A PISTON OF DUST

© Dana W. Paxson 2005

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A PISTON OF DUST

1563 4D

Unlighted, the tight spiral stairs ended in a pitch-black landing that made them stumble in exhaustion against each other. Jeddin groped and found a door handle. Their knees wobbling, they stumbled out to a clean-swept corridor poorly lit by lamps along the ceiling apex. Empty cubbies lay dark between blackened stone walls.

“This looks just like Babiar,” Andrew said. His skin crawled and itched. Looking at Leil, he wondered whether she would ever awaken from the glazed stare now in her eyes. Her hands twisted themselves and straightened again; her lips made disconnected sound-shapes.

“We’re above it,” Jeddin answered, easing himself down against the wall. “The corpos never come down here. The Hounds, well, I don’t know about them. This isn’t andro territory, but they go anywhere they have to.”

“This isn’t a safe place for you,” Andrew said. A deep rumbling rose out of the silence. “There’s a huge thing down here, called Onnashak or something like that. It went after Grendel. It seems to sniff out andros. What are these Hounds?” A series of pops, two blasts, and a shriek answered him.

Jeddin smiled the unpleasant way Andrew‘s father had done when one of his enemies had just met with a bad fate. “They’re just like andros,” he said. The rumbling had stopped. A moment later it started again, in the stairwell they had just left. Andrew looked wildly up and down the corridor. Jeddin waited, still smiling. The air blew in great gusts out of the stairwell, driving a piston of dust ahead of itself.

But this is— what are you? Turiosten‘s voice came loud to Andrew, strangely intoned; then it faded. Andrew stared into the stairwell, and a huge gray shape bulged out, filling the doorway completely, oozing out and spreading across the entire corridor, forcing them back away from the stairway door. Onnashak had arrived.

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