“I told you we shouldn’t have bothered,” Kernel says sulkily.
“How long can they keep that tunnel open?” I ask.
“Do I look like I’m an expert?” he huffs.
“I know you are—you’ve boasted about it often enough. How long?”
Kernel chuckles, then focuses on the area around the lodestone, studying the patches of light that are invisible to the rest of us. He sighs. “It won’t crash any time soon. I reckon it can be kept going for a few years.”
I feel sick. I take a couple of deep breaths, clear my thoughts, then turn and stomp away.
“Where are we going?” Kernel asks, tucking in behind me.
“To signal a retreat.”
“We’re going to run?”
“Can you think of another course?”
“Not really, no.”
“Then shut up and help me pull back as many survivors as we can.”
We summon soldiers, mages, werewolves, and civilians, then help them fight their way clear. We lead them to a convoy of trucks and buses that is waiting a few miles away, set in place by a forward-thinking general in case the battle went poorly. The demons chase heatedly, eager to chalk up more kills before we slip through the net. Some of the faster monsters target the convoy and clamber over the roofs of the vehicles, breaking in, causing high-speed crashes. A few perish in the flames, like the humans they targeted, but most walk away, laughing, lugging severed heads, maybe to settle down over a few mugs of blood later and compare kills with their comrades.
Kernel, Shark, Kirilli, and I do what we can to minimize the damage. The others look to us for guidance, since we’re the most powerful and experienced. We guide the trucks and buses to safety, repel the demons and zombies, spread ourselves as widely as possible. But ultimately we’re just four guys. We can’t save everyone. The losses are horrendous, in the high thousands. And they’ll get worse once the demons stabilize and branch out.
When we’ve led the troops to safety, we head for a makeshift camp where scores of medics are tending to the wounded or setting aside the dead. I howl a few times, calling the remaining werewolves to my side. When sixteen—all that appear to be left—are gathered around me, I march to a large, vacant tent. Timas joins us along the way, responding to my howls as the werewolves did. He looks drained, and he’s covered in blood splatters, but he doesn’t seem to have been injured. Some soldiers try to waylay us to ask for instructions, but I wave them aside, telling them I’ll confer with them shortly.
We sink into chairs in the tent and I look around wearily. Larry isn’t one of the sixteen werewolves, and there’s no sign of Prae Athim either.
“If you’re looking for Prae, she’s dead,” Timas says before I ask. “She perished trying to protect a wounded werewolf. I cut her head off and incinerated it, so she won’t be coming back as a zombie.”
I process the news, then ask, “What about Larry?”
Nobody answers. I doubt if anyone cares. To be honest, I find it hard to work up much sympathy either, not when so many thousands have been killed. Sorry, Larry. I hope you died well, but tough luck if you didn’t.
“What now?” Kirilli asks. I’ve never seen him look so miserable, but it’s not the type of self-pitying misery he once wallowed in. He’s sad because of what he’s seen.
“We try to pen them in,” I sigh. “Hit them with all the missiles we can. Drench the land around the tunnel with a circle of gasoline. Light it when they try to push out—fire will kill a lot of them if we add magic to the flames. Establish a perimeter of mages. Fly in volunteers, test them for magic, set new mages to work with the others. Make another assault on the lodestone when we have support.”
“How far can they travel if they break through?” Kirilli asks. “On the ship, they were confined by a bubble of magic. Is there a similar bubble here?”
“No,” Kernel says. “The energy from this tunnel streams out freely. There’s a limit to its reach, but that might be a few hundred miles in all directions.”
“Then we need to evacuate everyone within a two-hundred-mile radius,” Shark says. “I’ll talk with whoever’s in charge, set soldiers on the job, turn this into a no-man’s land.”
“You don’t understand,” Kernel says. “We can’t control this.”
“You just said there were limits,” Shark growls.
“To this tunnel, yes,” Kernel snaps. “But there are more powerful lodestones. I’m sure they’ll open a new tunnel soon, one of unlimited energy. The demons who cross will be able to go anywhere. And masters will be free to cross too, hundreds of demons as strong as Lord Loss, if not stronger.”
“Can’t we stop it before it opens?” I ask.
Kernel tuts. “I don’t have a magic wand. I can sense a tunnel as it’s opening, usually in advance. We can be on the scene within minutes, but what if they open two at the same time? Three? More? Demon masters will establish a toehold. If we weren’t able to break through the defenses of this mediocre lot, what sort of hope do we stand when we’re up against the real deal?”
There’s a long silence. Slowly, each of them turns to look at me, placing the burden on my shoulders, leaving me to make the fatal call. I don’t blame them. I’d pass the buck too, if I could. But if the buck has to stop here, so be it.
“Get your soldiers to move out the survivors,” I tell Shark, “then come back. We’ll rest up. Kernel will watch for tunnels. When another like this one is due to open, we’ll contact those close to it and give the order to retreat. There’s no point fighting the stronger demons. We’ll tell everyone to run. The fast will survive. The slow…” I shake my head.
“We’re not going to try and help them?” Kirilli whispers.
“We’ll save ourselves.”
“For…?” Shark asks.
“The big guys.” I crack my knuckles. “That’s my plan. We ignore the smaller, weaker tunnels. We summon the most powerful Disciples and mages, then wait. When a permanent tunnel opens, through which demon masters can cross, we hit with everything we have. If we close it, we relax and wait for the next one, then go through it all again. If we fail, there’s no plan B. We triumph or perish.”
“Our last stand,” Timas murmurs.
“It’s come to that?” Shark asks quietly.
“Yes.”
“Good!” he booms, thrusting himself out of his chair. “I hate pussyfooting around. I’ll pass on the word, then grab some shut-eye. Make sure you call me in time for the big show—I don’t want to miss this one.”
Then he strides out of the tent, leaving the rest of us to smile ruefully, wait nervously, and prepare as best we can for the end of the world.
LA MOSES
FOUR days of waiting. We’re all restless and itching to go into battle. It would be easier to join one of the many wars raging around the globe than sit here and twiddle our thumbs. But as bloody as the battles are—we see and hear all about them on the constant news reports—they fall short of the apocalyptic mark. Six tunnels have been opened, but all are limited, and though millions of people have fallen to the demon invaders, the world struggles on.
I spend most of the time with my werewolves. I prefer their company to that of humans. I don’t have to think when I’m with my wolfen pack, merely growl every so often to keep them in line. I lead them on occasional forays into demon-controlled territory, so they can pull out a few zombies to snack on. But apart from those welcome diversions, we mostly rest from the sun in a tent, relax beneath the moon at night, and pant and scratch a lot.
I don’t have much contact with the others. I’ve seen Shark and Timas going from one meeting to another with a variety of politicians and army officers. They’re putting some sort of emergency campaign together, acting like we have a plan, trying to keep panic to a minimum.
Kernel and Kirilli have gathered an army of mages and Disciples. They’ve two hundred or so lined up and ready for action. Many refused to answer their call, preferring to fight the demons who’ve alre
ady crossed, defending areas and people close to their hearts. Kernel and the ex–stage magician run the volunteers ragged, testing them in every way possible, toughening and sharpening them for the mother of all battles. I don’t think it will make any real difference, but if it keeps them occupied, I guess it serves a purpose.
Finally, when I’m about to go stir-crazy, Kernel sticks his head inside my tent. “It’s time.”
I snap to attention immediately. “A new tunnel’s opening?”
“Yes. Not too far from where you used to live. On the coast.”
“It’s the big one?”
He nods soberly. “Massive. It hasn’t opened yet, but already the lights are going crazy, even from this distance.”
“Tell the others,” I mutter, the many hairs on the back of my neck rising. “And Kernel?” He stops and looks back. “It’s been nice knowing you.”
He smiles bitterly. “No, it hasn’t,” he says, and goes to summon the troops, leaving me to ready the werewolves for what will probably be our final fight.
Kernel creates a window of orange light and we step through onto a grassy cliff. The tunnel is being opened in a cave beneath, but we wanted to get all of our troops assembled on this side before facing our foes. I stride to the edge of the cliff as the rest of the mages, Disciples, and werewolves cross in orderly file. We didn’t bother bringing soldiers—they couldn’t do anything against the more powerful Demonata.
It’s a wild stretch of coastline, the water dashing against the rocks far below, a sharp drop to a quick, messy death. Rain falls steadily and winds rip in off the ocean, which stretches as far as I can see. The land is barren all around. I doubt if anyone ever lived in this beautiful but desolate spot.
I feel magic building in the air. It’s almost the same as being in the demon universe. I let animal-shaped streams of steam trickle from my fingertips and watch as they dissolve in the rain. There are thudding vibrations from deep underfoot, as if goblins or trolls were hammering drums in the bowels of the earth, in preparation for battle.
Shark and Timas have been holding a hushed conversation. Now they move away from the cliff and Timas takes up position, partially sheltered behind a jutting rock. He’s brought a stack of laptops with him and quickly sets them up. Shark stabs a few umbrellas into the earth and opens them over the technical genius to provide him with cover. Curious, I amble across to see what they’re up to.
“This isn’t the time for video games.”
Timas looks at me gravely. “No game.”
“We had an interesting debate,” Shark grunts.
“What sort of a debate?” I frown.
“About the future of the planet and what happens if we lose today.”
“And?” I cast a troubled eye over the laptops.
“My way of reckoning,” Shark says thickly, “is if we get creamed, the people of Earth are better off dead than left to the vicious devices of the Demonata. We got clearance from most of the relevant authorities, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d objected. Timas could have cracked the security codes.”
“Maybe,” Timas mutters. “Not definitely. It would have been an intriguing challenge, but one that it is better not to have to face.”
“What are you talking about?” I snap.
Shark taps a small camera set in the shoulder of his uniform. “Several of us are wearing cameras like this. Timas will be watching. If the demons get the better of us, he has orders to press the button.”
“What button?”
“The nuclear button,” Timas says softly.
I gape at him, then at the grim-faced Shark. “Are you trying to wind me up?”
“Don’t be a child,” Shark snarls. “You said it yourself—this is our last stand. If we fall, the planet falls. I’d rather it fell to us than them. Quicker, cleaner, more humane. And we might take some of them with us.”
“But…” My head spins. Maybe this is what Juni foresaw. Perhaps Timas won’t be able to push the button, and the task will fall to me, and that’s how I’ll destroy the world.
“What’s the alternative?” Shark asks. “Let the demons run free, torture and kill at their leisure, make slaves of those they choose to spare? We saw what happens to prisoners in Lord Loss’s castle. Do you want your friend Bo Kooniart to have to suffer that again?”
“We don’t have the right to make this call,” I whisper.
“Of course we do,” Shark says. “But even so, we ran it by the watchmen of the nuclear community. There were a lot of dissenters, but a few gave us the green light, enough to make our job a formality. Timas is hooked up to bases across the world. If we run foul of the demon army, he’ll bring this planet crashing down around us. There won’t be a cinder ball left by the time he’s finished. Let’s see the Demonata get a kick out of that!”
I stare from Shark to Timas, then nod slowly. “But only if we definitely fail,” I tell Timas. “Don’t press any buttons just because you think we’re going to lose. As long as one of us stands, keep your finger clear. Understand?”
“Affirmative,” Timas says, then sticks out an arm. As we shake hands, he says, “Give them hell, Grubbs.”
“And all the toppings,” I promise, then turn my back on the Pied Piper of nuclear destruction and pray he isn’t called upon to play the world to its doom.
Kernel’s waiting for me. “It’s open,” he says simply.
“How do we get down?” I ask.
“There’s a tunnel beneath the waterline. We jump and swim.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I sneer. “You march bravely into a lion’s den—you don’t swim to it.”
“You have a better suggestion?” he responds icily.
I stroll to the edge of the cliff. It’s a straight drop to where the waves roll in and crash against the base. The easiest way, as Kernel suggested, would be to drop and use magic to protect ourselves. Under normal circumstances, that would be our only option. But there’s so much energy in the air, we can be creative, like in the demon universe.
The memory of an old story comes to mind and I grin. Raising a hand, I gesture to the water below. It begins to bubble and spit. Then, as curious Disciples and mages gather around me, the waves part and an avenue opens, a stretch of dry land at the foot of the cliff, surrounded by towering walls of water.
“Hark at the modern-day Moses,” Kirilli says jealously. “If I could have done that in my act, I’d have been bigger than David Copperfield.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” I drawl, then point my other hand at the cliff. With a low, rumbling sound, a thick chunk of rock a hundred feet to my right grinds out of the wall, forming a step twenty-five feet long, ten feet wide, a foot high. I cock a finger, and another chunk of rock slides out of the wall just beneath it, another beneath that, and so on. A staircase swiftly forms, reaching all the way down to the ocean floor.
“Will they hold?” Kirilli asks, eyeing the steps nervously.
“Only one way to find out,” I grin, then jump off the cliff and land on a step ten feet below. It doesn’t even shudder. “Hurry up,” I call to the others. “Last one down’s a rotten egg.”
They laugh, then trail down the staircase after me to the cave where the monsters are lying in wait.
THE MISSING LINK
WE creep down the stairs. Nerves fray the farther we descend. I sense a few of the mages lose their resolve and retreat. I don’t pause to berate them. This isn’t a place for the weak. We’re better off without cowards.
That’s harsh, the voice of the Kah-Gash murmurs. It’s not so long ago that you would have run too.
“Here for the big party?” I grunt cynically. “You must be loving this.”
What makes you think that? It sounds genuinely surprised.
“This is what you want, isn’t it, an excuse to unleash your full power and destroy the human universe?”
If I wanted that, the Kah-Gash says witheringly, I would have made it happen a long time ago. I wouldn’t need to wa
it for an excuse.
“You mean you want to destroy the demon universe?” I frown.
The Kah-Gash sighs. You still don’t understand. I don’t want anything. When there was only one universe, I had a natural urge to keep it as it was. Since it splintered, I have simply enjoyed the experience of being. I have no vested interest in the result of the battle about to take place. I’m merely a curious observer.
“But Kernel said you maneuvered us into place. According to the Old Creatures, you kept Bec’s soul intact when her body died. You chose to inhabit three humans at the same time. You set this up.”
Guilty, the Kah-Gash chuckles. But it was the fascination of watching what happens that motivated me. I have no yearning for one outcome over another.
“So will you help or hinder us?” I press.
Neither, the Kah-Gash says.
“In that case, shut up,” I snarl.
As you wish, the Kah-Gash whispers, and falls silent.
“Slow up, big guy,” Shark says, tapping my shoulder. I glance back at him. He points to a spot behind us—the mouth of a tunnel. “That’s the way