Chapter 52

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Dynan caught up to his brothers at a junction of halls. The left way led out of the sanctuary and he saw two dead monks, slumped by the door. “I’m calling you Dain Ardin from now on,” he said to the one who came from Carryn. His response to that was a typical groan of complaint.

“Ardin? I hate that name.”

“Tough. Which way?”

“We follow this corridor to the next hall, take a left and then another left further down.”

Dynan nodded and they moved together, half running, though none of them were in any shape for extended exertion. Dynan wondered what they would be facing, unsure of his ability to stay on his feet. He was still shaking, a sure sign that physical endurance was near its end.

A scream echoed down the hall, freezing them in place for a second. Dynan followed the sound, moving down the hall to the next corridor. He saw a man being swallowed by a giant worm. He stopped his brothers from coming closer when the worm blinked at him as it swallowed. With startling speed, it bunched and lurched toward him. He glanced at his brothers, who had pulled out of sight and he stepped straight back until a closed door stopped him, hoping to draw the thing to him. “Don’t miss, all right?” he whispered.

“We won’t.”

“Now!”

They struck, slashing swords down as the head propelled toward him. There seemed thousands of teeth in the mouth of this thing, and its eyes were black. The head jerked one direction while the body writhed, severed on the floor. Dynan saw that it wasn’t stopping, dead or not. Momentum carried it into him, slamming him back into the door and knocking the air from his body.

Dain reached for him, hauling him out from under the severed head while the worm flopped crazily, twisting for what seemed a long time before it finally subsided. They moved, climbing over twisted coils that still quivered.

“The Gateway is open,” Dain Ardin whispered, pressing up against the wall at the next corner. “As long as it is, these things will keep coming.”

“How do we close it?”

“I don’t know, but we have to go in and get Marc out first.”

Dynan peered around the corner his brother stood at. Sight ended in a wall of black that crept toward them. “Into that?”

Dain Ardin nodded, and Dynan saw that he was afraid. “Just inside it, there’s a hallway on the left. Down a little way there’s a room on the right. That’s where they keep the orbs. Touch one and you’re theirs, so don’t. I think you should stay here.”

Dain nodded in agreement, but Dynan shook his head. “We go together or we don’t go at all.”

They looked at each other, frowning at the idea, but they relented when Dynan refused to listen, and started down the corridor. They stopped at the first fringes of darkness, trying to see inside. “We go first,” Dain said. “You follow and get Marc out. We’ll keep the creepy crawlies off you. In and out. Quick.”

Dynan smiled for a second at the reference, and nodded. They moved forward while he hung back a step. As they touched the edge of blackness an abrupt, earsplitting crack erupted around them, tossing them back behind him. Even as Dynan turned for them, something snaked out, wrapped around his leg and jerked him off his feet. An instant later, it pulled him in.

“So easy,” Logue said, smiling at Marc in the dim light cast by the orbs. They were arranged in a semi-circle around the small room, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. The one Marc wore around his neck seemed suddenly to weigh him down, making movement difficult. He knew then the depth of his mistake. He saw easily enough that Maralt wasn’t with Logue, and this was meant as a trap.

He’d walked right into it.

Still, he didn’t understand how his presence here could assist them, but fear chased him when he felt the floor shaking. Suddenly there seemed to be other things in the room with him, visible on the edge of sight. Hissing creatures that joined a sighing whisper he could only just hear.

Logue laughed at him, easing by him. Marc meant to reach for him, but his arms were leaden and he moved too slowly. “Have fun, my Lord Chancellor. I’ll see you on the other side of Hell.”

He melted from sight. Again, Marc meant to follow but he couldn’t move. Pain threaded up his legs when he tried. The whispers grew until he could understand them. They were calling him.

Something brushed past his arm, but he couldn’t see it, only felt a sudden compelling attraction to it. Part of him seemed to split, one side horrified and the other wanting more. He knew then that he wouldn’t be able to resist them. They knew his fears, promising him life, beckoning him. He wouldn’t have to die. They would raise him up to be a King, worshiped for all eternity.

A dizzying sickness rose, as hands pulled at him, divergent in his mind. On one side night reigned, on the other light and life, and he couldn’t tell which was evil or good. Both strove to overcome him, trapping him in between. Something moved inside him, squeezing out life in rhythm to the pumping lights. Pain or purest pleasure, he couldn’t tell which, coursed through him, ripping him apart. A voice spoke in his mind.

“Come to me,” it said and Marc knew it. He’d heard it before, whispering over the hills of the Beren Mansion. “Come to me, my son. Take my hand.”

He looked up and into the eyes of the demon, Beliel, not hidden or cloaked, but as he was, a hideous beast. Blood red eyes bore into him, tongue licking a twisted mouth and roving over jagged teeth.

“I will take you, willing or not. Accept me, and I will give you eternity and everlasting power. Come to me.”

The compulsion to do what it wanted was overwhelming, but coupled with sickening dread. Marc saw what had been done to him then, and fear pounded through him. The demon strode toward him, its clawed hand reaching to take him.