Cursed Times - Only Yesterday! Sequel to Wattys 2015 winner!

Chapter 58: Trueth - How many Steps from Hell?

End of last chapter:

At the very end, the very same super-sized manhole was encircling a large part of the lower hall's ceiling. It was from there that the source of light came, a deep strumming and a pulsating glow. It was not red. Nor was it black. So maybe it was not demon-made. If it was not that, what was it?

***

'It's the demons, I'm convinced of that.' Metjen was bending over the man-hole, sprinkling sparkles into the hall below them. His silhouette bore a ludicrous resemblance to a man feeding the goldfish in his garden pond. In another place, it might have been funny. Here, it was not remotely funny enough to prevent Trueth from experiencing a distinct weakness in the knees and a shortness of breath. Through her link to Seisi, she sensed the increasing drumbeat of his heart. All his attention seemed fixed on Metjen and his demon-fishing endeavours. Assuming this was what their alleged leader was doing.

Khy was still squatting close to the entrance to the anteroom. The young king showed no sign of fear but then he had never engaged the demons before. He seemed to have taken the notion into his head that he had to guard their rear, a notion that suited them all. Assuming he kept his cutlery under control, he was much safer keeping away from the heat... .

Trueth sniffed the air. It was warmer in the chamber but curiously devoid of smells. No brimstone. No sulfur. The lack of olfactory input felt like a menace all by itself.

Metjen straightened again and without facing either of them said, 'I can't make out what's happening down there. That alone tells me to be careful. So Iseret, stop nagging.' Metjen made a movement as if to shoo away a cloud of gnats. 'I'll have to go down and see this for myself. You don't notice enough without me being around.'

Shadows usually are tied to their high priest. Be glad I am not!

Metjen pulled at his hair. 'I appreciate your flexibility. Now can we focus a bit, I'm about to enter what I believe to be a hall full of enemies!'

Trueth sensed a spurt of heat as Seisi stirred. 'Pray, show us what you perceive. It will be safer.'

Metjen gave them a single nod. 'Be warned. Even if they don't notice us, the encounter will hurt. Can't spare you that. I need to know if we are up to the challenge. If we're not, we might as well go home.'

Only his jerky movements revealed the tension Metjen had to be feeling as he disappeared down the hole.  Halfway above the floor of the ancient hall, his vision took hold, sending flickering images into Trueth's and Seisi's brains. It was, of course, not real light he was sending. All he did was make the invisible visible. This was hard to do and it reminded Trueth how much her old flame had changed.

Slowly, details emerged. The jumble of broken boulders. Stones, rubble, dust everywhere. Cracks riddled the walls, dead remnants of ancient firepower. No mummified body parts or charred remains were in sight, though. No demons either, Trueth thought with relief just as Metjen was extending his vision. It lit up the tank at the back where Seisi had once spent the millennia in briny suspension.

The image drew a soft growl from her partner.

Or maybe it was the change in the aquarium's appearance. A giant fist had smashed into the glass, and the greenish fluid had leaked away without a trace.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Metjen's vision turned.

It crept towards the portal. Centimetre by painful centrimetre, it sneaked from one heap of debris to the next... .

Suddenly, the images fast forwarded towards the portal. Trueth took a sharp breath. Seisi jolted. He  drew her into his arms in one convulsive movement.