One moment they had existed in a real, albeit alien, world, the next they had entered a realm of the spirit. As if a coldness beyond enduring had passed through them, they each felt an instant of supreme discomfort and another instant of near-rapture. Then they were truly within the Halls of the Dead.
Shapes and distances appeared to have little meaning, for one moment they seemed in a narrow tunnel, then upon an endless sunlit field of grasses. Next they passed through a garden, with babbling brooks and fruit-laden trees. After that, they walked below an ice flow, a white-blue frozen cataract spilling from a cliff surmounted by a giant hall from which issued joyous music. Then they seemed to walk atop clouds. But at last they were in a dark and vast cavern, ancient dead rock vaulting away into a darkness beyond any eyes’ ability to penetrate. Pug ran his hand over the rock and discovered the surface to have a slippery feel, as of soapstone. Yet when he rubbed thumb and fingers together, there was no residue. Pug put away his curiosity. A broad river slowly flowed across their path, and in the distance they could see another shore through dense mist. Then from out of the fog came a wherry, with a single figure hidden by heavy robes at the stern, propelling the craft by means of a scull. As the boat gently nudged the shore, the figure raised the large oar out of the water and motioned for Tomas and Pug to board.
“The ferryman?” said Pug.
“It is a common legend. At least here it is true. Come.”
They boarded, and the figure held out a gnarled hand. Pug removed two copper coins from his purse and deposited them in the outstretched hand. Pug sat, and was astounded to discover the wherry had reversed itself and was now heading across the river. He had felt no sensation of motion. A sound from behind caused him to turn, and over his shoulder he saw vague shapes on the shore they had left, quickly hidden by mist.
Tomas said, “Those who fear to cross or who cannot pay the boatman. They abide upon the far shore for eternity, or so it is supposed.” Pug could only nod. He looked down into the river and was further astonished to see that the water glowed faintly, lit from below by a yellow-green light. And within its depth stood figures, each looking up to the boat as it passed overhead. Feebly they waved at the boat or reached out, as if seeking to grab hold, but the boat was too quickly past. Tomas said, “Those who attempted to cross without the ferryman’s permission. Trapped for all time.”
Pug spoke softly, “Which way were they seeking to cross?”
Tomas said, “Only they know.”
The boat bumped against the far shore, and the ferryman silently pointed. They disembarked, and Pug glanced back to discover the wherry gone from sight. Tomas said, “It is a journey that may be taken in one direction only. Come.”
Pug hesitated, but realized the point of no return had just been crossed and reluctance was useless. He gazed at the river for a last, lingering moment and quickly followed Tomas.
They paused in their trek. One moment Pug and Tomas had been walking upon an empty plain of greys and blacks; the next, a vast building rose before them, if in fact it was a building. In each direction it stretched, to vanish at the horizon, more a wall of immense proportion. Upward into the strange grey which served as a sky in this forlorn place it rose, until the eye could no longer follow its lines. It was a wall in this reality; one with a door.
Pug looked over his shoulder and saw nothing but empty plain behind. He and Tomas had spoken infrequently since leaving the river some unknown time before. There had been nothing to comment on and somehow breaking the silence seemed inappropriate. Pug looked forward once more and discovered Tomas’s eyes upon him.
Tomas pointed and Pug nodded and they mounted the simple stone steps to the large open portal before them. Crossing the threshold, they halted, for they were greeted by a sight that confounded their senses. In every direction, even behind them, a vast marble floor stretched away, upon which rows of catafalques were arrayed. Atop each rested a body. Pug approached the nearest and studied its features. The figure seemed asleep, for it was unmarked, but the chest was still. It was a girl no more than seven years of age.
Beyond lay men and women of every description from beggars in tatters to those wearing royal raiment. Bodies old and rotting, and those shattered or burned beyond recognition, lay beside bodies unmarked. Infants, dead at birth, lay beside withered ancient crones. Truly they were now within the Halls of the Dead.