we’re keeping alive will disintegrate, and the whole country will slide—”
Fol waved a hand. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. I’m not talking about a mere descent into anarchy. Empires rise and fall, civilisation comes and goes; such is the way of mortals. I’d never be concerned with natural order.” He stood slowly and leaned over the table. “I’m afraid that none of you, for all your threats and concern for your friends, are anywhere near scared enough. If you had known before now what the stakes really were, you’d have had me against the wall with a gun in my mouth the moment you laid eyes on me.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Lucian growled. “We said no more gab. Get to the bloody point!”
“It’s not something that I can just explain. To really understand, I’ll have to show you.” With that, he gestured for them to rise, nodding to the crest of the pendulum upon the table. “Come closer and put your hands here.”
Norman had no intention of moving. All this reeked of some gigantic waste of time; a red herring leading down some cosmic avenue of freakery, one that would leave everyone back home to die.
Billy stood without a word, stepped lightly over to the desk, and with a glance of contempt in Fol’s direction, laid her hand on the crest. The brass glyph dwarfed her, making her rosy fingers seem so very tiny and delicate.
She asked me to trust her. But can I really trust the fate of us all to some mystic trip?
Norman had no idea what he believed until he found himself standing to join Billy by the desk. He glanced at her, and any doubt ebbed under her long-suffering stare. He gave her a wink and turned to the others.
He wasn’t going to force them. He had chosen, but he wasn’t going to force this on them. If they were going in pursuit of insanity, they all had to jump together, or they wouldn’t go.
Robert was first to stand, a blazing look of mixed warning and gratitude emanating from his rounded head.
Norman knew what that meant: if they succeeded, it would be Norman who had led them to victory; but if they failed… it would be Sarah’s blood on his hands.
No, that won’t happen. We won’t let it.
Still, the mental images flashed before his eyes, an unending cascade: bullets, running feet, the quaint cobbles of New Canterbury splashed with blood.
Richard came next, shaking his head. Every step of the way, he muttered, “This is mental. Mental.”
Everyone, Fol included, waited for Lucian to make his choice. He glowered at the ground when he finally rose, not meeting a single eye until his hairy digits slapped down onto the crest, then locked onto Fol. “Like the boy said,” he glowered, “if this is a trick, you die.”
Fol gave a small bow, his stony look having once again blossomed into a light-hearted, almost facetious grin. “Understood. Now, shall we?”
The next moment, the cavern was gone, and Norman almost screamed for darkness rushed in on all sides, and he was flying. He endured a nauseating sensation of falling, but in no direction his internal compass could parse; some other flavour of sideways that boggled the mind. A brief instant of pain followed as the chill in his chest rushed out, pain and cold so intense he felt he might shatter, and then his entire body folded up through impossible angles like an origami swan.
Then darkness again, and the other five were before him again. They all hovered amidst nothing. Just nothing. At first he thought a black canvas had replaced the world. Then he looked down what seemed a hundred feet at least, and he saw them.
Them .
His heart stopped. The sight was a horror to outstrip all others, but it wasn’t the sheer oddity of what he was seeing: it was that he had seen it before with Billy. In his dreams.
“Oh my God,” Richard said, his voice infantile and on the verge of tears.
There are so many of them. So many…
The floor of the strange other place undulated in constant motion, its colour a rusted
Fol waved a hand. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. I’m not talking about a mere descent into anarchy. Empires rise and fall, civilisation comes and goes; such is the way of mortals. I’d never be concerned with natural order.” He stood slowly and leaned over the table. “I’m afraid that none of you, for all your threats and concern for your friends, are anywhere near scared enough. If you had known before now what the stakes really were, you’d have had me against the wall with a gun in my mouth the moment you laid eyes on me.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Lucian growled. “We said no more gab. Get to the bloody point!”
“It’s not something that I can just explain. To really understand, I’ll have to show you.” With that, he gestured for them to rise, nodding to the crest of the pendulum upon the table. “Come closer and put your hands here.”
Norman had no intention of moving. All this reeked of some gigantic waste of time; a red herring leading down some cosmic avenue of freakery, one that would leave everyone back home to die.
Billy stood without a word, stepped lightly over to the desk, and with a glance of contempt in Fol’s direction, laid her hand on the crest. The brass glyph dwarfed her, making her rosy fingers seem so very tiny and delicate.
She asked me to trust her. But can I really trust the fate of us all to some mystic trip?
Norman had no idea what he believed until he found himself standing to join Billy by the desk. He glanced at her, and any doubt ebbed under her long-suffering stare. He gave her a wink and turned to the others.
He wasn’t going to force them. He had chosen, but he wasn’t going to force this on them. If they were going in pursuit of insanity, they all had to jump together, or they wouldn’t go.
Robert was first to stand, a blazing look of mixed warning and gratitude emanating from his rounded head.
Norman knew what that meant: if they succeeded, it would be Norman who had led them to victory; but if they failed… it would be Sarah’s blood on his hands.
No, that won’t happen. We won’t let it.
Still, the mental images flashed before his eyes, an unending cascade: bullets, running feet, the quaint cobbles of New Canterbury splashed with blood.
Richard came next, shaking his head. Every step of the way, he muttered, “This is mental. Mental.”
Everyone, Fol included, waited for Lucian to make his choice. He glowered at the ground when he finally rose, not meeting a single eye until his hairy digits slapped down onto the crest, then locked onto Fol. “Like the boy said,” he glowered, “if this is a trick, you die.”
Fol gave a small bow, his stony look having once again blossomed into a light-hearted, almost facetious grin. “Understood. Now, shall we?”
The next moment, the cavern was gone, and Norman almost screamed for darkness rushed in on all sides, and he was flying. He endured a nauseating sensation of falling, but in no direction his internal compass could parse; some other flavour of sideways that boggled the mind. A brief instant of pain followed as the chill in his chest rushed out, pain and cold so intense he felt he might shatter, and then his entire body folded up through impossible angles like an origami swan.
Then darkness again, and the other five were before him again. They all hovered amidst nothing. Just nothing. At first he thought a black canvas had replaced the world. Then he looked down what seemed a hundred feet at least, and he saw them.
Them .
His heart stopped. The sight was a horror to outstrip all others, but it wasn’t the sheer oddity of what he was seeing: it was that he had seen it before with Billy. In his dreams.
“Oh my God,” Richard said, his voice infantile and on the verge of tears.
There are so many of them. So many…
The floor of the strange other place undulated in constant motion, its colour a rusted
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