While Juny was dying and the House of Kaikobad was falling to ruin, the Sephiroth was speeding unseen over Bengal, swinging low enough at Rais’s request to give them a view of his waterlogged country. The city was flooded, the tops of cars visible as they trailed Vs through the muddy brown water like geese, now and then a brave soul with pants hitched up over his knees jumping across pieces of high ground. Schools, offices, banks, everything was closed, a typical holiday atmosphere reigning for the first few days of any natural disaster. In a week, money would run out, rice supplies in the house would grow scarce, and people would start to suffer. Right now, the rooftops were full of citizens watching the rain.
“I can’t reach the house,” Maria said. “I can’t get your mom.”
“Maybe the phone lines are down,” Rais said.
“I’ve got three bars and Internet,” Maria said. “Something’s happened. Even Butloo isn’t answering. We should stop and check.”
“We can’t,” Rais said after a moment. “I don’t know how long these guys can stay on point without fighting again.”
The dreadnought, coming up behind them, was carrying Givaras, Memmion, and the still weakened Kuriken. Beltrex, Elkran, and Davala were on the Sephiroth, ensconced in the bridge with Golgoras, ostensibly to keep him company, in reality ensuring that Matteras did not change his mind and attempt to take the ship. Matteras was in the rear of the airship by mutual consent, in one of the passenger cabins. Neither party seemed eager to interact, and it fell on Rais to carry messages between the two regarding mundane matters such as breakfast and dinner menus.
The weather became nastier. Rain and wind buffeted the airships. The radio had already informed them of mounting casualties, the entire coast wrecked, countless mangrove trees uprooted in the Sundarbans, and the eminent loss of power for large parts of the city. Rais had voiced his concerns to Matteras, but the djinn had just shrugged. He had stopped his devices. As far as he was concerned, this was just bad weather.
Bangladesh was only 147,500 square kilometers. They zipped across it in half a day, even at the dreadnought’s ponderous speed. The coastal areas were less pleasant. Many villages had been destroyed, the loss of life minimized only by the fact that this was not the first tango for any of these people; they took the hurricane signals seriously, they knew when to abandon their homes and which storm shelters to go to.
Over the bay, they found a steady patch of air above the clouds, and Rais understood Memmion’s plan. The Sublime Porte gently lowered altitude until it was hovering directly above the water. After some apparent fiddling around, the entire lower hull clicked open, and an aluminum cigar fell into the water, eventually settling into a half-submerged level. The hatch up top opened, and they could see Memmion standing on deck, waving at them.
“What the hell is that?” Roger asked, eyes bulging.
“It’s a full-spec Project 971 Shchuka-B first-gen Russian nuclear sub,” Golgoras said with obvious jealousy. “Russians called it the K-284 Akula. It was decommissioned in 2001, supposedly to save costs for the cash-strapped navy. Memmion somehow got his hands on it intact, weapons and all. He rebuilt the hull of the Sublime Porte to accommodate the entire sub as the lower deck. It’s powered by the OK-650 pressurized water reactor, as well as a steam turbine. Memmion retrofitted it to power the entire airship. It’s the only nuclear-powered airship in the RAS fleet.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Rais said. “I don’t suppose the Sephiroth has a sub attached?”
Golgoras gave him a dark look. “He’s got spell work over every inch of the outer shell,” he said. “The damn thing weighed over eight thousand tons without ballast. It was a hell of a job getting it airborne. Now it floats like a butterfly. Thing’s so spelled up it could probably fly around without the damn balloons.”
“What now?” Rais asked.
“We go down there using a rope ladder,” Golgoras said.
In his moment of crowning glory, Roger was given the key to the Sephiroth and sworn in as acting captain. Golgoras had suffered endless pangs of doubt over this, but the lure of seeing the wondrous gate to Gangaridai had proven too strong even for him. He had tested Roger relentlessly throughout the journey, and finally concluded that he could just about be trusted to fly the Sephiroth in a holding pattern above the bay, awaiting their signal.
The climb down was perilous, but Golgoras used his distortion to stabilize them, and eventually they were on the top deck of the Akula superstructure. The submarine was over a hundred feet in length and, once inside, loud enough that conversations had to be done at a half shout.
“Not as fancy as the American subs,” Golgoras said, as they walked single file to the conference room. “But more reliable. Nothing breaks down, and everything is easy to fix.”
The Akula was a legendary submarine. Once the flagship of Russia’s modern nuclear-powered fleet, it had caused shock waves throughout NATO when it first slipped moorage, due to the advanced design and armament. Even now, despite its age, the craft slid through the water like a predatory fish, a sleek, fast weapon enhanced by spell work so that it actually coasted in a small tunnel of distortion, undeniably stealthy.
It did not take them long to reach the ruins of Gangaridai, but the journey was tense, too many high-powered djinns in an enclosed shape, the peculiarities of the Ghul crew adding to the bubbling broth of irritation and disquiet. Their plan was simple: ram the submarine into the ruins, trusting that it could take whatever damage Bahamut’s wards could dish out. There was no calling ahead with Bahamut. Without Barabas, they were not certain of their welcome either.
This time around, the colossal squid did not come out. The Akula was possibly too big to tangle with. In fact there was nothing here, the ocean lifeless, eerie and still, as if they were gliding through primordial waters, and inside the sub, their instrumentation started to malfunction in peculiar ways, as if the latent distortion from Matteras’s device had subverted the rules of physics, and they could hardly gauge how fast they were going or in which direction.
And then they were stopped cold.
It was instantaneous, frictionless—an arrest so compelling that they were frozen in step inside the sub itself, and even Matteras staggered, dropping to one knee. Eyes blinked open like stars all around the Akula, staring at them in countless number, the weight of their power drilling into the sub. Bahamut was much bigger now. He had co-opted every single living thing in the bay, it seemed like.
“Now we know where all the fish went,” Givaras said with some amusement.
“Intruders!” Bahamut’s voice came in a susurration all around them, the rasping of a hundred thousand gills. “Die!”
Pressure alarms began to go off around the Akula as the Marid squeezed. Distortion fields went up in the cabin, throwing up sparks as each of the djinn instinctively shielded up, still moving in slow motion, every step an active fight against Bahamut’s stasis field. They all started yelling, unsure whether Bahamut could even hear them inside, as the metal skin of the Akula actually began to groan. Blaring alarms clanged heedlessly throughout the vessel, most worryingly from the reactor chamber, as the OK-650 began to indicate its extreme unhappiness.
“She’s going to blow!” Memmion shouted finally. “Turtle up, everyone!”
“What turtle up? What the fuck?” Rais asked.
“The failsafes don’t include being squeezed together by a million fucking fish!” Memmion said.
“Bahamut! It’s me!” Rais shouted. “Please stop!”
“Hume? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me!”
“Why are you attacking me?”
“We aren’t attacking, Bahamut. We’ve come to talk! Remember, I came with Barabas before? You sent us on a mission?”
“You cracked the pillar of Gangaridai,” Bahamut said. “I remember.”
“Yes, sorry, can you please, please stop squeezing? We have a nuclear reactor in here, and it’s minutes away from blowing up.”
The pressure lessened somewhat, and there was blessed silence. Rais started to breathe again.
“Where is Barabas, Hume? I cannot sense him.”
“He’s, er, busy,” Rais said. “We’ve been trying to negotiate with Matteras. You know, stopping the earthquake device?”
“The device has been disturbing me,” Bahamut said. “I do not like visitors, Hume. Why have you brought so many djinn here?”
“Bahamut, it’s me,” Memmion said. “Your old friend.”
“I have no friends.”
“Ah… it is I, Memmion. We were allies. Once we fought together, against the old enemy.”
“Memmion,” Bahamut said. “You have forsaken me. Why have you come to disturb me now? This ship is a weapon. Weapons are forbidden in the ruins. Why have you brought it here?”
“Weapons forbidden except for his,” Rais said softly.
“Look, Bahamut, we’ve got to talk,” Memmion said.
“Who have you brought with you?” Bahamut asked. “You are not welcome here. Who is that with you? Is that Givaras the Broken I see? Is he still alive?”
“Yes,” Memmion said.
“Too bad. I do not like him.”
“And Davala, Kuriken, Elkran, Beltrex, and Golgoras are here,” Memmion said. “Oh, and Matteras, of course.”
“He has come to gloat?” Bahamut roared. “Hume, I will set off the fractal bomb. I knew I should have done it earlier. You have wasted my time. We shall see now whose device is greater.”
“No, no, Grand Marid, he has not come to gloat,” Rais said. “We have come to parley. He has turned off his device. I have negotiated a truce with him and all these elder djinn. I thought you were all on the same side?”
“We fought a war together once,” Bahamut said. “It was probably a mistake. I would not do it again. I think I chose the wrong side.”
“Bahamut, stop this nonsense,” Givaras said. “We elders have gathered together at last. We have serious business to attend to.”
“Your business is normally disastrous for everyone else. So Matteras is here,” Bahamut said. “I take it you have learned the truth of the Great War, Matteras? It is a sordid little tale.”
“I’ve learned nothing,” Matteras said. “Other than some unlikely fable about the founders of Gangaridai and their precious High King.”
“When they left, I sealed the way back. The seal is weakening,” Bahamut said. “And your device has accelerated its demise.”
“I have halted the device,” Matteras said. “I want proof, Bahamut.”
“Show him the road, Bahamut,” Givaras said. “Let’s open it. I think it’s time to see what’s on the other side.”
“Open it? No, that would be foolish, Broken,” Bahamut said. “We must renew the seal. We cannot face what is on the other side.”
“It has been twenty thousand years, Bahamut,” Memmion said. “We are tired. How long must we contend with this? So many of us are gone, and the burden on the ones who remain grows heavier. Let us end it once and for all.”
“Time has not passed on the other side,” Bahamut said. “They are as strong as ever. Only we have gotten older.”
“That’s the point, you fucking brainless fish,” Mother Davala said. “We’ve got Matteras now. The pilot ain’t weak either. We’ve got numbers again, and these younger djinn are strong as hell. We’ve got modern armaments. Let’s bust that road open and lay siege to the First City one more time.”
“Ever bellicose Davala,” Bahamut said. “Barkan, do you support this course?”
“It is our war,” Beltrex said. “I suppose we have to face that at some point.”
“Elkran?”
“I always wanted to fight. I wanted to answer Kuriken the first time. You all held me back, made a coward of me. We should end this, Bahamut.”
“It will be us who will be ended,” Bahamut said. “I too am tired. If we few true djinn are the only ones left, well, I will defer to public opinion. Let the record show that I advised against this course.”
“Don’t be so defeatist. Last time we fought with swords and spears,” Memmion said with a rumble. “This time we’re going to open the gate and ram an eight-thousand-ton nuclear submarine down his throat. Let’s see the fucker Kartiryan dodge that.”
“Matteras? Do you support this course?” Bahamut asked.
“I care nothing for your so-called war,” Matteras said. “So far I’ve only heard words. If there is some secret city, I will see it. If there is something on the other side, I will kill it. Givaras the Broken could not stand against me, nor could Kuriken. You are all old and feeble, afraid of your own shadows. Let us put this myth to bed.”
“Prepare yourselves then,” Bahamut said. “And we will attempt to open the Charnel Road.”
Later, assembled before the pillar of Gangaridai, they prepared their torpedoes and armed themselves for war, the djinns wielding their old weapons, each one invested with so many spells that it glowed with ripples of distortion. Bahamut stood beside the Akula, his myriad bodies swimming in complicated patterns. Rais could see the seal with his glasses, layers and layers of constructs, impossibly dense, covering the entirety of the ancient monolith.
“You should see the Sphinx,” Davala said, unimpressed.
“Before we proceed, have you given thought to what awaits us on the other side?” Bahamut asked.
“If anything twitches, we liquefy it,” Givaras said. “Memmion, what human armaments does this craft possess?”
“We are currently armed with twelve nuclear warheads on S-10 Granat ballistic missiles, capable of hitting targets three thousand kilometers away,” Memmion said. “In addition to a full complement of conventional torpedoes.”
“And what is the efficacy of these twelve warheads?” Givaras asked.
“I believe it is enough to atomize Gangaridai once and for all,” Memmion said. “Regardless of Kartiryan’s power.”
“Got to give it to humans, they’ve come a long way from bows and arrows,” Beltrex said admiringly.
“I don’t think the planet would survive twelve nuclear detonations in one place,” Rais said.
“What would happen if we fired?” Givaras asked.
“The warheads are two hundred kilotons each,” Memmion said. “That would be a combined twenty-four hundred KT if detonated at a single target. The Fat Man bomb, detonated over Nagasaki, was only twenty-one kilotons. It would be hell on earth. The fireballs would be hotter than the sun, far hotter.”
“Such an explosion… might destroy everything,” Givaras said.
“Humans,” Matteras spat. “Shameful that you rely on their paltry weapons.”
“Matteras, these bombs are hideous. I don’t think even djinn could survive the explosions,” Memmion said.
“It’s ridiculous that we’ve permitted them to develop such powers,” Matteras said. “One more reason to prune them.”
“Well, they’re not very good at keeping them, eh?” Beltrex said. “Damn impressive, Memmion, walking out with twelve of them like that.”
“Thanks,” Memmion said. “I’ve actually got a few more stashed away.”
“Let’s open the gate, fire the nukes, and shut it again,” Davala said. “How hard is it? Let’s see the precious Horologists deal with it.”
“Satisfied, Bahamut?”
“It is possible that the rules of this universe break down across the gate,” Bahamut said. “Consider that your weapons might not work.”
“Matteras has the device,” Memmion said. “He can go get it. We’ll toss that in as well.”
“I can move it remotely,” Matteras said after a moment of consideration. “I will deploy it as required. Let’s get this seal open.”
“The seal was made with the blood of djinn, Nephilim, and man,” Bahamut said. “We will require the same to break it open.”
“It just so happens we have a djinn, a Nephilim, and a man,” Givaras said. “Well, a woman, but same thing.”
“What do you mean blood?” Maria asked. She was fiddling with her right wrist, where the Invisible Dagger of Five Strikes hovered beyond djinn sight.
“Just a few drops, I’m sure,” Givaras said.
“Actually, the whole amount would be better,” Bahamut said.
“Bahamut, come on, I’m your emissary for god’s sake,” Rais said. “In fact, I’m the only emissary in these parts. Who’re you going to send in to negotiate, huh?”
“All right, all right, a few drops then,” Bahamut said. “Cut yourselves, the seal will draw in the blood. It will take some time to unravel.”
Elkran, predictably, drew the short straw to bleed. By the time the seal unraveled, a full day had passed, and they were well tired of staring at the Escheric tessellations shift and turn. The djinns had dispersed, leaving Rais and Maria to keep watch, their hands throbbing—all except Matteras, who occupied his own part of the bridge and ignored them, staring obsessed at the construct.
When it opened finally, the monolith disappeared entirely, replaced by an eerie, silent black maw, where the rushing water slowed into droplets, misting away completely somewhere deeper inside, a place that seemed to swallow the field around it and give back nothing.
They spent another few hours staring into the gaping hole, sending in probing threads of power, all of them spiraling out as they entered, lines inexplicably lost in the midst of fishing a calm lake.
“Nothing’s coming out,” Givaras said finally. “We should go in. Have a look around.”
“What?! No!” Maria protested. “Why, Givaras? Let’s just lock it back up!”
“Come on, human, Bahamut has so kindly opened the way. It would be rude not to cross. It’s not every day you’ll get a chance to walk into a different universe.” Givaras smiled, his cracked face infused with a kind of unholy glee, and Rais could understand why they hated and feared him. It wasn’t evil he embodied, so much as a reckless disregard for anything permanent. This was not the nemesis of man or djinn, but rather the natural wrecker of safety. Curiosity ruled him. With an open door in front of him, no power on earth could have stopped him from crossing. It took only a few more hours of his cajoling before the other djinns gave in.
They flew the Akula in, trusting in the submarine’s spell work to keep them mobile. Bahamut waited outside, rebuilding the seal. If things went south, he would at least be able to lock the door.
It was frictionless inside, lightless. The Akula floated easily, its propellers moving now against waves of the field, shifting in alien patterns. There was, indeed, no time here, no directions either. None of their gauges worked, and the clocks ticked without purpose, measuring nothing. They positioned the submarine so that its tail end was anchored in the real world, a means of quick exit in case things went sour. Also, no one quite trusted Bahamut.
“There’s actually a road down there,” Golgoras said, his eye telescoping out. “Paved and everything.”
“An invitation,” Givaras said, “from the High King. Let us walk to Gangaridai, Memmion.” He turned to Matteras. “Are you convinced yet?”
“Of what?” Matteras asked. “I see only darkness.”
They centered the Akula over the road and drew lots. Givaras held the straws again, and it was the pilot’s turn to stay back, which he did with ill-concealed grace. No one ever played a game of chance against the Broken and won. Excitement gripped them now, a fevered anticipation, as it became clear that they would actually be setting foot on alien soil, on a road that existed beyond the surface of the known universe. Even Kuriken limped out of his cabin, swathed in old blankets, leaning heavily on Davala, a long staff in his hands, the aristocrat and the crone making an odd tableau. There was a strained truce between him and Matteras; they simply ignored each other.
They climbed down a short ladder, single file, the air acrid but breathable; a strange undulating wind buffeted them in waves, making the rope sway, yet Rais was not afraid of falling, for the pull of the ground seemed much weaker, as if gravity was only a halfhearted thing here, a mere suggestion. Indeed Matteras disdained the plodding descent, leaping down instead, his distortion field as efficacious as ever, and after that, several others followed, leaving the injured Kuriken to hobble down last.
“This place is not real,” Givaras said, as his feet touched the ground. “It’s a construct, a piece of mimicry. These forms are artificial.”
“A lot of power expended on it then,” Davala said. “Incredible amounts, to make every speck of dirt.”
It was pitch-black, but Givaras raised the Eye of Horus above his head, and there was electric-blue illumination for everyone. The road snaked out in front of them, and some distance away, crystal and airy, were the walls and towers of the fabled city, the pristine version stolen from earth by the Nephilim Kartiryan.
“Once again we lay siege to this damn city,” Memmion said with satisfaction.
“Incredible,” Beltrex said. “What a beauty. I regret that we destroyed such a jewel.”
“It was inevitable,” Givaras said. “What Kartiryan wanted was anathema to life itself.” He turned to Matteras. “Do you believe us now?”
Matteras was stunned silent, his face unguarded, chasing emotions of wonder and fear. This was the First City, the root of their history and culture, the very heart of djinndom, the cause of the only war djinnkind had ever fought. She sat like a precious gem, almost sparkling even at this great distance, and it was impossible to disregard her majesty.
“Why did you rebel, Givaras?” Matteras asked. “Was it just to break it open? Are you in truth the incarnation of your name?”
“Kartiryan wanted to reverse entropy. He could not imagine a better world, so he wanted to ossify us, like insects pinned in a display,” Givaras said. “He wanted to play god, to change the fundamental balance of our universe, not just for our world, but for everything that existed. What hubris. What false pride, to think that he could just legislate away suffering and want and conflict by changing the nature of reality. We would cease to be. There would be nothing after, no evolution for us, no change, no hope. Memmion understood that in his gut. He was the first to rebel.”
“Millions of years of boredom,” Memmion rumbled. “That’s what that pissant promised us.”
“Guys,” Rais said, “why is the city dark? Where are all the fountains and lights and fireworks? Where are the flying carpets?”
“More importantly, where are the sentinels?” Givaras asked. “Would the High King leave his precious city unguarded?”
“I guess we walk the road and find out,” Rais said.
“I will wait on the observation deck,” Golgoras said. “The submarine sensors do not work. If anything hostile comes up this road, I will have to manually signal the Ghuls to open fire. Good luck. If you cannot return within a day, signal with three green flashes of light. If no signal comes I will assume you are dead and leave. Memmion, if you die, I’m gonna take the dreadnought.”
“That’s just greedy.” Memmion looked disgusted. “It’ll take more than a dark road to kill me.”
They walked the road in a clump, Memmion in the lead, trailing his broadsword along the ground, the tip gouging a furrow, a pair of RPG launchers strapped around his back for good measure, followed closely by Givaras, who lit the way. Matteras brought up the rear, his field a solid brick wall protecting them. The road was springy, inconsistent with the natural firmness of paving stones, one more confusing detail adding to the sensory overload.
“Something ahead,” Memmion said, stopping. “Arm yourselves.”
Seven djinn dialed up their distortion fields, sparking the air with interference. They busted out weapons, a mix of the old and new: Beltrex pulling shotguns in each hand; Elkran with his long, sweeping katana, the edge invisible, only a diamond molecule thick; Davala with an oversize revolver and, peculiarly, an urn that reeked of the sea. She whispered into it, cosseted it like an old lover. Kuriken straightened at last and threw off his blankets. He wore white enamel armor beneath, dull, stained, a deep crack across the chest plate. His staff was tipped with a black spearhead, old and pitted, and he could hardly hold it straight. Even his field guttered on and off like a candle, giving him scant protection. Nonetheless, he limped to the front, claiming the role of champion, and the others parted for him, Memmion moving slightly to his left, to protect his off hand. It was a strangely touching gesture, an odd faith in the efficacy of the warrior, as if time robbed no one and it was unfathomable to them that Kuriken could fail.
Givaras merely smiled and raised the light higher.
They approached the sentinel with caution. It was a looming figure armed with scimitars, hulking forward, great helmet adorned with antlers—a warrior as large as Memmion, although possibly not quite as fat.
“He’s not moving,” Rais said, as they got closer. “Like not even trembling or anything.”
“Shield’s not up either,” Givaras said. “Is he even alive? Kuriken, just poke him a bit with your spear, will you?”
Kuriken gave him a disgusted look. The two parties faced off for a second, before he at last held his spear out gingerly and prodded the guardian.
“Stone,” Kuriken said. “He’s a damn statue. This place is a joke.”
“Just as well,” Givaras said. “Wouldn’t want you fighting a duel for the next three days.”
“It’s Thoth!” said Memmion, who had wandered up for a closer look. “Look, Kuriken!”
Kuriken also had a closer look, peering up under the great helmeted head. “Yes, it is. Master of the Hounds. Loyal till the end.”
“I don’t get it,” Memmion said. “Did they make a statue of him? Is this some kind of homage?”
“Hmm, I think it is actually Thoth,” Givaras said. “I’m getting a faint whiff of sentience underneath all of this stone. I think he’s been petrified.”
Maria, meanwhile, had walked slightly past the statue and was staring down the road, her wrist cocked, her face suddenly slack with fear. “Guys, look down.”
“What?” Memmion asked.
“Bodies,” Maria said. “Bodies everywhere.”
Givaras swung out his light and they stared in shock. The road was wide, and the bodies were stacked all across, women and children, men and djinn, families hunched together, mothers covering little ones, misers clutching jewels, a Ghul carrying wine—all jumbled together, piled up where they had fallen, no decay in this place, just the scything wounds, limbs scattered, eyes open, pools of black blood ankle-deep. These people were not stone.
“What the fuck?” Rais stared down the road. The light was enough to see: the dead lined the road all the way to the city walls, on and on, dunes of them, in numbers that beggared belief.
“The people of Gangaridai,” Givaras said after a long time. “They’re all dead.”
“So your old enemies are finally vanquished,” Matteras said. “Are you satisfied at last? Do you rejoice?”
“No,” Givaras said. “I feel… disturbed.”
“Murdered,” Kuriken said. “Not by our hand. Whose then?”
“They’re all facing us,” Rais said. “Their backs are to the city. They were running away. Look at them. They’re carrying bundles, food, drink. They were trying to escape the city.”
“He’s right,” Memmion said. “Running for the gate, looks like. They wanted out.”
“Kartiryan,” Givaras said. “They must have been fleeing the Horologists.”
“There is another possibility,” Matteras said. “This realm might have its own denizens, creatures not pleased with the intrusion of the city.”
“Look at the wounds,” Kuriken said. “This is not tooth and claw. These are edged weapons, very large ones. This is how one would butcher with a giant’s cleaver.”
“The city is dark, and all the people fled at some point and were cut down,” Davala said. “Kartiryan would die before despoiling his precious city or his people, so I suppose Matteras could be right. Horus, do you sense any life behind the walls?”
“I cannot be sure. The field here is confusing,” Givaras said. “There is something irregular in the city. Let us investigate.”
“I would not mind walking those walls again,” Memmion said.
“These bodies look fresh,” Davala said.
“There is no time here, or at least it doesn’t work the same way,” Givaras said. “This could have happened twenty thousand years ago or yesterday. The bodies will not decay. Kartiryan was afraid of entropy. Where we are… we must investigate the nature of this realm. We are somewhere deeper in the universe than we have been before.”
“We’re going back,” Matteras said. “This is foolish. There are what, a hundred thousand bodies here?”
“More,” Kuriken said quietly. “Double that number lived in the First City.”
“Something wiped out that number of djinn and Nephilim? Something took this city, which was supposed to be impregnable?” Matteras asked. “Where are we? If something harmful lives here, it knows about the gate. There’s a fucking road pointing to it.”
“So?” Memmion asked.
“Don’t you see? They know where we fucking live,” Matteras said. “Bahamut said something was weakening the seal from this side. What if it wasn’t Kartiryan? What if it is, instead, whatever the fucking thing is that took his fucking head? What if they want to come through into our side? We’ve got to go back and prepare.”
“He’s right,” Maria said. “You’re only seven djinn, and Kuriken can barely walk. Beltrex looks like a hundred years old—no offense, Beltrex—and Memmion could have a heart attack any minute if he starts swinging that sword. You’re wearing someone else’s legs, Givaras, for god’s sake. Are you seriously thinking you can fight off whatever army depopulated the entire city?”
“Matteras’s theory is not tested,” Givaras said. “I do not believe that Kartiryan would be killed off so easily by some mystery enemy whom we have never heard of. It is too convenient. I wish to check the city.”
“If he’s dead, we need to find his body,” Memmion said. “That fucker doesn’t die easy. Givaras is right.”
“None of you die easy,” Matteras said softly. “That’s the problem.”
“That is the First City!” Givaras said. “Somehow, the Horologists removed it from our world and brought it here. Those spells are still there. How can you not want to investigate?!”
“The city is only a ruin to me,” Matteras replied, and shrugged.
“It is everything to us,” Kuriken said. “Everything we are comes from that.”
“Let’s be practical, guys,” Maria said. “There are two miles of dead bodies between us and the walls. Do you really want to slog through that? Then what? What if the walls are barred, or defended. You couldn’t take the city with entire armies, Givaras. Why don’t we go back and get the sub?”
“That would be prudent,” Matteras said. “We are too exposed here.”
“All right, all right,” Memmion said. “We’ll get the Akula. And then we’ll blast down those damn walls with my torpedoes. Agreed?”
They reversed course and walked back, Matteras in the lead, this time much more cautious, and Memmion literally walking backward with his RPGs in hand. The sheer scale of the dead weighed on them. It was not to be a happy homecoming. They argued the whole way, Matteras and Maria to leave, Givaras and Memmion to remain, the rest strung out in the middle.
Golgoras saw them and flung down the rope ladder, whereupon Matteras turned around and struck them with a concussive blast that rolled them over, something so powerful that it actually caused the road to buckle and reverberate like an elastic band.
Rais watched in stunned bemusement as Matteras leaped into the air, one arm around Maria, carrying her like a sack of meat. He landed on the upper deck, colliding with Golgoras, all three of them sent sprawling by the impact. The pilot got up first, his field contracted into a shimmering blue sphere, tusks bared. Rais saw him lunge at Matteras. The two djinn clashed, a full-throttle shoving match, resulting in a stalemate where the pilot proved he was almost as strong as Matteras.
Maria popped up, flicked her wrist in the motion Rais had seen her practice countless times. But it was Golgoras she hit, deliberately, in the back. Golgoras went stiff and then fell to his knees, his spherical shield shredded, dissipating into blue wisps. Five rents appeared on his back, welling dark blood.
“The ship is mine!” Matteras shouted down, holding the pilot’s head in a vise grip.
Almost in response to his statement, the Akula repositioned itself slightly, and the front torpedo tubes opened, signaling a willingness to fire.
“What the fuck?” Memmion roared, clutching his RPG launchers with helpless rage.
“Your Ghuls have broken contract,” Matteras said. “As I stated earlier, we will be going back. Without the rest of you, I’m afraid. Feel free to continue exploring this realm…”
“Maria!” Rais shouted. “What are you doing?”
“She has quite sensibly realized that the door must be shut permanently,” Matteras said.
“I’m sorry, Rais,” she said. “We can’t take a chance. They’d never resist coming here again and again…”
“And Golgoras?” Givaras asked.
“A necessary sacrifice,” Matteras said. “Don’t look shocked. How do you think Bahamut sealed the gate in the first place?”
“Maria!” Rais shouted again.
“She chose me, emissary,” Matteras said. “I always win.”
The Akula backed out of the rent and hovered in front of the gaping maw, weapons trained into it. Matteras sat in a bubble on the upper deck, spell work flying from his hands, accreting around Golgoras’s spread-eagled body, floating in the center of the gate, leaking blood from wounds physical and psychic, at the literal halfway point between two realities. Matteras knit the seal back together, incorporating his own talent into Bahamut’s ancient design, using the remnants of the old magic, tying them into Golgoras’s living body.
For a while, the giant school of fish watched over his shoulder in silence. When he was at last done, Bahamut spoke.
“What has transpired, Matteras?”
“Dead, the entire road is a mausoleum,” Matteras said. He was stuck fast in stasis, this time so strongly that it was an effort to turn his head, to speak. “Did you know, I wonder, when you called it the Bone Road? The city is there, but I doubt anyone still lives. Two hundred thousand dead, by Kuriken’s estimate. Something else rules that realm, something not too pleased with the intrusion.”
“And where is my emissary? Givaras? The rest of the elder djinn?”
“We had a difference of opinion,” Matteras said. “They chose to stay there.”
“I trust this choice was entirely voluntary?”
“You may have the sworn affidavit of the human witness,” Matteras said. “She was their companion. She will testify to everything. Her word will suffice for any court.”
“Ah, you have brought a witness then,” Bahamut said. “Very wise.”
“Bahamut, whatever monster lives in that place, whatever dread army wiped out the citizenry of Gangaridai, it is not friendly,” Matteras said. “That thing knows about the gate, it will want to come here. Let Givaras fight it off. Let them all kill each other, so much the better for us.”
“And Golgoras? I notice that he is still alive inside the gate. I suppose he also volunteered to be thus interred.”
“That was born of necessity,” Matteras said. “The seal you built was too weak. You only used blood. I’m using an entire living djinn. It is much stronger now. He attacked me, Bahamut. I never touched him. The human Maria stabbed him with that pernicious weapon, the Invisible Dagger of Five Strikes. You will find those wounds on him even now. The weapon, I believe, was a gift to Kaikobad from you. Ironic, then, the base use it has come to… Still, he lives. I have put him in a coma. He does not suffer. I daresay he is much more useful like this than flying around in a balloon all day.”
“Hmm, yes, you are good at inducing comas. I believe I will question this Hume,” Bahamut said. “You will give her to me, Matteras.”
“I regret I cannot,” Matteras said. “She is my newest emissary. A battlefield promotion. In light of her sterling service, defending me from the crazed pilot.”
“I see,” Bahamut said. “You appear to have a surfeit of emissaries, while I have none. This is the second one you have cost me, Matteras.”
“It is not my fault you are careless.”
“Careless, yes,” Bahamut said. “I have secured your device, Matteras, while you were in the other realm. It is most ingenious. I trust you will not be requiring it any further. Nor will you make another, I suppose?”
“Of course, keep it as a gift,” Matteras said. “It is paramount that we protect this gate and ensure nothing crosses over. That’s all that matters now. I believe we are agreed on that point.”
“We are.”
“In that case, I will desist from the depopulation of Bengal.”
“I like this submarine. The Akula, you call it? I will keep it, I think,” Bahamut said. “I have neglected the surface world for far too long. It is time I walked the earth once again.”
“Certainly,” Matteras said. “And am I supposed to swim out from the bay?”
“I will escort you to the surface. You and your emissary may take the lifeboat. Be sure to return it after you are done,” Bahamut said.
“You will keep an eye on the gate, won’t you?”
“As I have for the past twenty thousand years.”
“And we keep this a secret between us?”
“For now, yes,” Bahamut said. “Unless you wish for this to become a tourist destination.”
“And the… truths revealed by Givaras?” Matteras asked.
“You are djinn,” Bahamut said. “Does it matter if he put a few strands of Nephilim into all of you? Is your power any less? You cannot be of this world, Matteras, and disdain all of it at the same time. You must accept that we are all part of it together.”
“Were it to become common knowledge, it would end the Creationist Party,” Matteras said.
“Then I suggest you calm Hazard and his ilk down and allow them to retreat to their more natural state of muttering under rocks,” Bahamut said. “I have no interest in the Creationists, as long as they do not attempt to infect the rest of the… body politic. They are too noisy, this new breed of djinn you have gathered around you. Seclusion was agreed on for a reason, Matteras. As you know now, we have greater problems than Hume real estate.”
“Problems? That is an understatement,” Matteras said. “We must prepare for the day something strange comes out of that gate. It will not be friendly.”
“I agree,” Bahamut said. “Good work on the seal. I have tried many designs over the years. Your use of Golgoras as a power source was ingenious, if unfortunate.”
“For him,” Matteras said. He grimaced. “It will not hold forever. No seal does.”
“Especially if Givaras is on the other side picking at it,” Bahamut said. “Hopefully there is enough else to occupy him.”
“That was the idea,” Matteras said.
“He was always like that,” Bahamut said. “Give him a puzzle and he will spend a hundred years trying to take it apart. I do not agree with your methods, Matteras, but perhaps the world is safer without all of them.”
“Then we are done here. I am ready to get out of this godforsaken bay, Bahamut. Take us up.”
“With pleasure,” Bahamut said. “Oh, and Matteras? Since you have a new emissary, I wonder if you would return my old one.”
“Dargoman?”
“I would… remind him that he once swore an oath to me.”
Matteras shrugged. “Have him, by all means. As you say, I have already found a replacement.”
They were camped around Thoth, watching the gate seal slowly around the inert Golgoras.
“Beautiful spell work,” Givaras said. “I always said that boy was a prodigy.”
“Your boy has fucking stranded us here!” Memmion said. “And stolen my ship!”
“Never mind,” Givaras said. “The city is before us. We get Gangaridai. They can have the world. He’s given us the opportunity to explore this realm at our leisure, on our terms. I think that is a grave error on his part.”
“And this unknown killer of djinn?” Kuriken asked.
Givaras looked around. “We few brought Gangaridai to her knees. Can you not feel your old potency returning? We are in a place that is made of pure energy, I suspect. We are more powerful here than we ever were before. We are not townsmen, to be slaughtered while we flee. We will hunt this killer, Kuriken. And we will find Kartiryan and wring some answers from that sorcerer.”
They were silent for a moment as they flexed their distortion, searching for this potency.
“I can’t believe Maria betrayed us,” Rais said finally, voicing what was really eating at him.
“There are people, Rais, who embrace the unknown,” Givaras said. “Other people lock the door. She opted for security. She is not as adventurous as you, I think. Cheer up. You are the only emissary in this realm. Imagine the auctoritas you have accrued.”
An amorphous cloud was forming below Thoth’s head, a concentration of energy that had so far escaped their notice.
“That’s not quite true,” the cloud said. “I’m the emissary Kaikobad. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Abdul! Abdul! Come here, you moron!”
GU Sikkim was hobbling over the ruins of the old house, feeling elated despite the twinge in his hip and the bruised toe he had suffered when the roof had collapsed. He was free! The fat traitor Pappo had run away; he had seen him hightailing it out of the burning building. Abdul, shocked by this calamity, was once again responding to his commands. The world was right again!
“Did Madame Juny get away outside, Abdul?” he asked.
“No, sir, she was inside when the… the giant worm attacked,” Abdul said.
“Right, the giant worm,” GU Sikkim said with awful sarcasm, even though he had seen the worm with his own eyes, seen it devour the djinn Barabas. Good riddance to all of them! Still, no one wanted stories of giant worms being bandied about a Khan Rahman residence.
He searched the living room where the worm had fought; everything was charred and wrecked. He could make out bloodstains here and there, the abandoned silver tray of that ridiculous butler, an emptied shotgun, but no bodies—not worm, nor human, nor djinn. But then he found the safe, which was still intact, filled with all the land deeds and the other papers of the trust, the checkbooks for the accounts, the memorandums, and the detailed ledgers meticulously updated by Juny, and his heart raced as he stuffed everything into a bag. This was enough to take back power, it was everything. Juny had actually managed to increase their net worth!
“We’re leaving, Abdul!” GU Sikkim said. The police and the firemen would come in soon and start looting the place. “Let’s go! Carry this bag, you oaf.”
On the way out his foot brushed against something clammy. He looked down and found an ancient, cracked urn, stoppered loosely, giving off a whiff of the sea. It looked valuable in an antique kind of way, no doubt one of Juny’s fancy pieces. He’d gift it to his wife! She was always saying he had crass taste. He stooped down, grabbed it, and walked out of the wreckage of Kaikobad’s house.