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lips.”
Alexios shook his head. “But he didn‟t kill any of the ones who heard him during that final battle with Caligula. I never thought to ask you, in all this time we‟ve been searching for him.
What happens when you break a geas ?”
Alaric‟s eyes darkened, all the green bleeding out of them until they were purest black. “You die, Alexios. You die, or you become utterly, irreparably insane.”
“Then what are we searching for?” Christophe asked, all traces of mockery and humor gone.
“What will we find if we ever do locate him?”
“That is the answer that even I am afraid to give,” Alaric replied. “And Poseidon will not answer my queries on this matter.”
A brittle silence filled the room for several moments, while time and terrifying answers hung suspended between them. Then Alaric shook his head and gestured to a space in front of the shattered window, and an iridescent oval shape began to form. “Now we return to Atlantis, where I can attempt to discover what dark force has overtaken Brennan.”
“And the woman?” Alexios asked, staring down at her.
“She comes, too, and we will determine exactly what she knows.”
With that, Alaric stepped through the portal, and Brennan, still frozen, floated through it after him as if pulled on a tether.
Christophe took a last look around the room and laughed. “Wonder how they‟ll explain all this to themselves when they wake up?”
Still laughing, he leapt through the portal, leaving Alexios to lift Tiernan into his arms and carry her through it with him. As he entered the magical doorway to Atlantis, he looked down at her pale and bruised face. “Lady, I hope you‟re telling the truth. Because if we don‟t find Justice soon, only Poseidon himself will be able to help him.”
As the portal swirled shut behind him, Alexios‟s words—words he knew to be sacrilegious—echoed in the dark. “And gods? Just between us, they‟re not always all that reliable.”
Chapter 9
The Void
Use all of your senses, the forgotten voice from an ancient past repeated in Justice‟s mind. He struggled to comply, marshaling formidable will to defeat surrender.
Took inventory:
Sight—useless in the blackness of the Void.
Scent—providing nothing valuable, no new information. The rankness of rotted carcass. The rusted coppery aroma of primordial blood.
Sound—the grunting and moaning grew louder, closer, more and more eager. Dark‟s denizen gaining on its goal.
The memory of a voice. Mocking. No, not mocking. Affection underlying camaraderie. “So, Justice, you gonna sit there and think about this monster, or are you gonna kick its ass?”
Facial muscles long atrophied moved in a parody of a smile. Bastien . Friend. Brother.
Home.
A harsh croaking noise rasped from his throat. Speech after unrelenting silence. Defiance after near surrender.
He was Justice, and he was going home.
“Kick. Your. Ass,” he growled. As battle cries went, it was lacking. As a directional beacon to the monster, it worked very well. “Come to me, then. Come to me and die.”
The monster roared out in answering challenge, a harsh, gravelly noise paired with wet, sucking sounds. Heralds of grasping greed and insatiable hunger. Worse, somewhere in the nearly inarticulate noise, words existed. Garbled, twisted. Words spoken by one who had nearly forgotten the meaning of speech.
“For so long, my enemy. So long have I waited to feast on flesh and blood and fear. Defy me, I beg of you. Defy me, and your death will taste that much sweeter,” the creature grated out in rusted syllables.
It took a moment to realize that the creature spoke in ancient Greek and to formulate a response in kind. Then for an instant—trapped between thought and action—Justice knew pity. “How long?” he demanded. “How long have you been trapped here, creature?”
It was a long, shuddering pause before the creature responded. “Longer than sentience, human. Longer than reality.
Alexios shook his head. “But he didn‟t kill any of the ones who heard him during that final battle with Caligula. I never thought to ask you, in all this time we‟ve been searching for him.
What happens when you break a geas ?”
Alaric‟s eyes darkened, all the green bleeding out of them until they were purest black. “You die, Alexios. You die, or you become utterly, irreparably insane.”
“Then what are we searching for?” Christophe asked, all traces of mockery and humor gone.
“What will we find if we ever do locate him?”
“That is the answer that even I am afraid to give,” Alaric replied. “And Poseidon will not answer my queries on this matter.”
A brittle silence filled the room for several moments, while time and terrifying answers hung suspended between them. Then Alaric shook his head and gestured to a space in front of the shattered window, and an iridescent oval shape began to form. “Now we return to Atlantis, where I can attempt to discover what dark force has overtaken Brennan.”
“And the woman?” Alexios asked, staring down at her.
“She comes, too, and we will determine exactly what she knows.”
With that, Alaric stepped through the portal, and Brennan, still frozen, floated through it after him as if pulled on a tether.
Christophe took a last look around the room and laughed. “Wonder how they‟ll explain all this to themselves when they wake up?”
Still laughing, he leapt through the portal, leaving Alexios to lift Tiernan into his arms and carry her through it with him. As he entered the magical doorway to Atlantis, he looked down at her pale and bruised face. “Lady, I hope you‟re telling the truth. Because if we don‟t find Justice soon, only Poseidon himself will be able to help him.”
As the portal swirled shut behind him, Alexios‟s words—words he knew to be sacrilegious—echoed in the dark. “And gods? Just between us, they‟re not always all that reliable.”
Chapter 9
The Void
Use all of your senses, the forgotten voice from an ancient past repeated in Justice‟s mind. He struggled to comply, marshaling formidable will to defeat surrender.
Took inventory:
Sight—useless in the blackness of the Void.
Scent—providing nothing valuable, no new information. The rankness of rotted carcass. The rusted coppery aroma of primordial blood.
Sound—the grunting and moaning grew louder, closer, more and more eager. Dark‟s denizen gaining on its goal.
The memory of a voice. Mocking. No, not mocking. Affection underlying camaraderie. “So, Justice, you gonna sit there and think about this monster, or are you gonna kick its ass?”
Facial muscles long atrophied moved in a parody of a smile. Bastien . Friend. Brother.
Home.
A harsh croaking noise rasped from his throat. Speech after unrelenting silence. Defiance after near surrender.
He was Justice, and he was going home.
“Kick. Your. Ass,” he growled. As battle cries went, it was lacking. As a directional beacon to the monster, it worked very well. “Come to me, then. Come to me and die.”
The monster roared out in answering challenge, a harsh, gravelly noise paired with wet, sucking sounds. Heralds of grasping greed and insatiable hunger. Worse, somewhere in the nearly inarticulate noise, words existed. Garbled, twisted. Words spoken by one who had nearly forgotten the meaning of speech.
“For so long, my enemy. So long have I waited to feast on flesh and blood and fear. Defy me, I beg of you. Defy me, and your death will taste that much sweeter,” the creature grated out in rusted syllables.
It took a moment to realize that the creature spoke in ancient Greek and to formulate a response in kind. Then for an instant—trapped between thought and action—Justice knew pity. “How long?” he demanded. “How long have you been trapped here, creature?”
It was a long, shuddering pause before the creature responded. “Longer than sentience, human. Longer than reality.
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