Demonworld (4 page)

The alien flowers were not native to Haven.

Wodi rose and looked around. Though the idea was difficult to grasp, he was truly beginning to believe that he was no longer in Haven. In the growing light he could dimly make out a complicated spiderweb high in a tree, looping from branch to branch, patterns repeating like some kind of equation. He saw a cluster of white trees with holes gnawed through their centers, with thick syrup the color of blood running down to the forest floor.

Wodi had heard of such places before. Though most of the world was baked dry and hostile to life, this place was an
oasis
- a dreadful and forbidding place deep in the wasteland. If he was correct, then he was nowhere near Haven. An oasis was a place of genetic wildness, a dark land where life was crowded and hemmed in on all sides. A place of vicious and unending competition where living things developed savage defenses, facing a grim choice between death and an unhappy existence.

And oases were always, always inhabited by flesh demons.

Wodi waited on the edge of a nearby clearing and watched the sky unravel into white and pink. The stars grew dim. As long as he stood still, he could almost imagine that he was the first man in an alien world, standing by as the first garden gave birth to itself. Eventually he could make out black leaves against twisted trunks, then he could see that the forest stretched in all directions. When he got a hint of where the sun would rise, he knew that soon the day would begin and he would have to bottle up the chaos in his heart and come up with a plan.

He checked his pockets for anything that might help. All of his usual possessions were gone; they had been replaced by a small, folded, hand-drawn map.

Surely he was dreaming. The map was drawn with a spidery thin script, more representative than practical. There were hints of imagination in the controlled flourishes of the pen.

The Island of Haven was at the top, in the middle of the Sea of Tranquility, with Sunport on the far shore south of Haven. Below that lay hundreds of miles of arid wasteland, home to lone demons and the burning sun. At the bottom of the map Wodi could see a horseshoe formation of mountains that enclosed a forest. A prominent X was placed in the middle of the forest. A river ran through the forest, disappeared under the mountains, wound through more arid waste, and cut through the center of the city of Pontius far to the west. Wodi could only assume that he was standing on the X, thousands of miles from Haven, trapped in a world he was not equipped to deal with.

As confusing as it was, the existence of the map confirmed that he was a fly trapped in the web of a sadist with access to resources. The situation was not as dreamlike and nonsensical when he reasoned that someone, a person, a human like himself, was behind it all.

Had he pissed off someone dangerous? Or been mistaken for the child of someone important, kidnapped for ransom, and then dumped far away when the deal fell through? Neither option seemed likely. All the same, here he was.

Because the map was nothing but confusing, he put it away, climbed a low-hanging branch, and watched the sun rise. The sky was pale and blue, the same blue he had known his whole life. He could now orient himself north. Again and again he swallowed the fear that he would soon be eaten alive by monstrous gods. Again and again he told himself that if he was going to die anyway, then he could at least die on the long walk home.

Deep, deep underground, Sevrik Clash, Head of Guard in Haven, stalked down the dark halls underneath the Department of Science. His massive frame nearly filled the hall. A grizzled red beard, streaked with gray, shot out from his face and covered his chest. His heavy footfalls echoed against the hum of distant generators. He came to a black door, said, “Potential,” and the door hissed and swung open mechanically.

He entered a great dark room lit with a few dim purple lights. Computer terminals flickered all around.

“
Didi,” he said.

A squat man with ink-black skin hobbled towards him, his dark shiny head and features swimming up slowly from the darkness. His leg brace rasped and sighed like a mechanical familiar, servant to a wizard of black science. He squinted his large, bloodshot eyes because they were sensitive to light, making his face a web of wrinkles. He was Head of the Departments of Science and Research, and perhaps the most intelligent man in all of Haven; though many of his opinions were unpopular, his creations were enjoyed by all. His leg brace groaned as he leaned against it. He said nothing.

Towering over him, Sevrik said, “Didi, Korliss says our Project is gone.”

Didi nodded slowly.

“
Alive, but gone,” added Sevrik.

Didi turned away.

“
Didi, that thing is the ultimate weapon. If it should fall into the hands of the enemy...” He trailed off, unable to articulate his fear.

Didi looked at the far end of the room. A large red panel and its single button twinkled in the darkness. “I am prepared,” Didi’s voice croaked. “I am prepared to sacrifice everything. Are you, Sevrik?”

“
Prepared to destroy decades of work? Decades of waiting and cultivating? With the push of a button? All of it gone, Didi, just like that?”

“
Yes,” said Didi, and Sevrik knew that his will was set firm. “We took a vow, the three of us. We knew the risk. Fate has dealt us a terrible card... but let us wait before doing anything rash.”

Didi hobbled over to the terrible red button and sat down beside it. “I am in no rush to push the button. We will yet find our Project.”

“
Are you that confident?” said Sevrik, knowing that he would be doing much of the work.

“
I am. It is only the world and all the fates who stand against us. When has that ever stopped us? When has anything ever stopped us? We are men for whom morality is merely a hindrance… not a limit.”

“
Are you
losing
it, Didi?” Sevrik blurted out suddenly.

“
I am only staying true to our plan,” said Didi. “I feel fine. Thank you.”

Through the Door of the Black Valley

Wodi spent the morning trekking through dense woods. At first he tried to be as stealthy as possible, but gave that up as the woods eventually filled with horrid cries, the squealing of unseen animals killing one another, and the shrill song of insects calling out, robotic and unending. He came to a grass-covered hill and, wanting to be out of the gloom of the valley, walked to the top.

The woods were sparse near the crest. He saw great gray mountains to the west, north, and east, with treetops stretching out on all sides. Wodi consulted the ridiculous map, feeling foolish and tired from the walk. If the X on the map was any sort of indicator, then he was south of the river. If he followed the river under the mountain, or made the effort to travel south and around the forbidding mountains, then perhaps he could make his way west to the city of Pontius.

But Wodi knew that the foreign city was probably no better than the wasteland itself. He had no illusions about the hospitality of such people. Not only that, but he noticed places marked at the top of the horseshoe ring of mountains - they were tunnels of some sort, and were labeled as abandoned mines. If Wodi could avoid being eaten long enough to get some water at the river, and possibly something to eat, it was not inconceivable that he could reach the mines and even travel through them. If he could make it very far north to the wasteland city of Sunport, perhaps he could even convince someone to sail with him across the sea to Haven. Unfortunately there was a long stretch of wasteland between the wooded valley and Sunport, which was no small problem.

Still, it was the shortest possible stretch between here and home. While the plan might be unrealistic, it gave him hope. Perhaps that was plan enough.

He put the map away, looked to the mountains, oriented himself north by the sun, and thought to himself
I want to go home
. He set off down the hill. Tree branches soon closed overhead, swallowing the light. He hesitated before reentering the woods, thinking that he could see the glowing eyes of creatures, watching and waiting. He took a deep breath, then entered the dark.

Wodi walked the unwelcoming paths in the dark wood, picking his way through narrow trails that cut through dense grass and brush. He saw strange and twisted plants. Sticky vines crossed the ground, their orifices clogged shut with the corpses of rats. Tall towers of black flowers rose up to meet thin strands of green-filtered light. Matted wreaths of milk-blooded flowers choked at one another, thorn and stem cutting and growing as one. A garish neon plant offered a bowl of honey in its mouth; hungry insects came to lap at this prize, and were caught by a malicious tongue that hid within the sap. Another flower's blossom looked exactly like a cat's head, a defense mechanism devised to keep away the mice that would chew at its stem. Yet another plant blossomed and withered in the time that it took Wodi to walk by, obeying some inscrutable pattern in its genetic blueprint. Wodi’s hunger was not so great that he felt comfortable eating any of the strange plants, nor did he find any water to drink.

He stopped near a dark, cold stretch of woods. The canopy of leaves overhead was so dense that it completely blocked out the sun, creating a stifling world of eternal night. He peered inside. The dark was quiet and still, and eventually he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. He could make out places where the light cut through in yellow shards, but those places were far and few between. The dark woods lay as far to his left and right as he could see; if he tried to go around so he could keep his eye on the sun and not lose his way, it could take a very long time.

He went in.

The paths were wide in the black forest; the undergrowth was stifled where the light was snuffed out. The place smelled like the dark insides of a refrigerator long dead. Phantom lights played in his eyes. Wodi kept his hands stretched out before him, continually bumping into smooth trees whose branches were so high and distant that he never felt them. The greedy trees were like wrinkled columns of marble, implacable tyrants willing to choke out all life below to guarantee a sip of sunlight far above.

Finally he came to a narrow break filled with yellow light. The little haven was no warmer than the rest of the dark wood, and Wodi was half convinced that he could see stars shining in the little opening far above. In the pale light he could see that the tree trunks were deathly white, a skeletal forest as quiet as the void. Wodi was no longer sure that being able to see the light was any better than fumbling in the dark, so he pressed on.

He picked his way from one clearing to the next. It was impossible to tell which direction he was going in; his only consolation was that the place could not go on forever. Finally he came upon a terrible sight, and he began to understand why some creatures would choose to live blind in the darkness forever.

A pale creature about the size of a cat hung suspended in the air, one of its hind legs tied to a rope that was attached to a faraway branch. Its eyes were closed, but Wodi could see it taking in shallow breaths. The poor creature turned slowly. A sharp stick of white wood lay propped up on a nearby tree. Wodi felt his eyes burning hot, for the first sign of life he encountered was a scene of torture. He knew then that it had been a very bad idea to enter the dark woods. He should have skirted around it, even if it had taken days or weeks to do so. Even if death waited in the entire valley, it would be a terrible thing to die in darkness, especially at the hands of some
thing
that lived in darkness.

There was only one thing to do. Wodi was not so hungry that his values had changed, so he cast about for a sharp stone. He found one, then set to work grinding it against the rope. The thing was made of thin, dry vines; Wodi tried to stifle his imagination concerning who or what could have made the rope.

The poor creature lay still the entire time, as if dead. The rope snapped apart and Wodi laid the animal on the ground. After a few long moments, the thing worked its jaw, sucked in a few great breaths, then licked its face and worked its way onto its belly. It ignored Wodi entirely and shambled off into the dark, the rope of vines dangling from its foot as a reminder that the cord of its spirit remained intact. Having grown up around bullies intent on shoring up their weak egos with minor acts of brutality, Wodi felt a disproportionate sense of accomplishment in freeing the creature. He only hoped he would be extended the same mercy if he ended up in a similar state.