Volumes 9 and 10 - Dark Calling/Hell’s Heroes

“Who – or what – the hell are you?” I snap.

“Those who know us give us many names,” Art says. “Your people called us the Old Creatures.”

“Beranabus told me about them. He…” That reminds me of the ancient mage’s death and the danger the others face. “We have to go back!” I cry. “You’ve got to take me home, so I can –”

“That won’t happen,” Art says firmly. “Purge yourself of the notion. We have come far from your world. As skilled as you are at manipulating the strings of the universe, you cannot find your way back alone. You must see this journey through to its end.”

“What sort of an end?” I hiss. “Where are you taking me? And if you’re not specific this time, forget it—I’m not going to wander aimlessly through the universe with you. I’d rather stay here with the slugs.”

“Very well,” Art says. “We are travelling to the birthplace of all things, where time and space began. We call it the Crux. And it lies at the centre of both this universe and the Demonata’s.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I complain.

“Don’t worry,” Art smiles smugly. “By the end it will.”

UNDER THE SEA (#ulink_915ea23e-4e06-57f6-b94e-59fc37bc600d)

→I try thinking of a way to outwit the Old Creature. While I might not be able to open a window back to Earth, I’m sure I can open one to the demon universe and return home from there. But Art reads my mind and chuckles.

“I will not permit it.”

“You can’t stop me,” I retort.

“Actually I can. I have the power to tear apart any window that you create, and I can do it before the window opens. If necessary, we can stay here for decades and duel with one another, but I would not recommend it. You would lose.”

I start work on a window, to test him, but Art’s smug expression stops me. He’s telling the truth. Cursing, I begin to question him again, but he only turns and walks back to the stone chamber, where a dark grey window is waiting for us.

“What is it to be?” Art asks.

Since I’ve no real choice, I snarl and step forward with him.

Just before I reach the window, Art’s body unravels and he becomes a ball of multicoloured light again. “I have to travel like this,” he tells me, his words sounding inside my head. “I need to cocoon you again. But I will resume the shape of Art when we come to our next stop.”

“Whatever,” I sniff unhappily, bitter at being manipulated.

The light sweeps over and surrounds me. When Art gives the command, I step into the window and we progress.

→Over the next few hours we pass through several chambers similar to the one on Atlantis. Some are made of stone, but others are carved out of wood, metal or other substances. One is simply a chamber of lights, a dome of panels and patches. We don’t leave any of these chambers, just stay long enough for Art to open a new window, then move on again.

I’m still amazed by Atlantis, stunned by the proof of other life forms in our universe. I always assumed we weren’t alone, that there were intelligent beings on other worlds. But to see an actual alien was an incredible experience. Even if it did just look like a big slug!

Art’s a quiet guide. He concentrates on steering us from one chamber to the next. I don’t think it’s easy. These patches of lights aren’t as easily mastered as the ones I’m accustomed to. It seems to be hard work.

I’m still worried about Dervish and the others, and in shock about the loss of Beranabus. But there’s nothing I can do, so I lie back and bide my time. I’m in the grip of something more powerful than myself. I don’t understand it and I can’t fight or escape. Yet.

→We pass through another window and I find myself in a water-logged chamber. I’m not sure what the walls are made of, but it looks like seaweed. As we slip through, parts of the walls glow. It’s not magic—I can see small organisms in the crevices of the greenish blocks. They’re like underwater glow-worms.

“We will rest a while,” Art says, letting the window close behind us. The lights surrounding me shimmer, then slip off, although a layer remains, keeping me dry and providing me with air.

“That’s clever,” I note as the ball of light transforms into a boy.

“What?” Art frowns.

“The shield.”

“It is nothing special.”

“Are you tired?” I ask, detecting weariness in his tone.

“Yes.” He sighs. “Travel of this nature is draining. We don’t normally cross vast distances so swiftly. But time is against us, so I must push myself.”

“How far have we come?”

He pauses, then says, “You do not have words to describe it. Your scientists do, but their terms would mean nothing to you.”

Art heads towards a gap in the glowing blocks and I glide after him. We exit the chamber and I’m confronted with an underwater paradise. I’m blown away by what I see and it takes a minute before I can do anything except bob up and down in the water and stare.

We’re in the middle of a city. The buildings are all kinds of weird shapes, made of seaweed, shells and huge, twisting roots. Many rise far above and deep below us, two hundred floors high, maybe more. Most sway gently. All sorts of colours, illuminated by enormous swathes of the glowing organisms I saw in the chamber.

There are no roads, just avenues between, through and around the buildings. No glass or doors, only scores of holes in the structures.

I spot some creatures. There are hordes – schools? – of them all around us, floating along the avenues, darting in and out of holes in the buildings. They look like the sea life of my world, only more varied.

As I’m watching, a shark-like beast with several mouths and one giant eye chases an animal that looks like a cross between a seal and a deer. The predator runs down its prey and rips it to shreds. Clouds of scavengers move in quickly and finish off the scraps that the shark leaves behind.

“Are we safe?” I ask nervously. There are more of the sharks around, and other mutations that look even fiercer.

“They won’t harm us,” Art says. “This is a perfectly balanced world. Nothing would attack anything that it was not, by nature, designed to prey upon.”

As he says that, a sea snake the size of a redwood tree passes beneath us. It raises its huge head and studies us. I feel like I’m going to be its lunch. But then it moves on, jaws opening and closing slowly, in search of other food.

“I don’t like this,” I mutter. “When can we leave?”

“Soon,” Art says. “First I must acknowledge the greeting of the natives.”

A ring of creatures closes around us. Each looks like a cross between a small whale and an octopus, large but graceful. Their many arms are adorned with shells and sea flowers, and intricate designs which might be tattoos. They swirl over, under and around one another, as if dancing.

“They are dancing,” Art says. “They worship my kind and wish to perform in our honour. We have not passed through here in a long time. They are excited.”

“Why do they think so much of you?” I ask.

“We saved them from a demon attack long ago.”

“The Demonata cross to other worlds?” I frown.

“Of course,” Art says. “They hate all life forms. You are not the first to suffer at their hands. And you won’t be the last. Far from it.”

Other creatures gather round us, joining the dance. Their movements become more involved, dozens of different species sweeping around one another, every blink of an eye or swish of a tail carefully choreographed. Through the crush I spot something weird rising from the depths.