Chapter Eleven: Loose Ends (a dream)

Crescent City, midnight June 28

You feel as if you are falling down an endless tunnel, with walls of rough rock. Bats whirr through the darkness and strange, vast fungal growths bulge from the damp stone. You suddenly realise that you are dreaming but the realisation does not wake you. You are being whirled through the air at tremendous speed, down and down and yet further down. Then there is a dizzying moment of plummeting through pitch darkness; and then you are hovering in a chamber that seems horribly familiar, as if you had seen it before, though you know you have not. A mass of black stone fills the centre of the room, so dark in hue that it seems to devour the light and to exude darkness like smoke, though its edges are perfectly distinct. You know instinctively that this is the heart of a power as vast and cold as space, a power that despises you simply because you dare to exist. Were you truly here, you feel, it would leech the life out of you. The stone has been chipped in many places, as if flakes have been chiselled off and taken away as relics. There are eight figures here, conducting a ceremony of some kind. The figures have manes of white hair and ink-black skin. They wear robes of translucent fabric and move with the slow, patient grace of spinning spiders, placing ritual items in their places – a platinum skull that steams with blue mist, a chalice carved from a single gigantic ruby, a crystal disc engraved with a complicated web. As to what the purpose of this ritual may be, you cannot guess. There are voices speaking from somewhere nearby – a female and a male. The male speaks: 'You are watching them?' 'I am,' the female responds. 'It is confirmed, then? The one they call the Terror has begun her campaign?' 'She has. Already she has taken one circle. I confess, I am a little impressed.' 'A Node, corrupted? Without access to the Altar? How?' 'It seems House Arakh retained fragments from the end of the last war. With those, she broke the hold of the star-bitch over the stones. There is no doubt that she is of us, of the Host. Her followers have grown strong. Even the grey ones bend the knee to her. None of us foresaw it, but House Arakh is indeed favoured of the Dark. Perhaps it is the will of the Dark that we admit them back to the Ennead.' 'It could be an aberration. House Arakh lost the last war for us. Why should we ever forget that?' 'I do not intend to forget any details of the last war, brother. Unlike you, I was there. I think we shall watch this Terror that Arakh has bred for a while longer. She has not called for our help yet, and for that I respect her, if for nothing else. Let us see how she fares. Let her prove what she is so desperate to prove.' 'Where is she now?' 'Let us find out. I see her… in council with her generals. They are speaking of Caldraza, of some subterfuge. Curious. What is the creature plotting? Let me listen… Ah! Cunning indeed! Even now, while her diplomats are awaiting audience with the King of Caldraza, speaking of treaties and compromise, the subtle knives of her other agents gleam in the shadows! Oh, she will have her treaty, right enough, whether King Titus wishes it or not… and by the time anyone detects her, the damage will be done… hold! There are other eyes here! Who observes us?' With that, you awaken suddenly, with a lingering cold in your bones.

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