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'Behold your God, Saraquazel!'
The words were odd and confusing, but the meaning was
clear. The Archimage stepped into the chamber, noting that
everything looked exactly the same as it had done the last time
he had been there. The Goddess Tardis rested on her plinth,
while the forms of Saraquazel and Yog-Sothoth were still
inexplicably merged as one. But the clarity of his God's words
suggested that the madness was no longer afflicting him.
`Have you come to free us from our thrall?' came the
words.
The Archimage frowned. How could he separate the Gods?
But Saraquazel seemed certain that he could. Then he
remembered the child in his arms, and the book in his pouch.
He had come to the chamber to steal the sum total of the Gods'
might, in preparation for breaching the Wall of Tears and
conquering the universe beyond.
`I have no time to engage in debate, Saraquazel,' he
muttered, laying the child on Yog-Sothoth's empty throne. 'I
have work to do.'
`He plans to siphon off our artron energy and use it for his
own ends,' came an unfamiliar voice. 'I warned you of the
duplicity of these material beings, Saraquazel, but you
wouldn't listen. Now I suppose I'll have to deal with matters in
my own way.'
Figures started to shamble out of the shadowed corners of
the chamber, huge furry beasts with outstretched claws.
The Archimage laughed. 'Are these the best that you can
do, Yog-Sothoth? Then again, given the sterile imagination of
the Hierophant, it doesn't surprise me.' He snapped his fingers,
and the creatures suddenly found themselves entangled in
sparkling nets of spells, glittering mesh that constricted around
them. After a few moments of flailing, they toppled onto the
floor as Yog-Sothoth withdrew his control.
251
The Archimage reached into his pouch and took out the
black book of Cardinal DeSable. And the Stiletto of Vaux,
stained with ancient blood.
Mel tried to ignore the stench of the burning Yeti as she
tended to the fallen Doctor. His breathing was shallow, but
both heartbeats were strong and regular. Even as she watched,
he opened his eyes and smiled wearily.
`Doctor?' she asked uncertainly.
`Expecting someone else?' he muttered, and then frowned.
'Now that sounded familiar.' He jumped to his feet. 'To tell you
the truth, that was a close one. The Valeyard almost got his
hooks into me. Anyway, time to press on, don't you think?' But
Mel was aware of the suspicious looks from the others,
especially Louise.
`Gargil is . . .' The Hierophant looked at the floor. 'I mourn
with you, Majestrix.'
It took Mel a few seconds to understand what the
Hierophant was saying. She looked over to the prone figure of
the cybrid, and could sense that he was dead, his back having
broken when he hit the wall. 'He was trying to save us,' she
muttered, feeling tears in her eyes. The Hierophant put a
comforting arm around Mel's shoulders.
`Let us hope that your warlord will be the last to fall,' she
said softly, but Mel could detect the doubt and fear in her
voice. And then the Doctor was talking.
`Come along!' he insisted, walking through the doorway
that led to the chamber of the Gods. 'We've got a sacrifice to
prevent.'
The Archimage rubbed his hand across his forehead as the
words on the page blurred and swam. He tried to focus on the
incantation that the Valeyard's book indicated would leech the
Gods' powers, but it was difficult.
When the Valeyard had explained the procedure to him,
back in the throne room of Abraxas, it had seemed simplicity
itself. Recite the incantation, and, at the climax, slit the child's
throat. As its life-force seeped away, it would act as the
catalyst for the release of the Gods' powers. And those powers
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would then flow into the Archimage, giving him total, ultimate
control over the Great Kingdom.
He allowed himself a moment to wallow in his imminent
apotheosis. When he replaced the Gods in the pantheon, he
would wipe the Tabernacle from the face of the land, and build
another, greater Tower of Abraxas. A Tower that would afford
him a view of the universe that would be his, once the Wall of
Tears fell. And all it would take was the blood of an innocent.
The blood of Cassandra Mason.
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