Serpent and Storm (19 page)

The remains of an adobe wall jutted out from each side of the tunnel. Sky Knife hesitated, but the remains of the wall weren't large enough for anyone to be hiding behind. He stepped on past.

A thump came from behind him. A string of words from Whiskers-of-Rat that Sky Knife didn't understand followed.

“It seems it's a good thing to be short sometimes,” said Deer.

“Of course. A great thing,” mumbled Whiskers-of-Rat. “The first people must have been very short to walk through this to get to the surface of the earth.”

Ahead of them, the passageway narrowed and the ceiling came down to a point even with Sky Knife's waist.

“Time to crawl,” said Whiskers-of-Rat.

“Wait,” said Deer. He scrambled forward awkwardly over the uneven floor. He bent to retrieve something. He held it out to Sky Knife.

It was a small rope of seeds strung together by sinew.

“It belongs to my Little Weed,” said Deer. He tied the strand around his neck, where it lay against his slave's torque. “They have brought him here, but he did not come willingly.”

“Then let's go find him and bring him out quickly,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “This is not a place to stay any longer than necessary.”

“You wanted to come,” said Deer.

Sky Knife hitched his long blue skirt above his knees and knelt. The gritty, crumbly surface of the tunnel cut his knees and palms. Sky Knife eased his way forward through the crawlspace.

The crawlspace was only a few yards long. Sky Knife breathed in relief when he was able to stand upright again. He brushed the sand and small sharp pebbles off his knees.

Deer, who had only had to bend over slightly, came out right behind Sky Knife. Whiskers-of-Rat did not appear, but Sky Knife heard him grunting and complaining.

Sky Knife bent down and looked back through the crawlspace. Whiskers-of-Rat had come about halfway.

“Come on,” Sky Knife urged. “It's not very far.”

“Watch your tongue, mortal,” said a deep male voice. Sky Knife whirled, but he could have sworn the voice came from the crawlspace.

“What was that?” asked Deer.

“I don't know,” said Sky Knife. He leaned down again. This time, he sent the ball of light down the crawlspace to the guide.

“Whiskers-of-Rat, are you all right?” he asked.

Whiskers-of-Rat nodded and waved. “Oh, I'm fine,” he said. “I live for adventure, remember?”

“Did you hear that voice?”

Whiskers-of-Rat pulled himself the last few feet and stood up. “Voice?” he asked as he brushed sand away from his legs and robes.

“Never mind,” said Deer. “Let's go on.”

Sky Knife sent the ball above his head again. Here, the ceiling stood higher than Whiskers-of-Rat's head. But the passageway had split into three.

“Now what?” asked Deer.

“Straight,” said Sky Knife. “We should not be distracted from the center path.”

Deer glanced down the left passage. “Looks like there's no way out, anyway.”

Sky Knife glanced to his right. A ruined adobe wall stood between him and the passage. He walked to it and looked past. On the other side was not a tunnel as he had supposed but an oblong room. A pile of skeletons lay in the center.

“I suppose this is where all those young women ended up,” he said.

Whiskers-of-Rat glanced over his shoulder. “It seems so. Fitting place, though. In the womb of the Masked One they found their birth into the next world.”

“Time to move on,” said Sky Knife.

“So far this has not been very dangerous,” said Deer. “I thought the Center would be filled with creatures from the underworlds—or even the dead. But all we've seen are their skeletons.”

“Let's hope it stays that way,” said Sky Knife. “We've got trouble enough without adding monsters to it.”

“This is the Center of All,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “And that's danger enough.”

Sky Knife walked down the passage, now wide enough for the three of them to walk abreast if they chose. But the others kept their places behind him.

The passage curved gently to the right. After twenty or thirty yards, it narrowed and curved back on itself to the left. Sky Knife hesitated and listened, but all he heard was his own breathing.

Sky Knife turned around. His companions remained behind him, staring at him expectantly. Sky Knife regarded the curve again. He sent the ball of light ahead around the curve, then followed it slowly.

Around the curve the walls of the tunnel were wet and a deep musky odor filled the air.

“We grow closer to the Center,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “The birthplace of all men.”

Sky Knife walked slowly forward. The air became heavy and dank with moisture.

“Mother of All,” whispered Deer.

Ahead, the wet walls gave off a thin orange fog. The tendrils of fog fell slowly to the floor and curled around the pebbles that lay on the floor of the tunnel. A few of the tendrils stretched out and touched Sky Knife's feet. The cool breath of the fog chilled his toes.

The fog curled around Sky Knife's ankles and he felt a gentle tugging. “I think we're being invited to go on,” he said. He stepped forward.

“I think you're the only one with an invitation,” said Deer.

Sky Knife turned back. The fog stopped just short of Deer's feet. It undulated in place in front of him but did not touch the dwarf.

The gentle tugging at Sky Knife's ankles became more insistent. “I have to go on,” he said to Deer.

“Go,” said the dwarf. “I'll try to follow.”

Suddenly, fog poured out of the ceiling and completely engulfed Whiskers-of-Rat. It covered him from head to foot in no more than a second. The guide stood still a moment. Then he screamed and ran past Sky Knife into the darkness beyond.

“No!” shouted Deer.

“Whiskers-of-Rat!” shouted Sky Knife.

The guide's screams continued and then were abruptly silenced. Sky Knife glanced back to Deer.

The strange orange fog still did not touch the other man. It swirled around him, though, completely cutting him off from going in any direction. Slowly, Deer put a foot out into the fog.

Quickly, the dwarf jerked his foot back. “It's cold,” he said. “Colder than snow, colder than anything.”

Deer tried again. He put his foot down firmly and brought his other foot forward, but he fell.

“I can't feel my feet!” he cried. “They're frozen.”

The small clear patch Deer had stepped out of disappeared and the dwarf was almost completely engulfed in the orange fog.

Sky Knife ran to him, though the tugging at his ankles pulled him the other way. He reached down to Deer.

“Here,” he said, heart beating wildly in fear. “Take my hand and climb up on my back. I'll carry you the rest of the way.”

Deer grabbed Sky Knife's outstretched hands. Sky Knife knelt and let the other man straddle his back. Deer's skin was cold and he shivered violently. Sky Knife put his arms under Deer's knees to help him stay on.

Sky Knife stood and let the tugging lead him forward. He stepped carefully, unable to see the floor through the fog, but the floor proved even and he didn't stumble.

The tunnel curved to the right, then to the left, then back to the right. At last Sky Knife saw a long straightaway ahead of him.

The fog began to glow. It seeped down the sides of the tunnel and boiled over onto the floor. Sky Knife walked carefully. He was tired and his legs ached from carrying Deer. Even breathing the cold air hurt his throat.

The corridor continued to open up. Slowly, the tugging at Sky Knife's ankles eased and the fog began to dissipate. As it went, it flashed briefly like light on the rippled surface of a pool of water.

Soon, it was gone. Sky Knife knelt and Deer slid off his back. The other man stumbled.

“Are you all right?” asked Sky Knife.

“Yes,” said Deer. “I'm just still so cold. I'll be fine.”

Sky Knife nodded and stood. He walked forward toward a constriction in the tunnel. He couldn't see anything beyond that.

Sky Knife sent the ball of light ahead, but its light refused to penetrate the darkness beyond.

Then a man stepped out of the darkness to block the way.

“You have come far, mortals,” said the man in the deep voice Sky Knife had heard earlier. “But this is as far as you will be allowed to go. Your journey is over.”

18

The man reached out to put a hand on each side of the tunnel. His tall figure seemed to radiate darkness. Sky Knife blinked, feeling as if he could recognize the man if he tried.

“You stand before the Center of All,” said the man. “Your way is barred.”

“We were invited,” said Sky Knife, “by the Masked One herself.”

“Even the Masked One has no power here,” said the man. “No god can control the Center.”

“It is her womb!” said Deer. He sounded insulted.

“It is the Center also,” said the man, “and that is more than just the womb of a goddess.”

Sky Knife stared into the strange darkness surrounding the man and caught a glimpse of a long pointed nose.

“Whiskers-of-Rat!” he shouted. “It's us—don't you recognize us?” Sky Knife had little hope that Whiskers-of-Rat would say yes. Whatever had possessed the man against his will would be strong enough to keep him from speaking.

The man pointed to Sky Knife. “That name has no meaning here.” Sky Knife's heart sank.

“Who are you?” asked Deer. “If you are not Whiskers-of-Rat anymore.”

“You have come to the Center,” said the man. “I am the Guardian.”

“Others have passed through here recently,” said Sky Knife. “Some men have brought a child here. Did you stop them, too?”

A deep rumble filled the air and bright flashes like lightning lit the air behind the Guardian. The power rippled along Sky Knife's skin, stinging like a thousand tiny insect bites.

“They could force their way past because they do not seek the Truth,” said the Guardian. “They defile this holy place with their presence. The Truth cannot stop those for whom it has no meaning.”

“You mean if we were scoundrels we could get past, but since we're not, we can't?” asked Deer.

The Guardian said nothing. The flashes of light continued. Sky Knife blinked, his eyes watering at the brilliant display. He scratched the skin of his arms where the stinging was worst.

“Surely there's a way we can get past,” Sky Knife said.

“Not for you, priest,” said the Guardian. “Nor for the twin.”

Sky Knife took a step forward. The Guardian pointed at him again. Bright lightning shot out of the Guardian's finger and leapt at Sky Knife.

The lightning whirled about his body a moment before slamming into him. Sky Knife screamed as the pain drove him to the floor and stole his breath.

Sky Knife struggled, but the lightning held him in a tight grip. The light burned him and squeezed him so tightly he couldn't draw in another breath to scream.

Spots danced before Sky Knife's eyes. He tried to reach for the deerskin bag to retrieve his knife, but the moment he twitched his hand it was caught in a terrible grip. Sky Knife felt as if all the bones in his hand were being crushed at once.

Suddenly, the light was gone. Sky Knife drew in a deep breath of cold air and rolled over on the cold stone floor, gasping.

“Sky Knife!” Deer knelt by him. The dwarf's hands burned his skin where they touched him. Sky Knife jerked away and screamed.

“What have you done to him?” Deer demanded of the Guardian. “He is trying to help the king—he doesn't deserve this. Punish those evildoers who have entered before us instead.”

“No one deserves their lot, bad or good,” said the Guardian. “For that is not the way of the Center, to dispense pain or pleasure where it is earned. Rather, the Center portions out its wrath and its goodwill at its own whim.”

The pain that ran along Sky Knife's skin eased somewhat and he struggled to get his elbows under him. Cold and weak, he struggled to think through the ringing in his head.

“Sky Knife,” said Deer. “Are you all right?”

Sky Knife took a deep breath. “I think so,” he said. “I'm not sure.” He pushed himself up to a sitting position and glanced at the Guardian.

The same strange blackness still radiated from the man in the doorway. Crackles of lightning briefly lit the cavern behind the Guardian.

“Leave now or suffer,” said the Guardian.

“Perhaps your whim will change,” said Sky Knife. “How should I know?”

“No man can know the Center of All,” said the Guardian. “For the true Reality of the world is not even in the realm of the gods. It is beyond them and unknown to them. How then do you dare approach and seek to enter?”

“I only want to retrieve the boy,” said Sky Knife. “I have no desire to peer into the Center of All.”

“Yet the boy is inside,” said the Guardian. “So to do one you must do the other.”

“Then I must,” said Sky Knife. He put a hand to the rough wall of the tunnel and wearily climbed to his feet.

“How?” asked Deer. “How can we get by him? Do you have that much power?”

“There is only one way to harness almost unlimited power,” said Sky Knife, “probably enough to move the Guardian from the door and tear this cavern down around our ears. But that would require a perfect sacrifice and we don't happen to have one here.”

“What about me?” asked Deer. “Perhaps the Corn Priest could choose another twin for Little Weed.”

Sky Knife looked into Deer's eyes. Worry creased the other man's forehead and his eyes were wide with fear.

“No.” Sky Knife shook his head. “You're afraid. It's no shame, but it won't work if you go to the knife with fear in your heart.”

“If it endangers my Little Weed, then I am ashamed,” said Deer. He looked away from Sky Knife.