Skilgannon pushed his shoulder against the doors, and they swung open.
Inside was the entrance chamber he remembered from his past visit, a deep reception area, which branched out left and right into tunnels leading to a series of stairways. There were chairs here, and long couches, all covered with dust. The sight saddened him. On his last visit this area had been brightly lit, radiating harmony and warmth. It calmed the soul and lifted the spirits. Now it was cold and dead.
Askari tapped his arm, and pointed to the floor nearby. In several places there were mounds of dried animal droppings.
Skilgannon walked slowly across the reception area, moving towards the right, and the tunnel which led to the first of the staircases. As he passed under the entrance arch to the tunnel the lights flickered.
Then a voice echoed eerily from the walls.
‘Do not enter here,’ it said. The voice was bizarre, almost metallic. It was accompanied by a sound like wood crackling on a campfire. Skilgannon ignored it and walked on warily, both swords in his hands.
‘These tunnels are guarded,’ said the voice. ‘It is not my wish to see anyone suffer harm, but if you do not leave you will die.’
Askari moved alongside him. ‘From the droppings I would say the beasts are large, probably Jiamads.’ Skilgannon nodded.
Together they advanced down the tunnel. They passed many rooms, which had once housed priests of the Resurrection. There were none here now. The floor was dust-covered, and there were cobwebs on the occasional chairs and couches placed in the recesses. Once this had been a temple of serenity and beauty. Now it was a shadow-haunted place of death and decay.
Sweat dripped into Skilgannon’s eyes. The feeling of nausea had not passed. He glanced at Askari.
She too was suffering. His fingers began to tingle, and his mouth was dry. The light was poor, but Skilgannon could see the stairwell ahead. He walked on.
Something huge and pale rushed at him from a hidden recess on the left. The Sword of Night slashed out, cleaving into flesh. Then he was thrown from his feet. He struck the tunnel wall hard, then hurled himself to his right as the beast lunged for him. Askari leapt to his defence, the cavalry sabre plunging into the beast’s back. It gave a shrill cry, and spun to meet the new attack. Skilgannon surged to his feet and charged in. The Sword of Day sliced through the creature’s neck. Blood sprayed from the wound. The beast staggered. Skilgannon drove the Sword of Night through its heart. As it fell he dragged his blade clear, and the two companions stared down at the dead creature. It was unlike any Jiamad Skilgannon had seen. There were only patches of fur on the pale body, which was covered in huge warts, and purple tumours. ‘It is grotesque,’ whispered Askari. ‘Impossible to see with which animal it was melded.’ The body was lying on its side. Skilgannon knelt to peer at a fist-sized section of skin-covered bone protruding from its back.
‘What does that look like to you?’ he said. Askari prodded the lump with her sabre. The skin around it spasmed — and five bony fingers opened. Askari jumped back.
‘Sweet Heaven!’ she said. ‘It is a hand! A hand in the centre of its back!’
‘We need to move on,’ he said, pushing himself to his feet. His stomach suddenly heaved, and he vomited. He stood for a moment, supporting himself on the wall. ‘We cannot stay here long,’ he said.
‘The magic that warps the land outside has somehow seeped into here.’
Together they walked on until they reached the first stairway. It was of metal and speckled with rust.
‘This leads to the main dining and recreation area,’ said Skilgannon. ‘There were also libraries and a museum.’
He climbed the stairs. The nausea faded a little, but there was a metallic taste in his mouth, and his teeth had begun to ache. Behind him Askari staggered, and grabbed the stair rail for support.
‘I am all right,’ she assured him. ‘Go on. I’ll follow!’
The top of the stairwell opened out into a vast deserted hall. Tables and chairs had been hurled around the room, as if by a storm. Books and scrolls littered the floors. There were also scattered bones.
Moonlight could be seen through the high windows and Skilgannon walked on into the hall. A shadow moved against the far wall. Skilgannon spun. A massive, two-headed hound was padding across the floor towards them. It was the size of a lion. The hound began to run. Skilgannon sheathed the Sword of Night, and held the Sword of Day two-handed. ‘Get behind me!’ he ordered Askari.
The hound tore towards them — and sprang. Skilgannon leapt to meet it, the Sword of Day slashing down in an overhead cut that clove between the two heads, plunging down through the chest. The weight of the beast carried it on. It thudded into Skilgannon, hurling him from his feet. The Sword of Day slid clear. The beast rolled over, then came to its feet, both heads snarling. Askari hacked at it with her sabre.
It leapt for her, then stumbled, blood gouting from the terrible wound in its chest. Askari backed away.
Skilgannon moved alongside her. The hound’s front legs gave way, and it crashed to the floor. Sunlight suddenly blazed through the windows, columns of golden light illuminating the hall.
Skilgannon watched as the light moved across the bone-littered floor. He blinked. Then walked to the window. Askari joined him. Shielding his eyes Skilgannon watched the sun rise.
‘It is too fast,’ he said. ‘The sun does not rise that swiftly.’
Askari pointed to a flock of birds in the distance. They were speeding across the sky. ‘Time is flowing faster out there,’ she said. Skilgannon nodded agreement, and turned away from the sunlight. Taking a deep breath he walked back past the dead beast and headed across the hall.
‘Do you know where you are going?’ Askari asked him.
‘When I stayed here I was allowed to roam freely — except for the upper levels. So that is where we will make for.’
Crossing the hall Skilgannon glanced at several skeletons. They were twisted and unnatural, some with overly curved spines, others with grossly distended bones. There was a skull with four eye sockets.
Skilgannon and Askari travelled on in silence, along deserted tunnels, and up a second flight of metal steps. The higher they climbed the better they felt. Skilgannon’s nausea passed, as did the tingling in his fingers. Another corridor led them back to a high gallery above the dining hall they had just left. There were creatures moving across it now, some like the giant hound, but also other, paler beasts, hulking and brutal. One of them gazed up and saw them. It made no move to follow. Instead it loped to the dead hound and began ripping flesh from it. Other beasts joined in. From far below they heard a high-pitched scream. Several of the creatures loped off towards the sound.
Skilgannon came to an oval wooden door. It was locked. Stepping back he took several deep breaths, then hammered his right foot against the lock. The frame shuddered, but the lock did not give.
Twice more he struck at the lock. On the third blow the door bowed, and wood splintered around the frame. A fourth blow snapped the lock, and the door flew open. Skilgannon stepped inside. The room was an antechamber leading to another door. This was not locked and Skilgannon passed through into a larger room, shelved along the far wall, and stacked with books and scrolls. There was an open window, with a balcony beyond, and before it stood a wide desk of beautifully fashioned oak. An old man was sitting there. He did not rise in alarm as they entered, merely looked at them with weary eyes. His face was oddly shaped, heavy bone around the brows and cheeks. His mouth was wide, the teeth misshapen.