Dark Calling (9 page)

There’s strong magic in the air. I let a ball of power build in my fists and wait until the monsters are several feet away,
packed tight, focused on me. Then I let them have it, a blast straight down the middle, scattering them, ripping open stomachs
and heads, incinerating eyes, faces, and internal organs.

The demons screech with pain and anger, falling beneath the hooves of those behind them. One of the Sligstata hurls itself
at me, both sets of mouths gnashing, fingernails twitching. I pirouette away from it like a ballet dancer and land on the
opposite side of the chamber. My eyes have almost completed the healing process but I still can’t see.

“Protect yourself,” Art hisses. I was letting another ball of magic build in my hands, but now I divert the power to my eyes
and erect a wall of blackness. I see nothing but I know when the light flashes by the screams of the Sligstata.

One of the beasts must have expected the flash and guarded its eyes, because while the others thrash around and topple into
the chamber, it makes a beeline for me. No time to dance aside. Planting my feet firmly, I grab the monster by its neck and
hold its spitting mouths a few inches from my throat. The stench of its breath would floor a lesser mortal.

As I’m struggling with the demon, my eyes connect with my brain and the world swims back into sight. The Sligstata’s mouths
are closer than I thought. Gritting my teeth, I push hard and its jaws slide back. But it’s tenacious and my fingers are damp
with sweat and blood. In a few seconds it will wriggle forward and finish me off.

When I first tried to fight in the Demonata’s universe, I was so scared I threw up. I was ashamed at the time, but since then
I’ve learned the value of a good stream of vomit. I send a magical buzz down my throat and a wave of digested food rises.
I spray the demon with hot, thick puke. It gurgles happily, then screeches as I turn the liquid to acid. As the Sligstata
burns and writhes, I drop it and look around.

Dozens of fresh demons are racing towards the chamber. Too many to fight. Some of those beneath me have grown new eyes and
are knocking aside the blind Sligstata, zoning in on me, hell-bent on making me pay for their torment.

“It’s looking bad,” I yell at Art, firing a magical bolt at a demon as it tops the chamber wall, driving it back.

“A few more seconds,” Art says calmly, pulsing steadily, hovering in the air above my head.

“We don’t have that long.”

“Just keep them busy a couple more…”

A blue window blinks into life. I don’t wait for Art to give the order. With a yell of fear and triumph, I throw myself at
it, linking my hands like a person diving into a swimming pool. The Sligstata snap at me with their nightmarish mouths, but
miss, and a second later I’m flying through the panel of light. I start to cheer but the sound catches in my throat as fingernails
bite into my left leg. I kick but the beast holds firm and drags me back. The patches of light are twinkling seductively,
but I’m being hauled away from them, back into the chamber of death.

I try summoning magic to fry the Sligstata, but I’m temporarily drained. This looks like the end of Cornelius Fleck. I just
hope they kill me quickly. Some demons can keep their victims alive for thousands of—

A crackle of electricity shoots through my leg. It sets my skin tingling but hurts the demon more. It starts to lose its grip.
I glance back and see that the Old Creature has once again taken on the shape of Artery. The fire in the green-skinned demon’s
right eye socket narrows then expands—he’s winking at me! Then he grabs hold of me and leaps. We shoot forward and the window
snaps shut behind us. Art transforms back into a ball of light and wraps around me. We swoop towards the pulsing lights like
a pair of birds, laughing hysterically at our narrow escape.

I
T
takes a while to settle down. “Thanks,” I say when I’ve stopped chuckling. “You saved my life.”

“That’s my job,” Art says wryly.

“I thought I was done for. There were so many of them…” I frown. “That wasn’t the demon universe, was it?”

“No,” Art says. “I told you we would not be crossing to their realm.”

“Then what were the Sligstata doing there?”

“That world was demon-free a few months ago,” Art says. “They must have broken through recently. I wouldn’t have come this
way if I’d known.”

“Even so, how could so many…” I stop as the answer pops into my head. “They opened a tunnel between their universe and that
world.”

“Yes,” Art says.

“The sky demon,” I say slowly. “Did you see it?”

“Yes. There were more, a convoy of them in the sky.”

“Where were they going?”

“Other worlds.” Art sighs. “There were stones of magic hanging beneath it. You call them lodestones. We set such markers in
place on all the worlds we visit. They help us hold the Demonata at bay and give the inhabitants of the planets a chance to
evolve.

“The defensive power of the stones fades when we move on. As the safety net crumbles, demons seek to open windows and tunnels.
If they succeed, they wipe the world clean. Then, in most cases, they return to their own universe. But sometimes on a world
where lodestones are plentiful, they use it as a base to launch more attacks.

“The sky demon and its passengers are heading for neighboring worlds, using the stolen, corrupted magic of the lodestones
to sustain them. It will take millennia, but they are patient. The power will drain from the stones eventually and they’ll
have to return home, but that might not be for millions of years.”

“And as long as the stones hold, they can stay in this universe?” I ask, feeling sick.

“Yes.”

“How far is that sky demon from Earth?”

“Billions of miles. It will never trouble your people.”

“But if it was setting off from a nearer world, like Atlantis, it could descend on us one day, carrying hordes of demons?”

“Yes,” Art says.

“Is our universe full of sky demons, slowly making their way from one world to the next?”

“Hardly
full of,
” Art mutters. “But there are many of them.”

“Then we can’t beat them,” I croak. “We thought if we stopped them crossing, we were safe. But if armies are already here,
making their way towards us…”

“All worlds will fall eventually,” Art says glumly. “All beings will die. That is the nature of the universe. Nothing is forever.
Death claims all things in the end.”

“Sure,” I grunt bitterly. “But I didn’t know there were scores of demons cruising the skies, working hard to wipe us out.”

“It is not an issue,” Art says. “Your world will have fallen long before any sky demon reaches it.”

My eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”

“The lodestones are a temporary form of protection,” he says. “Demons always cross. The only hope any beings have is to master
the skies. If a species learns to move on to other worlds, they can stay ahead of the Demonata. Your people haven’t made that
crucial step to the stars. Your planet will fall within the next year. It is inescapable.”

My jaw drops, then firmly closes. I breathe in and out through my nostrils, waiting until I’m calm. When I’m in control, I
say very clearly, “I want to go home.”

“It would be pointless,” Art says. “You could do nothing to stop it.”

“I have to try. Even if I fail, I want to be there at the end. If Earth’s going to fall, I’ll fall with it.”

“No,” Art says. “You have a greater destiny.”

“I don’t care about—” I begin to snarl.

“Life must continue,” Art interrupts. “We realized, billions of years ago, that this universe was doomed. The Demonata are
stronger than those who populate our worlds. In time they’ll conquer all. We devoted ourselves to denying them that victory.
We vowed to find a way to ensure life continued.”

“I thought you said all things perish.”

“Ultimately,” he replies. “This universe is a living thing, and it will die of old age eventually. But we can make sure that
the end comes in its own time, not at the hands of the Demonata.
If
you help us.”

I’m silent a long time. I can’t understand everything Art is talking about, but if he’s right… if there’s some way to thwart
the plans of the Demonata…

“How much farther do we have to go?” I ask.

“Not far,” Art says. “Another day, perhaps, and we will reach the Crux.”

“And you’ll tell me everything?” I press. “No more riddles or half-answers?”

“Everything will be revealed,” Art promises. “After that you can stay or go as you please.”

“Then I’ll come,” I sigh, and although my intentions are good, it feels like I’ve just sold my soul to the devil—or worse.

M
ORE
worlds and chambers. Pretty much all of the planets have fallen. They feel old and cold. Art says these were some of the
earliest settled worlds, the first planets that the Old Creatures populated.

“You’re like gods,” I mutter. “You spread life across the universe.”

“We nurture life,” Art corrects me. “We don’t create it. We don’t know where the living things of this universe came from,
how life was born out of fire and chaos. There are forces at work beyond even our knowledge.”

“Then gods—or God—might be real?” I press.

“Perhaps.”

“What about an afterlife?” I ask. “Do you know what happens to our souls when we die?”

“No,” Art says. “We will talk more about that later, but first…”

We’re approaching a small window. We’ve been moving at a constant speed, but now Art slows.

“We are almost at the Crux,” he says, and there’s a nervous edge to his voice. I feel the ball of light tighten around me.

“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.

“The Crux is a place of great danger,” he replies. “We cannot stay long, and I must cling tightly to you while we’re there,
or you will be disintegrated.”

“Hold on!” I yelp. “You never said anything about disintegration!”

“I didn’t want to frighten you,” Art chuckles.

I stare anxiously at the window, wondering if there’s anything I can do to stop this.

“Don’t be afraid,” Art says. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Wait!” I cry as we draw close. “Have you ever taken anyone like me into the Crux before?”

Art hesitates, then says sheepishly, “No.”

“Then how do you know—”

Before I can finish, we smash through the window and I scream at the top of my lungs, as if riding the wildest roller coaster
in the universe.

  As soon as we slip through the window, the temperature skyrockets. We’re gliding towards a massive orb of seething fire.
This must be what the sun is like close up. The space around us throbs with magical energy. I sense Art tapping into that
magic, using it to shield us from the unbelievable heat, glare, and radiation. I can’t imagine anything non-magical surviving
here.

We zip closer to the ball of fire. It shimmers savagely as I stare at it, awestruck and horrified. It doesn’t have a constant
shape. The edges buckle and warp, bulge out, then twist back in on themselves. Pillars of flame shoot from the surface, spiral
around the face of the orb, and are absorbed by it again. Sometimes it turns a blinding white shade. Other times it goes black
and becomes almost invisible against the expanse of space around it. Most of the time it flickers between the two colors,
waves of fire lashing across the surface and bubbling over without pause.