‘Fine. One at a time, though,’ he said from above. ‘We don’t want to break this thing with all of us on it.’
Vintage made short work of the rope ladder – one didn’t grow up next door to the vine forest without becoming an accomplished climber – and found herself standing in front of the light-filled object. It was a tall, jagged crystal, twice her height and wider at the base. It was pale pink in colour, but its smooth surfaces winked and slid reflected light around her, as though it were in motion. Looking at it made her feel mildly queasy. She glanced up to see Noon making her steady way down, her cap now pushed back from her eyes to reveal the bat-wing tattoo on her forehead.
‘What is that?’ she asked when she got to the floor.
‘Well, that’s quite the mystery, isn’t it?’ Vintage reached over and squeezed her hand briefly, noting the flicker of surprise that passed over the girl’s face. This one wasn’t used to human contact, she reminded herself, and felt a pang of sadness. ‘I haven’t seen anything like this on any of my own expeditions, and nothing in Godwort’s sketches either. Tor? What are you doing?’
‘Making bloody sure this ladder is secure before I come down there.’ Moments later he climbed down, his long figure strangely awkward on the swinging rope. Noon had approached the giant crystal, her hands held cautiously in front of her as though she expected it to burn her, and then she gasped, taking an involuntary step backwards.
‘Fire and blood, there’s a whole world in there! What is this thing?’
‘What?’ Vintage jumped forward, peering closely at the crystal. It was as if its clouded surface cleared – a hand wiped over a misted window – and an alien landscape was revealed, stretching off into the distance. She saw a night sky pocked with fiery stars she didn’t recognise, and a desolate land of white rock and craters. Her stomach dropped away. There was another world in here with them, just beyond the surface of the crystal, and the effect was dizzying. She almost expected to feel cold air on her cheek, to hear the desolate howl of the wind, deep within the heart of the Behemoth. Nothing moved in that terrible landscape. She reached out one hand, meaning to push her fingers against the slick surface, but a hand settled heavily on her shoulder.
‘Don’t,’ said Tormalin, his voice utterly serious for once. ‘You know better than that, Vintage.’
She pursed her lips and nodded. Noon had walked off around the other side of the crystal, circling it like a wary animal. She disappeared from sight, and almost at once they heard her give a startled shout.
‘What is it?’ Tor was there before Vintage, one hand on the pommel of his sword, but she almost collided with him as, suddenly, he was brought up short. Noon stood staring at the crystal, her face drained of colour. There was a body standing half in and half out of the structure, and it was all wrong. Vintage pressed her fingers to her mouth, feeling her bile rising in her throat.
‘By the roots,’ cried Tormalin, his voice oddly breathless. The crystal continued to flash and flicker at them. ‘What is this thing?’
The corpse had been a young man with unruly black hair and a comely face – they could tell this because the half of his body that stood in the alien landscape appeared to be untouched, his smooth skin clear and unblemished, his eyes so glassy they almost looked wet. The half of his body that was still in the chamber, however, was a terrible emaciated thing of bones, and flesh turned soft and black. The boy’s hand was curled against his thigh, and it looked like little more than a pile of brownish sticks, while his leg hung loose, at a strange angle inside his trousers.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ said Noon.
‘Oh my dear,’ said Vintage. Her voice didn’t sound like her own voice. ‘Me too, my dear.’
The boy had apparently been caught half in and half out of the crystal, as though he had been stepping into it at an angle and had been frozen in place. His head was entirely beyond the surface, as were his right arm and leg, while the line of the crystal ran from the left side of his neck – the ear there had only narrowly missed being left behind – down across his chest to bisect him neatly at the groin. Most of him was within the crystal. All of him was dead.
‘It’s his son,’ said Noon flatly. ‘Don’t you see? It – his face looks like him.’
‘Oh gods, Tyron, no.’ Vintage took a startled breath, and all at once she was very close to losing the small breakfast she had eaten that morning. She had only met Tyron once, years back when he had been no older than four or five. He had been mischievous, she remembered, peering out from behind his father’s legs, dark eyes full of curiosity. ‘How is it – how is it holding him there? Some sort of trap?’
‘Whatever it is,’ said Noon, ‘I think it’s broken. Look at the way it’s flashing. And there’s this stuff on the floor.’
Barely able to tear herself away from the terrible sight of Tyron, Vintage looked where Noon was pointing. It was the remains of a camp. People had stayed here for days, perhaps, trying to get him out, and failing. The horror of it washed over her, and she felt a steadying hand on her arm. To her surprise, it was Noon.
‘They found this chamber, and the extraordinary world in a crystal,’ said Tor. He was staring at the corpse. ‘Tyron Godwort wanted to be the first to explore it, perhaps, but when he entered it, whatever magic powered the thing failed. Or started working? Either way, it trapped him there, half in and half out. Did he die immediately? I don’t think so.’ He gestured at the camp, still not looking at them. ‘They thought it worth staying here, for days, in a hope of getting him free. Most of his body is on the other side – he would have been able to breathe, assuming there is something there to breathe, but not to eat or drink.’
Tor paused. Vintage felt a cold tingling sweeping up from her toes. Had he cried, and pleaded with them to help? Would they have been able to hear him, beyond the crystal?
‘They tried to get him out, but nothing could break it.’ There were hammers on the floor, several chisels. One of the hammers was broken, the head torn away from the shaft. ‘So, what? They waited. Perhaps, they thought, the magic would change, or break, or release him randomly. They watched and waited as one half of his body wasted away. Perhaps he asked them to kill him towards the end, but they wouldn’t have done that. There was still a chance.’
‘Stop it,’ said Noon. ‘Just stop it.’