Doorways and Domains
Continued from here and here.
The goal stood before them. All the weeks of horror and death, marching and vengeance, culminated in this last confrontation. Every scrap of instinct and evidence confirmed that Lisirra was hiding within or beyond the tunnel mouth before them.
There was no doubt in anyone's mind that trickery would be afoot. But the mirrored expressions of resolve and resignation that showed in every set of eyes that looked at each other stated clearly that this was not going to stop the Etzori from exacting their revenge. Many had been lost already, the likelihood was that that there would be many more yet. But to rid the world of Lisirra was too noble a calling to be stalled by the fear of sacrifice.
A small column of ghosts went first, their focus on the door allowing them to maintain travel at a level just above the pooled surface of the standing water. Even a few inches of water, with virtually no current, could still be quite damaging to a ghost that sank into it, essentially conveying into a medium that could swirl them apart if given any splash motion whatsoever.
The living watched as their phantom brothers-in-arms disappeared into the tunnel mouth. There was nothing noticeably odd abut their progress, or the simple disappearance into the dark opening. The current commander nodded, having feared an ambush fashioned specifically to target ghosts. With no apparent repercussions along that line, he now felt better about sending in living troops. With a ghostly presence already established, an ambush intended to target the living would now have ghostly back-up in defense.
The soldiers began to move toward the tunnel's mouth. As soon as boots hit the water, the rippling of the image began. But it was not the water's surface that rippled. It was all else that wavered and distorted. Trropers tried to cry warnings as they felt their bodies become like liquid, slow, but irresistible currents now stretching and pulling them toward the tunnel mouth, which yawned widely now to receive them.
Those that tumbled in such a way as to see back the way they came saw the landscape bubble and swirl, the troops waiting in the rear no longer visible. All was a maelstrom of distorted imagery. But to that cauldron of distorted reflections now came added despair, as additional troops came charging in to rescue those they realized had encountered some sort of trap.
A funnel of swirling inertia captured all that entered, the victims realizing too late that they were already in this radical domain, and had not needed to enter the tunnel. It now advanced upon them.
It was impossible to tell how many were taken, as even the swirling patterns of jungle and stone were lost to the eyes. The lighter colors coalesced into tiny motes that were strewn about as thousands of pinpricks of light, as the darkness took on a sense of endless emptiness.
The troops tumbled slowly, aimlessly, as they drifted steadily apart, the terror of this unknown weightlessness, and the sense of there being no end to it bringing many to panic. Their thrashing seemed only to make them drift a bit faster.
And of course, under and over it all, was the voice of Lisirra, remembered from her taunting at the gates of Etzos when all seemed lost to her siege, promising a slow lonely death of starvation and dehydration as their bodies scattered over the incalculable distances in the void of space.
With no science on Idalos having even the remotest hint of what space was like, none of these soldiers had any reason to realize that the very fact that they were still warm and breathing gave the lie to the Immortal's words. Some though, saw her figure on a point of land far below and wondered how her voice could be so loud and so clear if she were truly that distant.
The goal stood before them. All the weeks of horror and death, marching and vengeance, culminated in this last confrontation. Every scrap of instinct and evidence confirmed that Lisirra was hiding within or beyond the tunnel mouth before them.
There was no doubt in anyone's mind that trickery would be afoot. But the mirrored expressions of resolve and resignation that showed in every set of eyes that looked at each other stated clearly that this was not going to stop the Etzori from exacting their revenge. Many had been lost already, the likelihood was that that there would be many more yet. But to rid the world of Lisirra was too noble a calling to be stalled by the fear of sacrifice.
A small column of ghosts went first, their focus on the door allowing them to maintain travel at a level just above the pooled surface of the standing water. Even a few inches of water, with virtually no current, could still be quite damaging to a ghost that sank into it, essentially conveying into a medium that could swirl them apart if given any splash motion whatsoever.
The living watched as their phantom brothers-in-arms disappeared into the tunnel mouth. There was nothing noticeably odd abut their progress, or the simple disappearance into the dark opening. The current commander nodded, having feared an ambush fashioned specifically to target ghosts. With no apparent repercussions along that line, he now felt better about sending in living troops. With a ghostly presence already established, an ambush intended to target the living would now have ghostly back-up in defense.
The soldiers began to move toward the tunnel's mouth. As soon as boots hit the water, the rippling of the image began. But it was not the water's surface that rippled. It was all else that wavered and distorted. Trropers tried to cry warnings as they felt their bodies become like liquid, slow, but irresistible currents now stretching and pulling them toward the tunnel mouth, which yawned widely now to receive them.
Those that tumbled in such a way as to see back the way they came saw the landscape bubble and swirl, the troops waiting in the rear no longer visible. All was a maelstrom of distorted imagery. But to that cauldron of distorted reflections now came added despair, as additional troops came charging in to rescue those they realized had encountered some sort of trap.
A funnel of swirling inertia captured all that entered, the victims realizing too late that they were already in this radical domain, and had not needed to enter the tunnel. It now advanced upon them.
It was impossible to tell how many were taken, as even the swirling patterns of jungle and stone were lost to the eyes. The lighter colors coalesced into tiny motes that were strewn about as thousands of pinpricks of light, as the darkness took on a sense of endless emptiness.
The troops tumbled slowly, aimlessly, as they drifted steadily apart, the terror of this unknown weightlessness, and the sense of there being no end to it bringing many to panic. Their thrashing seemed only to make them drift a bit faster.
And of course, under and over it all, was the voice of Lisirra, remembered from her taunting at the gates of Etzos when all seemed lost to her siege, promising a slow lonely death of starvation and dehydration as their bodies scattered over the incalculable distances in the void of space.
With no science on Idalos having even the remotest hint of what space was like, none of these soldiers had any reason to realize that the very fact that they were still warm and breathing gave the lie to the Immortal's words. Some though, saw her figure on a point of land far below and wondered how her voice could be so loud and so clear if she were truly that distant.
