The Descent

'That's  why  they  need  me,'  she  said.  'We  can  bring  their  greatness  to  life  again.  It will  take  time,  but  now  I  know  we  can  do  it.  The  interconnections  are  braided  within their writings. It's  as different from modern hadal as ancient Egyptian  is  from  English. But this place is the key,  a giant Rosetta stone. All the clues  are  here,  in  one  place.  It's possible I can decipher a civilization twenty  thousand years  dead.'

'We?' said Ike.

'There's  another prisoner here. It's  the most extraordinary  coincidence. I  know  him. We've started  the work.'

'You can't  return  them  to  what  they  were.  They  don't  need  stories  from  the  golden days.' Ike  drew  the air through his nostrils. 'Smell, Ali. That's  death  and  decay.  This  is the city of the damned, not Shangri-la. I  don't  know  why  the  hadals  have  all  gathered here.  It  doesn't  matter.  They're  dying  off.  That's  why  they  take  our  women  and children.  It's  why  they've  kept  you  alive.  You're  a  breeder.  We're  stock.  Nothing more.'

'Folks?' Shoat's tiny voice interrupted.  'My  meter's  running. Let's  get this over  with.' Ali  faced  the  screen,  not  knowing  he  was  seeing  her  through  the  crosshairs  of  his scope. 'What do you want, Shoat?'

'One, the head honcho. Two, my  property.  Let's  start  with One. Patch me through.' She looked at Ike.

'He wants to deal. He thinks he can. Let  him try.  Who's in charge here?'

'The  one  I  came  looking  for,  Ike.  The  one  you've  been  looking  for.  They're  one  and the same.'

'But they're  not the same.'

'They  are.  He's  the  one.  I  spoke  to  him.  He  knows  you.'  Using  click  language,  Ali spoke  the  hadal  name  for  their   mythical   god-king.   'Older-than-Old,'   she   said  in English.

It  was a forbidden name, and the feral girl gave  a sharp, astonished look at her.

'Him.'  Ali  gestured  at  the  claim  mark  tattooed  on  Ike's  arm,  and  he  grew  cold.

'Satan.'

His  eyes  went  racing  through  the  hadal  shapes  lurking  in  the  hollow  behind  Ali. Could it be? Here?

Suddenly the  girl  gave  a  small  cry.  'Batr,'  she  said  in  hadal.  It  caught  Ike  off  guard. Father,  she had said.  His  heart  jumped  at  the  address,  and  he  turned  to  see  her  face. But she was smelling  the  shadows.  A  moment  later,  Ike  caught  the  scent,  too.  Except for one glimpse of the fiend as the ancient hadal fortress  was being sieged,  Ike  had  not seen this man since the cave  system  in Tibet.

If  anything,  Isaac  had  grown  more  imposing.  Gone  was  the  sticklike  ascetic's  body. He had put on muscle weight, meaning  the  hadals  had  granted  him  higher  status  and, with it, greater  shares of meat. Calcium outgrowths formed a twisted  horn  on  one  side of  his  painted  head,  and  his  eyes  had  an  abyssal  bulge.  He  moved  with  the  grace  of  a t'ai  chi  master.  From  the  silver  bands  cinching  his  biceps  to  the  protruding  demon stare  and  the  antique  samurai  sword  in  one  hand,  Isaac  looked  born  to  rule  down here, a caudillo for the underworld.

'Our  renegade,'  Isaac  greeted  him.  His  grin  was  ravenous.  'And  bearing  gifts?  My daughter. And a machine.'

The  girl bucked forward. Ike  hauled  her  back,  making  another  wrap  of  rope  around his  fist.  Isaac's  lip  peeled  back  over  his  filed  teeth.  He  said  something  in  hadal  too intricate for Ike  to understand.

Ike  gripped  the  knife,  stifled  his  fear.  This  was  Ali's  Satan?  It  would  be  like  him  to deceive  her  into  thinking  he  was  the   khan.  To   deceive   Ike's   own  daughter   into believing in a false father.

'Ali,' Ike  murmured, 'he's not the one.'  He  didn't  speak  the  name  of  Older-than-Old, even  as a whisper. He touched his claim mark  to indicate who he meant.

'Of course he is.'

'No. He's only a man. A captive  like me.'

'But they  obey  him.'

'Because he obeys  their king. He's a lieutenant. A favorite.' Ali frowned. 'Then who is the king?'

Ike  heard a faint jingling. He  knew  that  sound  from  the  fortress,  the  tinkling  of  jade against  jade.  Warrior  armor,  ten  thousand  years  old.  Ali  turned  to  peer  into  the shadows.

A terrible  gravity  began  pulling  at  Ike,  a  feeling  you  got  when  your  holds  failed  and the depths peeled you away.

'We've missed you,' a voice spoke out of the ruins.

As  a  familiar  figure  surfaced  from  the  darkness,  Ike  lowered  his  knife  hand.  He  let go  of  his  daughter's  rope,  and  she  darted  from  his  side.  His  mind  filled.  His  heart emptied. He gave  himself to the abyss.

At last, thought Ike,  falling to his knees.

Him.

Shoat  hummed  tunelessly  in  his  sniper's  nest,  his  rifle  nested   in  a  stone   groove overlooking the abyss.  He kept  his eye  to the scope, watching the  tiny  figures  play  out

his script. 'Tick-tock,'  he whispered.