Its name was Leh. Zahid de Lainree called it 'the sham Voice of God', an exhalation from hell made flesh. It had been put down by Jesus Christ himself, its remains left belowground, smoldering in a fire that would never go out. It was destined to be forgotten forever, cast from the minds of humankind just as the story of its defeat at Christ's hand was purged from any history of his time on earth. De Lainree had written of the words that would guide the searcher to Leh's underground prison and the chant that would serve to extinguish its restraining fire. Richard had never wanted to believe everything he read, but all other prophecies in the Book of Ways had proven to be true, and he had no real reason to doubt this one.
"I smell burning," Gal said. They were walking along a narrow tunnel, their route lit by the wavering light of Gal's powerful flashlight. This was a prison, carved for one purpose only, and there were no warnings scratched into the walls, no barriers across their way. This was always meant to be a forgotten place that would never be touched by light again.
And yes, Richard could smell the burning as well. "Maybe its an old smell," he said. Admitting that this was the tang of smoke ... that would be saying that all this was true. That there was a demon down here, once flesh and blood but now just a memory. And memories were what they had been chasing for years.
"It's new," Gal said. "It's the endless fire, keeping Leh down. You know that." He was whispering, his words returning from the dark as sibilant echoes.
"Gal, lets get out of here," Richard said. "This isn't right. It doesn't belong! We've brought back things of myth and legend, and things that once were, but never anything like this. This thing was never natural! Who knows what it'll do if Father brings it back?"
"I send it to Father, and the choice is his," Gal said. "You trust him, don't you?"
"Of course," Richard said. I haven't even seen him for fifteen years.
"And you know why we're doing this? For Mother and what they did to her?"
"Yes." He may have changed, he may be nothing like our father anymore. We really have no idea what he's going to do.
"Then let's go." Gal moved on, expecting no reply.
Richard followed, sniffing, smelling the fire, and after a couple of minutes a glow seeped into the tunnel ahead of them. A minute later the walls opened up, the floor sloped down, and they were in a circular room twenty feet across. Theirs was the only way in and out. Again there were no signs of decoration of any sort. The only thing contained in the room was a hollowed pit at its center, within which lay something black and burning.
"Oh, shit," Richard whispered.
"I second that," Gal said.
The flames were pure white. They rose only a few inches from the black mass in the pit, flitting here and there, dying down and rising somewhere else. They looked cold. Smooth plumes of smoke rose above them, swirling in the disturbed air of the underground cavern and painting ghosts in the torchlight. Shining his flashlight up, Richard could see how the ceiling of the chamber had been blackened by centuries of smoke. Directly above the smoldering demon, the ceiling was so black that it looked like a hole in reality itself. Maybe that's where Leh went, Richard thought. Perhaps that's how it fled into the Memory, even though its body is still here.
"I'm going to look," Gal said. He moved forward. Richard raised his hand but did not touch his brother. He suddenly felt very much alone down here, less involved, more a product of his own thoughts and experiences than ever before. For a long time he and Gal had been one unit; now he was a man on his own.
Someone who could make his own choices.
"Rich, come and see this," Gal said. He only whispered, but the cavern caught his voice, bending it into echoes that stayed there for several seconds.
Richard walked forward and stood next to his brother. He looked down. The demon was blackened by two millennia of flames, yet its form was still apparent, curled into a fetal position within the pit, head covered by its long-fingered hands, legs drawn up, feet curled inward and folded over each other.
Richard let out a held breath, and dizziness faded away.
"That's a demon," he said. "We've found a demon."
"Leh."
He spoke its name! Richard thought. But nothing happened. The white flames died down on the demon's shoulder and sprang up again on its arm and hip, flickering across its leathery skin like rapidly growing frost.
"Are you ready?" Gal said.
No. Not ready. I'm not ready to do this.
"Rich? Ready? Open the book. Read those words."
"I'm not sure I want to."