had green and gold in the line? She couldn¡¯t remember it properly, only the lines, Green and gold, repeated. There¡¯d been a knight and¡­and there was something off-putting to it, something that made her mistrust all those shining people. Green and Gold¡­but nothing good. ¡°Do you have more people elsewhere?¡±

    ¡°A few in the kitchens. A few more in the gardens, harvesting more than we can afford to feed the Earth¡¯s representatives.¡± A sigh. ¡°I shall have to petition the Earth for food again, this cycle. Which means I shall have to surrender yet more of this temple¡¯s lands. And we do not have much.¡± Another of those long sighs. ¡°I wish you could have come when this temple was in its prime. I was not living then, nor was my grandfather. But when the other Gods still valued their Father¡­¡±

    Hawk was pretty sure that Edgar Studdard was the ¡°father¡± they were talking about. She didn¡¯t have much empathy for the forgotten memory of a modern-day railroad baron. She just didn¡¯t like the implication that Nasheth was Naomi, which meant the woman who had chained Hawk¡¯s husband to the floor of the building just behind her was also the goddess this throng of gold-and-green were worshipping. That didn¡¯t say much about her character.

    Gawain and the Green Knight, her mind kicked up, finally. The green-and-gold belonged to the titular knight. He had not been the good guy in the story. He also hadn¡¯t been bad. In fact, the person she most wanted to compare the Green Knight to was the Archon beside her.

    ¡°You¡¯re helping me because you¡¯re bored to tears.¡± She said.

    ¡°And because I¡¯ve made mistakes that have endangered you. I fix my errors, Hawk.¡± The mask bobbed as he looked her up and down. ¡°The clothes I gave you will do, for now. I will task an acolyte to bring a message to your people. Do you know which Nexus they reside in?¡±

    ¡°Whichever one leads to my world.¡± She said. ¡°Which is a fancy way of saying ¡®no¡¯.¡±

    ¡°A woman who claims to be from the God-world,¡± the Archon mused. ¡°Who does not understand how enormous that claim is. I¡¯m also helping because you¡¯re amusing. There is another option, now that I think of it¡­we could simply tell the Earthmaster that you are from the God-world. That would certainly impact how this gathering will go.¡±

    She waited. He remained silent, watching her from the safety of his mask. After a few minutes of this, she said ¡°And what would that do? For me?¡±

    ¡°Likely, place you precisely where you do not wish to be: Directly before the Gods. After all, have They not always said their greatest goal was to return home?¡±

    And on that less-than-comforting note, the Archon turned away.

    The Archon told Hawk to go to the Temple¡¯s kitchens and ¡°help¡±, and he handed her off to a female acolyte in as few of the white robe layers as she could manage. This woman spoke just enough of their so-called Sacred Tongue to give Hawk a few bare orders¡ª¡°go¡± and ¡°Come¡± and ¡°Bring that¡± seemed to make up most of the woman¡¯s English vocabulary, and it was enough to make Hawk mindful of her actions. It¡¯d be far too easy for one of them to do something to give the other offence, and until she was back at the geode¡­Nexus¡­thing with the rest of the team, she needed these people to help her.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Following her helper¡¯s abbreviated instructions, Hawk collected several canvas bags, obviously made to be thrown over an animal¡¯s back. She¡¯d seen huge creatures like over-grown Guinea pigs, and these strips of canvas would sit on their shoulders like a bookmark, so she assumed that they¡¯d be riding something smaller, and hopefully more horse-like. Into these bags went travel rations. She¡¯d expected something like bread and cheeses like Colby, possibly even something mystical and magical like elven bread. She seemed to have fallen into a medival world, after all.

    But she was handed several dozen paper wrapped¡­somethings. They were hard. They had some of the same marks you¡¯d put on a cracker. She took a square of it and unwrapped the outer tissue paper, which had been oiled. She tried to break a piece off, and discovered that it would not break. She tapped it on the table, where it made a very hard knocking sound. Finally a vague childhood memory of history lessons coughed up the word hardtack. It was, she realized, the most profoundly perfect word in the English language, because it perfectly encapsulated the nature of these hard little edible rocks she was apparently meant to pack as provisions. She was also handed four net bags of small orange-adjacent fruit, and four water-skins, already full of water. Hawk thought, shit, because she didn¡¯t know how to empty or, more importantly, how to fill the things. She was also handed a knapsack filled with white robes, chemises, and three extra pairs of shoes. These latter were simple wrap-around things that reminded Hawk a lot of the shoes the inhuman apes had worn, at the Bronx Zoo Event.

    Hardtack. Oranges. Water. A change of clothes. This was nothing at all like the insane pageantry of the green-and-golds. She was able to carry the knapsack, two of the packaged bundles of hardtack, and both of the orange sacks. Her helper carried the rest, and moved through the dark, back hallways of the Temple towards some unknowable goal. She followed, unable to do much more than that. The music of the green-and-golds was loud, even in here, and not entirely pleasant. Maybe it was just her Earth-centric ear, and this pocket universe had developed a taste for discordance. And she was going to be behind all that noise for god knew how long.

    They came out in what had to be the stables. It was a large, high ceilinged room made of yet more milk-crystal, divided by its main corridors into a cross-shape, the shortest arms being the entrance to the main Temple complex, which Hawk had yet to see, and the courtyard outside. At least, she assumed it was a courtyard. If you had stables, you had to have a way for the animals to get there.

    And the animals were what drew her eye, immediately.

    There were ten of them, and each was white, of course, without blemish or flaw or black spot. She thought they were rabbits, at first, albeit very large ones. Their heads were the most rabbit-like, with big doe eyes and buck teeth, and their ears were large, rabbit-shaped, and soft as velvet. She went near one to get a better look and was fixed by that large, brown gaze. Soft lips and a very pink nose sniffed at her, gummed her clothes. But up close she could see the lower anatomy was lean and long. Deer-like legs ended in soft paws, and the torso and hips were more horse-like than anything else. It had a rabbit¡¯s tail, though, and a long neck that turned curiously with every noise. This was where her guide left her, to somehow saddle up these beautiful creatures when she didn¡¯t even understand modern horse¡¯s tack, let alone whatever these things would use.

    And she was alone, for the first time in two days.

    She lowered the bags to the ground, thought for a moment, and then took one of the water-skins with her, draped across her shoulder. Then Hawk closed her eyes and tried, very hard, to translate her memories of the Temple of Light into some kind of map. If she was right¡ªand that was a very big if¡ªshe was near one of the pylons that lead to a Nexus. She could possibly climb that structure up to her people. But she¡¯d have to move swiftly, before the Archon¡ªeither Archon, she amended, because the Earth-Archon would undoubtedly be keeping an eye out¡ªcame back to check on her.

    She walked swiftly to the rear door of the stable, where the silent rabbit-beasts watched her with interest, and examined it closely. It was, naturally, locked and barred. The bar was easy enough to lever upwards¡ª¡°easy¡± if you could lift the hundred pound bar on your own, which she could, albeit just barely¡ªbut that left her with a locked door that she couldn¡¯t guess how to pick.

    ¡°Ahem,¡± a voice cleared itself from behind her. She turned. The Archon of Light had arrived at his stable.

 Sixteen: Escape

    ¡°Um,¡± she started to say.

    ¡°You¡¯re trying to escape to the Nexus and rejoin your people.¡± And it almost sounded as if he were smiling. ¡°Are you aware I would be in a terrible position if you were successful? I just named you my successor in front of another Archon.¡±

    Her gut plummeted, and she wasn¡¯t sure why. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t think¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, Hawk. You think beautifully. I should have thought of this, and either closed off an escape or offered it to you without the deception.¡± The ivory mask turned towards the door, as if he were studying it. Then he nodded to himself, and closed the gap between himself, Hawk, and the lock.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t think¡ª¡±

    ¡°As am I. I also did not think. Here.¡± And he reached out, iron key in hand, and unlocked the door. ¡°I shall have to find an acolyte to punish. So careless, leaving the door unlocked. Go ahead.¡± He even pushed the door open, a bit. Wind immediately began whistling through.

    ¡°Why?¡± she said.

    ¡°Because I should have thought of it. I have been racking my brain ever since you arrived to think of a safe way to give you access to the Nexus. The problem is that I was seen bringing you into the Temple.¡±

    ¡°By your own people,¡± she said.

    His voice turned tight and quiet. ¡°Half of them are spies, and half of the remainder are criminals who pled sanctuary. Any one of them would tell Earth what I have done. But this¡­you will flee unseen by all but the Hares.¡±

    ¡°Is that what you call them?¡± she glanced at the horse-rabbits.

    ¡°When I am polite. Now, listen to me. You may not be able to climb the Nexus¡­or you may choose the wrong one. I have brought a few of your things with me.¡± He offered her a sack of white canvass. ¡°Is any of this capable of aiding you?¡±

    The climbing rope and hooks would have, if she knew how to climb. The stiffest hikes she ever took were into the few fertile valleys of the desert, the better to hunt down Honeypots. But her fingers closed on her radio, and she suddenly had a plan. ¡°I may not be able to reach them, but I can for sure call them on this and give them an update.¡±

    ¡°Good. Give yourself two hours, to get there or to turn back and come here. I will be able to stall for two hours¡ªpossibly for the full day, if I had better stores, but that¡¯s not a tale for your ears. If you come back to the Temple in the next two hours, I¡¯ll be able to explain it. We could even push for four. After that, however, we would be at the Earth Archon¡¯s mercy.¡±

    She nodded, hands clenched on the radio. ¡°What kind of mercy does she have?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Precisely as much as her God: None whatsoever. But trust me, Hawk-of-the-West, I would rather be at Earth-Archon¡¯s mercy than at the feet of Earth herself. And I shall soon be at those most holy of feet.¡± The word holy was the only trace of bitterness the Archon seemed to expose¡­but it was a sucking black hole of it, a resentment so profound you could drown in it. ¡°I cannot spare myself. I would like very much to spare you.¡±

    Okay. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself¡­and then, impulsive, threw her arms around the Archon. He smelled the way she expected him to, of herbs and cedar boxes and lanolin. She clenched his robes tightly and, after a moment, he gingerly returned the embrace.

    ¡°Thank you. For everything.¡±

    He stepped back and placed his hands on her shoulders, as if to hold her there. ¡°It is said that an Archon is to be defined by their goodness, their kindness, and their mercy. As I have no god, and therefore little power, the best I can do¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªis be a good man,¡± Hawk said.

    The Mask dropped for a moment. ¡°You see me so? Truly? A good man?¡±

    ¡°What do you think you are?¡± she said.

    ¡°A contradiction. I don¡¯t know that you can be a good man, and also be a good Archon.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re proof of it,¡± she said, then turned to the doors. ¡°Well. Hopefully I won¡¯t be seeing you in two hours.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully. I give you leave, Hawk-of-the-West, albeit with the most bitter of regrets. For you are a good person, and I will miss the light of your company.¡± He turned, started to walk away, then paused. ¡°I will leave. Wait until the doors have closed, and then make your way to the Nexus. And be well, Hawk-of-the-West. Be well, for all manner of times and things.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡°Right back atcha,¡± she said, with a regretful smile.

    She watched as he made his way across the stable. It was a short walk, and she watched as his shoulders slowly seemed to diminish as he walked. As if he were taking off one role¡ªthe benevolent priest¡ªand putting on another¡ªthe beaten man. She wondered what he was risking, letting her go, and what retribution these frightening people would draw from his hide.

    Then she told herself that it wasn¡¯t her business and opened the door¡­only to find herself looking out over a seeming thousand feet of darkness and air.

    Chapter 12: We All Fall

    The rear of the stables, Hawk realized, was part of the Temple¡¯s outer walls. Now she looked down from a terrible cliff of that drab and dreary gray stone. Milk-crystals glowed here and there down its length, and in those bright glowing places, she caught glimpses of white leafed plants, even the shadows of a few flying things, as shadows crossing over the light. Far, far below, she saw ghost-shapes that could, possibly, be farm land. They were laid out and she was pretty sure they, too, were green. The Temple of Light must have been the only light-source for miles, at least. Hawk couldn¡¯t see another day-bright object. And, she thought, it was connected to the pylons. It must be getting some sunlight.

    There was a small ledge, just big enough for a person to walk on, that lead to the nearest pylon. She wouldn¡¯t have enough time to route around to any of the others. She had one guess, and she supposed it had been made for her by simple proximity.

    She¡¯d gotten her radio out of the bag. Maybe, if she could get high enough, she¡¯d be able to talk to the guys, at least. Tell them that they needed to be careful. The people down here were, in her experience, divided between the Archon of Light and his gentle authority, and the Archon of Earth, who scared Hawk the way her husband¡¯s father, Baylor West, had scared her. She would never have admitted it to Alex, but the one time they¡¯d met¡ªBaylor shouting on their porch while Alex watched him stoically¡ªHawk had sat on the top of their stairs in hand, waiting for an excuse to call the cops. Funny, that Earth¡¯s Archon should make her think of Baylor. She¡¯d done her best to avoid his memory, and had been successful for the last few years.

    The ledge wasn¡¯t so narrow that she couldn¡¯t simply walk across it. One hand on the wall¡¯s smooth, cool side, lean hard in that direction so if she fell, it¡¯d be into the wall, and walk. Slowly, but not so slowly she¡¯d spend all her time walking. It felt like hours, but was probably only minutes before her fingers touched the cool milky length of the pylon, which seemed fully ablaze with cool, rippling light.

    The join between the wall and the pylon wasn¡¯t smooth. Hawk was able to climb up onto its bulk with relative ease. And here she had to pause. The pylon wasn¡¯t that steep, but neither was a playground slide. It was smooth and it was angled, and it wouldn¡¯t be too hard for her to slide off¡­or down.

    And there was another problem she hadn¡¯t thought of until right now: the Shadowbeast might still be up there. And while she wasn¡¯t going to buy its fabled connection to this world¡¯s devil-figure¡­that was one hell of a thing to try and get around when you were an unarmed human.

    She suddenly longed for all the climbing equipment she¡¯d left on the stable floor. But she¡¯d left it because she didn¡¯t know what to do with it, and hadn¡¯t been shown. It wouldn¡¯t do her any good here. She racked her brain for any memories of climbing; the best she could come up with was crab-walking up slides as a kid.

    So that¡¯s what she did.

    She faced the Temple, her back to the Crystal¡¯s uppermost facet. Fortunately for her, it sat on the top of the whole mess. She took off her shoes, guessing correctly that bare feet would have more traction, and carefully stepped into the crystal pylon. It didn¡¯t feel any different than smooth stone, albeit slightly warmer than the walls and the rest of the Temple. There must have been some kind of reflection or refraction system to take and magnify the light¡ªand then she felt stupid, because of course there was: The Prism itself, which made up the holiest of holies in the Temple of Light. That must be how they took the fragments of sunlight that tracked through the Nexus and the Pylon and magnified it.

    She sat on the crystal, planted her hands and feet firmly on its surface, and began to push herself up.

    Step-step, and then push with both arms and legs. She gained a few inches. Step step, push, and she gained a few more. But, heartbroken, she realized she wasn¡¯t going to make it there before she was halfway through the Archon¡¯s deadline¡­which, she suspected, would mean death. Not from him, of course, but the cover he had chosen for her was that she was his trainee-replacement. There had to be some pretty heavy oaths involved. Step, step, PUSH. And either she was violating them by fleeing, or he was violating his by lying. And she remembered quite clearly what the Earth-Archon had said about mercy. I have exactly as much as my God: none.

    Push by push. Hawk wouldn¡¯t even dignify her progress by calling it ¡°crawl¡±. Up this high, there was wind. It wasn¡¯t too bad, but she was holding on by the literal skin of her hands and feet. Fingernails would be an upgrade, but here they wouldn¡¯t find purchase. She¡¯d chosen to back up the crystal instead of going face forward because she knew, in the pit of her stomach, that she wasn¡¯t making it to the top. She¡¯d need to be able to slide back down, and that was best accomplished by not turning around.

    The wind got stronger and less pleasant when she¡¯d climbed for an hour. It was far less progress than she wanted, but it was, she had to admit, as far as she was going to get. She also had to remember the Shadowbeast¡¯s presence, and her ability to fight that thing on this slick a surface¡­no. She¡¯d reached her limit. And hopefully it wasn¡¯t at the limit of her radio.

 Eighteen : Boomerang

    ¡°Dr. West to base,¡± She said. ¡°Dr. West to Base. Come in Base camp. Come in, this is Dr. West.¡±

    After far too long a pause, she heard a relieved-sounding ¡°Base camp to Dr. West. We hear you.¡±

    They were the most beautiful words she¡¯d ever heard in her life. She would build monuments to them. ¡°It¡¯s good to hear you guys. Are Em and Dyson still there? Drs Yung and Dyson?¡±

    ¡°Right here, you inconsiderate crone,¡± Em said. ¡°We found the tunnel you got nabbed in. No sign of the creature, but we got guards posted there. Where are you?¡±

    ¡°You guys see the big crystal pylons going down from the geode structures to the ground? The locals call these ¡®Nexus¡¯ by the way. I think that¡¯s both a singular and plural.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve made local contact?¡± A different, gruffer, more military voice.

    ¡°Yeah. The good news is they seem to regard modern English as their ancient holy tongue, so we can communicate with their priest caste if nothing else.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± said the unseen soldier. ¡°So what¡¯s the bad news?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re dealing with a priest caste. Those don¡¯t usually have the greatest mental flexibility. And the really, really bad news is it looks like¡­¡± Deep breath, Hawk. Don¡¯t lose it over your theory. ¡°It looks like they regard Naomi Studdard and the teachers she zapped down with her as gods and goddesses. And if I¡¯m reading their mythos right, Alex¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey. Hey, hey, hey.¡± Em¡¯s words pulling her back from the deep, dark precipice of grief. ¡°Listen to me, now. We don¡¯t know that. If it¡¯s been hundreds or even thousands of years, and that Studdard creature is still around, then Alex has to be still¡ª¡±

    ¡°They ate him.¡± Hawk said. ¡°In their mythology. Studdard and her cronies fucking ate Alex. They killed him and took¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop it, Hawk¡ª¡±

    ¡°They took what was left and they¡ª¡±

    ¡°STOP.¡± Emile Yung barked out the word with the fever of a modern Che Guevara. ¡°You stop that, Hawk. You¡¯re catastrophizing, and you¡¯re buying some third grade cobbled together makeshift theology created by the same woman who betrayed the trust of every parent that ever enrolled their children in her school. Do you think for ten seconds that woman would give Alex a single foothold back towards us?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said.

    ¡°No. Honey, you¡¯re buying the Studdard version of transubstitution.¡± Em said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is,¡± she said, through tears.Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°And that¡¯s one reason I love you, baby. Alright. Okay. You¡¯ve given us your bad news. Now it¡¯s our turn. The general is moving the command post down here in the hole. The good news is that puts them inside the time dilation effect, and we¡¯ll all be able to plan better. He also wanted to respond to your abduction. It¡¯ll be good to tell him you¡¯ve landed soft.¡±

    ¡°You bet. I can¡¯t get up there, Em, and my contact down there was only able to protect me on the foundation of their religion. He¡¯s about to get hauled off to a meeting with the other Archons¡ªI¡¯ll explain that later¡ª¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re either gonna have to go with him or chance climbing the rest of the way up here. But that may be a good thing, Hon. Kaiser¡¯s gonna be down here with us and the General.¡±

    She didn¡¯t like the way that idea turned her stomach. ¡°I don¡¯t guess there¡¯s a way we can get the General to keep him out?¡±

    ¡°Nope. The guy¡¯s the only person on record to run Event clean up,¡± said Henry Dyson. ¡°And while we¡¯ve been able to get the guys in here up to speed, the General and Kaiser have been playing together for like a minute. Not enough time to turn the military sour on his ass.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t happen. The man bleeds military contracts,¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°Ahem.¡± One of the unseen military men cleared his throat. ¡°The correction. Edgar Studdard bled military contracts. Kaiser found ways to fill them.¡±

    Hawk grinned. ¡°I take it you boys have opinions.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re the ones who have to use their inventions, ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve climbed about as far up as I can. The surface is slippery, hard¡ªit¡¯s probably some kind of quartz¡ªand the wind¡¯s getting pretty bad. If I slide down now I can meet back up with my contact. I¡¯ll try to collect as much knowledge as I can.¡±

    ¡°You do that, Hawk,¡± Em said. ¡°And hey, as soon as the General is down with us, we¡¯ll probably be mounting a rescue, or a first contact¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± the word came out hot and harried, like blood. Hawk wasn¡¯t sure why. Just that any contact without the Archon¡¯s presence would go badly. ¡°The people down here¡ªlet¡¯s call them the Holians¡ªregard these crystal nexus things as the domain of their devil-figure. The guy I¡¯m talking to knows it¡¯s bunk, but he also knows that some of his people believe very strongly. At least, that¡¯s how I interpret the ways he¡¯s helped me. If and when we get back from this¡­whatever the hell it is¡­that¡¯s when we should meet up.¡±

    ¡°You really think you can keep the military genie in the bottle, Hawk?¡± Em said, dryly.

    ¡°No. But I¡¯m hoping we can keep it on ice a little bit longer. Okay. I¡¯m going to start back down now. Hawk Out.¡±

    And she turned off the radio before anyone could protest, put her head down on her knees, and began to weep. Because she knew it was true. What she hadn¡¯t been allowed to articulate, what Emile had smothered away with the swiftness of a fire-fighter on a flame: Alex was dead. Alex was dead, and somehow his body had been used by Naomi Studdard to get what she wanted.

    And if Hawk went with the Archon of Earth, she had at least a shot of finding out what that desire happened to be. Why would a seemingly sane person throw away their modern life¡­for this? Only way to find out was to follow the mythology down to its probable source.

    She had to find Naomi Studdard.

    Picking her head up off her knees, she clenched her fists one time. It was a promise of violence and retribution, and a request for an apology from the universe, written in divine blood. She was going to avenge Alex, and blot the greedy self-centered works of the Studdards out of this and every other universe, forever. That was her promise, and that was her vow. Not to Alex. Not to the Studdards. To herself. And maybe to the place where Alex used to be, which now ached in this terrible wind.

    And, done with the melodrama, Hawk began the careful process of sliding back down to the Temple of Light. Her own personal Ragnar?k would start there.

 Nineteen: The Dark Pilgrims

    The return to the stables went well enough. She slid like a child back down to the pylon¡¯s base, the Nexus retreating further and further away as she fell. Her friends, too, further away, their help and their wisdom now out of her reach. But she¡¯d chosen this. Her other choice was to walk away, and that was unacceptable. She needed to either exonerate the Studdards¡¯ of Alex¡¯s murder, or prove they had done what the mythology said.

    There wasn¡¯t enough blood in the universe to put out the wrath she felt burbling now, ever beneath the surface. Divine blood might do it, if she could get to it fast enough. What was her alternative to wrath and Ragnar?k? Collapse into the sucking black hole of grief newly incarnate within her body? Mourn via melodramatic poetry while other people risked their lives? And what about the twelve hundred parents for the six hundred missing children? What right did she have to fold when those parents deserved the same answers she wanted?

    No. She needed to go.

    She crawled back to the stable door, went inside and slammed the doors shut. She couldn¡¯t lock them and the bar was out of reach. She supposed the Archon would put it back together. She found two of the Hares saddled up, bridles in place, all four of the packs she¡¯d helped build strapped to their backs. She guessed what was desired, took hold of the bridles, and walked out into the courtyard.

    It was bustling, to put it mildly. White robes and green robes were everywhere, moving huge bags of hard tack, huge sacks of fresh fruit and vegetables, and a great deal of dried and salted meat. This was loaded onto the back of creatures who looked like a cross between oxen and, once again, rabbits. Only these did not have long, velvet soft ears, but truncated little things that reminded Hawk of a Doberman''s ears. She hoped that didn¡¯t mean that they¡¯d docked the poor things. She suspected they had.

    She made her way through the cacophony. A few times she was stopped, as often by white robes as by green. No one here knew her. She would say ¡°Archon said,¡± and then be waved off and allowed to wander. Apparently what Archons said was law. Nice, as long as they were talking about the Archon of Light. Hawk didn¡¯t trust the other woman any further than she could throw her¡­and they were about to go on a trip together. Lovely.

    She managed to get a green-robe to tell her where the Archons were, and she walked in the indicated direction with the Hares. The indicated pavilion had just been built with many panels of green and gold, plants running from deep green to that strange pale white, and flowers in jewel tones, each seeming to glow slightly in the blinding Temple light. There was even a fountain, which was kept in perpetual motion by a single green-robed child and a cup. The robe itself was beautiful, with many strange, alien animals embroidered into its hem. The child was too frantic, too frightened to be beautiful. Her big-eyed stare reminded Hawk of those 80s kitsch paintings of round-eyed children. They were an apparent girl-child. Down she bent, and filled her golden cup with water as hastily as she could. Then she sprang up so hard she bounced a bit, and stretched as high as she could to pour the water down the fountain. The water splashed and splashed and made the gentle babbling brook noises you¡¯d expect from a good fountain, and as soon as the cup was empty she started again, fast as she could, so that the flow of water over the fountain, and its burbling voice, were neither interrupted.

    She ducked into the pavilion with the Hares in tow, and quietly made her way to the Archon of Light, who naturally sat beside the Archon of Earth. He saw her before she was too near and waved her over. When she was part-way there, two green-robes relieved her of the Hares, though these were brought over to the Archon of Light. There was a line of twenty Hares on the Earth-side of the room. Apparently the Archon of Light was allowed two.

    And Hawk felt even more terrified, because she recognized the spirit sitting in this room. It was the same dreadful ghost that showed up when two competing academics face each other across a crowded room. It was the dance she¡¯d done often enough, the dance Henry and Em had performed until they figured out what they really wanted was to fuck each other on the nearest table. There was no mercy in this role, no bloodless release possible. The Earth Archon was showing off her wealth, her followers, and the fear she engendered within them. She¡¯d chosen violence, and as such was a bomb waiting for a chance to explode.

    And Hawk, being new and ignorant, was highly likely to set her off.

    The two Archons sat with a fire-pit between them, a thing of chilling wrought iron that had little connection to the opulence in the rest of the tent. There were golden trays of grapes before it, and cuts of meat and a selection of cheeses, cakes with a thick crust of sugar on them, like they¡¯d been candied, jam tarts that were perfect for all they¡¯d been made in haste. There were flowers piled up, arrayed in columns, wrapped into garlands strewn throughout that tent. But the Fire-pit¡­there was something very wrong about it. Hawk thought of blood and seared things when she looked at it.

    ¡°Two Fleet-Hares?¡± The Earth-Archon was saying as Hawk knelt beside the Archon of Light. ¡°That is the entirety of the procession you wish to offer? Two hares for my lady? And this chit, of course. Mustn¡¯t forget her.¡± The green-and-gold mask tilted in her direction.

    ¡°You will forgive, of course. Tithes are down, as are the yields from our farms. We cannot support more than what we need. Even these two Hares will be a great loss to our Temple. Again, my Sister, I pray: How long are we to attend to the God?¡±

    ¡°As long as She requires. You know better than I than to question Her will. If She has not spoken, we wait until She speaks. And She has not spoken on this matter. I was bid only to retrieve you, that you can express to the Quartet why the Light is failing.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    The Archon took up a cup of iced herbal tea¡ªand where he got the ice, Hawk would kill to know¡ªand sipped it without exposing a single inch of skin. Then he set the cup to the side. ¡°The Light is failing,¡± He said, quite clearly, pitching his voice to the entirety of the Tent, with a childish, sing-song tone that would have been amusing in another setting. Here, Hawk called it deadly. ¡°The Light is failing because of the Nexus. This is known.¡± The Archon flicked a small speck of dirt from his robes. ¡°This has been known for two hundred years, since it appeared above us. We must bring down the Nexus¡ªthe true one¡ªbefore we have a chance of restoring the Light to what it must be.¡± And then, in a softer voice, traveling only to Hawk and the Earth-Archon¡¯s ears. ¡°And that has a chance of restoring the Gods¡¯ full power, too. Or do you truly worry over a few peasants working pathetic fields?¡±

    The Archon of Earth lifted a cup, looked at it, then flung it down, hard, upon the table. ¡°You care for them. And you flaunt your blessings.¡±

    ¡°I apologize. Do you wish me to have the girl cease with her bareface ways? Let her be Archon now, and not later?¡±

    ¡°Do not mock me.¡± Said the Earth-Archon.

    ¡°Indeed. That was beneath me. I apologize. But tell me¡­you know of this failing of the Divine powers, yes? You are at Her elbow. You must know.¡±

    ¡°I know nothing of the sort.¡± The Earth said.

    ¡°At least, nothing that you would share with me. Well, as I said before, we were waiting on my Acolyte with the Hares. Here they are, and here she is, and now we are ready to leave.¡±

    ¡°So soon? My sibling-in-service, would you waste the effort of my people?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± the Archon of Light said.

    ¡°I have ordered a fine House for the Earthmaster be built in the Courtyard of Light. Look about you and feel its magnificence.¡± She spread her hands, and Hawk did have to admit, it was an impressive tent. Reminded her a bit of a three-ring circus, complete with a dancing clown. ¡°Don¡¯t disrespect the acolytes of the Earth Temple by demanding we disrespect the House of our God.¡±

    ¡°Our stores cannot sustain you and ourselves. One day of fodder for you and your kin would sustain us for a week. The harvests have been poor. Our coffers are empty.¡±

    ¡°Your coffers are empty because you choose it. If you gathered your will and your wrath, you would extract a far better tithe from your people.¡±

    ¡°And then I would have no people. You cannot force a man to the yoke for more than eight hours. Elsewise they collapse.¡±

    ¡°And then the Temple of Light should ask my Master for more. It is to Her Husband¡¯s glory that she keeps the Temple of Light alive. If the fodder she sends you cannot sustain it, then demand more, and care as much for the waste of flesh as you would the waste of grain.¡±

    ¡°I care very much for the waste of grain. Every part is valuable to us, these days.¡± The Archon¡¯s mild voice undercut Earth¡¯s more strident approach.

    ¡°Ask, I say. Demand. Stand up and shake this Temple to the foundations so you lose that dead weight. I am ashamed of what you have made of our Father God¡¯s House, Archon. And my Master is also displeased.¡±

    The Archon of Light simply nodded, and took another sip of tea while watching the Earth-Archon¡¯s growing ire. ¡°Be that as it may, our stores are empty. Unless your God wishes to grant us a true miracle, we will be out of food for any creature in three days.¡±

    The Earth Archon glared at him, then turned to the nearest green-robe and gave orders in their common tongue. The green-robe protested. Earth spoke again, more harshly.

    The Archon of Light grabbed Hawk¡¯s arm. That was her only warning.

    The green-robe protested a third time, and the Archon responded by whipping out a blade. It sat in her hand like an extension of her arm, and she had the green-robe in her grasp before he could flee¡­not, Hawk thought, that he would have. He kept trying to fall to his knees and likely beg for forgiveness. There was none to be had in this place. Two more green-robes stepped forward, these burly men with bare chests. Their green was tied around their waists, along with thick chains of gold and huge swords. They used neither of these, but pulled the wailing acolyte from the Earth-Archon. She barked orders that made the Light Archon wince.

    ¡°That is not necessary¡ª¡± He began to say.

    ¡°What is necessary,¡± the Earth-Archon said, ¡°Is that your girl be punished for making us wait two hours. What is necessary is that my people remember the grace and gratitude of our God. Her command is law, and She speaks through me. This one has doubted my words. There must be propitiation. There must be blood.¡±

    Hawk tried to rise, but the Light Archon¡¯s grip was like steel. He kept her seated with a hissed, ¡°Stay down,¡±.

    The Earth-Archon gave the order a second time, and, expressionless, the two green-robed guards began to pull the disobedient acolyte down into the fire pit. Hawk thought they couldn¡¯t mean it, that this was all some elaborate show. They continued to force the struggling man¡ªwho was young, little more than a boy¡ªinto the edge of the wrought iron pit, and then, when his knees were hard against the hot metal and the scent of burning silk, then burning skin, filled the air. They bent him over backwards, into the flame.

    His scream was incredible. So was the instant stench. She did not want to think about it, about barbeque, flesh on hot metal, meals she¡¯d eaten that smelled the same. She looked away, then back, because this man deserved to have a witness whose judgement wasn¡¯t drowning in religious fever. He kept screaming and writhing, and the Earth-Archon looked down at him, her mask blank and terrifying and her hands both clenched upon the knife. She waited until the man¡¯s struggles began to slow, his screams turning soundless, and that stench growing higher. Then she plunged the knife into the man¡¯s chest where the heart ought to be, crying Aiyiyiyiyi in a high soprano scream.

    The reaction throughout the room was instantaneous. Immediately the instruments began to play, the harps, the horns, the symbols, the drums, all launching into a well-practiced tune of stunning complexity. And then a chorus of maidens began to sing,

    Blessed be our God

    Who was and who will always be

    Blessed is She who walks in the Light

    And Blessed is Her Husband who comes

    He comes.

    Blessed is her husband, who comes.

    And then it was done. The instruments and singers were silenced with a gesture, and immediately they all sat in their places beside the twenty Fleet-Hares, the Chorus near the Archon and the altar Hawk had mistaken for a fire-pit. The body in the flames continued to burn. ¡°Bring the Resin! Bring the roses! And a tenth of a tithe to the family. It is not their fault they produced such a fool.¡±

 Twenty: Worship in the Dark

    An acolyte ran forward with a small pot in her hands. She opened the lid and exposed many small beige balls. When she flung them on the fire, they produced a scent that would have been pleasant, if it weren¡¯t covering the stench of human sacrifice. Someone else came forward with armfuls of red, glowing roses, which were laid around the altar in a way that kept the majority of the blooms from the heat. Someone else, a girl with blonde hair and a great deal of gold on her green robes, began singing and pouring wine into a goblet, which she then let fall, sip by sip, onto the hot coals and the burning man.

    The body was curled, child-like, in the flames. Gender and identity had been consumed whole. The skin was charring and splitting even as muscles contracted the burning form into that fetal curl. It was ignored. There was a dead body lying on a burning altar, and no one cared. Oh, wait, they threw incense and flowers at the dead man, and sang hymns to the woman who murdered him, and the gods that she served.

    Hawk was crying. Her throat hurt, so she must also have been screaming. The Light Archon held her back. She must have tried to stop this. She must have. But she couldn¡¯t remember what she did. Everything¡ªevery motive¡ªwas blotted out by horror. She had just watched a man die. He had been sacrificed, and the smell¡­she began to gag.

    ¡°Peace, Hawk. Or else you and I will be next.¡± Whispered the Archon.

    ¡°It stinks,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°That is the stench of holy things. Breathe it in. Let it teach you what it means to serve our Gods.¡± And the Archon lowered his voice to the barest whisper. ¡°See why it is wise to flee them.¡±

    And his words were all the more terrifying, because they dripped with hatred. Not for her, or the man in the altar fire, burning. Not even for the Archon of Earth. No. He was sworn to the Gods¡¯ service, and he hated them harsh enough to blot out the sun.

    ***

    The Archon of Light pulled her from the tent, silent behind his mask¡¯s security. She envied him that ivory board; she was sobbing hysterically. And she¡¯d done it in front of the woman torturing that poor man to death. And for what? For Refusing her?

    ¡°Be at peace,¡± the Archon of Light said. ¡°Be at peace.¡±

    ¡°She killed that man,¡± Hawk said. ¡°She just¡­pulled out a blade and¡ª¡±

    ¡°He¡¯d questioned her will. Which normally would not be lethal, but I¡¯d needled her too much. I¡¯d misjudged her wrath, and where it would go. And now the whole tent is going to reek of holiness¡ªdo not repeat those remarks. The stench of sacrifice is the greatest of perfumes, exet, exet.¡± These last two words were pronounced ex-set, and she didn¡¯t have to guess at the derivative of etc.

    ¡°I screamed.¡±

    ¡°As did half of her green robes, and some of the gold. The guardians of the Earth are best known for their ability to hold back screaming families. They offer the most sacrifices, for the Earth is a benevolent Mother, and must be respected with our own blood. And for every child who screams, every warrior who would storm the holy places and pull the altars down, there is a devout man to hold him back¡­and a man thirsty for heretic blood stands behind them both. They are looking for whatever they may devour. Children and warriors are, incidentally, favored especially by Nasheth.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°What I find curious, Hawk, is that there are a dozen volunteers for every unwilling sacrifice. Here, today, there are enough fools in robes¡ªI mean honored penitents, yes, honored, and they could keep the blood flowing for twenty-four hours. I have seen it done during disaster and hellstorm. Twenty-four hours of men and women, and their children too, lead singing to the altars of the Earth¡ªeven the Air and Water, if they are invoked.¡± A pause. ¡°She should not be using the altar of her God as an outlet for wrath.¡±

    They were well out of the stinking, smoking, gloriously beautiful silk tent. She looked around and saw dozens of other people standing about in little clusters, sobbing. Most of these were white robes, but there were more than a few green ones. These were sitting on the ground, almost screaming. One girl seemed to have clawed at her own face.

    ¡°How can anyone do this?¡± Hawk whispered.

    ¡°I am told that the first-time human blood was spilt for a God was when Hadaras, the daughter of a great merchant king, was given in marriage to another great merchant king, who happened to be older than her father. So she swore her life and maidenhead to Illyris, in the hope that the God would claim what was Hers and spare Hadaras from being married.

    ¡°Illyris was less than pleased about being dragged from her own city to some god-forsaken patch of road, and she told the girl that the only use she had for a virgin was as a sacrifice by fire and light, with the ashes fed to Her Waters. Hadaras was given a choice: Marriage or fire. She chose fire.¡±

    ¡°But did she really choose it?¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°The Archon¡¯s records are better than legends or stories. It wasn¡¯t a marriage. It was a land dispute. Hadaras was his oldest child, the other land baron had a son. Illyris first offered that the children be wed together, so the land dispute would be solved by marriage. But the blood was bad. So instead Illyris said that the first to sacrifice their child in her name would get the land. I am told that both children¡¯s blood was spilled over logs, but Hadaras¡¯s father moved faster.

    ¡°I tell these stories to remember their names. Hadaras was only twelve, according to our records.¡±

    ¡°And no one revolted.¡± Hawk whispered.

    ¡°On the contrary. They began bringing their unwanted children, bastards, orphans, even the elderly, and slaughtering them on the stones of every Temple. It started with Illyris, who was disgusted. But when her temple ran red with blood, the others envied her, and whispers went through Fire, Air, and Earth that the blood gift was the sweetest of all. And soon there was such a loss of life that the blood-gift had to be forbidden amongst men. Only the Archons are allowed to kill.¡± These last words were bitter again.

    ¡°And you don¡¯t.¡± she said. She really, really hoped he did not.

    ¡°Have I never raised a knife in the name of the Light? I wouldn¡¯t have this position if I hadn¡¯t. But I have not offered the blood gift in over ten years. It is why they accuse me of being soft.¡±

    Hawk nodded. She hadn¡¯t puked. That was good. If she started she wasn¡¯t going to stop until her pancreas were on the floor. ¡°We don¡¯t have gods like this back home. All of ours are tame. We teach that they¡¯re good and made of love. We¡¯ve taken the darkness out.¡±

    ¡°Here we have little but darkness. Come. Get on your Hare and I will tell you what you really saw. Yes. There you go.¡±

    Mounting turned out to be easy. At his command, one of the two white Fleet-Hares bent down, allowing Hawk to grab hold of the reins and fling one leg over the side. Her robes had been cut, she felt, exclusively for this. ¡°Your people expect to need to ride at a moment¡¯s notice?¡± she said.

    ¡°Look around you. This is the only source of Light for the land. All the crops we have to grow, save for Earth¡¯s¡­special creations¡­grow here. So when there is famine, or disaster, or some part of this radiant earth collapses upon us, or the greatness of water drowns us, or fire rises up and eats us all¡­the Light rides. It is why any order for the Light still exists. If you want to help, if you want to give succor to your fellow man, if you want to ensure that there is something, somewhere, to look to in hope¡­you follow the Light. But it is only good if we make it good, do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Hawk said. ¡°Probably better than you think.¡±

    And then horns were sounded somewhere in the bulk of creatures, and the Archon said that meant it was time to move.