‘Spiders?’ the captain said.
They came in their thousands from every part of the jungle, a wave of scurrying blackness that hit the captain with the force of a breaker. Church hung onto the lip of the hole for a split second, watching in horror as the spiders reduced the captain to nothing. Wherever their tiny, ripping mandibles touched, strips of blackness appeared across his body; looking into them was like staring into the depths of space. And then, in a whisper, he was gone.
The other two soldiers were firing and screaming. Church thrust Gabe into the hole and piled in on top of him, and then they were scrabbling for their lives along the suffocating tunnel. Soil rained down on Church as he dragged himself forward, filling his mouth and eyes. The roughly dug tunnel was close to collapse. It was like crawling through a sauna, and the claustrophobia pressed down hard.
Gabe was whimpering. ‘Are they coming? How close? How close?’
Church tried to reassure him, but it was pointless. They both knew that if the spiders were flooding into the hole behind them, they would not be able to crawl fast enough to escape.
They rolled into a small room shored up with planks. A table and radio equipment sat to one side and two further tunnels led off from it. In a desperate panic, Gabe threw himself into one randomly. Church followed, aware they were now in danger of getting lost in the extensive tunnel network.
They crawled for five more minutes, and then Gabe suddenly cried out insistently, his voice quickly growing muffled. Before Church could ask what was wrong, he was assailed by a wave of undulating, greasy fur. Rats by the score forced their way past him, sharp claws tearing the flesh of his hands, tails lashing his face as they wriggled into any space to get past him, pressing tight against his head and face, forcing their way through the small gap between his back and the tunnel roof.
When they had finally passed and his queasy, primal fear had subsided, Church wondered what had driven the rats away.
Another room lay just ahead, with several others leading off it. Gabe was shaking and Church put an arm around his shoulders to comfort him.
‘Are they gone?’ Gabe brushed imaginary spiders from his arms.
‘The fact they’re here shows we’re exactly where we should be,’ Church said. ‘You sure you’re up to going on? It could get worse.’
‘Worse?’ Gabe laughed hollowly. ‘Yes. ’Course.’ The thought of Marcy drove Gabe on. Church wondered sadly how Gabe would cope when he discovered the inevitable.
In the next room they discovered the engineer’s body. The random brutality of the slaughter suggested the trademark of the Libertarian. In the room beyond, there were more signs of the ruins that lay a few feet above their heads. Someone had been excavating. Intricately carved columns had been uncovered, twisted faces and curling snakes hinting at ancient belief systems. Between the columns was a flat stone wall.
‘Now what?’ Gabe said.
Church stared at the blank wall. Amidst all the detailed carvings, it appeared out of place. As his adrenalin buzz subsided, he became aware of another sensation, out of place in the dank, oppressive tunnels: the electricity that was an unmistakable sign of the Blue Fire. He narrowed his eyes and focused intently. Gradually thin tracings of blue fell into relief on the floor and walls that reminded him of the first time he recalled seeing the effect at Boskawen-Un. The lines of power became stronger, converging on the blank wall at a point in the centre where they formed a continually revolving circle. Church pressed his hand into the centre of the circle. He felt the fire crackle around his fingers, almost a greeting. Instantly there was a shaking in the earth and more streams of soil fell from the ceiling. With a judder the wall pulled itself apart to reveal another tunnel behind, big enough to walk along upright. Gabe gave Church an uncertain look and then they both entered. The wall closed behind them with a worrying note of finality.
27
The air smelled of burned iron, but it had the invigorating quality of the seaside or a mountaintop. The tunnel sloped gently downwards. Instead of the absolute dark Church and Gabe had anticipated, they were surprised to discover a soft blue radiance leaking up from somewhere ahead.
After a while they could hear echoing voices. The light grew brighter, then brighter still until the tunnel opened onto a vista that took their breath away.
A cavern large enough to contain St Paul’s Cathedral stretched ahead of them, and through it ran a river of Blue Fire as wide as the Amazon. The flames rose and splashed and undulated like a liquid, the light so bright after the darkness it made their eyes burn. They felt like children on Christmas morning.
Within the depths of the blazing river, a dark shape moved. It broke the surface showering droplets of fire, its head soaring up twenty feet or more. The Fabulous Beast was majestic, its scales shimmering in the firelight, its wings folded across its serpentine back. Church and Gabe were overcome by wonder.
This wasn’t the same Fabulous Beast that had communicated with Church beneath Boskawen-Un. It was more distant and alien, yet just as affecting.
‘Look.’ Gabe pointed into the river around the Fabulous Beast. Smaller shapes swam, and as they sinuously rose and fell, Church could see they were tiny Fabulous Beasts, still only partly formed. He considered the abundance of young and said in hushed tones, This must be the source. This is where they’re birthed into our world.’
The mesmerising awe gave way to a harder reality when Church became aware of voices echoing up to the rocky roof of the cavern. Leading away from the tunnel down which they had walked, a thin path ran along the edge of the Blue Fire. They crept along it until they came to a smaller adjoining cavern containing more of the mysterious ruins, though these buildings were much more complete. Church recognised hints of Mayan and Incan architecture in a stepped pyramid and long arcades, but there were also echoes of the jungle temple complex of Angkor Wat, and ancient Egyptian styling coupled with the megalithic culture of Western Europe.
The ruins swarmed with spiders, some tiny, some as big as horses. Gabe chewed the back of his hand until blood rose up.
Around the nearest building stood a small group of people. The Libertarian was in the middle of what appeared to be an argument with Veitch. A metal chest lay between his feet. Etain stood nearby, half her face burned black from where Church had thrown her into the TV set in the Haight. Tannis, Owein and Branwen waited by her like statues. Salazar stood further back, the spiders running all over him and through him, making it difficult to separate one from the other.
‘The whole sick crew in one place,’ Church whispered.
‘Where’s Marcy?’ Gabe said.
Church shook his head. There was no easy answer to that question.
‘I can’t decide whether I question your loyalty, your sanity or your intelligence,’ the Libertarian was saying superciliously to Veitch.
Veitch levelled a murderous stare at him. ‘Without me — us — you can’t do anything with the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. You’re like some bloke who can’t get it up after a night on the beer.’
‘I wouldn’t presume to understand your analogy. Suffice it to say you have done a remarkable job eliminating many of the novices, including those who don’t even yet know they serve Existence. Yet you have had no success whatsoever with the most immediate threat.’ The Libertarian opened the chest and took out the Extinction Shears. They appeared to radiate no light, yet a white glow mysteriously washed over those present. ‘You are, of course, aware that your usefulness is coming to an end? Your unique relationship with the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons has allowed you to strike at them, but as we move closer to the Source and the strength of Anti-Life increases, that sport will be open to us all. And what then for you? Perhaps I could use a valet?’