Dark Calling (8 page)

“We will rest awhile,” 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 colors, 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 ever 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 that 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 honor. 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 around 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.

“Is that a chessboard?” I ask. It’s much bigger than any board I’ve ever seen, but it’s the right shape, with the usual arrangement
of black and white squares.

“There are Boards like this on almost all the worlds where we have had an influence,” Art says. “The Boards are central to
the development of intelligence. Some species forget about them as they evolve, but most remember in one way or another.”

“I don’t get it. What’s the big deal about chess?”

“The game means nothing,” Art answers. “The
Board
is everything.”

Something about the way he stresses the word sparks a memory. I recall a visit I paid to Lord Loss’s kingdom several years
ago. The demon master loves chess. One of the rooms in his web-based castle was full of sets. He produced a board that he
referred to as the original Board. Each square was a self-contained universe of its own, filled with an array of demons.

“Yes,” Art says before I can form a question. “That was the Board we used on your world.”

“I still don’t understand,” I frown. “The Board was just a toy.”

“The Boards are not toys,” Art says. “Each is a map of the original universe, a link to the past before time.”

“You’re talking gibberish,” I scowl.

“It will become clear soon,” Art assures me, then pushes through a gap that the sea creatures have created. “Come. I am fully
rested, and the dance has moved into its final arc. It is time for us to depart.”

W
E
skip from one world to another, chamber to chamber, through the sub-universe of strange lights. I try to figure out how the
windows are being opened, hoping to use the information to break free and make my way back home. But I don’t know how Art
gets the panels to pulse and merge.

“Tell me about yourself,” I suggest, partly to break the monotony, partly to learn more about my mysterious guide.

“What do you wish to know?” he replies.

“Where are you from? Beranabus only said that the Old Creatures were beings of ancient, powerful magic, who left our world
long ago.”

“We leave every planet eventually,” Art sighs. “We are nomads, moving from one world to another, never settling.”

“But you must have a home,” I press. “Everyone comes from somewhere.”

“Not us,” Art says. “We are of the original universe. We had no beginning.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I grunt.

“It will—” Art begins.

“— soon,”
I finish sarcastically.

“Sorry,” Art says. “I know this is hard. But there is much we have to tell you and it is complicated.”

“Let’s try something simpler then.” I think about the sort of things I’d ask any stranger. “How old are you?”

Art makes a sound like someone clearing their throat.

“Oh, come on,” I shout. “Surely you can tell me that much.”

“There is no easy answer,” Art says. “We are as old as this universe but we existed before it. In the original universe, there
was no such thing as time. We were not born. We did not age. We simply
were.
”

“You can’t be as old as the universe,” I challenge him. “It’s billions of years old. Nothing lives for that long.”

“We do,” Art insists. “We exist as spheres of light, and light is almost ageless.”

“
Almost?
You’re not immortal?”

“Not anymore,” Art says.

“This is crazy,” I mutter.

“Be patient,” Art urges. “By the end of this journey we’ll reveal the secrets of the universe, the origins of life, and the
cause of the Big Bang.”

“What’s the Big Bang?”

Art is silent for a long time. Then, in a dejected tone, he says, “This is going to be harder than we thought.”

  More worlds and chambers. I doze during some of the journey. In the demon universe I can go weeks or months without sleep,
but here I grow tired, just as I do on Earth. I start to wonder how long we’ve been traveling.

“This is the fourth day,” Art answers.

“How much longer will it take?”

“I cannot say.”

“A week?” I snap. “A month? Years?” I lick my lips and ask quietly, “You
will
take me back, won’t you?”

There’s a pause. “If you choose to return, we—”

“What do you mean?” I roar. “Of course I’ll return! Why shouldn’t I? Are you going to try to—”

“Peace,” Art hushes me. “The choice will be yours. I don’t think you’ll want to go back, but we will not prevent you from
following your destiny.”

“I’ll definitely want to go back,” I growl.

“You should not make such sweeping statements,” Art says. “When you went in search of the demon masquerading as your brother,
you were certain you’d return home when you found him, but you didn’t. There are no certainties except death. And even that—”

Whatever he was about to say is lost, because we pass through a window into a chamber made of moss-covered stones. And the
place is crawling with demons.

They’re foul beasts, shaped like horses, but their flesh is rotting away and their bones poke through. Yellow blood drips
down their legs from their rib cages. The heads are larger than on any horse I’ve seen, and each has two sets of mouths, one
above the other. There are no teeth—instead, human-looking fingernails jut out of their gums, blood and drool dribbling between
the cracks.

The demons had been fighting or playing with one another—hard to tell with these monsters—but they stop when we pop out in
the middle of them. Then, with howls of hunger and delight, they hurl themselves at us.

I react automatically and fire a ball of energy at the nearest beast, then leap clear, onto one of the higher stones of the
chamber. The roof caved in long ago and I can see out. A quick survey of the land beyond reveals a scorched, ruined world
teeming with monsters. A massive demon is rising into the air a few miles away. Hundreds of beasts are clinging to it, or
settled on its back in rows. Fleshy strands dangle from its stomach. Large rocks are attached to the lower ends.

A horse-demon jumps, rears its hooves, and slashes at my throat. I duck, slam my shoulder into its face, and knock it back.
“Art!” I scream as others come pounding closer.

“Cover your eyes,” Art says. “Use magic as well as your hands.”

“What good will that do?” I yell, jumping to another stone.

There’s a flash of light and my eyes melt in their sockets. The pain is intense but nothing new. It’s just like when my original
eyes were stabbed out.

As I howl and fight off waves of pain and madness, Art says, “You should have done what I told you. These demons are called
the Sligstata. Light is my only weapon against them. Most can construct new eyes, as you can, but you have done it before,
so you should be faster. Set to work immediately, but focus your other senses on the Sligstata. You can avoid them if you
concentrate.”

“But I can’t see!” I howl. “I’m blind!”

“You’ll be dead if you don’t do what I tell you,” Art snarls. There’s real fear in his tone. “I can’t fight these creatures,
even if I turn into Artery—there are too many. I can blind them again, but they’ll soon grow wise to that trick. I’m opening
a new window but it will take a few minutes. You must defend yourself.”

I curse the Old Creature, then set to work on building a new pair of eyes. It was a long, complicated process before, but
this time they grow swiftly, smoothly.

As the eyes form, I listen to the demons and sense their positions. They’re stumbling around, lashing out at one another,
wild with blind panic. No threat as long as I remain up here. But others are coming. They swarm over the ruins of the chamber,
knocking each other aside in their eagerness to tear into me, the echo of their hooves ringing louder as they draw closer.