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.

 Twenty-one: A Dance with Divinity

    The Earth Archon left the Temple of Light first, with great fanfare. The drums were banged and symbols were clanged and hands were clapped, voices sang paens to an unseen deity, and dancers lead the Archon¡¯s way with flowers strewn before the luxurious green and gold palanquin. Holy! People sang. Holy, holy, holy!

    And ever did the eyes of the crowd turn to its center. The Archon of Earth sat, a fattened spider in a delicate web of reactive and fearful nerves. A dancer spun, is it enough? A flutist paused for breath, Am I wrong in tempo? Bannermen straightened spines as fear of flames ate at them all. This was no display of worship. It was all driven by fear.

    The pavilion was left behind, to be broken down and given, she was told, to the Temple of Light as a thanks for hosting them.

    Now it was time for Light to leave. And their two Fleet-hares walked down a small line of white-robes. One of whom was sobbing into her hands. The Archon had to stop the Hare and get down to reach for her. ¡°What ails you, sister?¡± he said.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid. You¡¯ll go out there one day and you won¡¯t return, and then what will become of us? There¡¯s never been an Archon like you before.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯ve been twenty-seven of them in the good histories. I¡¯m no different from any of them. I have left the Temple before and returned. Care for the people around you, and stand with each other. You will be fine in my absence.¡±

    ¡°But the Shadow¡ªthe Beast was sighted when it brought us the stranger. What do we do if Shadow assails us?¡±

    ¡°Offer him bread and wine, the same as you would anyone else. A rational being will respond rationally and you will be fine. An irrational one who intends violence would harm you anyway, so let your last acts be one of kindness. How else should you defy the dark? Come, Hawk. We must depart.¡±

    And they did, with their soft-pawed beasts, the Fleet-Hares. Hawk¡¯s moved with her like a breath of wind. It had a bit of a musty smell, just enough to remind her that this was an animal. The luxuriant silk of its fur was another matter entirely. She wanted to bury her face in the fluff along its neck.

    ¡°Is it disrespectful that we ride behind the palanquin?¡± Hawk said, when they reached the Temple¡¯s main gates.

    ¡°Of course it is. It is disrespectful, too, to offer sacrifice in another God¡¯s courtyard without an answering offering to the Light, which we did not want. Nor, I think, do you and I want to be at the heart of this procession. There will be song and incense offered, of course, and food offerings brought forth and a great deal of merriment, and we shall get the dregs of that. But we would also be in the Earth-Archon¡¯s sight.¡±

    And Hawk did not want that, not at all. And she wasn¡¯t all that hungry, either. ¡°I take it there were supplies we could have gotten other than hard tack and oranges?¡± She said.

    ¡°There were. There are also a great many young children in walking distance, who will come for plain bread and whatever cheeses we can spare, and whatever fruit we did not have to give Earth as provisions. We will be eating at her table twice before this journey is over, two suppers and two sleeps. You¡¯ll have all the opulence you can stand this first night, for if we make it through without another sacrifice it will be a True Miracle.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t watch that happen again,¡± She said.

    ¡°You can¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Hawk said, firmly. ¡°And if I can, then I will not.¡±

    ¡°I will do my best to keep her pleased. But she may be in a showman¡¯s mood tonight. People die around the Archon of Earth.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°And I¡¯m guessing they die a lot more around her God,¡± Hawk said. They rode on for a few paces, walking under the great, gaping walls of the Temple. They were out in the free wilds now, where all sorts of bad things could happen. Free wilds. Hawk felt free in a strange and dizzying sense. She¡¯d never in her life allowed rage to fester like this, but there was nothing she could do. No wars she could rage and win, no throats she could grasp that would matter. All she could do was rage, and that was what her enemy was looking for.

    ¡°What does she hide under her mask?¡± Hawk asked.

    The Archon glanced at her, sharply. ¡°Misery. Do not ask that question again.¡± A pause, as they road. ¡°Why did you ask it?¡±

    ¡°Because you said you were needling her. But the only thing I watched you do that seemed to irritate her was drink. You did that every time you seemed to want to push her buttons. After comments where Ale¡ª¡± She stopped herself. Mentioning Alex now would be like gutting herself, ripping out a colon or something similarly vital. ¡°One of the team I worked with would normally do something obnoxious.¡±

    ¡°I was being over indulgent, because she came here to pick a fight.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Earth against the Temple of Light?¡± She said.

    ¡°Nay. They¡¯re our only supporter. What largesse we have is because Nasheth wants to honor her husband, the Dead God. So she holds his portion of the First God intact, and so she tolerates the Shadow in His Name¡­¡± he began waving a hand. ¡°It¡¯s a most wretched catechism when you set your mind to studying it. But you will be questioned, likely by Earthmaster herself, and I will have two days to teach you.¡±

    ¡°Wait. A meeting with Earthmaster Herself?¡± Hawk said. ¡°I am not ready to go face to face with a goddess.¡±

    ¡°And there is your first lesson: Never call either Illyris or Nasheth ¡®goddess¡¯. It infers that they are somehow lesser, and they are not. Nasheth is the mother God of us all, her fist is iron and her yoke is to be escaped at the first opening. Illyris is less military but more unpredictable. She would not have taken offense at the diminuitive if she were the only female God at the table. But Nasheth keeps her aware of what she is owed. That leaves Argos and Kali¡¯Mar, who would force the issue if they had the will. They do not. For he cannot stand against the Shadow.¡±

    Hawk nodded. Nasheth was nominally in charge, and the men were champing at the bit because of it. ¡°And what is the Shadow? What can you tell me about that?¡±

    But the Archon only pulled his water skin near, and said no more to her for the next several hours.

    ***

    They built the pavilion again, after they¡¯d traveled for nearly eight hours and her Fleet-Hare seemed to be growing tired. They chose a large, darkened meadow¡ªeverything was dark here, save for the dying light cast by the Temple, now a distant sun with no visible detail¡ªand began lighting colorful fire pits around the cleared boundaries of land.

    ¡°All the plants here are pale,¡± Hawk said. This wasn¡¯t entirely true. She spotted some lichen and deep green mosses. But most of the leafed plants were pale greens or whites.

    ¡°Aye. The green leaves rely on the Light for nourishment, and are seen as Our rightful tithe. But pale leaves belong to the Queen of Heaven and heart of the Earth. She made them, after all.¡± A pause. ¡°It is said that they grow best in soils consecrated by blood. Fortunately such an act must only be done every hundred years.¡±

    She¡¯d suspected as much. The soil down here might as well belong to a cave; the only light was what came in through the hole, and that¡­it tangled in her thoughts. ¡°The Nexus¡­it¡¯s blocking the light you need, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Clever girl. Yes.¡± And he let the words stop there.

    ¡°So you would break it down if you could, right?¡±

    ¡°If we could guess the right one? If we could climb high enough to battle the winds that scrape across the bones of the sky? If we had a drill strong enough? And weapons vital enough to chase off the Shadow Beasts? And then, had we all that, we would need to face the Shadow Himself, for it is His seal on the God-world that diminished both the light and the power of the gods.¡±

    And Hawk realized two things, one on top of the other: The first was that this Shadow-thing, whatever he was, was the one thing keeping Studdard in check. The second was that the Archon, who was mildly frightened of the woman who had just baked a human alive for irritating her, was scared absolutely shitlesss of the Shadow. And Hawk was inclined to trust his judgement.

    ¡°So¡­a good thing?¡± she said, very, very softly.

    The Archon wheeled on her. ¡°Never say that again. Not a word or breath or gesture like that should ever pass your lips. You will die worse than you can imagine, if such heresy should be heard by the wrong ears.¡± His ivory mask looked left and right, as if ensuring that no one could overhear. ¡°A very good thing.¡±

    Then he straightened up like a bolt of lightening, and she wasn¡¯t able to get another word out of him for miles.

 Twenty-Two: Cornucopia

    Most of what they passed through was farmland. There was a modern temptation to call these ¡°mean little fields¡±, but they weren¡¯t that. Small, yes, and obviously family tended, with low walls built by hand from the gray stone, walls that had been there long enough for a thick crusting of moss to erupt around every facet, all of it on the Light side of the stones. But there was no meanness about this; it was too well tended, too cared for. Despair had yet to wrap fingers around hearts and minds. Were the crops failing? Hawk wouldn¡¯t know to tell. What she could recognize was that as they passed through, food was brought to Earth¡¯s palanquin, baskets of it, mountains of it, held by grim-faced farmers and taken by grim-faced green-robes without a word. There was no humor. No laughing. But then they would see the Light Archon, with his two Fleet-Hares and odd-looking stranger, and faces would light up. A new basket of food would be brought forth, sometimes the mean black bread Hawk remembered from her first morning, sometimes breads so full of fruit and nuts you could break your teeth off on them. Sometimes they were even cakes, or candies, or a tray of fruit cut so fresh, the peels still wept. And to each of these offerings, Light reacted by laughing. Laughing, and he¡¯d take a slice of black bread, or one of the candied fruit, and toss her one as well, and then wave away the rest of the basket with a smile.

    Hawk wanted to yell at him at first. They were going to need food beyond hardtack and oranges. But screeching at him wasn¡¯t going to do her any good, and she focused on grabbing bits and pieces from the trays that wouldn¡¯t spoil quickly. So the black bread and dried fruit, and¡­and cheeses would keep, wouldn¡¯t they? But no one was offering any cheeses. And then she began to realize that the Archon was handing her mostly the travel-ready foods, though enough of the sweets made their way back to get her sick. Soon both her knapsacks were stuffed, her saddle bags were stuffed, and she was balancing loaves of bread in her lap.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have enough room!¡± She finally had to shout, when he handed her an absolutely lovely, crusty loaf of white bread. (It spoke of some sophistication in their grain industry. She would have liked to follow the bread back to the bakery) It would have been welcome twenty minutes ago, but this was the fifth beautiful loaf of white bread she¡¯d seen.

    ¡°Start throwing it. I¡¯ll take the whole baskets now, and you¡¯ll distribute them. We¡¯ve enough for our journey, and they¡¯ve given Earth¡¯s portion freely. The Temple of Light decrees that what we do not need, we give back to the givers, as need requires.¡±

    So she began flinging the bread back into the crowd, trying to aim it for the rear where the least mobile, least healthy petitioners would be. And this brought up a new great cry, and more songs to Gods she had yet to meet. That made her angry. But she couldn¡¯t get angry at starving people who didn¡¯t have the words to fully express gratitude¡­and she suspected a paen to the giver would have been greeted very poorly by the Earth Archon. No. She couldn¡¯t protest. Couldn¡¯t scream. Instead, she¡¯d add it up to the gods¡¯ tally. They¡¯d taken Alex. Now they¡¯d taken these people¡¯s joy. A god worth following wouldn¡¯t. Yes. Another justification for her little game. It was called ¡°Kill the gods¡±, and this was just the warm-up number.

    ¡°Is there a reason you won¡¯t tell me about the Shadow?¡± She said. ¡°It¡¯s the one part of your pantheon I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Pantheon?¡± the Archon said.

    ¡°Your particular group of Gods. Like, back home we have a people called ¡®Greeks¡¯ who had quite a few gods, back before Christianity happened. We call a group of gods a Panethon.¡±

    He nodded, absorbing the new word. ¡°And what is Christianity?¡± the Archon asked.

    ¡°Um. Yeah. So probably let¡¯s not talk about that.¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°There, you see? A thing you think I should not know.¡±

    ¡°More like¡­I don¡¯t know enough about the theology¡ªthe study of God¡ªto do it justice. I¡¯m not Christian, I kind of oppose the thing, so¡­¡± She sighed. ¡°So you¡¯ve made your point.¡±

    ¡°The best theologian I¡¯ve ever known is a servant of Earth at Her Temple at Hirech¡­which, fortunately for us, is where we are heading. I¡¯ve sent a note ahead telling her to prepare to teach a neophyte, as quickly and quietly as possible. I won¡¯t send you into battle unarmed, Hawk of the West.¡±

    She was starting to grit her teeth at that, but it was much better meant than Kaiser forgetting her ¡°doctor¡± every five minutes. She recognized the difference between culture clash and pure cussedness. Kaiser was the latter.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Then she heard a loud hoot of horn, brassy and irritable. She¡¯d heard it yesterday, too, but she¡¯d assumed it was just a part of the ceremony dumping the Archon of Earth out on Light¡¯s mossy lawn. ¡°What do the horns mean?¡±

    ¡°Either ¡®make camp¡¯ or ¡®break camp.¡¯ We shall take our rest here. Earth will build her pavilion and take gifts for the next one in return for leaving this one behind. Oh, don¡¯t look so horrified. She knows all she¡¯ll get is honeysilk and rabbit skins, spun and plied by simple girls who worry about more than a Temple¡¯s largesse. She¡¯ll use good silk in the pavilion because if she does not, word will return to the God that Her Temple made a poor showing, and that will earn her displeasure. So she¡¯ll take what offerings she can get and use them to clothe and house her poorest acolytes. Meanwhile her precious green and gold silks will go to the wedding and fair-day gowns of most of the girls around here, and the metal ornaments her people can¡¯t pack fast enough will fall into dowery chests and mantle-pieces from here to the Outer Dark. The food is the only bitter gift here, as they will not easily replace it.¡±

    ¡°You said the food and¡­¡± she trailed off, not wanting to risk it.

    ¡°And?¡± Prompted the Archon.

    Fuck it. ¡°The food and the Gods¡¯ power began shrinking when the Nexus formed, yes? I¡¯m understanding that much, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°When did that form?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Oh, two hundred years ago.¡± And the Archon casually waved a hand as her whole world came crashing down once more. ¡°And it wasn¡¯t as great a catastrophe, I hear, then as it is now. We had more reserves, back then. And the Gods gifts were made for the world-that-was, not this dim and dying place. But don¡¯t worry about it. The Gods will find a solution. That¡¯s what the conclave we will soon reach is about. I will tell them how little light we¡¯ve gotten this year, they will find ways around the problem, and we will all go home.¡±

    ¡°Not all of us,¡± Hawk said. ¡°Not the man she killed last night.¡±

    The Archon was silent a long time. Then he reached out and grabbed her Fleet-Hare¡¯s reigns. This should have been frightening, but she trusted the Archon. His motion drew her Hare apace with his. ¡°I know that bothered you.¡±

    ¡°Bothered. He was a man and now he¡¯s dead. That¡¯s a lot more than bothered.¡±

    ¡°There were seven sacrifices last night. Three of willing people, but mostly¡­¡± he trailed off. ¡°I can¡¯t even say that they were willing. They began willing. They volunteered. But I think they hoped for a quick death. They should have been granted that, at least. And it will be worse at the conclave. We Archons will go mad, trying to please our god. How fortunate am I, my God is dead? Fortunate indeed. There is no pleasure to seek. No higher name to offer than my own. Certainly, no ambition left to me save to keep the Temple for a God who is profoundly flown.¡±

    Hawk had no clue what to say to that.

    She caught a glimpse of sly eyes behind the mask. ¡°I suppose you also don¡¯t know how to handle such blasphemy.¡±

    ¡°You show me orthodox thought, sir, and I won¡¯t be able to poor juice out of it if you put instructions on the bottom,¡± She said.

    The Archon laughed. He had a good laugh. Gentle. He even had to reach up under his mask to dry tears. ¡°Ah, you are the very breath of Illyris.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t what?¡± He said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bring your Gods between us. They¡¯re¡­they¡¯re not¡­¡± She didn¡¯t have the words. Would the Archon understand abuse? For him, this was normal, fear a part of life¡¯s tapestry and not something to rip out of it like a fateful Penelope. She was reduced to a child¡¯s vocabulary. ¡°I don¡¯t like them. Not any of them. I¡¯d rather not be compared to anyone or anything that isn¡¯t¡­¡± she wanted to say ¡®real¡¯, but that was the rub: She was pretty sure these gods were real. Or at least, were Naomi Studdard plus three teachers.

    ¡°Clean?¡± The Archon said.

    She shook her head. ¡°No. Because clean doesn¡¯t always mean good. We¡¯re supposed to have a certain amount of beneficial bacteria.¡± And, because those words probably hadn¡¯t been included in catechism, she said, ¡°Good dirt. Beneficial bacteria means good dirt. Clean isn¡¯t a thing, it¡¯s an absence of things.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you wish to be clean of gods, there you are. An absence of Divinity.¡± He paused. ¡°What a remarkable¡ªand blasphemous¡ªthought.¡±

    She hadn¡¯t thought about it like that. She licked her lips, then looked around. The Earth pavilion was taking shape, great pillars freshly placed into the soil, the huge beasts of burden¡ªthug rabbits, she thought. If the Hares were fleet, these things were thugs¡ªstrapped to pulleys that drew the panels of gold and green silk up. There should have been sunlight raining down on it all, but there was only the same unchanging dim, brightened only by phosphorescent flowers.

    She turned back to the Archon. ¡°Shadows¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ah, fie, girl. When I say I don¡¯t want to speak¡ª¡± the Archon said.

    ¡°Then you can listen, alright? Shadows aren¡¯t things, any more than being clean is a thing. A Shadow is just the absence of light. Your hand passing in front of a flame. That¡¯s all it is. There¡¯s nothing to be afraid of, in the dark.¡±

    The Archon of light looked at her, and then dropped his masked head in a gesture of submission. ¡°Well. You see, you have uncovered my greatest flaw: I am a coward. I will always fear the dark.¡±

    ¡°And you can always choose to change that.¡± She said.

    ¡°Fie,¡± he said again. Then sighed. ¡°We¡¯d best get our animals and take our place inside.¡±

    ¡°Inside? With her?¡± Hawk sounded more than a little frantic.

    ¡°If we make an attempt to please her, she may be kind. If I we do not, I can guarantee she will not be. Propitiation, Hawk, isn¡¯t just about getting the Gods off your back.¡±

    And with that sage advice, he vanished into the growing swirls of gold and green silk, leaving Hawk to fend for herself.

 Twenty-Three: The God Has Flown

    This loneliness didn¡¯t last for long. A few moments before her panic peaked, a green-robe came for Hawk. This one seemed like a timid child, who looked at the treats Hawk had gleaned from her Archon with some envy. Somehow, a great deal of these spilled, to the glee of at least one round-eyed girl. Several others appeared and joined the first, and their laughter made her feel better.

    She felt a different, dancing sort of emotion here, on the fringes of all that hot, lethal holiness. There was no risk of the Earth-Archon seeing anyone here, because there was little beauty out here. The finest cloth was in her pavilion. Here was a girl with one leg, dancing with a golden ribbon. Hawk gave her a sweet because it felt like the thing to do, and the poor thing scampered off singing a song to the goddess. There were four more hurt and broken people within reach, a woman and child in rags, an elderly creature rendered genderless by starvation, reaching with a bowl tied to a stick. Hawk gave them a double portion of bread.

    Holiness. That word had shifted in these last few hours. It had grown teeth, and horns. What amazed her wasn¡¯t the neglect of the priests. The archons and their acolytes. That was to be expected¡ªwas, in fact, a requirement of this phenomenon, that the face of God¡¯s representatives be turned away and blinded by their own avarice. But Hawk had always known these so-called men of God were full of it. The difference was, back home, disagreeing no longer meant you died.

    The pavilion grew as Hawk watched. The beasts of burden were struck by this master, by that one, and groans of pain echoed through their field. Another banner would be raised towards the God, another wall erected in Her service. And beneath it danced a girl with one leg, singing off-key prayers in the hope of a miracle. One of the workers got too close to her. She tripped and fell into the mud and got back up, this bright little child with her golden ribbon, and kept to dancing and laughing. And inside the pavilion would be a thousand perfect bodies with a thousand perfect, practiced dances. Could they equal the movements of this one precious child? Could they rival the beauty of her golden ribbon?

    What was the purpose of a temple that could not see its most precious treasure was dancing outside of its walls?

    What was the point of a God who could not see them?

    ¡°Ah. There you are,¡± Her Archon said, and crossed over. ¡°Well. I bent the knee well enough to find her good side. We¡¯ll be seated near enough to her to see the show, but not so near that she¡¯ll remember us when she¡¯s wrathful. What are you looking at?¡±

    Hawk wiped at her face. She must have been crying, for some reason. ¡°I¡¯m looking at the children. There¡¯s a lot of them and they look sick.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Yes. There always are. Beggers for alms, or for a want of better chores. And some¡­well, some will for more and won¡¯t get it. Our Gods value perfection, and that¡¯s not for such at these. Did you give them bread?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said.

    ¡°Then you¡¯ve granted the prayer they had today. Perhaps they will stay sated until after we¡¯ve left tomorrow. Then they¡¯ll be taking the pavilion down. It is because the Temples don¡¯t care for the work, but it will change the lives of the people around us. Is that not good?¡± and the Archon looked to her as if it were a real question one could ask, and as if the answer could be anything other than yes. A poison coated yes is still yes.

    And now it was back inside the pavilion of green and gold, on the Archon¡¯s arm. They were greeted with a shower of flowers and strips of ribbon. The Archon collected a few of these with his free hand, so Hawk did the same, catching and coiling them up for favors. Probably valuable in this society. There were huge columns of flowers, rose facsimiles, cala lilies, something like geraniums. All close to the real plant, but not really. It was a daisy if you had drawn a daisy a thousand times from reference, each painting referencing the last, a copy a thousand times removed from its original. Wreaths of these Not-Daisies were given to Hawk and the Archon, and the Archon wore his, so Hawk did too. The Archon walked to an array of food and made a few motions blessing it, so Hawk collected gifts aimed in his direction and kept him from being interrupted. She watched the Earth-Archon do the same, pouring blessings of her God on the food, while her own lackey fielded all interlopers. Finally, at some signal Hawk did not see or understand, all the musicians began to play with harp and horn and decorated drum, and the rest of the tent fell on the feast while the holy ones¡ªthe Archons and their lackies, which Hawk supposed included herself¡ªfell back to a place of repose. Hawk and her Archon made their way towards a pair of white upholstered divans, with a white silk blanket each and nothing else.

    Beside them was the Earth-Archon¡¯s seat. It was a throne of gold and emerald fire, with great carved birds across its back, jewels in beaks and feathers and talons. There were emerald velvet throws made of silk, pillows of even heavier brocade, tapestries specifically made to cover the Archon¡¯s person, with embroidered scenes featuring the Earth-Archon specifically, at the elbow of some greater green presence. Even in silk brocade, you could feel the awe, the sort of reverence that denied representation. A green blob was better than getting Her Face totally wrong. And beside her chair were many pillows for many small and furred things. Rabbits, yes, but rabbits that looked like the lost center of dandelions, they were buried in so much fur. There must have been a dozen of them, each of them carefully laid out upon their pillow and brushed to white intensity. They sat as if they were lifeless, but their eyes gleamed and, occasionally, a pink nose would twitch. Each rabbit had a pillow and a minder, exquisitely dressed in green with a gold mask covering the upper half of each face. And high above all of this glowed a small sun. It must have been the cold-light that the Archon had created for her in his garden, only blown up a million times brighter, to the size of a large beach ball. Everything was clean lines and elegant stitchery, whispering silks, brightness and light¡­except.

    The altar sat between Earth and Light. Its wrought iron belly ran deep, kissing soil despite it being held up by four thick, well-shaped legs. Coals had already been lit inside, and gusts of steam rose around it as the moss beneath was burned away. Flowers were flung into this hungry maw by willing female fingers. Men paused in their work to throw fistfuls of resins or wood chips within. There was a lightness here, without either Archon. This was unwitnessed by the hands of man; it was expected that their god would see them.

    Where would such a god be? What place was left for them in all of this? But maybe Hawk should be glad that there was no such empty place, no divine cup and plate set out in expectation. That would imply that the divine would be using it. She wasn¡¯t ready for that.

    For what?The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    For killing on that level. Not yet.

    She walked slowly and silently to her chair. Okay, her pile of pillows. Brocade and samite and every shade of white greeted her; the pillows themselves felt stuffed with straw. Better than nothing, but she strongly missed her office chair back home. She lowered herself into the pile and sat back to watch.

    It was, she felt, rather the same as last night¡ªif you could call it a night. She¡¯d noticed that the Archon and his people referred to time by the things you did with it¡ªlike sleep, or eat¡ªthan by what the sun did. Well¡­they didn¡¯t have a sun. It might not matter when they rose or went to sleep. Or, more likely, one of the Gods had said sleep happens here, and so it was enforced.

    Suddenly, Hawk understood Em completely. To be forced into a pattern you didn¡¯t understand and didn¡¯t fit¡­no wonder they blew straight through ¡°somewhat liberal¡± and dove straight into anarchic communism. She could feel the structures of this religion winding up above her like bars being welded in place. Things made to keep people in, not the love of a god, but in the manipulation of that gods¡¯ spokespeople. ¡°Love¡± didn¡¯t enter the picture. Hell, god didn¡¯t enter the picture until the God actually showed up. Put Him in His Temple, let Him sit at whatever throne or mercy seat or silk-strewn divan humanity managed to scrape out of its opulence, and then one could judge the acts of a god cleanly. But Hawk hadn¡¯t met either God, not the Master of Light nor the Master of Earth. She¡¯d just met their representatives. She viewed the Master of Light as both good and dead, based on what the Light Archon had told her, but if she were Alex-grade honest with herself, he¡¯d been setting her up to love him since the moment she woke up in his room. It wouldn¡¯t have been hard to discern her values¡ªAlex had always told her he could read her like an open book¡ªand mold himself accordingly. She only had his word for a lot of things.

    For a long time she was left alone. The Archon would come and check on her, as would two green robes who were suddenly sporting white silk bands in their hair or on their clothes. So giving favors was approved even between divisions of the Gods. Good to know. The two green robes were very young, probably still under eighteen, not that she expected that to hold a lot of meaning in this medieval hellscape, and they first brought her a pitcher and a cup of very good fruit juice. Then they bought her a set of nuts and a silver cracker to break them with, and then they brought her a plate of cakes.

    And then she got an idea. It was straight from Alex, a game he called ¡°Teach the con¡±. It worked best if you had two people, which she had, and a competitive system where dishonesty was expected. Given that outright murder was expected she figured she was¡ªwell, leagues away from safe, so she¡¯d better learn everything she could.

    ¡°Come here,¡± she commanded each of her helpers in the living tongue of English, which they regarded as both dead and sacred. ¡°I¡¯m going to test your knowledge. I will not answer questions. You will answer mine.¡±

    The commanding tone brought a mixture of terror and excitement into these young eyes. Terror because she was an assumed authority figure in their religion, albeit a different branch. And excitement because they were getting attention (and sugary cakes) from someone they viewed as important. Good god, Alex could fleece these people for everything they were worth and they¡¯d just thank him and offer him another roll of silk.

    So she asked every question she couldn¡¯t ask the Archon right now. Nothing about the altar or the Gift of Blood, which was their phrase for outright murder. But she asked about the food. Where it came from. How it grew. She asked about cities, where the nearest ones were. She asked about the Nexus, and about the other Gods (Nasheth, Illyris, Argon, Kali¡¯mar. Did they pick those names by pulling scrabble tiles out of a bag? Well, minus Argon, who clearly plundered the periodic table of elements for his most holy name.) She asked about farming and beasts of burden. And then she asked about ants.

    Oh, my, did she ask about ants.

    Ants, her two pilgrims said, were the best and most holy of Nasheth¡¯s creatures. They were the size of your hand and were most fearful warriors. They were delicious for meat but the best of all for sugars. (And here two hands were subtly outstretched. Hawk would have just put a whole tray of cakes in front of them and let them gorge, but she suspected that would shut them down; some people are intimidated by strength or speed, but most are unmade by generosity.)

    Giant honeypots, Hawk thought, either the ones from the Bronx Zoo Event (despite there only being one known Queen in captivity; they should be killing the rest with flamethrowers) or a similar evolution. And now her fingers were itching, even moreso when the children¡ªthey really could not be older than fifteen, sixteen at the oldest¡ªbegan describing the husbandry practice of keeping them. Suddenly this transitioned from Hawk learning about a culture to Hawk talking shop with fellow antkeepers. Even here, where there were gods and miracles, Honeypots were hard keepers.

    Eventually she realized that the fruit ¡°juice¡± was anything but, only it was several drinks too late for moderation. She hadn¡¯t been able to taste the alcohol at all.

    She let her two helpers go, largely because she wouldn¡¯t be able to watch her mouth around them, with a couple extra handfuls of candied cakes for their trouble. At some point in their conversation about ants, the Archons had arrived. There¡¯d been little to no fanfare. One moment she was the only person at the head of the room and was safely ignored. And then she heard the Earth Archon¡¯s voice barking orders, making demands for this drink or that one, this cut of meat and that collection of fruit, and a dozen young people in green robes were running everywhere to meet her demands. She wore a light silk gown with only two outer robes, also airy silk, all of it either green or yellow-gold. There were ribbons sewn into flowers, silk sculptures of near-roses and philodendron leaf facsimiles. There were gold chains swinging with tiny crystal honeysuckle blooms.

    ¡°The wine!¡± She shouted. ¡°The wine! The honey wine! Bring it out, so we may all imbibe!¡±

    And that was when Hawk realized this murderous woman who had sacrificed multiple people the night before was drunk. And when the woman could barely make it to her chair, Hawk amended that to plastered.

    ¡°You have already had much, my Sister,¡± Said the Light Archon.

    ¡°And I will have much more. Or do you not know? Today is the anniversary of my Service. Today is the one day of the year I may show my face without shame.¡±

    Her voice turned that last sentence into an archipelago of pain, and when she was done speaking her chest rose and fell, causing her thousands of crystal flowers to glitter.

    ¡°May? My sister, do you not mean must?¡± the Archon said.

    ¡°It is my gift,¡± and there was a drunken sob. ¡°My gift from my God.¡±

    The Light Archon drew closer to Earth. ¡°Listen to me, Sister. You may avoid it, if you choose. Of all your lady¡¯s gracious commands¡ª¡±

    ¡°This one is to be followed, the same as any other. She touched my face, do you not understand? My mouth, that I might see clearly. My eyes, that I may speak without flaw. These are the gifts of our Gods, and we do not refute them.¡±

    ¡°I am not asking for a refutation. I am asking for a delay. You are not in your right mind.¡±

    ¡°And what other mind am I to use?¡± Her voice changed from self-pitying to one full of venom. ¡°I have the one I was born with. I have sworn that one to my God. Should I have had a different mind in my pocket? Should I have stored an extra version of myself in a shoe? The Gods ask for all of us, Brother. In your case, it¡¯s for you to lie fallow from the crown of your head to the tip of your dick. But a living God asks for all of you.¡± And there was a long, sodden pause. ¡°Hell with it.¡±

    She lurched to her feet then, hands spread wide. Her robes fluttered around her like the wings of birds or butterflies. The silk shimmered with the natural chatoyance of sunlight through leaves. She was a vision of flora, a promise of fauna, and absolutely the most demented person Hawk had ever met.

    ¡°Behold the gifts of a living God!¡± the Archon of Earth shouted, and with a singular gesture, she ripped off her mask and threw it into the crowd, then turned her face up to the pavilion¡¯s Light.

 Twenty-Four : The Gifts of the Divine

    Hawk put her hand in her mouth and bit down, hard. The taste of blood was almost immediate, coppery and warm. The pain, too, was intense and present. Blood dribbled out of her lips, onto the white nobility of her robes, making them little more than a pretty lie.

    But it was nothing like the Archon¡¯s face.

    She¡¯d been a beautiful woman, and the remnants of it remained. She was slender and paler than most, with thick auburn hair that she¡¯d looped away from her face in braids. Her complexion was flawless, she had beautiful cheekbones and a strong nose. And her mouth was where her eyes should be.

    The one huge staring orb between the cupid¡¯s bow of her lips was bright blue. She moved her lips as if they were eyelids, and a tear duct sat in each corner, constantly weeping what Hawk hoped were tears. There was a mouth where each eye should be, the same perfect lips there, too, albeit unpainted. White pearlescent teeth, human and stubby, sat behind each lip, parted slightly so Hawk could see each tongue.

    ¡°Behold!¡± those lips said, again. ¡°Behold the love of our God.¡±

    I will not scream, Hawk thought, to herself. I absolutely positively will not scream.

    ¡°How great is our God,¡± sang the crowd. ¡°How good is She to those who love Her.¡± And it even sounded true and reverent, as if they really did believe they were looking at a gift.

    Mercifully, there was no terrible call for sacrifice. This horrible show continued, with Earth¡¯s Archon standing there, maskless and horrible beneath the glaring false sun of her pavilion. And then, at some signal Hawk did not see, she relaxed and put her mask back on. ¡°Partake of my God and Her Generosity!¡± pronounced the Archon, and the crowd of worshippers fell on the food as if that were somehow a good thing to wish for.

    The Archon of Light said nothing, but laid a hand on hers as she sat down, her mask safely in place.

    ¡°And so I have proclaimed Her good works for yet another season,¡± said the Archon of Earth.

    ¡°May we all be so blessed as you,¡± said the Archon of Light. His tone was not mocking, but rather seemed sympathetic.

    The Archon of Earth said nothing for a long time. Then her mask jerked as she looked in Hawk¡¯s direction. ¡°And you, girl. You tell me what you think of my God¡¯s gifts?¡±

    And there was the trap, yawning in front of her as if smothered by its own bulk. Her real thoughts couldn¡¯t be stated at all¡ªHawk found the Archon and her God both horrible beyond words¡ªand her first question¡ªHow? How could anything do this?--wouldn¡¯t go over well. But her heart felt unsettled. This was a woman in pain, humiliated by her own God, and forced to worship because¡­well, what choice did she have? In her God¡¯s service she was worthy and beautiful and a beacon to others. Outside of it¡­well, the world would consider her a freak. Maybe outside this pocket universe from hell, with real doctors and medicine and some serious therapy, this woman could manage to have a life. But she¡¯d have to get away from her God first, and Hawk suspected even that much would be impossible.

    She was also a wounded animal. A great many things, including her impulsive murderous so-called sacrifice, made sense. And Hawk was now her target. Nothing is as dangerous as something pained and trapped.

    ¡°I think¡­those gifts should be pondered and considered,¡± Hawk finally managed. ¡°And your question ought to be answered thoughtfully.¡±

    ¡°Because you need to think of something kind?¡± The voice dripped with promised cruelty. It seemed for a moment that the altar itself had grown hotter. And now Hawk¡¯s throat was dry. She¡¯d tried to escape the snare, and instead found herself deeper in. Oh, god, oh god, what would Alex do?

    He wouldn¡¯t be here, right now. Not unless you were here, too. Let¡¯s go with Hawk. What would Hawk do, if these were the last words she ever said? Because we all know they will be.

    ¡°Because you¡¯re in pain,¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± The Archon sat up straight in her chair. ¡°You dare?¡±

    ¡°Good or bad, wanted or unwanted, your gifts pain you. You carry that pain well,¡± Hawk lied through her teeth, ¡°but it seeps out. You were weeping, now, even while you celebrate. So yes. A great deal of thought should be taken. You are in pain. I have no desire to make that pain any worse.¡± And she lied then, too. She would very much like to make this woman¡¯s pain worse. But that would be in response to her actions, not because of her¡­whatever you wanted to call it. Injury. Affliction. Curse.

    The Archon of Earth sank back into her seat slowly. ¡°You would care for my pain? More than you would care to flatter my Goddess?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no!¡± Hawk said it immediately. That snare she spotted a mile away. ¡°But your pain is a product of your God¡¯s efforts. Shouldn¡¯t that be acknowledged? Maybe even celebrated, too? Not many people could carry such a gift the way you do.¡± By murdering the fuck out of everyone around you, Hawk definitely did not say that. In fact, she was now pretty sure she was speaking to the Archon of Earth the way she did to her own mother. April Rayne had a lot of problems, with objective perspective on her own behavior being very sorely lacking.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The Earth Archon looked at her for a long time, fingertip tapping against her green-and-gold mask. Water dripped steadily from its chin, a lachrymose fall that glimmered like starlight. ¡°So much wisdom spoiled in youth. This is quite the woman you¡¯ve found, my Brother.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Light Archon said, and sounded a bit nervous. ¡°And young.¡±

    ¡°I have not forgotten. She¡¯s surrendered her name to you. Not to me. I was not blessed to know of her existence, her presence¡­¡± the Archon waved a hand, sending away three pitchers of juice¡­or wine, more probably. And Hawk had to remind herself, again, that she was very drunk. ¡°Can you tell me where you are from?¡± Earth said.

    ¡°She has surrendered her name, Sister,¡± Light corrected.

    ¡°What is your family? Their name? Their crest? Where do they hold?¡± Earth said.

    ¡°My sister, please¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know. You hold her name. You hold her leash. How great and magnificent and wonderful for you, that you may continue to give the best we have to a dead god¡¯s house. While my lady¡¯s house suffers for want of good hands.¡±

    There were, Hawk assessed, nearly a thousand people here, working to keep this ambulatory temple going. The musicians were amazing, the food was to die for, and the sheer amount of wealth around this woman was eye-bleeding. Even Kaiser would be given pause at this. At least the Lion of Industry had known when to be discreet with his money. All of this, the food that would be wasted, the cloth and gems that would be abandoned, was more than most people on Earth could dream of. It was all spent so she could travel in continual comfort. Light, she thought, had been working his own garden. And¡­

    ¡­this was another trap. One laid for her own blighted sense of self-righteousness. She caught the sliver of a bright gaze through the¡ªoh god¡ªmouthpiece of the mask. The eye was watching her¡­and maybe even smiling.

    ¡°I suppose we all must make do with what fate provides us,¡± Hawk murmured. It was the best she could come up with on short notice.

    The Archon of Earth sat up a bit stiffer. ¡°Perhaps. Or perhaps we should discuss how the temples of Earth and Light may¡­benefit each other in their own largesse.¡±

    Oh FUCK. Hawk thought. She¡¯d missed the track entirely. She thought the Earth Archon was setting her up as a sacrifice. Not that Earth actually wanted Hawk¡¯s scrawny Black ass.

    ¡°I have many prizes to offer the Master of Earth,¡± the Light Archon said, delicately.

    ¡°And I only want one of them. One that I will replace with whatever is desired. A thousand bolts of silk-and-silver, with fifty fleet-hares and a dozen Bar-hauls to pull it all. Or bushels of food from our greenhouses. Enough fish to feed your meanest streets. A trade where you may dictate terms.¡±

    Song ran through the silence between the Archons like silk through air. Dancers spun in ecstatic fury, each dancer replaced with a new one as the current one tired. The scent of food and incense warred with each other in a pleasant battle. And still the Light Archon did not speak.

    Finally, when it was clear the Earth was done, he moved his finger and thumb across his own robes, then sighed. ¡°A remarkable offer, but one that is, sadly, flawed. One may only replace like with like. If a thing is irreplaceable, it must be matched only by something alike in shape and value. A statue for a statue. Jewels for jewels.¡±

    ¡°And I ask for something of less value. One person, among many.¡±

    ¡°Then you should, perhaps, look to your own people to find her match.¡±

    ¡°There is no match. Your servant is irre¡­¡± she trailed off.

    ¡°So give to me someone who is her match. Knowledge for knowledge, act for act. Give me someone that can equal her in her entirety, and I will surrender.¡±

    The hatred that Earth glared at Light¡¯s Archon was almost enough to sear clouds shut across the face of the world. ¡°She is human. No human is better than any other.¡±

    ¡°Then let me take you,¡± The archon said, very, very softly.

    Hawk didn¡¯t need to see Earth¡¯s face to feel her fear. She practically sang with it, like a violin string, freshly plucked. Her mask twitched, first one way then the other, marking every face that heard those words. ¡°Leave us!¡± she ordered. Waited half a heartbeat, then said, ¡°You go to far,¡± as softly as she could.

    ¡°I have not gone far enough. I have let decades pass with you trapped in Her cage. Come out of it. Shed Her like a dry skin and plead sanctuary.¡±

    ¡°With who? You? Archon and speaker of a dead god?¡± there were almost sobs. ¡°You cannot understand what it means to Serve a live one.¡±

    ¡°No. I cannot. But I can hide you. My oath upon it.¡± He said.

    She reached out with trembling fingers, hidden by the folds of her robe and her chair. Reached out and gently, gently brushed his fingertips. And Hawk could imagine her, a bare-faced girl with green ribbons, dancing and hoping for notice. She could imagine girlish prayers in an attic bedroom, hands hiding candles from parental eyes. A bud of promise come to rot.

    ¡°You cannot hide from a God. There is no running. There is only pleasure in what we are allotted. And these pleasures are mine.¡± She leaned back into her throne, lounging luxuriantly. ¡°My service is all the pleasure I need.¡±

    And Hawk could read into that. A thousand nights on bent knees before an altar¡ªpossibly even this dreadful, blood-soaked thing sitting here¡ªbegging for help. Begging for succor. Begging for anything but what she¡¯s been given. Some better future, any better future. Wasn¡¯t that what all prayers came down to? A tomorrow that is not bad. Help that heals more than it harms, so that tomorrow there is less to bleed. Food for tonight, so we do not ache tomorrow. A miracle to counter inbound grief. A comforting hand when such things are not countered. All of these words fallen to unyielding soil. Maybe there was a living God, but it wasn¡¯t listening to anything but the words She wanted to hear. Help me, Goddess. Help me, Help me. How often had the Acolyte uttered those unwanted words? How often had they advocated for the wrong person, until finally God, in the form of Naomi Studdard¡­

    ¡­and she had to stop there. Because there was a manifest difference between God, the concept humans fermented wars over, and Naomi fucking Studdard. A woman married to a more successful man, who watched him attempt (and, as far as Hawk was concerned, complete) suicide and, instead of ringing every alarm bell to save him, had chosen yet more violence, countless people dead, the ground desecrated beyond measure¡ªsown with salt would be less sterile¡ªnot to save him, but to join him.

    And she was probably Alex¡¯s murderer. Let¡¯s make sure we remember that, Hawk.

 Twenty-Five: A Trap

    No. There could be no application of this woman¡¯s beloved, hated, worshipped deity to the world-concept of God. That would be like trying to compare a squirrel to Mankind. Questions of holy acts, divine purity, celestial succor, those could fall by the wayside. Naomi Studdard had been human, still technically counted as human (until Hawk saw proof otherwise, she was going with ¡°human¡±) and had brought human foibles to the Divine Table, so to speak. She¡¯d been a bad human, tricking Alex and her employees and god knew how many children into joining her school so she could suck them all down in a maelstrom of greed. Of course she would make a bad God.

    Any question of good deities was also moot. Sure, there might be good and benevolent Gods out there, beings that did not lie, that held complex truths, that loved as advertised on the tin. That was not this. Discussions of non-human entities could wait until she¡¯d handled all those of human origin. And then gotten enough down time to stop screaming.

    But here was the big problem right now: The Earth Archon wanted her. And she knew unequivocally and without delay that was very bad. She was facing a woman, horribly disfigured and forced to consider that disfigurement a blessing, who had murdered an unknown number of people last night, and who was probably going to murder an unknown number of people tonight, all to sate the bloodlust of the being that disfigured her, and that woman behaved like a child. This was multiple stages of ¡°not good¡±.

    Well, how best do you handle a child? Call their mother, she thought¡­and then looked again. As far as bad ideas went, this one could be better. But she knew better than to leave this alone. The Archon could only be expected to stick his neck out for her, someone he didn¡¯t know, only so far. So Hawk said, ¡°You want me for service with your God, yes? Well, shouldn¡¯t that be her decision? You can pick me and dress me up, teach me to talk pretty and present me to her as a prize. Will she think so?¡± She waited a moment, would have sipped some tea if she wasn¡¯t sure that would escalate things, and added, ¡°Maybe we ought to leave that decision to her?¡±

    The Archon stiffened¡­and then relaxed a great deal. ¡°Wisdom from the mouth of babes,¡± He said.

    ¡°You would say that,¡± the Earth Archon muttered. Then, ¡°Fine. She¡¯s right. Of course she¡¯s right, damn her.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re just cut that she out-moved you.¡± The Light Archon said, and his voice seemed filled with a different sort of mood now. One of pleasure, or nearly that. ¡°Yes. I think that¡¯s the very solution to this dilemma. Let the Master of Earth decide our girl¡¯s fate. Bring more wine!¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Hawk couldn¡¯t be sure what his gaze meant, hidden as it was by his mask. But she was pretty sure the majority of it was fear. She hoped it was; her own fear was now big enough to devour the world whole.

    But she was going to get what she wanted, wasn¡¯t she? She was going to get to meet a God.

    ***

    The wine was a good excuse to disappear before the Earth Archon got really drunk. Hawk escaped to the baggage train, where her and the Light Archon¡¯s Fleet-Hares had been brought. She waited until she¡¯d reached the Hares before breaking down completely. She probably could have held things together longer if the Hares hadn¡¯t been so insanely soft, and if their two hadn¡¯t been cuddled together. They didn¡¯t move much when she arrived, either. She sank into their soft bulk, greeting curious lips with her empty fingers. They moved their long necks to bring their faces nearer hers¡­and she just began to sob, openly, her face buried in the creature¡¯s long, soft fur.

    That was where the Archon found her when he finally chose to escape Earth¡¯s nightly orgy¡­or whatever it was she did in the tent tonight. Hawk hoped it was an orgy, and that everyone involved had a very good time. She suspected it was otherwise, that the altar to Nasheth drank deep and long of blood tonight. The smell of it covered the Archon of Light. The stench of burnt things, the cloying scent of incense that tried to cover it. She¡¯d only been asleep for¡­well, probably a few hours by this point.

    The Archon was very drunk. He greeted her apology with a shushing finger, and he finished the last verse of a song she could not understand before collapsing across the legs of his own Hare. ¡°Ah, fair damsel. What a quandary you have put us in.¡±

    ¡°It seemed like the smartest thing I could do. She was trying to trap me.¡±

    ¡°And she managed it. I¡¯m not faulting you, Hawk-of-the-West. No one wins against her when she has her mind set against you. You slipped the net she set for you using the one weapon neither of us expected.¡±

    After waiting a moment for him to finish, she said, ¡°What was it?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The ivory mask jerked, then looked up at her. ¡°What was what?¡±

    ¡°The weapon I used against the Earth-Archon.¡±

    ¡°Oh. That. Your compassion, of course. She expected you to insult her, which she could use against you as an insult to her God. Or you could have commiserated with her and said her deformity was terrible, which she could use against you as an insult to her God. Or you could have praised her beauty, which she would have known was a lie, and she could use that against you, and so on. Instead of doing either, you recognized her pain, and managed to offer comfort without condemnation or judgement. You did not lie. You did not blaspheme. And she cannot even be angry with you, because I think no one has said such a thing to her since before Nasheth touched her face.¡± He sighed. ¡°You made her see you as worthy, and not just a toy I brought along for my amusement. Now she knows you have value, and she covets valuable things. Pretty things, above all, but she¡¯ll settle for value and use.

    ¡°No matter. We have two days before we reach Nasheth¡¯s seat. Perhaps we can find an escape for you between now and then.¡±

    And the Archon of Light fell into a drunken sleep with those as his final words.

 Twenty-Six: Needs Be

    They proved to be the opposite of prophetic. The next day Hawk awoke to a guard of green and gold robes, blades not quite bared but hostile enough to send a clear message: the Earth Archon was watching.

    The Light Archon set about immediately testing the boundaries of their new watchmen, and those boundaries proved to be damn near adamant. One guard was with Hawk at all times, even when she excused herself to use the latrine. Another followed the Archon of Light around like a puppy, eagerly listening to every word and certainly appealing to the man¡¯s rather visible vanity. The man could no more abuse a potential student than Hawk could slip the burly swordsman she¡¯d been stuck with.

    The Archon could order them out of earshot, however, and that motivated them both to have the Hares saddled and ready to ride as soon as possible. But when that was done, their guards took charge of the Hares and moved them to the forefront of the green procession. ¡°As is due your station,¡± the Archon of Light was told. So the Archon simply grabbed Hawk and pulled her aside for a moment.

    ¡°She¡¯ll have us under her nose the entire time. I¡¯m sorry, Hawk. I should have done more to protect you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is, and it began years before you and I ever met.¡± He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s an old argument, mostly held between the Gods themselves. The others do not like that Nasheth created a fifth Temple, and gave it to their Father, nor that so much wealth and so many bodies are spent on the service of a memory. This has created a division in the worship of Nasheth. Greens support the Light and the Father as well as Mother Nasheth. Golds want to abolish the Temple of Light and bring it back under Nasheth¡¯s purview¡­and they¡¯ve never been closer to gaining what they want.¡±

    Hawk looked around to make sure no one was near enough to hear them. Their guards were mostly out of earshot. ¡°What¡¯s keeping them from doing it?¡±

    ¡°In all honesty? Nasheth¡¯s love and wish for Her husband to return. She has stronger holdings¡ªmore properties, farms and the like¡ªand more soldiers than Her Divine Children. The Temple of Light is small, and we have just enough funds to keep things moving. The Earth Archon and her Gold Robes do not approve of those funds at all. They think we should be self-sufficient, or else, that we should be folded in under her purview.¡±

    ¡°Her face¡­I¡¯m sorry, but I have to ask. Is that why Archons wear masks?¡±

    He reached out and patted her hand. ¡°That is a simple question with a complicated answer. Am I suffering with the Earth Archon? No. My God is dead. There¡¯s nothing more than the face of an old man behind this mask. But I know the Archon of Fire is nearly always burned¡ªthere have been three, since my election, and I know it will not be long until there is a fourth. Water, I have known two Archons. The first one drowned. The current one cannot walk. And air¡­well, the Airmaster has always favored dreamers. And the current Archon is a dreamer. She sleeps, wakes to eat, and sleeps more. Caught forever in dreams that I pray give her pleasure, seeing as they are her only company.¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t think they are pleasant dreams.¡± Hawk hazarded.

    ¡°I am an Archon in service to the Gods. I have seen their generosity. No, Hawk. Our pleasure is never the Gods¡¯ consideration. They are not mindful of us. But perhaps that is a greater gift than they know. If a God were to give you pleasure, that God would expect you to always be in pleasure. I saw that once, in the second Fire Archon. Passion is the domain of Argon. He ¡®blessed¡¯ his Archon with unending pleasure. Out of all the Archons who have passed during my service, he was the only one that took his own life.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    A long pause as he looked around the bustling glut of people around them.

    ¡°Her born name was Maritha. I would never have called her ¡®good¡¯, but there was a time I would have called that woman ¡®friend¡¯. When you look at her, whose hand do you see? Hers? Or the Hands that formed her?¡±

    ¡°I see both,¡± Hawk said. ¡°And I hold them both accountable.¡±

    ***

    After the first hour on the road, Hawk had to give up on any attempt at running for it. And it had nothing to do with the Earth Archon¡¯s watchful eye, and everything to do with the growing darkness. Hawk hadn¡¯t realized how bright things were at the Temple until right now, when they were on the road. She kept waiting for sun to rise. There was no sun. The standard-bearers in green and golds added small globes of cold fire to their staves, to make the banners more visible. Huge, tamed suns floated with nets to keep them bound to human sight. She watched as the Earth Archon supervised this, five acolytes together forming the yellowed light-orbs as a fourth and fifth stood to the side, holding more nets for the light.

    There was no sun to rise.

    And now she didn¡¯t dare ask the Archon for advice or facts on anything. Not if she wanted them all to survive. Their lives both depended on her performance in front of the Earth Archon. Any mistake, any misstep, and she¡¯d have her excuse both to seize Hawk as a prize and to have the Archon of Light removed.

    She still insisted on riding near the edge of the parade, where she could interact with people. It was a repeat performance from the day before. The Archon of Light, realizing that she was going to be there no matter what, gave her several dozen yards of silk ribbons in multiple colors and told her to be generous. She found herself trading silk ribbons for breads, dried fruits, and yet more of those candy-shelled cakes that tasted of caramel and almonds.

    The delight and hope in the individual¡¯s eyes was what kept her there, because she read very little fear in these passers-by. Devotion and love and joy seemed to make up the entirety of this procession¡¯s wake, for all that it held the most miserable people Hawk had ever encountered. For the public, that misery was invisible. It was, she thought, even possible that they did not know about the fire pits, the burnt offerings, the mad Archon with her terrible, gifted face. The public saw only the shining pavilion, a largesse that could become theirs, should the servants of God choose to stop in their village. And Hawk was as much a part of that lie now as the silks and flowers.

    Here, with these people and these ribbons, she could give them something valuable. She could give them hope. She could give them joy. And they¡¯d read her as a part of the God. She¡¯d gotten so sick of that word. It was all she¡¯d heard through this whole little venture. God, God, Gods and more Gods. She¡¯d had it up to here with divinity of all kinds. Why couldn¡¯t it at least be more about the needs of the people than the so-called gifts of the Gods. Then maybe people would be down here with more than cakes and ribbons.

    And that¡¯s why no one is down here. Because when you make it about need and not abundance, suddenly a pavilion of green and gold silk seems a bit over the top, doesn¡¯t it? It means a God that cares more for His or Her appearance than they do about the need they demand you praise them for meeting. Wouldn¡¯t that mean a God worth following would be one without a House? So of course it can¡¯t be needs-based. The ego of God must first be appeased.

    She gave her ribbons out harshly, and was a bit more selective about what she took from the offered gifts. She was a sucker for the candied cakes, though. She was filling her sack with the third (or possibly fourth) handful of cakes when she heard the first screams.

    Her head yanked up, and her Hare responded by lifting its own, and spinning back towards the tail end of the procession. More screams echoed, and this time one of them was a word, Shadow! AYIEEEE! And then, after more breathless screams, Shadowbeast!

    And as screams rose from around the procession, Hawk began to smile. It was going to be risky as hell, but this was what she¡¯d been waiting for.

    This was her chance to escape.

 Twenty-seven: In the Dark

    She wheeled the Hare around at once and began riding towards the shrieks and screams and other sounds of distress. It sounded insane¡ªfelt insane, too, as she drove this rabbit-thing towards the most blood-curdling screams she¡¯d ever heard¡ªbut it was another Alex-ism. When you¡¯re trying to get away, go with the crowd if you can. It¡¯ll be easier to get lost, and if you¡¯re caught you can say you were overpowered. The problem, she thought, as she dodged around a collapsed woman in green, is that there hadn¡¯t been many screams when she started moving. Now the shrieks were spreading like ripples in a pool, cries of No, and Run, and the Beast! It¡¯s here! Words spilling like blood into the darkness around them. Hawk glanced up to see what her guards were doing. They, too, were running towards the noise. Excellent.

    She kept going in that direction until the expected wall of people stopped her. Green robes and Gold, women and men. The dancers were now varying shades of pale and green as they struggled to get past. The wind now carried the scent of blood. Not good, but at least it identified where and what the bad things were. She allowed the crowd to carry her backwards, back nearer the Archons, maneuvering all the while to get nearer to the procession¡¯s edge.

    The struggle was fierce, as people moved from being a crowd of individuals to a flow like water. Some few individuals could spin off in little eddy-like drifts, but the majority of people were a singular, focused stream. The column of frightened worshippers parted before her like some sort of miracle, giving her time to prepare for each wave. Here they came again, after the briefest pause. They rushed to her and she had to dodge, pulling her Hare¡¯s face this way and that, trying to keep her animal clear as humanity tsunamied around her. It made sounds of distress, cries that she¡¯d never heard before. The Hare cried out like a child in pain, sharp focused breaths and then a scream, AAAAA-ourAAAH, over and over, AAAAAAh-ourAAAAh, as it dodged and bobbed like detritus in humanity¡¯s flood.

    Soon, the rush of green and gold began to be tinged with red.

    Hawk decided she¡¯d gone far enough, and simply let her somewhat stressed looking Fleet-Hare take over. And it didn¡¯t hesitate at all. It bolted with one singular jump over the heads of all before her, and then kept running, flat out, into the dark. And too late, she found herself remembering Alex¡¯s bookish advice, straight out of the Last Unicorn: Never run from anything immortal. It attracts their attention.

    Too late. The Hare had its version of a bit in its version of teeth, and was going full tilt through a forest unseen save for the barest of shadow. Leaves smashed across Hawk¡¯s face, cutting her arms and cheeks and the exposed bits of her calves. She had to bend down and near to her Hare¡¯s neck to keep away from the worst of the branches, and it was all she could manage, clinging to its back like a limpet. Now she was alone in the dark, a night that would never break into day, and she had no extra lights, neither the good old battery powered kind or any of the cold-lights the Archon had made. She was going to be in the unyielding dark.

    It was still better than what she left behind.

    The Fleet-Hare slowed its pace down to quiet footfalls beneath her. Nothing as loud or as horrifying as a horse. There was only soft breathing, and the still-softer hush of furred feet in some form of soft grass. After a few more steps, the Fleet-Hare stopped entirely, and lowered its head down to graze.

    It was quiet, out here. The first true quiet she¡¯d heard since they left the Temple of Light. Funny. She had seen that place so briefly, lived there not even one full day (not counting time spent unconscious, of course) and yet now when she thought of safety, comfort, and security, she thought of the Temple. Even the horror of it holding the Prism that started all this paled in comparison to the sense of safe the Light-Archon brought to his domain. This was a different sort of quiet than that. She was not safe while in it. The only problem with returning to the procession was¡­well, she was pretty sure she was less safe there than she might be here, in the dark.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    After all, natural predators can be sated. The human sort never seemed to bank their fires.

    She let a lot of slack into the reigns and just let her frightened overgrown rabbit take lead. The sound of it munching contentedly to itself was the only sound for what felt like miles. She took a few shuddering breaths and just listened to it eat. The distant echoes of the frightened procession echoed in the darkness like water in a stream.

    And then it wasn¡¯t the only sound.

    A low, hunted, feted growling from behind, and another set of footfalls told Hawk she was not alone.

    ***

    The Hare had noticed, probably before Hawk did. It lifted its head twice, chewing its mouthful of grass. Now it stiffened beneath her, as if readying for flight, and waited. The growl and footfalls came again, somewhat further to the left. It moved away, to the right. Hawk wanted to stop it from moving at all, but she didn¡¯t know what was hunting her, low growls and slinking movements and¡ªthe wind shifted¡ªa stink like stagnant water. Ugh. She let the Hare move as it thought best. If nothing else, an animal would have better survival instincts than she would.

    The Hare took a few steps forward, then dropped its head back towards the grass.

    A growl out of the dark, nearer than Hawk wanted, had the Hare move a few more feet. Then it went back to grazing.

    She was being hunted. And she had no idea what to do about it. Only that she could feel it coming nearer, a psychosomatic acid crawling down the back of her neck. She gave the Fleet-Hare its lead, hoping that it would have a better idea of what to do. But it just took a few more steps away from the growling presence and dropped its head back to graze.

    Maybe she wasn¡¯t at risk, right now.

    Growl.

    Or maybe her Fleet-Hare was especially stupid.

    God. She hadn¡¯t been thinking at all. Or else, she had, but like a modern day human, for whom the biggest problem is the glass ceiling, and not the possibility of wolves at the door. She was far too used to nature being a tamed thing, the way she was used to light being a permanence, as regular as clockwork. She¡¯d been stupid to come out here. Stupid to run away from the crowd, where at least there was always someone else to shove in the direction of teeth and claw. And now she got to be ashamed of her own sarcasm and survival instinct. She¡¯d go to her grave with guilt. Fantastic.

    The beast in front of her growled again. And this time there was a different timbre to its growl. Something the Fleet-Hare heard in its bones, because now its head came up and it tensed beneath Hawk, and she knew with her best sense (her Alex-sense, the thing he¡¯d tried to train into her) that this time it would run, and that would be a mistake. Her only choice after that was to hope there wasn¡¯t a second beast¡­and that she could out-run its ability to kill.

    And then she saw hope in the distance: Lights.

    That were not coming from the direction of the Earth Archon¡¯s Procession.

    It didn¡¯t take three seconds for Hawk to start shouting. ¡°Hello!¡± She said, ¡°Hello the lights! Hello!¡±

    And to her delight and horror, the lights answered back.

    ¡°Hello! Hello! Hawk!¡± It was Em¡¯s voice. ¡°Hawk, is that you?¡±

    And then it all went south. Someone off in the direction of the lights and Emile Yung¡¯s voice decided the best thing they could do was shoot off a flare. It soared high up into the air with the most brilliant of white lights, turning this shadow-shrouded landscape into daylight for the first time. Soot black trees with white and red leaves surrounded Hawk, the leaves almost iridescent in the flare¡¯s light.

    And it exposed a being at least seven feet tall at the shoulder. It had the long and languid lines of a great cat. No purring happy rabbits here, it was surrounded by mobile tendrils with thick gill-slits in its jowels and glowing eyes with strange, oval pupils. Violets and golds decorated its scales, but it was mostly a turquoise so dark it should have been blood. Cephalopod eyes, empty of emotion and filled with hunger, watched Hawk with a languid assurance she did not like. It had a forked tongue, which it flicked at her, and very white teeth. And both of its eyes were fixed on her and the Hare.

    And then, just as the icing on the cake, came a shout from behind the beast¡¯s left shoulder. ¡°Hold on Hawk!¡± Em¡¯s voice. ¡°Hold on.

    ¡°We¡¯re on our way!¡±

 Twenty-Eight: Reunion

    ¡°No!¡± She shouted. ¡°Stay back!¡± and that was all she managed before the light-exposed Shadowbeast jumped her Hare. Shrieking, it threw her hard into the nearest brush and kicked the Beast square in the head. White fur was decorated with red blood within seconds.

    ¡°We¡¯re coming!¡± Now that was Henry Dyson, and he was considerably closer than Em had been before.

    ¡°Giant creature! Big danger! Run!¡± she said, articulately, and then thought fuck it and whirled to watch the creature.

    Its broad and frightening teeth were stabbed deep into her Fleet-Hare¡¯s body. So were several of the long, lionfish like tendrils encircling its face like a mane. Poisonous, she thought. And how did those get down here? Did somebody have a tropical fish tank or something? She began crawling away, slow and backwards.

    ¡°Hawk!¡± Someone shouted, not too far away. The flare was starting to sputter, the light fading from the gleam of the monster¡¯s eyes. She wasn¡¯t sure how many it had, but certainly it defied the usual two.

    ¡°Here!¡± She whisper-cried¡­and drew the monster¡¯s eyes back to herself. And now it held her gaze. Oh, God. She knew that was bad. Looking a non-human, pack-driven creature in the eye was usually fatal. Maybe she was lucky, and this thing was a loner, and it wasn¡¯t going to eat her¡ªan especially fierce growl put that notion to bed. It lunged for her, though it kept its fanged mouth firmly on the remains of her Fleet-Hare.

    Dyson thumped through the woods in the next half minute, crashing into her clearing like an eighteen wheeler, no breaks. He carried a flashlight, and in it she caught a few glimpses of the average American Male as he realized there are, indeed, things undreamt of in our reality, and it was eating Hawk¡¯s rabbit. ¡°Holy fucking shit!¡± he said.

    The beast heard him, too, and shuffled its bulk so that it was facing off against both of them. Its growl became low and threatening, like some sort of enormous, ancient machinery trying to start its generator. Blood, Hare blood, dripped from its maw to the white-covered ground.

    ¡°Stay where you are, Henry,¡± Hawk whispered.

    ¡°What? It¡¯s not going to hurt us?¡± He sounded hysterical.

    ¡°It¡¯s already got a whole horse-rabbit-thing in its jaws. I think it would rather eat that than go after us. Just be calm and back up slow.¡±

    ¡°Right. Gotcha.¡± He took a step back and started to turn.

    ¡°Don¡¯t! Turn.¡± The first word came out sharp, and that brought the cephalopod-like eyes of the Beast back to her. The jeweled blues and golds of its skin glinted in Henry¡¯s flashlight. ¡°If you show it your back, it¡¯ll go for your throat. It¡¯s instinctive. Don¡¯t they wear masks on the back of their heads in India?¡± She took her own slow, measured steps back from it. Unfortunately the stupid white silk robes gave her a more visible bulk in the dark. She¡¯d never envied fatigues so hard. ¡°Just walk back until it can¡¯t see us anymore. Who came with you?¡±

    ¡°Emile and Kaiser. They¡¯re back in the brush.¡± Henry swallowed. Stepped back. Swallowed again. ¡°Hopefully they¡¯re close enough to hear.¡±

    ¡°Alright. I¡¯m going to move closer towards you. Do you have the flare gun?¡± she said.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he whispered.

    ¡°Alright. I want you to pull it out very slowly. Do not draw attention to it.¡± Hawk whispered.

    ¡°Why are we whisper¡ªOH MY GOD!¡± Emile had stepped out into the clearing. The Shadowbeast¡¯s growl grew in proportion to their appearance. Their triple-threat hair color seemed to glow like neon in the darkness. They, too, held a flashlight.

    ¡°Em, you need to put the flashlight down now,¡± Hawk sing-songed, because it was either that or start screaming. ¡°And back up slowly. Head towards Henry, there you go. We¡¯re just going to meet up together slowly and let the big monster eat its dinner.¡±

    ¡°What the hell is it eating?!?¡± Emile said.

    ¡°It¡¯s a giant rabbit. Don¡¯t think about it too hard. Were you guys following the procession?¡± She kept moving back, step by step. The beast looked from her, to Em, to Dyson, and back.

    ¡°Yeah. They¡¯re the loudest, brightest thing in this hell hole.¡± Em was moving too.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s lead by the biggest psychopath I¡¯ve ever met. Including you.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I prize myself on my amoralism.¡± Emile said.

    ¡°This woman would make your head explode.¡± What was done to the Earth Archon would be enough to make Em¡¯s head explode. But right now they needed to get away from the monster without any heads exploding, except maybe its own. Thinking about exploding heads was safer than thinking of punctured veins and disembowelment. Some of the Fleet-Hare¡¯s smooth, pink inner organs were visible in the pink-matted wreck of its hair. She didn¡¯t need to think about how soft and safe that rabbit-creature had felt, or how profoundly sorry she was to be right here, in this moment. But her reaching fingers touched Emile¡¯s outstretched fingers.

    ¡°How about Alex?¡±

    Alex! Being afraid for her life hadn¡¯t diminished that pain by an ounce. ¡°He¡¯s probably dead,¡± she said.

    ¡°He¡¯s the Archetype for humanity. If he¡¯s dead, so¡¯s the rest of us.¡± Henry Dyson said.

    The Shadowbeast let go of the Fleet Hare. Its empty, ivory lined mouth dripped with blood and its own saliva. Its forked tongue tasted the air and lavished itself across the creature¡¯s invisible scent organs. Its growl lowered, deepened, became more vital.

    ¡°Okay, Hawk. What do we do now?¡± Henry Dyson said. The Shadow beast was looking him dead in the eye.

    ¡°You got the flare gun?¡± Hawk whispered.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Henry said, his voice rising in both volume and tone. Knowledge of his own death dripped off every tone.

    ¡°Shoot the flare gun, Henry.¡± She whispered.

    The beast gathered itself for a jump.

    The flare hit the beast in the face, triggering an instant howl as white phosphorus scalded across flesh and scale. ¡°Now run!¡± Hawk shouted, but neither of her friends needed to be told. Off they went into the forest together. ¡°Willheim! Run!¡± she shouted, and a flashlight ahead turned on and began pitching itself into the woods.

    Her lungs began burning, her legs aching with the ghost-feeling of teeth on a femur. She remembered flashes from before, her first encounter with the things, being dragged down the pylon in the teeth of something similar. And why weren¡¯t you bloody? Why weren¡¯t you out for more than a day? These fragmentary questions spun out to the periphery. She didn¡¯t have time to search for answers, not when she was running for her life.

    She could hear it running beside them all, pacing the slowest of all of them, which was unfortunately Hawk. She stripped out of her robes, all but the under-chemise, and shortly after she dropped them on the dirt she heard the sound of ripping fabric and the howl of frustrated monster. ¡°We¡¯re going to need another flare, Henry!¡± She shouted.

    Dyson said, ¡°I¡¯ve used mine up!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got one!¡± Em shouted, as they ran, ¡°But I¡¯m a god-damn terrible sho¡ªho shit there¡¯s a drop.¡± And they skidded into a tree, with Hawk directly on top of them seconds later. Henry Dyson was a few paces further up than they, already pausing next to the drop off. About fifty yards away from that was the light Hawk assumed was Kaiser Willheim.

    Nearer than either Dyson or Kaiser was the Shadowbeast.

    It crawled out of the woods, half of its face leonine and lethal in beauty, the other half shredded down to muscle and bone by the flare. It padded forward without rush¡ªthe time for running, it seemed, was done. Its gleaming golden eyes were fixed on Hawk and Emile.

    Emile caught her hand, turned to her with a smile on their lips, and said, ¡°God, I wish you were Henry.¡±

    ¡°I wish I was, too.¡± Hawk said.

    The Shadow beast roared.

    And another roar greeted it.

 Twenty-Nine : Alex

    This was not the shout of a bestial throat. It was not the sound of a human throat, either. Something lept out of the shadows, a tangle of darkness and shapes better lent to smoke or deep water than any living thing. This shadow was unbound by matter. It was just there, swallowing every light, save for the glint of jewels on clothes, the gleam of a chain-mail shirt, and the flutter of darkly embroidered robes.

    This figure stood between Hawk and Em, and the Shadowbeast.

    ¡°Here,¡± whispered the figure, and its voice was unthinkable. It slid off her consciousness before she could even determine if it was something beautiful or horrible. ¡°Come here, my child.¡±

    Its hands were gloved in something black and plush. It removed this covering, exposing flesh in an inhuman shade of dark violet, long, claw-like nails and some few patches of light color up around the upper arms. With bare hands, it felt the wound on the Shadowbeast. And that creature did not respond with violence, biting the hands so near its wound. It leaned into the body of this new horror and whined.

    ¡°Foolish, to harm my beasts.¡± The voice said.

    Fuck. Hawk thought.

    ¡°I¡¯d thought the beasts themselves were enough warning.¡±

    Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck.

    ¡°But clearly more warning is needed¡±

    Fuckity fuck fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.

    ¡°So allow me to provide it.¡± The being turned around and raised one hand. Light sprang into existence above its violet claw-tips, a horrible cold blue light that denied any possibility of life from its radiance, even as it light the whole dreary white forest bright as day. And it exposed a man, of course. A horrible, wonderful man. Beautiful in a way that defied beauty, that made all human scores pale in comparison. Horrible, too, because he hated; anyone nearby could feel it. Hate, deep and burbling as blood. They had wounded something he loved, and now he wanted his revenge. He wore opulence that made the Earth Archon¡¯s getup look cheap and tawdry by comparison, but it also was not clean. Dark stains of rich earth were on the hem of his black velvet robes, and the chainmail beneath all that falling fabric betrayed signs of rust. His hair was the shadow swirling around his head, somehow horrifically a part of his substance, and his eyes were an inhuman crystal blue, with cephalopod pupils to match his terrible Beast.

    But the face¡ª

    ¡°Oh my God, Hawk.¡± Em whispered, and their fingers found hers and gripped tightly. Hawk could barely feel it.

    ¡°I am the Master of Shadows,¡± said the stranger wreathed in Shadow. ¡°You have my attention. Whatever will you do with it?¡±

    He had Alex¡¯s face.

    Blood still dripped from the Shadowbeast¡¯s maw. It looked very, very much like a great cat in this moment. Maybe that was a better name for it, Shadowcat. Certainly, in the presence of its master, it was the most cat-like, pawing at the man¡¯s dark robes, rubbing its burned face into his hands. As Hawk watched, those burns diminished, leaving behind whole, scaled flesh. Then it nipped at his fingers, delicately, as if playing a much-beloved game.

    ¡°There. If you sought to do harm, it is undone. And you shall not get another chance. What do you want, people of the God-world? What brings you to this forgotten place?¡±

    Em¡¯s fingers tightened on Hawk¡¯s. And Hawk had already gripped her friend¡¯s hand for dear life. He continued to watch them both, a strange, terrible expression of good humor on his face. On Alex¡¯s face. Maybe that was why Hawk recognized the nature of that expression; that was how Alex looked when he talked about his father, Baylor.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The one person Hawk assumed Alex could kill without regret.

    ¡°We came looking for my husband,¡± Hawk said, after two false starts. God, her mouth was so dry. And you¡¯re wearing his face, she wanted to say, but couldn¡¯t. Because she knew who this was¡­or at least, who he was trying to be. The Master of Shadows. The Holian¡¯s devil figure. Is this Alex? Does he know me? ¡°I¡¯m Hawk.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m uninterested,¡± said the man with Alex¡¯s face. ¡°In fact, I¡¯m a bit put out. I go through all this work to keep you away from the Gods, and you just run straight towards them. I didn¡¯t think people from the God-world would be so careless. Or so dense. So let¡¯s be blunt. I want you to leave.¡±

    ¡°And go where?¡± Em said, silencing Hawk with a squeeze.

    ¡°Anywhere, as long as it isn¡¯t here. Go back where the light touches, and leave the rest to me. Sound fair?¡± The man gave the shadowcat a gentle pet, then strode towards them. Hawk was acutely aware of two things, simultaneously: That there was absolutely nothing but darkness and air behind her, and the man approaching her had Alex¡¯s face. Inhuman eyes, but Alex¡¯s face none-the-less.

    ¡°Sounds like fighting words. Nobody gets to own shit like that, light touching, darkness touching. Sounds too goddamn much like imminent domain to me.¡± They paused, then said, ¡°Come on, dude. You know us. You know both of us. Give off the act for a minute.¡±

    ¡°I know you,¡± he said, looking down at them. At Hawk too, but mostly at Emile. ¡°Forgive me. And here I thought I was accosting two strangers, one of whom is either dangerously ambitious, or willfully stupid. I say it again: Leave. Do not return to the procession. Go back to the God-world and leave the rest of us alone. You are neither needed nor wanted here.¡±

    He took two steps back, there was a sound like a silken implosion, and suddenly there were two great shadow-cat beasts running across the forest floor. Away from both Hawk and Emile, mercifully. And she didn¡¯t doubt that was the word, exactly: Mercy. This being had let her live, and wanted her to know it.

    But he had Alex¡¯s face.

    ¡°Hawk, you have to stay with me. Hawk. You¡¯re about to fall down this goddamn cliffside, Hawk!¡± and she was caught by Em, who shoved her hard against a tree. ¡°You¡¯re scaring me. This whole goddamn place is scaring me and I need you to stand the fuck up and help me out of this.¡±

    Yes. She needed to survive this. That was right. But oh, God, he¡¯d had Alex¡¯s face. Could he be¡ªabsolutely not. She didn¡¯t dare think any routes down that road. Not here, when she was quite literally six inches away from the ledge. She put her head between her knees and took long, deep breaths.

    Lights flashed between the panels of her skirt, bouncing with an unseen runner¡¯s legs. And then Henry¡¯s voice, ¡°Hello! Hello! Em, are you alright?¡±

    And then a sound that made a lot of things suddenly be very okay: Kissing noises. That brought her head up, right quick. Yes. Oh, yes, Henry Dyson was kissing Emile Yung. Suddenly being down a dark hole in a hellscape didn¡¯t seem so bad.

    ¡°Yes. We¡¯re fine. Hawk¡¯s having a bit of a breakdown. There was a weird guy here with a serious David Bowie complex, scared the shit out of Hawk¡ªand me¡ªwith these giant cat-fish things. Henry,¡± Em¡¯s hand steadied their male collegue. ¡°The weirdo said we had one chance to leave. I think he meant it but¡ªget this¡ªhe had Alex¡¯s face. And he was definitely an Archetype.¡±

    Had he been? Her mind had been too focused on Shadow and also on He had Alex¡¯s face to try and remember the constructed vocabulary she¡¯d had back home. All that stuff about lines and Glass Events and Archetypes felt weirdly bloodless. How could that word Archetype somehow embody the wonderful, terrible, horrible person they¡¯d just seen. How could it describe someone who would turn the Earth Archon into the horror Hawk had known her as. Gods felt like a better word. Gods. Demons. Angels. Archetypes. Only one word had felt safe in their bloodless world of electronics and neat evacuations. But this was a place of dark things, of wrought iron altars that drank blood on the regular, of dancers who stopped only when biology forced them. But she wandered back to her scientific mind and harnessed it once more. An Archetype. Maybe he had been. Maybe he¡¯d felt a little¡ªvery little¡ªlike the elevated Ape from the first pocket universe the Studdards had opened, in the Bronx zoo.

    ¡°Hey,¡± another voice came out of the woods, with another bobbing light. Hawk let her body sag against the cliffside tree, because that was Kaiser Willheim crashing through the forest. What was that one kid¡¯s song? Little bunny fu-fu, hopping through the forest. Well, Willheim wouldn¡¯t hop to save his life¡ªtoo undignified¡ªbut he absolutely would bash field mice on the head. Hawk and Em and Dyson were all in the ¡°mouse¡± category. How would Shadow¡ªmuch easier to think than any variation of ¡°Alex¡±¡ªreact to Kaiser? She was pretty sure one of them was smart enough to play with the other one, and if she could be sure that Shadow was not Alex, she¡¯d pay to see them fight it out.

    But was he Alex? Knock it the fuck off, she thought to herself. She couldn¡¯t afford this now. Because far back behind her, the pavilion was looking for where she might be.

 Thirty : Litter

    ¡°Alright. Right now we need to decide if we¡¯re running back to the Nexus or not.¡± She said.

    ¡°The Nexus?¡± Kaiser said.

    ¡°The thing we came in through, the geode-like growths on the ceiling. The locals call it the Nexus, claim it¡¯s blocking their Gods power or something¡ªbut here¡¯s the important part: it looks like their Gods are real. Their mythology strongly suggests that one of their Goddess figures is Naomi Studdard, and possibly three of her assistants¡ªmaybe teachers?¡ªare the others.¡±

    ¡°And what on earth would make you think a primitive society¡¯s god figures are real?¡± Kaiser said this with enormous contempt.

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve been watching these people for two, maybe three days. And I have seen shit you would not believe.¡±

    ¡°And yet you stayed with the procession. I was close enough to hear this stranger you girls were talking to¡ª¡±

    Hawk felt Em tense up beside her. Hell with it. ¡°Hey. You¡¯ve been working with us long enough to get it, Kaiser. Either get them right, or get off the ride.¡±

    ¡°You think you can order me to do something? The great Widow West? Is that how you see yourself right now?¡±

    ¡°Do you have guns? Do any of you have a weapon capable of shooting something that looks like a cross between a lion and a venomous snake? Because that¡¯s what I just saw.¡± Hawk said. ¡°And the owner of those venomous shadow-cat things just told us to clear out. And I don¡¯t know about you, Em but¡ª¡± and suddenly she knew, the way she knew how to breathe, that telling Kaiser about Alex would be a frighteningly bad idea. Same way she¡¯d known that letting him have the Ape¡¯s orb would have been an error. Now she had a working theory for why the latter was a bad idea¡ªbecause he¡¯d do to himself what Naomi Studdard had done, what Edgar Studdard had done to himself. He¡¯d try and become one of the Gods. ¡°But he was a very scary son of a bitch,¡± she said, emphasizing very scary and hoping for Em to nod. Right now Em was the only one who had seen him. ¡°Right, Em?¡±

    She saw it click in their eyes. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Doc. Very scary.¡±

    ¡°Our choices right now are to do what he says and go back in the dark towards home¡­or stay. And if you want to stay, we all need to have the same story for the procession.¡±

    ¡°Why, if we want to stay, do we need the procession of bleeding psychopaths?¡± Em said.

    ¡°Because I¡¯d rather be traveling with them than I would be found by them.¡± She thought hard. ¡°I¡¯m covered, but I can¡¯t cover for you the way the Archon covers for me. I don¡¯t know enough. They view English as a sacred language. You¡¯ll be able to communicate with their priest caste. The Light Archon is our friend. The Earth Archon¡ªhigh priest¡ªis absolutely not anyone¡¯s friend.¡±

    ¡°So we¡¯d want to go with the psychopath priest because?¡± Em said.

    ¡°She has food, she has water, and she might be willing to talk to someone from their God-world if they¡¯re charming enough.¡± She could feel the fragments of a workable plan come together. One that wouldn¡¯t mean abandoning a possible Alex to the dark¡­or surrendering to the threats of a madman. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. If you want to stay, we have to stick with the procession of dangerous people. You want to go home, we need to set off right now.¡±

    She was starting to hear shouts and see lights from the procession¡¯s course. She could see them between the boundaries of white-leafed trees, flashing like knives. And her mouth went dry. She wanted to sit down. Now.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Which is the smart move?¡± Dyson said.

    ¡°Going home,¡± Hawk said, without hesitation. Because knowing what the smart move was, that wasn¡¯t the problem. The problem was doing what she wanted to do.

    ¡°But you want to stay.¡± Em said. ¡°Because of that man, you want to stay.¡± The man with Alex¡¯s face, their own eyes seemed to read.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. The shouts and cold-lights were getting closer.

    ¡°Oh, bother it all. What are you pretending to be, Hawk?¡± Kaiser said.

    She cringed. ¡°The high preist¡¯s replacement.¡±

    ¡°So we just rescued someone they¡¯re viewing as important? Well¡­fuck.¡± And suddenly he had a bit more of that old country-boy attitude. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say so in the first place. Hello! Fancy parade!¡± And Kaiser started forward, towards the searchers. ¡°We got your girl right here!¡±

    Henry Dyson said, ¡°Well. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡±

    ¡°He gets sacrificed to an alien God.¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°Hey. He said worst.¡± Em said, watched him walk towards the now-frantic lights for a full minute, then sighed. ¡°Ah, well. Might as well go save him before he becomes barbeque.¡±

    ¡°Just¡­realize that¡¯s not hyperbole, Em. These people do human sacrifice. Light Archon¡ªour good guy¡ªdoesn¡¯t approve of it, but the Earth Archon¡ªbad guy¡ªhas practiced it twice since I¡¯ve been here. You have no idea how insane these people are.¡± She glanced at Kaiser. ¡°We¡¯d better go keep him from becoming road kill.¡±

    And she was up and moving, just as members of the procession reached Kaiser.

    ***

    Of course, Kaiser Willheim had them eating out of his hand in five minutes. Almost literally. He began passing out candy bars almost as soon as the first of the gold-and-green robes reached him.

    Knowing precisely how big of a disaster this was going to be, Hawk said, ¡°He¡¯s from the God-World¡± to her would-be rescuers. And, because they did not immediately react like they were scared, nor like they would like to cook Kaiser on the Earth Archon¡¯s altar, she added, ¡°All three of them are.¡±

    This brought on a chorus of ooohs and aaaaahs, and an out-reaching of hands. One person in a green robe fainted. Hawk didn¡¯t see anyone reaching for the newly prone worshipper, so she leveraged them up herself, coaching them carefully out of a swoon. The others were swept along with soft words and many, many, many eloquent blessings. That left her alone with the fainter. They were starting to come out of it.

    ¡°Can you walk with me?¡± Hawk asked. The fainter nodded, and began helping Hawk through the brush. Movement made her realize her ill-fated ride on the Hare had damaged more than her pride. She was limping and had lost a shoe at some point. Her vaporous vanguard tried to offer their own shoes. She refused them and simply limped after the now-retreating lights. Her rescuer didn¡¯t have one. She was going off in the one direction the Shadow didn¡¯t want her to follow¡ªback to the procession. And he might catch her in the dark, and¡­and one of the lights ahead was coming towards them, so she could relax. She didn¡¯t need to be afraid of strangers with Alex¡¯s face¡­it was the Light Archon and a small handful of gold robes, two of whom were left with Kaiser and the others. The remaining four held a litter.

    ¡°I am not getting on that,¡± Hawk said, immediately.

    ¡°They found the remains of your Hare a few moments ago. I thought you had died.¡± Her own Archon said, reprovingly. ¡°Now I have one of those miracles I have always lusted after¡ªa dead woman, revived!¡ªand you won¡¯t accept one singular gift of joy?¡± His blank ivory mask tracked from her to the procession and back. ¡°Besides. You are injured and there is quite a bit of territory between us and the procession. You¡¯ll be a swift meal for the Shadowbeasts.¡±

    Cats, she wanted to correct, but chose not to. These were their monsters, after all. Might as well stick with the local names. Sighing, she tried to argue that the fainter needed the litter more than she did. At which point the Archon of Light, saying nothing, moved the fainter to stand next to Hawk, where she could clearly see that they had two shoes to her one, and the bare foot was bleeding. She climbed into the litter and allowed her Archon to bandage her foot. Glancing at the Gold Robes, she said, ¡°Is it¡­safe to speak?¡±

    ¡°Depends on what you wish to say,¡± He said, congeniality. But his mask jerked once, a sharp no.

    Shit. ¡°I think I saw¡ª¡±

    ¡°Secrets, that should be confessed to an Archon and only that. No need in sparking unnecessary panic, when we are recovered so late from a necessary one. Lift her up, men, there¡¯s a go. And we¡¯ll be back in one piece.¡±

    Yes, but she needed to give him one warning, no matter what. ¡°I know these people, Archon,¡± she whispered, pulling him down so she could whisper into one exposed ear. ¡°The oldest man is dangerous. Do not trust him.¡±

    The Archon pulled back. ¡°I understand.¡±

 Thirty-One: Liars

    They were brought back to the procession with a minimal amount of fanfare, at least until they reached the field of lights surrounding the moving baggage train. When the newcomers were safely surrounded by increasingly eager young acolytes (all in green and gold, of course) a handful of green robes broke off from the general glut and ran for the forward portions of the procession. Hawk, who was feeling very stiff by now, could only brace herself and hope the explosion of egos weren¡¯t going to be very bad.

    The Light Archon returned to her side, with a very overwhelmed looking Dyson and Emile. ¡°Here she is, intact, as you can see. I had limited time, and few functional options. So I made her my apprentice. It seemed the thing to do at the time.¡±

    Em looked like they wanted to hit something. Or someone. Probably the one in the mask.

    ¡°I can get up off the litter now?¡± She said, hopefully. She¡¯d need to be ambulatory if she wanted to protect the Archon from the punchy enby scientist.

    ¡°No,¡± said the Archon, and Em, and Dyson all at once.

    ¡°Actually, you may. In a moment, when we¡¯ve replacement robes. In white.¡± And now it was his turn to glance around. ¡°Hawk-of-the-West,¡± and damn if Em didn¡¯t immediately choke on their tongue, ¡°You must listen to me. It would have been better for you if you¡¯d returned to the Nexus. Earth, my sibling-in-service, has decided that she wants you, and she¡¯s going to petition the God for you.¡±

    ¡°Nasheth,¡± she waited for the approving nod, then turned to Em and Dyson. ¡°I¡¯m ninety percent sure that Nasheth is Naomi Studdard. Only like the Ape,¡± she said, reminding them about the gorilla trapped in a Prism who had become something¡­more when the Prism was activated. They were calling these things Archetypes, because they seemed to protect the species around them from the effects of Glass energy.

    ¡°You could say that a bit quieter. It¡¯s been a full day since my Sibling-in-Service has sacrificed the Blood Gift to her God, and I think her knife is getting twitchy.¡±

    ¡°Blood Gift. Sounds emo.¡± Em said.

    ¡°Sounds murderous.¡± Hawk corrected.

    ¡°And it sounds to me,¡± said the Archon, ¡°like your companion, Kaiser, has the charm to keep tonight as bloodless as can be¡­if he can be counted upon.¡±

    ¡°Are we going to get another chance to escape?¡± Hawk asked.

    ¡°Nothing short of the Shadow will let you slip through the Earth¡¯s fingers¡­and even then, I have low bets. We¡¯ve been watching for people from the God-world for longer than the Nexus has existed. Our liturgy begs for witness. Our Gods demand it.¡±

    ¡°Gods. Plural.¡± Em said.

    ¡°You wear Astru¡¯s hammer.¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°I wear it because it symbolizes stuff I like, it irritates the brighter sparks amongst the Karens, and I adore the mythology. And Astru doesn¡¯t give Loki his own symbol. But it doesn¡¯t matter, Hawk, because that¡¯s a dead pantheon. They never existed.¡±

    ¡°Our Gods exist,¡± the Archon said.

    ¡°Let me guess. You feel them when the wind blows, or when there¡¯s enough water for your crops.¡±

    ¡°We feel them,¡± the Archon said, carefully, ¡°when they strike us. And not as a bolt of power from the sky, or hands beneath the earth. They hit the way parents hit; when they feel justified.¡±

    ¡°Bet you¡¯ve never seen them in person,¡± Em said.

    ¡°When I was eleven cycles old, on my blessing-day, I watched as Illyris drowned a half dozen of her worshippers in a bubble of water. It hung over all our heads like prayer for a half hour, while their bodies floated in gentle harmony with the water. She sat beneath it and watched, She said, the refraction of light through Her waters. Two hours later I was claimed to the service of the Earth, sorted as all eleven-year-olds must be. We are presented to all the Gods, and they choose us. Usually by pointing fingers and saying ¡®there. That one, in the purple.¡¯¡± A sigh. ¡°or ¡®the blue¡¯ or ¡®the pink¡¯. It¡¯s very unwise to wear the Gods favored colors on your eleventh blessing-day. It usually means you join their throng.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Em had listened to all of this with growing horror, as if the idea of an actual, living god had never occurred to them. At the end of it, they looked like they were ready to faint.

    But it was Henry Dyson who interrupted them all. ¡°You said the God Nasheth¡ª¡± he stumbled a bit on the unfamiliar name. ¡°¡ªshe¡¯s watching for people from the God-World, which seems to mean us. Would this Nasheth rush to join us here?¡±

    ¡°I suspect She will arrive as soon as she receives word.¡±

    ¡°So we have a few days,¡± Henry said.

    ¡°Days? Boy, you have hours. The message has already been sent on wing, or is about to be. It will take perhaps four hours of flight for a Swift to arrive there.¡±

    ¡°But it will take time for this ¡®god¡¯ to travel, right?¡± Henry said.

    This brought laughter out of the Light Archon. It was bitter and cold, but it was laughter just the same. ¡°Ah, child. If I did not already know you were from the God-world, I would assume something with you wasn¡¯t right. I suspect we shall behold Nasheth¡¯s beauty this very evening¡­and I quite strongly recommend you lot brush up on your flattery. You¡¯ll have Her full attention. And, I am sorry to say, Hawk, our ruse will not last in her presence.¡±

    She shuddered a bit. ¡°Should we try running now?¡±

    ¡°Look around you. The only thing that could get in or out of the procession now is Shadow.¡± He gestured around with his walking stick¡­and then stopped. ¡°What is that?¡±

    Hawk leaned back in the litter. Doing even that much movement was something of a mistake, and she had to gasp to get her breath back. She didn¡¯t recognize what he was looking at. It looked like cold light. A very warm cold light, but cold-light. It didn¡¯t flicker as a flame would, didn¡¯t promise any more heat than an ice cube, but it had an ember-like redness. Heat, without any of the things that make heat desirable.

    ¡°It¡¯s Fire. The gathering of the Archons has begun. I must now revise my estimate of how quickly Nasheth will arrive, downwards, by several hours. No, it is all too late for running, now. The spokespersons for the Gods are here, and that means the Gods are fast behind them. And if the first to arrive is Argon¡­no matter, yet. Don¡¯t buy trouble before it arrives.¡± Another deep sigh. ¡°Very well. Keep close to me, and make it very clear that you are with me, and no one else. Let your gregarious friend distract the Archons. If we make it through this coming sleep, we¡¯ll have a better chance for flight on the morrow.¡±

    Hawk nodded, then decided to act on a sneaking suspicion she¡¯d had for quite some time. ¡°Can you and Henry give the Archon and me some space?¡± She said, to Em. ¡°I need to talk to him about something.¡±

    There was a hesitation, but the other two drifted closer to Kaiser, who was having a delightful time regaling the people surrounding him with tales of their adventure with the Shadow-beasts. Then Hawk turned to the Archon and studied him from her place in the litter. No. This wasn¡¯t enough privacy. She started trying to get out. Which hurt like hell, but she didn¡¯t mind anymore.

    ¡°Stop. Stop. You¡¯re still wounded,¡± The Archon said.

    ¡°You¡¯ll want to send the litter away for my next question. It¡¯s important.¡±

    So he sent them away. The litter was carefully folded up and carried between two of the gold robes. The other two simply vanished into the growing throng of people around them. There was a respectful space around the Light Archon and Hawk, but it was the newcomers who had all the attention. Not only were they officially from the God-World, but Kaiser was at his absolute best and brightest. She realized just how much Alex had kept him in check, because this was the man he wanted most to be. He smiled. He laughed. He told slightly off color jokes in English that had the acolytes around him blushing. He was aged beautifully, like old wine or new plastic surgery. He oozed charm from every pore.

    ¡°You¡¯ve found the perfect prophylactic in that man,¡± The Archon said, softly. ¡°She will eat his compliments up and spit out the rind. I¡¯m presuming you would only be pleased with that development if there is no rind.¡±

    The thought of feeding Kaiser to the Earth Archon had occurred to her. She wrote it off as too much trouble. ¡°That¡¯d be fine, but I wouldn¡¯t underestimate him any more than I would the Earth Archon.¡± And she took a deep breath, because it was time to take a plunge.

    ¡°Why did you have me clear witnesses, Hawk?¡± He whispered.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d appreciate the privacy for my next question. How long have you worked for a man with violet hands?¡± She said.

    He turned to her, frozen in place. Likely open mouthed behind his mask. But he knew what she meant.

    How long had he worked for the Shadow?

 Thirty-Two: The Long Fear

    ¡°What makes you think that?¡± he said. His hand was stiff on her now.

    ¡°I met him,¡± she said, very softly. ¡°He was rather abrupt, but he wanted the same thing you do: he wanted us gone.¡± She paused, and stepped around a suddenly flung ribbon favor. This one was gold. ¡°And it struck me that he showed up right about the time you and I ran out of options.¡±

    The silence that reigned between them was filled with horn and trumpet and cymbal. Voices called out to one another, oblivious to the small drama happening just beneath their noses. Finally, the Archon broke.

    ¡°Well, yes. Let us say, hypothetically, that I called in a favor. That favor may backfire on you if you are not careful.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s ¡®not a tame lion?¡¯¡± Hawk asked, thinking of brief moments of happiness reading Narnia with her mother.

    ¡°I have no clue about lions,¡± the Archon said, ¡°But I met my¡­friend¡­when I was tapped to become Archon of Light. For a while, I did not know who he was. Then I did. It was a most¡­unfortunate experience. One that became quite rewarding, after a time.¡± A pause. ¡°What will you do?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the only goddamn helpful, kind person in this whole mess. I¡¯m not afraid of Shadow,¡± she said, and then paused. ¡°Okay, I am afraid of him.¡±

    ¡°That is because you are not stupid,¡± the Archon said.

    Yes, but he has my Alex¡¯s face! She wanted to howl. ¡°How much does he want us gone?¡± She asked. A casual change of subject, there.

    ¡°An hour ago? Before he set the beasts on us? It was my request that drove it. But now you are openly defying him by returning to the procession. So now you may do me a favor, and give me an answer: Why did you come back?¡±

    ¡°Because I don¡¯t have any light, and there¡¯s no fucking sunrise or daylight in this place, and I haven¡¯t the first idea how to make my way back to the Nexus in the dark.¡± She said, and found that it was true enough to work on most people.

    But the Archon wasn¡¯t ¡°most people¡±. He watched her for a few sly minutes, as the noise about them rose and the songs of the main procession began to swell. ¡°I¡¯ll ask again, and given how heavily I protect you, Hawk, I expect a straight answer: Why did you come back to the procession?¡±

    ¡°I told you. I¡¯m looking for my husband. Either the man himself or¡­¡± she could get over the hump here. Saying it out loud wouldn¡¯t make it any more or less true. ¡°Or evidence he¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going about it in an odd way.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say your creation myth suggested something to me. Something I don¡¯t want to talk about because I do not want to risk deception or someone trying to manipulate me. I think that either your Gods or your Shadow have more information¡­and if they don¡¯t, I¡¯m screwed. Because it¡¯s been too long.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, too long?¡± The Archon asked.

    ¡°Time works differently in our world. Don¡¯t call it the God-world please, I can¡¯t stand that idea. None of us are Gods. Gods aren¡¯t born in that world. I¡¯m pretty sure they don¡¯t even exist there. Kaiser Willheim¡¯s company accidently tore a hole in reality¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªand made our hole to the God-World.¡± He said this like repeating a catechism. ¡°But how? That way has always been. The Nexus blocked it off, cut the majority of the Gods¡¯ powers. But the way to the God-World has always remained, high and out of reach.¡±

    They were almost to the main procession. The faces around them were getting less joyful, more stern and frightened, or stoic and soulless. Hawk was running out of time. She dumped a lot of useless information, and said, ¡°Okay. For you, it¡¯s always been there. For me, it¡¯s existed for almost a week. But here¡¯s the important part: Years, here, can pass in minutes, there. Time works faster inside of what we¡¯re calling Rifts. And that¡¯s what this place is, to us. It¡¯s just a dark, magic hole.¡± She swallowed. ¡°Your ancestors¡ªthe first humans in this world¡ªwere the six hundred missing children. But Alex¡ªmy husband¡ª¡±

    ¡°Must be dead after so long,¡± the Archon said.

    ¡°Right,¡± she said, while her heart screamed No, and a part of her brain responded with the image of the Shadowmaster with Alex¡¯s face. ¡°But I want to find out how, and why. Both for him, and as many of those missing kids as I can. Your Gods might also be living people from my world. They might know what happened to Alex.¡± And she wanted to grab the Archon by the robes and start shaking him until his mask fell off and his teeth rattled. She wanted to scream, It¡¯s my only chance! At his face, naked and maskless, so she could see understanding in his eyes. ¡°Do you understand? They might know.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    He sighed. ¡°I think we are out of time. But I will tell you this, Hawk-of-the-West. You are a newly minted, grieving widow. Do not underestimate how desperate your grief will become¡­especially if the Gods know they have something they can use against you. Your love for your Alex will become a tool in their hands.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she said.

    ¡°You will see when the God arrives. Pray it will not be with your own heart. But if you love, it will be used against you.¡±

    ***

    The Earth Archon had ordered the pavilion be pitched for rest and sleep, and to better assess the situation. That situation being the arrival of the Firemaster, Argos, and his fire-red palanquin. The Light Archon explained it to Hawk. Argos was not with the Fire Pavillion, but His Archon was, and as soon as the three of them (his gesture included himself) had come to an agreement about who would become the head of the procession¡ªwhich would be Fire, as they were both the patron of war, and the only God present. The Light Archon insisted Hawk not be there for the invocation ritual. ¡°Go, get your people situated and keep them as quiet as possible. I do not suppose this Willheim can be curbed?¡±

    ¡°If Alex were here, he would be. He¡¯d be so irritable that Kaiser would have to focus on him, and not the Archon.¡± She cringed at her next thought. ¡°I could¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Her archon said. ¡°I don¡¯t want you doing anything. You¡¯ve made enough trouble for yourself¡ªnot entirely of your own making¡ªand I¡¯ll not add to it.¡± His expression softened. ¡°If you were there for the Invocation, you would catch Argon¡¯s eye immediately. I recommend¡ªstrongly¡ªthat you avoid that as much as possible.¡±

    ¡°What? Catching his eye?¡± She said.

    ¡°He¡¯s lusty, and I know his type. Fortunately, he likes the willing and respects the avowed celibate. Of your group, only you are female, and you have the look he likes. Can you pretend to be distinctly uninterested in a handsome man?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m basically a widow in mourning. I¡¯d rather have a migraine than an orgasm.¡±

    Thus, when Hawk arrived to her little sitting area with the Archon of Light, she found it populated with pillows and a divan, with Kaiser sprawled across it with a glass of the sweet honey wine they kept giving everyone. He was not yet drunk, but he was certainly having the time of his life. Em and Dyson stood nearby. On the opposite side of the Earth Archon¡¯s fancy chair there was, quite literally, a throne. It was made of gold and red, covered in rubies and panels of scarlet silk. Beside this was a chair that matched the Earth Archon¡¯s. It, too, was made of gold with red silk, but was smaller and meaner. Opulence was tiered, apparently, with some grades of beauty reserved for the God.

    ¡°Do we¡­sit?¡± Henry Dyson asked Hawk.

    She looked around. The Archons were doing whatever an Invocation required, and there was no one else to see, or care. ¡°As long as you avoid the thrones, you should be fine. Sit with me?¡± She patted the pillows. Em and Dyson did, and she grabbed the first acolyte to pass by and begged them for water¡ª¡°Water.¡± She emphasized to the poor thing¡ªand whatever they could bring her without incurring the Earth Archon¡¯s wrath. Then she began to describe the things she had seen since her arrival here.

    She didn¡¯t get past the first sacrifice.

    ¡°Wait. Back the fuck up, Hawk. You stood there and let them kill someone?¡±

    ¡°Em. Keep your voice down.¡± She said.

    ¡°I speak fucking English. They don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s considered the holy, sacred tongue around here. They learn it the way Catholic Bishops learn Latin. Half the people around you understand enough.¡± She let her words carry, let Em see how many people turned in their direction. Let her see the comprehension in too many pairs of eyes. Then, in a bare hiss, she added, ¡°Please, tell me what I was supposed to do.¡±

    ¡°Get up and stop them!¡± Em said.

    ¡°And die,¡± Henry Dyson said.

    Both Hawk and Em turned on him. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the only thing she could do is stand up, fight, and die. The guy¡¯s fucked either way. Like¡­we can¡¯t get out of this, right now. If these people decide we¡¯re dead, we¡¯re dead. They worship the murders they call sacrifice. They consider it a right, and a choice they get to make. So when you or I or Hawk stands up and says, you know, ¡®don¡¯t kill the poor bastard¡¯, we¡¯re giving their god the middle finger. It¡¯s not just themselves, it¡¯s everything they stand for. You try to stop anything in this place, you¡¯re gonna die.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be dead in the name of¡­of¡­¡± they trailed off.

    ¡°Just like they¡¯d die in the name of their god, you¡¯d die in the name of your cause. But you would die, Em. Or, rather, Hawk would be dead. Right now. If she tried to save that man, she¡¯d be dead.¡±

    ¡°But¡­but¡­but¡­he was a person.¡±

    ¡°And so is Hawk.¡± Henry said, softly. ¡°And her survival instincts went TILT instead of Rambo, and that is probably the only reason she was in that forest back there, and not ashes in the bottom of this Archon¡¯s altar.¡± He paused. ¡°Or are we going to blame the victim, here.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re all victims,¡± Hawk said, softly. ¡°Every single one of them have been told that Edgar and Naomi Studdard are their hope, are their Joy. They worship them the way Christians do the Cross.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s basically the Holian equivalent to you standing up at a meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention in your favorite bondage gear and committing glossolalia. She¡¯d be dead. Best case scenario is burned alive.¡±

    ¡°And that really is the best case scenario.¡± Hawk said.

    And then the Archons were upon them.

 Thirty-Three: Thy Mothers House

    The noise at the erstwhile pavilion entrance picked up a couple notches, and the Earth and Light Archons were seen hustling up the silk-strewn central walkway, where acolytes were still struggling to make those towering pillars of flowers.

    ¡°Not enough, not enough,¡± the Earth Archon said. ¡°Not enough flowers, and in the wrong colors, and they won¡¯t share.¡± She stopped dead in the walk and pointed. There were two frozen acolytes, these in scarlet robes, who looked on in disbelief.

    ¡°They¡¯re not obliged to. Any more than you are obliged to give me white roses or dancing girls,¡± this was said in that same, dry tone Hawk now recognized as pointed mockery. ¡°Argon will not be offended by your golden roses and ivy¡­and if he has too much of a problem, tell him that you are out.¡±

    ¡°As you have often said you are out?¡± Earth said, harshly. ¡°Out of flour, out of silk, out of salt. Out of¡ª¡±

    ¡°I do not keep silks in either green or gold, or red, or yellow, or blue-and-silver. So I am always out.¡± A theatrical sigh. ¡°But one you cannot argue with. And so you will tell Argon, you have no red roses and no red silks, for it is chance that your pavilions met.¡±

    ¡°Is it chance, Light? Is it?¡± She asked, sharply. ¡°We have these strangers from the God-World, and now this? Argos comes a-purpose.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason for Him to foot His own bill. No, sister. Do not do it yourself. Send an acolyte to one of His acolytes, make them tell His Archon, who will then tell Him.¡±

    ¡°You wish for me to stand up to a God?¡± she said, harsh and sharp as a cracking whip.

    ¡°No, sister. I want you to stand up for a God. Yours. You do things, not in your own name (which you surrendered a very long time ago) but in your God¡¯s. Nasheth cannot give what is not in Nasheth¡¯s stores. Make your table beautiful, and if your guest hates the cloth, demand he bring his own. Now. Excuse me. I shall take charge of the strangers.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡± Earth said, plaintively.

    ¡°What?¡± Said the Archon. ¡°Do you wish to give them to Firemaster? Let Argon have his sport with the strangers?¡±

    Her shoulders bowed under for one minute as the terrifyingly masked woman struggled with the idea of offending a god. Then she straightened. ¡°No. They are for my Lady. My Life. My Queen! And my God. Yes. Come, with the best of our reserves!¡± And she plunged forward, shouting orders and generally being poignantly regal. The Light Archon, shaking his head, walked over to Hawk¡¯s little company.

    ¡°Formidable woman,¡± Kaiser said, from his place on the Divian.

    The four of them glared at Kaiser, as if rehearsed. Then Em snorted. The Light Archon said, ¡°Yes, rather,¡± and turned back to Hawk and the others.

    ¡°So,¡± Hawk said, and gestured.

    ¡°Shadow and His Beasts have shed blood but taken no lives. What they did gut, however, was her supply house of finery. They didn¡¯t hit any of the things she keeps for her own comfort, but most of her goods for guests¡ªthe silks in another God¡¯s colors, for example¡ªare ruined. Food stores were damaged. We are altogether stalled until she finishes her assessment. But wings are away, and with one God already on the field, the others are sure to follow.¡±

    ¡°Not only that, Hawk, but¡­Kaiser.¡± Em gestured at the Divian, where the man so named was eating grapes of some sort, one at a time by a round-eyed acolyte who looked overjoyed at her duties. ¡°Our working theory is that the Gods are from our world, right? Naomi Studdard and her teachers?¡±

    ¡°What about it?¡± Hawk said.

    ¡°Teachers. On a teacher¡¯s salary. And fucking Kaiser.¡± She turned to the Light. ¡°He¡¯s basically one of the richest men in our world. You want it? He can buy it.¡± Back to Hawk. ¡°Those people are going to be on him like white on rice.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°And Naomi would have to trust¡ªdoes Nasheth trust the other Gods?¡±

    ¡°No further than I can throw this entire pavilion.¡±

    Em nodded, then tilted her head. ¡°Are your Gods limited by time and space?¡± A puzzled tilt from the Archon¡¯s mask. ¡°Can they travel instantaneously?¡± she said.

    This got an ¡°Oh!¡± and a nod.

    Em turned back to Hawk. ¡°She¡¯ll be here inside of an hour of the others.¡±

    And then there came a fanfare of nearly a hundred primitive trumpets, and horns, symbols and drums, flutes and harps, and an ululation of human voices, as a clot of red entered the green and gold pavilion.

    Argon, the FireMaster and God of War, had entered.

    ***

    He was tall, white, and very broad, with curling blond hair that fell in Cupid-like ringlets down his back. His eyes were blue. He had a few tattoos that were very badly faded, and wore red. This was the clinical assessment a very small part of Hawk¡¯s mind could give. The human description. Just so.

    The rest of her was overwhelmed.

    He was gorgeous. His hair was a shower of gold. His limbs were thick like trees. His eyes were the unfolding of the dawn, his hands were the size of ham hocks. She was suddenly radiantly glad that she was straight and that this attraction was normal for her; she couldn¡¯t imagine someone like Em, who disliked defined genders the way most people dislike spiders, forced to view this display of masculinity with unwilling devotion. Argon carried a gleaming silver battle hammer, thick and heavy across his back. The chain mail he wore¡ªa vest, so that his perfect abs and pecs were visible¡ªwas plated in gold, and the scarlet velvet falling from his belt was like a spill of blood across the floor. Here was War, here was Fire, here was imminent incarnate, and he was walking up the green silk walkway like the victor he deserved to be¡­

    And that was where Hawk caught herself. They talked of Gods here, but she¡¯d reacted this way to only one being, and that was the Ape from the first Glass Event. The urge to fawn, to lavish luxuries and care, to carry on your own back until you expire, all felt stronger than the command to breathe. But she knew better. The Ape had been kind and gentle and she¡¯d still recognized the danger this fawn response could bring. This was why she¡¯d felt an instant urge to hide the Ape from Kaiser, why even this dilute meeting was a disaster: He demanded, and got, worship through simply existing.

    She could not afford to get sucked down by this man.

    Red-robed acolytes danced before him, beautiful women in scarlet silks, limbs supple and refined and sensual in a way that Earth Archon¡¯s women were not. All the dancers Hawk had seen so far, in this series of temporary temples, had been a celebration of movement and beauty, but curiously asexual. These women in their red, red robes were a carnival of sex. She also recognized the danger the Light Archon had tried to warn her about; every one of these women were dark skinned.

    One of the dancers collapsed on the way. She was left on the wayside, ignored by Earth¡¯s people as a matter of course, but also ignored by her own. Hawk and Em both started to rise. They were stopped by the Archon.

    ¡°Do not go near her. Do not help his dancer. Do not help at all.¡± His grip on their wrists was very strong.

    ¡°She just collapsed,¡± Em said.

    ¡°Yes. And it is a great shame to fall in front of your God. Her punishment is isolation. If you rise to help her, it will be the worse for you both.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re afraid of him,¡± Em hissed.

    ¡°Anyone with sense is afraid of a God. This one is the God of War and of Sex. You¡¯d be twice the fool, defying him.¡± And he sat back on the pillows. ¡°Rise to her aid, and you will likely die.¡±

    And Hawk found herself understanding something for the first time. This was how it happened. This was how good men were bent to bad things. It had nothing to do with the quality of character, and everything to do with the quantity of fear. This was absolute control. Love, attraction, devotion, these were all side products, dross from the catalyst. Fear kept people in their places.

    Two more dancers fainted on the road to Argon¡¯s throne.

    Two young children garbed in red began strewing the green with red rose petals. They threw them up in handfuls and danced in the cloud. Em, seeing this, turned to the Light Archon and said, ¡°How do you people grow roses? There¡¯s no fucking light down here.¡±

    ¡°In a grow-box. With cold-light,¡± the Archon answered simply.

    ¡°That¡¯s the shit flying over head, right?¡± Em asked.

    ¡°It is the magic giving us illumination, yes.¡± He sounded amused.

    ¡°Magic,¡± Em spat the word out, then turned to Hawk. ¡°It makes sense they¡¯d view it as magic. Hell, that¡¯s how the Glass still looks to us.¡±

    ¡°Glass? As in the stuff for cups, and plates, and windows?¡± The Archon said.

    ¡°No,¡± Em said. Argon was nearly at the stairs now, and the songs parading him could have melted the heart of a mountain lion. Em spoke the way one would hold to a rosary on the edge of the abyss. ¡°I mean an energy signature that sucks all life out of organic matter. The hole that you live in? Your entire world? It¡¯s killing ours. Your world bleeds out¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± the Archon whispered. He was splayed back in his own seat, as if he¡¯d taken a blow. ¡°Our world does not bleed. It absorbs.¡±

    But there was no more time. Argon was at the steps, and the Archon of Light rose to greet him. ¡°Blessed One!¡± he said, and you wouldn¡¯t hear the lie if you didn¡¯t know him well. ¡°Welcome to thy Mother¡¯s House!¡±

 Thirty-Four: The Court of the God of War

    ¡°Our Brother-in-Service has apparently come into poverty,¡± said the Earth Archon. ¡°He has no gifts, nor anything in your colors, by his own admission. He comes with nothing.¡±

    ¡°On the contrary,¡± he said, and then seemed to be steeling himself for more. ¡°Might I present to you¡ª¡±

    And then Argon, God of War and Firemaster of the Holians religion, Archetype for humanity and theoretical beacon of hope and grace for his worshippers, said, ¡°Holy fucking shit, that¡¯s Kaiser Willheim.¡±

    Hawk was sure the Archons had scripts for nearly every interaction with their deity; she was also pretty sure this was not on that script. Especially when Argon discarded his cape and rushed the stairs. He left behind a squabble of people, all fighting over his coat.

    ¡°Well, yes,¡± the Archon said, as Earth looked on in disgust. They were soon joined by a third Archon in a red robe. Oh, God. This was getting to be a little bit too much.

    ¡°How the fuck did one of you bring Kaiser goddamn Willheim to our world? The goddamn Nexus is blocking the goddamn sun.¡± Argon, who might as well have been named Adonis, turned in his radiant beauty. He couldn¡¯t articulate worth a damn.

    ¡°I assume Nexus is that geode thing,¡± Kaiser said, as if Hawk had not told him that earlier. ¡°And we came through it.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t dig a hole. We¡¯ve tried for a couple centuries to dig a hole in it. It just grows back. And there¡¯s six of the fucking things, so we can¡¯t figure out which one we need to cut into.¡±

    ¡°It does regrow,¡± Kaiser said. ¡°And our drill is still having some trouble, but there was a hole.¡± He paused, glancing once at Hawk and Em, and then smiled. ¡°I think someone or some thing snuck up there and ran off with our girl over there.¡±

    You fucking son of a bitch, Hawk thought, but did not say out loud. Emile clenched up beside her. It wasn¡¯t just that he misgendered Em¡ªin front of a literal God no less¡ªit¡¯s that he did it with harm as a purpose. Just like when he called Hawk ¡°Doctor West¡± in front of people he wanted to impress, but kept calling her ¡°Mrs. West¡± or, worse, ¡°Miss West¡± in front of people who didn¡¯t know she had a degree, he observed Emile¡¯s trans-ness only when it made him look honorable. And now he¡¯d just crammed them into a spot where Hawk either needed to cop to being from Earth, or else allow Em to be hurt, over and over, in a thousand small and infinitesimal ways that nonetheless added up to hemorrhage.

    Hawk opened her mouth, the That¡¯d be me, I¡¯m the Earth-Girl on her lips.

    The Light Archon interrupted. ¡°Pardon, Lord. Pardon, Pardon¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes. What?¡± Said Argon.

    ¡°I believe that in the God-world they observe more than just men and women. The outsider on the pillows is neither.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± said Argon, eloquently. Then he shrugged. ¡°Well, Willheim, I hate to break it to you but your hole does us no good. Which means your money is no good.¡± He began mounting the stairs to the red-and-gold throne. ¡°Which means you are no good. Just another peon. Just another one of them.¡± He waved one glorious hand at the crowd, dismissing them all in the gesture. Then he looked down at Kaiser and grinned. ¡°How do you like that, Mr. Big? Do you mind if I call you Mr. Big? Because it¡¯s funnier if you do care.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Something made the hair on the back of Hawk¡¯s neck stand on end.

    But Kaiser knew this game. Hell, Alex knew this game. A small man given big power tends to react by overreacting. If you didn¡¯t want them to explode¡ªand right now, in the green-and-gold pavilion, that¡¯d be a very, very bad idea¡ªyou had to treat them like they were right, right up until you had to burst their bubble. Hopefully somewhere that got innocents out of the splatter zone. And Kaiser leaned in, his posture suggesting subterfuge and the in-crowd. He said, ¡°Arthur Anderson. Right? Two Superbowl rings and then you became Naomi¡¯s gym teacher. How is she doing, anyway?¡±

    Naomi. The name seemed to light a fire in Argon¡¯s eyes. He turned, not to his own Archon but to Earth. ¡°Is word of these outsiders a-wing?¡±

    ¡°As of an hour and a half ago,¡± Earth answered. Then, in a different, more desperate tone, ¡°You cannot blame me, Lord. My God is your Mother, not you.¡±

    ¡°Mother?¡± Kaiser said. He was holding his drink in one hand. ¡°Naomi Studdard? Please.¡±

    Argon¡¯s expression did not change, but he knocked the cup out of Kaiser¡¯s hand, from where he stood twenty feet away. Hawk saw it. A wave of the hand, and the glass was gone. And now the hand waved again, and Kaiser began to choke. He put both hands to his neck and looked around in exceeding desperation. What was holding him? It seemed to be only air. And now Argon mounted the rest of the stairs, and loomed over Kaiser exactly the way a God ought to loom. ¡°Let me make this clear,¡± he whispered. ¡°The man you knew is gone. The woman you knew is gone. The life you knew is over. You belong to us now.¡± And he unclenched his hand, letting Studdard drop to his knees out of the chair. ¡°I might even decide to keep you myself. My latest pets are struggling with the hardship of my service.¡± And he sat in his throne. ¡°I¡¯m sick of this affair, now. Bring on the women, and the wine!¡±

    Kaiser crawled to Hawk¡¯s little collection of pillows. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡± he started to say.

    Hawk stepped on his hand, and covered his mouth to muffle the scream.

    But the damage had been done. He¡¯d gotten Argon¡¯s attention again. ¡°It seems we need better training. Where is my Mother¡¯s Archon? I want the ministry of her attention. Without her mask.¡±

    The Earth Archon stepped forward. No emotion was betrayed by her body language. She reached up with trembling hands and removed her mask. The eye in her lips blinked to itself, wet and slick with tears. Both mouths were pressed into tight lines. There were spangles of gold and green on her cheeks, and emerald ornaments in her dun-colored hair, and a promise of clear beauty in her nose and cheekbones. But no one could look past what had been done to her.

    Argon smiled, contentedly, and turned back to Kaiser. ¡°I remember when my Mother did that. She told a little lie. Not a big one. Just said that an acolyte was doing one thing when, in fact, they were doing another. Either she lied, or she was unknowing, and either way the punishment must fit the crime.¡±

    Em, who was staring in utter horror, said, ¡°What the fuck kind of crime can justify that?¡±

    ¡°She lives, does she not? And is she not beautiful with my Mother¡¯s gifts?¡± Argon¡¯s voice rose. He was met with a chorus of agreement, and some of the musicians broke out into the first verse of what proved to be a paen to the Archon¡¯s beauty. Argon gestured once, drawing the music short. ¡°Mouths, the better to see with. And Eyes that only speak the truth. Oh, did I not mention that? That¡¯s the hidden gift my Mother gave her servant: She may never lie. No falsehood may pass those¡­¡± he glanced at Earth Archon and chuckled. ¡°¡­lusciously beautiful lips.¡±

    One tear, just one, escaped the corner of the Earth Archon¡¯s mouth.

    The Light Archon bent low to Hawk and whispered, light as breath, ¡°Keep your people close and try to reign them in.

    ¡°There will be blood tonight.¡±

 Thirty-Five: Feed the Beast

    Argon, Firemaster and War-God, traveled with his own entourage. Their half-built pavilion found completion in armloads of scarlet silk, and red robes joined the throng of perpetual worshippers as they danced and sang. But his music was hotter than Earth Archon¡¯s had been, with stronger drums and a more marital feel.

    Hawk leaned over to the Light Archon, who had escaped the God¡¯s notice unscathed, and who was now enjoying his wine from the divian so lately occupied by Kaiser. His mask turned in her direction. ¡°Yes, Hawk?¡±

    ¡°All the Gods have their own colors?¡± she whispered.

    A smile. ¡°Aye. As I have explained before. Each God is a master of an elemental force, and each God has chosen livery that reflects that choice. So Argon has Red-and-Gold, Earth and Nasheth has Green-and-gold, Kali¡¯Mar chose yellow, and Illyris chose blue-and-silver.¡± A pause. ¡°Who is Arthur Anderson to you?¡± His tongue seemed to struggle with the strange words, despite them being an English cadence.

    ¡°Noone to me personally. Apparently he¡¯s an ex-football player with a couple superbowl rings, and Kaiser just confirmed he¡¯s one of Naomi¡¯s teachers.¡± This last was more to Emile than the Archon.

    ¡°He¡¯s a shit football player who got zero action in either bowl. He was pressured into retiring and didn¡¯t have the guts to parley that into any career better than gym teacher.¡± Emile said, then gave an awkward grin. ¡°I dated a girl who liked his team. She was very opinionated.¡±

    The Archon nodded, then turned his mask back to Hawk. ¡°So in the God-World, Argon was¡­well, it is not wise to insult the Gods when they are so near.¡±

    That was when Hawk spotted a specifically shaped object being walked up the scarlet-strewn green. ¡°Is that a second altar?¡±

    The thing was much simpler than Nasheth¡¯s. Where the latter¡¯s burning altar was formed with twining wrought iron curves, this thing was simply a very large, very deep bowl. The flame was already lit¡ªHawk had suspicions of Eternal Flames and the rigamarole that went with them¡ªand the red-robes carried it gingerly, as little skin contact as possible. The limbs Hawk saw were cabled in scar tissue. She thought at first it was careless handling. Then the Light Archon sighed and reached into his robes for what she thought at first was white silk ribbons. Then she realized it was a roll of bandages.

    The red-robes got the altar positioned so that it was equal to Nasheth¡¯s, from the lip of its edge to the foot of its basin¡­and then the tone changed. One of the Red Robes stood ramrod straight, and the rest began to line up behind him. Hawk didn¡¯t know what was about to happen, but the man-eating altars were out, and that couldn¡¯t possibly be anything good.

    Hawk wanted to leave. She wanted to climb up to her feet, right now, and beat feet for the exit. Instead, she made herself turn to the Light Archon. ¡°What are they about to do, and I leave before they do it?¡±

    ¡°Argon insists his altar be fed with blood and flesh when it is moved. And leaving would be unwise. He would be encouraged to feed your flesh to his honor.¡±

    Em, having overheard some of this, leaned in and said, ¡°Is there anyone in this goddamn hell-hole who isn¡¯t a bleeding psychopath?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps the children,¡± the Archon said, bleakly.

    The first red-robe was lining up with the altar, rolling his sleeves back to expose arms covered in scars, wrist to elbow. Some of them looked like self-inflicted cuts, but the majority of these scars were burns. The red-robe¡¯s left hand was also a barely useful claw. He held the burnt up length of it out and shouted something, first in the Holian language, then in English. ¡°To you, my Lord! I give my flesh!¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    He was going to do it. He was going to thrust his whole hand into the burning offering bowl he had dragged in here. Argon sat on his throne, gleaming and beautiful and pleased with himself. He motioned towards the man to continue, and the red-robe stepped up nearer to the bowl, pulled his hand back¡­and then thrust it into the flame. And held it there as flesh blackened around bone. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. The smell was awful, like burnt bacon. Fifty seconds. Sixty, a full minute, and still he stood with his arm in the fire, flame consuming flesh. Sweat poured down his brow, and he did not make a sound. A minute thirty. Two minutes.

    ¡°Enough,¡± Argon finally said. ¡°Come.¡±

    The man removed his hand from the fire and approached the red-and-gold throne and the person of his God. He did not bow his head, despite sweat dripping off him like rain. When he reached Argon, he wordlessly held out the burnt arm. His hand was a curled, blackened thing, red where the char had flaked off. Some of the exposed meat looked¡­well¡­cooked. Flesh had gained the tone of medium rare beef. There was still some red; blood dripped down his forearm to vanish into the scarlet of his robe.

    Argon looked down at the sacrifice his own people had made for him. ¡°Open it.¡± He said, gesturing to the curled in, contorted, wounded hand.

    Open it? Hawk felt herself start forward to help the red-robe and stop the madness. Instead she brought both hands over her mouth and bit on her own fingers until the salt, wet taste of her own vital fluids made her stop. The screams she¡¯d smothered unborn curdled against the back of her throat.

    Slowly, with bits of charred skin and muscle flaking off the exposed milk-white tendons, the red-robe opened his wounded hand. He was shaking by the time it was done, and almost pale beneath his natural skin tone. He held it open to his God, who smiled.

    ¡°Please,¡± whispered the man. ¡°Please help your warriors.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Argon, smiling with pride. He lifted both of his great and golden hands and wrapped them around the ruined one. The man¡¯s shaking slowly ebbed, color returning to his face. Light gleamed beneath Argon¡¯s hands, and then the God let go. The red-robe¡¯s hand was intact.

    ¡°Praise Be!¡± he shouted, and the whole tent erupted into cheers.

    The next man stepped up.

    ¡°Oh my God. You¡¯re going to let them all do this?¡± Em said.

    Argon¡¯s head snapped towards them. He was aflare with rage. ¡°You dare speak during My Service?¡± He boomed. All the coldlight in the room, all of it, suddenly dimmed. The air felt cold, and Hawk felt fingers on her throat. Em¡¯s hand traveled to their neck; they must be feeling it too.

    Hawk stood up and screamed, ¡°Stop!¡±

    And everything did. The singing, the dancing, the food being passed from plate to plate, the whirls of activity on the edge of the pavilion. Everything froze, staring at this relatively unknown person who had just interrupted their God.

    ¡°And who,¡± said Argon, ¡°are you?¡±

    Truth or lie. She thought, panicked now. She decided not to go with either. ¡°These outsiders have been claimed by your Mother¡¯s House,¡± she said, after a blank fumble. ¡°If you kill them, would it not anger Nasheth?¡±

    Silence. ¡°Nasheth does not know about them. If She did, She would be here.¡± Argon said.

    ¡°But word is on the wing,¡± she said. And oh, thank God, she remembered that phrasing. ¡°Do you think she¡¯ll be pleased to come here, expecting live bodies and finding only the dead and mutilated?¡±

    Argon glared down at her. ¡°You have not answered my question. Who are you?¡±

    The Light Archon stood and hastened to her side. ¡°She has surrendered her name to me,¡± he declared. ¡°She is to be my replacement in the Temple of Light. And I must add my voice to hers. My Lady will be displeased if those under our charge are damaged. In any way.¡±

    ¡°You interrupt my sport. So I demand a replacement for my fun.¡± Argon readjusted himself in his opulent throne.

    Sport?! Hawk managed not to shout it out loud. Em flinched too, hopefully at the same point. Sport? Fun? Watching people burn their hands off in your name, and forcing them to use the mutilated flesh before a restoration? That¡¯s not fun. That¡¯s sadism.

    The Light Archon sighed. ¡°What do you demand of my humble person?¡±

    Argon suddenly looked like he¡¯d eaten a lemon. ¡°It is your acolyte, not yourself, who began this offence.¡± And then he glanced over at the line of men, who were all still waiting to feed their own flesh to the fire. ¡°What are you lot waiting for? Continue!¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Said Em.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Said Dyson.

    Kaiser said nothing. He looked on with a small smile.

 Thirty-Six: The Goddess Nasheth

    ¡°It is My tradition and My command. Why would you dare place a demand on me?¡± Argon stood out of his chair. ¡°You outsiders. You Earthlings. You small and pathetic creatures. You dare pit your will against mine?¡±

    ¡°Emile Yong is an anarcho-communist with serious authority issues. She¡ªI¡¯m sorry, they,¡± And Kaiser put special emphasis on that they, ¡°are capable of offending a dead stick.¡±

    There was a pause after this statement, as if Argon had his fuses blown for half a minute. Then Emile said, ¡°Please, kill him. I can forgive almost everything else if you¡¯ll just put him out of our misery.¡±

    ¡°Be silent. He may listen,¡± the Light Archon said.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m hoping for.¡± Em said.

    The whole time they¡¯d been speaking, Hawk had been aware of a backbuilding energy, a thrumming like the pulse of a forest that ebbed here, surged there a little more than it retreated. A growing sense of something coming. Now it finally broke open, as did a significant section of the green-and-gold pavilion in a blaze of green light. It was filled with the sense of growing things, of roots twining through soil, leaves spreading wide and aching for the sun, of floral ecstasy and of ungentle withering. This was a life that brought death in its pocket, as much poison as it was perfection.

    And then She stood beside Argon. It was She in the sense of an H. Rider Haggard story, a fierce and fearsome femininity, the sort that vacuums in heels and pearls. She had pearls around her neck, on her wrists, dripping from the folds of green silk and velvet adorning her person, and she wore a crown of pale leaves on hair that was the bright green of new plants. Her flesh was very pale, the skin of a white rose fresh from the bud. Her eyes were a deeper, more venomous green than the living emerald of her hair. It was more the color vegetation turns when it begins to die, just before the basic structures melt down. Her robes fell in panels of gold and green to the soft moss underfoot.

    She appeared behind Argon and the Archons, radiant and cool, and with a gesture forced roots out of the ground. They wrapped around each other to form a great mat of roots, each of them thick as Hawk¡¯s upper thigh. The leaves that raced across these roots were a vibrant green, and were every kind of leaf Hawk could recognize and then some. Philodendron leaves beside mint, oak leaves beside a pothos plant. The flowers that bloomed were earth varities, and some of them¡ªsmall white blossoms¡ªimmediately swelled and reddened into fruit, apples, strawberries, raspberries. Earth fruit she had not seen since her arrival.

    ¡°Bring my throne,¡± said the woman, tall and broad and definitely an Archetype. ¡°Your Goddess Nasheth has arrived.¡±

    ***

    There was a great squawk from the musicians as they struggled to swing from one of Argon¡¯s martial tunes to something more Nasheth¡¯s style. She held up a hand, and they silenced themselves entirely. Then she turned to her Archon. ¡°I will see these outsiders. Immediately.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be us,¡± Em said, getting up off the pile of pillows. ¡°Me, him, and him.¡± They pointed at Dyson and Kaiser. ¡°Just saved all of us a whole lot of posturing.¡±

    ¡°And took all the fun out of it,¡± Henry muttered, from the other side of Hawk.

    ¡°Hush,¡± said the Light Archon, desperately.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Nasheth said, in a different sort of voice. ¡°I recognize this bravado. Earth produces some of the best sorts, doesn¡¯t it?¡± And she at last crossed to her newly grown throne. ¡°And look who else surfaced. Hello, Kaiser. It¡¯s been quite some time.¡±

    ¡°Couple months for me,¡± he said, still standing. He was studying the new hole in the tent ceiling. ¡°Bet it¡¯s been a bit longer for you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± She kept smiling, and watching him with leaf-green eyes. There was a greatness to her gaze, but also something overripe. ¡°And you were right back then. This is the ticket to effective immortality. Thousands of years and counting. Our control population did very well too. The normal four-score-and-ten years per human, but they live robustly. My selections for Bittermoss School have paid off¡­and my breeding population is better than yours.¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t have my contacts back home now any more than you did then. And I know my Naomi¡ª¡±

    She raised a hand, and he cut off with a terrible choking sound. She gestured, and he was lifted off his feet, still choking. ¡°You don¡¯t understand, do you? I¡¯m as far beyond you and your little fiefdoms as an ant is from a mortal. And you are no more important to me than that.¡± She dropped him.

    ¡°Then why come here?¡± he choked out.

    ¡°Because you four are a novelty. Oh, yes, I said four. Don¡¯t think I¡¯m stupid. The Archon of Light¡¯s pretend successor. Child, you¡¯re several shades darker than our breeding programs permit at this point. I assume the two wayward children over there are more of your precious Ararat Project scientists. So who are you, my mystery maiden?¡±

    Hawk stood up with a shrug. Her game was over now. She felt the Earth Archon¡¯s angry glare at the back of her head. ¡°I¡¯m Doctor Haven Centered¡­¡± She paused, as sudden panic gathered in her throat. One game was done. That didn¡¯t mean she didn¡¯t have another game to play. ¡°Rayne,¡± she finished.

    Nasheth, Master of the Earth and God of fertility and death, glorious creature in her own right, looked at Hawk with disgust. ¡°Haven Centered What?¡±

    ¡°Rayne,¡± Hawk said, and spelled it. ¡°My preference is Hawk.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an improvement, certainly. Doctor of what? Medicine?¡± she said with fresh contempt.

    ¡°Ants.¡± Hawk said.

    Another long, slow look. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    ¡°Specifically, I have a doctorate in Entomology with a specialty in Myrmecology and a focus on varieties of Myrmecocystus. And to be less of a pretentious twit, that means I study bugs, specialize in ants, and focus on Honeypots because I think they¡¯re cool.¡± Deep breath. Time to try and get the Archon off the hook. ¡°I¡­fell off the Nexus. I guess the Archon found me. I woke up in his Temple, and decided that I¡¯d pose as some kind of penitent, maybe a wanna-be novice, until I got a better handle on what the hell this world even is. And things just¡­spiraled out of control.¡±

    ¡°Or you¡¯re covering for him, because rescuing an outsider and convincing her to pose as his acolyte is exactly what he tends to do.¡± Nasheth sounded tired in that moment, almost resigned. Then she waved a hand, which fortunately did not mean someone was about to get force-choked by magic-whatsis. ¡°Besides, you made it here, and you weren¡¯t in chains or tortured, which means you¡¯re smart and you know when to keep your mouth shut. I like people like you, Dr. Rayne.¡±

    Okay. Now she could take a risk. ¡°So¡­maybe I can ask a boon of your person?¡±

    Nasheth, who had been rubbing the bridge of her nose rather intently, stopped and looked down at Hawk in surprise. ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°There was a fourth member of our team. Alasdair West. He goes by Alex. He was supposed to be visiting Bittermoss when it vanished. That¡¯s why we¡¯re down here. There are six hundred families who want to know where their children are, the staff who were there and their families¡­and Alex. We¡¯re not coming to invade or take from you. We just want answers. Genealogy records. Something we can give the families as closure.¡±

    Nasheth was staring down at her now, her face almost hungry in its attention. ¡°You knew Alex West? You counted him as¡­what? Coworker? Friend?¡±

    Bingo. Hawk thought. And before anyone could say the fatal word wife, she said, ¡°Our team had only been together a couple of days. But he seems¡­seemed,¡± and it gutted her to say that out loud. It was the first admission of loss, the first domino in a shift in thought and life that she did not want at all. She forced herself to stay on the subject. ¡°He seemed like a good man.¡±

    ¡°Yes. He seemed the same to me. I allowed him to call his wife and say goodbye because of that. Tell me, do you know much about her? About Mrs. West? I would very much like to know this person. I crave this knowledge, in fact. Give it to me.¡±

 Thirty-Seven: The Questions without Answers

    Hawk¡¯s own mouth went dry. This was dancing on the edge of a volcano, and in the caldera here were Argon and Nasheth. She didn¡¯t trust her own voice, so instead merely shook her head and looked up at the impressive God, trying to radiate submission in every cell. ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t¡­¡± she finally managed, and watched the interest die in those intense, divine eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know her at all.¡±

    ¡°Pity,¡± Nasheth said. ¡°I would have wanted to give my condolences personally. Without Alex West¡­none of this would be here. He was our Archetype. He went inside the Prism¡ªWillingly, even enthusiastically, because he knew what would happen the way we did not.¡±

    Hawk remembered her last phone call with Alex. He¡¯d been terrified and desperate, both for escape that would not come¡­and to wish her goodbye. She knew in that moment that she was, indeed, speaking to the mastermind behind Alex¡¯s fate. And she couldn¡¯t let one ounce of hate, one iota of anger, escape her expression. She couldn¡¯t even clench her fists in protest. This woman had every reason to believe her lies were sacrosanct¡­and Hawk would betray it all if she dared correct her. ¡°What then?¡± Hawk said.

    Silence, and a growing expression of sorrow on Nasheth¡¯s face. ¡°Oh, Hawk, I am so sorry. Your friend did not survive his time in the Prism. We did, because he was there, but we felt ourselves dying. We lost twenty of the children to the Glass Energy because¡­well, our Archetype was dead. I guessed that some of us could assume his status by consumption. So we ate him, myself and three of the surviving staff, because we thought the burden of keeping our children alive might be survivable if we spread it across more people than just one.¡±

    ¡°One part for you, three parts for them, and a fifth part saved for Edgar Studdard, right?¡± Hawk had to focus on keeping her words light, or at least keep the growing heat in her chest out of her tone. Nasheth¡¯s words echoed through her head like a reverberating bell, We ate him. But she knew this game. It was one Alex had armed her against. This was deliberate provocation, to get her to expose just how much she cared. If she were Alex¡¯s friend, or more than his friend, she would have reacted to that phrase. We ate him. She had to keep it in. She had to swallow Nasheth¡¯s poison and hope it wasn¡¯t fatal.

    ¡°A bright interpretation of our Creation Myth,¡± Nasheth breathed, just loud enough to be heard only in the area around her throne. ¡°And a fairly accurate one.¡±

    ¡°You could give us the fifth piece.¡± Kaiser Willheim suddenly spoke. He crossed to Hawk and stepped in front of her. ¡°Give us something to take back to his family.¡±

    Horseshit, Hawk thought, and for the first time welcomed an expression in Nasheth¡¯s eyes¡ªthe goddess wasn¡¯t buying it either.

    ¡°Families are human things. I care not a whit for them. Are you surprised? Do you think I liked running a school? All those poor, poor parents you¡¯re so concerned about, do you know what they were like? The only thing that gave me any pleasure was imagining how they would react if they knew the school was experimental, that we were using their precious little spawn for something far nobler and grander than anything they could imagine. And West¡­the greatest pleasure I¡¯ve had in all my years was in destroying that man. Are you married, Dr. Rayne?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°Are you married? Do you have someone you love? No?¡± A smile so filled with hate it would have withered a redwood tree. ¡°Then you cannot imagine how great my pain is. My Edgar is gone. Oh, he survived his own trip in a Prism, but he did it alone. He had no one. Did you know that isolation is torture under the Geneva convention? And he was alone for millennia. Of course he came back mad.

    ¡°I told him what we were doing, and I told him to come find me when he was ready. When Alex died, and I realized that the Archetype state can be transferred between not just individuals, but multiple individuals¡­well, my hope all those years ago was that the fifth piece would be my husband¡¯s cure. But he never came.¡±

    The sorrow in those words was undeniable. Nasheth might be a lot of things, and Hawk rather suspected she¡¯d been a sociopathic leech long before her God-hood gave her a reasonable excuse, but she¡¯d loved Edgar Studdard, might still love him.

    Kaiser, perhaps rising to the defense of his old business partner, said, ¡°All due respect, ma¡¯am, you¡¯ve only been in this hole for a week.¡±

    She got a stricken look, as if he¡¯d hit her. ¡°One week? Seven days? You are telling me that all of this has only transpired across seven days?¡± and even Nasheth looked horrified.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Kaiser said, and then added, ¡°There hasn¡¯t even been enough time for the military to move in place. We got a general and a couple of soldiers and a handful of guns. And even if we had time to warn them, they won¡¯t have time to do shit about it.¡± And he was smiling.

    ¡°I hear the suggestion. But for one, the Temple of Light is still too far down for us to reach the God-World¡ªwhat you call Earth¡ªby aught but the crystal pylons, and even if we should climb, and avoid the high winds and the Shadowbeasts, there are six of those cancerous crystals for us to choose from. Unless we choose the right one at once, our first blow against the Nexus would summon the Shadowmaster himself.¡±

    ¡°And who is this ¡®Shadowmaster¡¯?¡± Kaiser asked. His eyes were glittering with greed.

    Nasheth smiled. ¡°He¡¯s the one who stole the last piece of Alex West.¡±

    ***

    Hawk had to sit down. Her knees seemed to come unstrung with Nasheth¡¯s last words. She knew in the back of her mind that the collapse she was moments away from would give the whole game away. She had to stand up for as long as she could. But her heart¡­oh, God, her heart was bleeding. To have her loved one reduced to dead matter, to be eaten and stolen by these¡­these ghouls, these monstrous creatures¡ªit might not be the truth. It probably was not. It didn¡¯t matter. Those words kept reverberating. ¡°He¡¯s the one who stole the last piece of Alex West.¡±

    And then she felt a hand slide around her waist. It was the Light Archon, who had come to stand beside her at some point. When her knees did give out at last, he caught her with that grip around her waist, and drew her to his side so that it looked like an embrace of reassurance, not a rescue.

    ¡°And tell me, Archon of Light, how this woman managed to deceive you so thoroughly.¡± Nasheth¡¯s voice was less than pleased.

    ¡°To the contrary, I knew she was lying, and that there was something quite special about her. I am an old man, My Lady, and growing older still by the day. I need an apprentice, and a desperate young woman with a lithe mind fell into my lap. I named her my heir honestly.¡± A pause, and Hawk was able to find her feet once more. The Archon let her go, and added, ¡°Not quite unlike how I was chosen by my predecessor, if you remember rightly. Did I know she was from the God-World? No. But I can teach her honesty. I cannot teach her subtlety of mind. She brought that as her gift to us both.¡± A pause, and something glinted in the Archon¡¯s masked eyes. ¡°Unless My Lady has decided to support the Green-Robe faction and erase the post of Archon of Light entirely. In which case I bow to your wisdom and¡ª¡±

    ¡°What foolishness is this you¡¯re spouting?¡± Nasheth said. ¡°I have not closed the Temple of Light and I will not. It will be ready when my husband does finally come at last. It will be soon.¡±

    ¡°As you have said, Mother,¡± Argon said, and raised his own glass to the sky. ¡°And now that you are here, we may continue to sanctify my altar.¡±