Gordian Slash
2009-02-21 08:18:34 UTC
I watched, a frission of shock running through me, as the creatures
nearest eye seemed to roll and focus on my torchs beam of light. I
dropped my free hand to the holstered pistol on that side of my
body...but did not fully draw it forth. The pupil of the eye directly
within the circle of light cast by my torch was not contracting, and, as
I watched with ragged breath, the eyes slowly - languidly - closed once again.
The thing was blind!
Its snout, laying on the stone floor almost at the edge of the lip over
the subterranean river, was wreathed in the cold air movements caused by
the swirling waters below. The half-starved nanotyranus could not smell
me...it could not see me...it did not know I was there at all. It must
have lost its sight after months spent immersed in the blackness of this
cave. I knew that there was a danger of such a thing with humans who
spent only a few weeks in total darkness.
Backing slowly - as quietly as possible - away from the sleeping
dinosaur, I quickly regained the sloping ledges leading up to the
entrance tunnel. These were sufficiently precipitous and so drenched
with airborne moisture that I had to kill the torch and use both hands
to climb. That was not pleasant, climbing in utter darkness with the
knowledge that a starving carnosaur was in the chamber just a few yards
below you - that any slip or spill might send you tumbling right down
into contact with the creature. Or that it might have awakened fully,
smelled or heard you, and be searching you out at that very moment as
you were forced to concentrate solely on ascending the slick surface
beneath your scrabbling hands and feet. Perhaps I should have simply put
the poor thing out of its misery, but I was loath to risk a shot so
close to the lair of the amorphs...as I was still uncertain as to
exactly how they perceived their surroundings. They might somehow sense
the vibrations released by the concussion of a gunshot, and be able to
home in on them.
Once again at the top of the ridges I turned my light back down on the
chamber below. As before, nothing but a narrow strip of floor and
shifting mist was visible. The journey back up to the radial chamber
seemed a long one indeed, now that I knew what resided behind me ( it
seemed likely that in its wasted condition the young nanotyranus could
probably still negotiate the confines of this tunnel if it could but
find the opening ). No worries, I made it without incident. When I
peered out into the small cave with the shallow pool and the four
passageways exiting off it there were no signs of the alien amorphs that
had issued from the far tunnels mouth. I slipped swiftly and in
near-silence around the edge of the pool and darted into the remaining
tunnel, the one from which the amorphs had NOT spilled forth.
This passage was shorter than the last and ended in a blank stone wall
just a few dozen yards from the radial chamber behind me. In fact, had
there been light in that chamber and not in this corridor, I think I
could have still seen the intersection from the end of this tunnel.
Shining my flashlight all around I saw no other indication of any
continuance of the passage. I was just about to turn and return to the
junction when my light picked out three small lines that seemed
unnatural in their geometric precision...high up, above human head level
but not quite out of reach, were three small incised lines in the rock.
Three lines that formed an equilateral triangle, with one point
uppermost. The classic two-dimensional representation of a pyramid...
...and exactly like the one I had carved in my sleep - while in the grip
of weird insistent dreams - a few nights earlier. The lines did not
quite connect at the points of the triangle, it was without question the
selfsame symbol.
Reaching up, I ran my fingers over the carving. The lines were deeply
incised into the rock, much in the same precise mechanical fashion as
the cryptograms I had discovered earlier when descending the main tunnel
from the surface. Except...except near where the points would be on a
standard drawing of a triangle. There was something odd about the
surface of the rock at those three points, an unusual roughness that the
stone around the rest of the diagram lacked. Tiny flecks of grit fell
away, only visible as they drifted down through the beam of my torch,
when I removed my fingers.
The point of my knife dug the gritty filler out of the angles of the
symbol with surprising ease. The material had all the aspects of some
sort of opaque glue that had slowly cured, after its initial hardening,
to a brittle state with the passage of time. As to just how much time, I
could not hazard a guess. Now why would someone seal up the points of a
pyramidal design carved in a rock face? To disguise it? To...to hold it
in place?
I gouged and pried at the edges of the triangular area until I was
afraid I would damage the edge of my blade. Nothing gave way, though at
one point I thought I noticed an infinitesimal shift in the positioning
of the stone within the design. In frustration I slammed the
skull-crushing pommel of the knife into the center of the triangle with
all the force I could bring to bear in an overhand blow...
...the triangle sank into the stone like a plunger.
There was a distant grating noise, as if long dormant counterweights had
been released and were ponderously dragging into motion. A sudden drift
of dust and the entire rock face before me slowly fell away...sliding
back into a chamber or passage behind it. Vigorously shaking a renewed
charge into my kinetic torch - knife still in hand - I followed. After
about a dozen feet the stone door ground to a halt and a small oblong
alcove was revealed off to one side. Peering into the alcove I could see
that it was considerably longer than the door was thick, and was clearly
meant to provide passage for something not-that-much-larger than man
sized around the slab that comprised the door itself.
I know Professor! I know...it had all the earmarks of a trap. Still, one
plays the hand one is dealt in these situations - doesnt one?
I quickly darted through the alcove, slipping around the foot-thick edge
of the massive door, and found myself in another length of passage. This
one, however, had floors, walls and a ceiling of worked stone. Stone cut
with such precision and set so closely that no evidence of mortar was
visible at the joins. My light played over lines of cryptograms incised
into the walls, the same language - if actual language it was - as lined
the tunnel to the surface, except that here there was an occasional
drawing...a zoomorphic design if you will...amongst the other more
geometric ciphers. The pictograms were highly stylized, half-way to
being more symbology than representational images, but I could still
make out several that sent chills of uncanny recognition through me.
There was a flattened oval with what were clearly psuedopods emerging
from it ( the appendages shown in different positions - uses? - from
example to example ), that seemed to me to be a clear depiction of the
amorphous black blobs of my recent acquaintance. There was a stylized
slightly-hunched stick figure with large wings, shown sometimes with
wings folded and sometimes with wings extended. Sometimes these winged
figures carried tiny objects, usually depicted as boxes or circles or
lightning bolts...as often not. These two figures, the oval blob and the
winged stick-man were often seen in conjunction. In one such display the
winged figure seemed to actually be carrying a small oval blob in its
hands. There were other zoomorphic pictograms...wingless stick-men with
the lower bodies of four legged beasts, stick-men ( again wingless )
torsos atop the ophidian bodies of serpents, and one design that
appeared as best as I could tell to be depicting a large winged toad
that spit lightning. The most singular pictogram was that of a pyramid,
shown with two sides visible as one does when trying to depict a three
dimensional object in a two dimensional medium; a pyramid with what
could only be described as stars all around it! This pictogram
occurred only once, and that near the end of the lines of etchings
furthest from the door.
As I reached the last of the carved inscriptions I could see that there
was a larger chamber just ahead. I thrust my light forward. The
artificial beam seemed to catch and reflect redly from something in the
chamber. There was an all but indescribable play of crepuscular
blue-gray radiance upon a background of dark clotted crimson, turning
the whole a queasy amaranthine purple that seemed to...writhe...in the
subtle glow of my distant torch. No...it didnt seem to writhe at all
- I was quite sure that the source of reflected light was moving...
It was about then that the door slid shut behind me, its sephulcural
thud as it sealed into place echoing down the tunnel at my back.
---
ENDS PART TWENTY TWO ( LC 6.2.22 )
nearest eye seemed to roll and focus on my torchs beam of light. I
dropped my free hand to the holstered pistol on that side of my
body...but did not fully draw it forth. The pupil of the eye directly
within the circle of light cast by my torch was not contracting, and, as
I watched with ragged breath, the eyes slowly - languidly - closed once again.
The thing was blind!
Its snout, laying on the stone floor almost at the edge of the lip over
the subterranean river, was wreathed in the cold air movements caused by
the swirling waters below. The half-starved nanotyranus could not smell
me...it could not see me...it did not know I was there at all. It must
have lost its sight after months spent immersed in the blackness of this
cave. I knew that there was a danger of such a thing with humans who
spent only a few weeks in total darkness.
Backing slowly - as quietly as possible - away from the sleeping
dinosaur, I quickly regained the sloping ledges leading up to the
entrance tunnel. These were sufficiently precipitous and so drenched
with airborne moisture that I had to kill the torch and use both hands
to climb. That was not pleasant, climbing in utter darkness with the
knowledge that a starving carnosaur was in the chamber just a few yards
below you - that any slip or spill might send you tumbling right down
into contact with the creature. Or that it might have awakened fully,
smelled or heard you, and be searching you out at that very moment as
you were forced to concentrate solely on ascending the slick surface
beneath your scrabbling hands and feet. Perhaps I should have simply put
the poor thing out of its misery, but I was loath to risk a shot so
close to the lair of the amorphs...as I was still uncertain as to
exactly how they perceived their surroundings. They might somehow sense
the vibrations released by the concussion of a gunshot, and be able to
home in on them.
Once again at the top of the ridges I turned my light back down on the
chamber below. As before, nothing but a narrow strip of floor and
shifting mist was visible. The journey back up to the radial chamber
seemed a long one indeed, now that I knew what resided behind me ( it
seemed likely that in its wasted condition the young nanotyranus could
probably still negotiate the confines of this tunnel if it could but
find the opening ). No worries, I made it without incident. When I
peered out into the small cave with the shallow pool and the four
passageways exiting off it there were no signs of the alien amorphs that
had issued from the far tunnels mouth. I slipped swiftly and in
near-silence around the edge of the pool and darted into the remaining
tunnel, the one from which the amorphs had NOT spilled forth.
This passage was shorter than the last and ended in a blank stone wall
just a few dozen yards from the radial chamber behind me. In fact, had
there been light in that chamber and not in this corridor, I think I
could have still seen the intersection from the end of this tunnel.
Shining my flashlight all around I saw no other indication of any
continuance of the passage. I was just about to turn and return to the
junction when my light picked out three small lines that seemed
unnatural in their geometric precision...high up, above human head level
but not quite out of reach, were three small incised lines in the rock.
Three lines that formed an equilateral triangle, with one point
uppermost. The classic two-dimensional representation of a pyramid...
...and exactly like the one I had carved in my sleep - while in the grip
of weird insistent dreams - a few nights earlier. The lines did not
quite connect at the points of the triangle, it was without question the
selfsame symbol.
Reaching up, I ran my fingers over the carving. The lines were deeply
incised into the rock, much in the same precise mechanical fashion as
the cryptograms I had discovered earlier when descending the main tunnel
from the surface. Except...except near where the points would be on a
standard drawing of a triangle. There was something odd about the
surface of the rock at those three points, an unusual roughness that the
stone around the rest of the diagram lacked. Tiny flecks of grit fell
away, only visible as they drifted down through the beam of my torch,
when I removed my fingers.
The point of my knife dug the gritty filler out of the angles of the
symbol with surprising ease. The material had all the aspects of some
sort of opaque glue that had slowly cured, after its initial hardening,
to a brittle state with the passage of time. As to just how much time, I
could not hazard a guess. Now why would someone seal up the points of a
pyramidal design carved in a rock face? To disguise it? To...to hold it
in place?
I gouged and pried at the edges of the triangular area until I was
afraid I would damage the edge of my blade. Nothing gave way, though at
one point I thought I noticed an infinitesimal shift in the positioning
of the stone within the design. In frustration I slammed the
skull-crushing pommel of the knife into the center of the triangle with
all the force I could bring to bear in an overhand blow...
...the triangle sank into the stone like a plunger.
There was a distant grating noise, as if long dormant counterweights had
been released and were ponderously dragging into motion. A sudden drift
of dust and the entire rock face before me slowly fell away...sliding
back into a chamber or passage behind it. Vigorously shaking a renewed
charge into my kinetic torch - knife still in hand - I followed. After
about a dozen feet the stone door ground to a halt and a small oblong
alcove was revealed off to one side. Peering into the alcove I could see
that it was considerably longer than the door was thick, and was clearly
meant to provide passage for something not-that-much-larger than man
sized around the slab that comprised the door itself.
I know Professor! I know...it had all the earmarks of a trap. Still, one
plays the hand one is dealt in these situations - doesnt one?
I quickly darted through the alcove, slipping around the foot-thick edge
of the massive door, and found myself in another length of passage. This
one, however, had floors, walls and a ceiling of worked stone. Stone cut
with such precision and set so closely that no evidence of mortar was
visible at the joins. My light played over lines of cryptograms incised
into the walls, the same language - if actual language it was - as lined
the tunnel to the surface, except that here there was an occasional
drawing...a zoomorphic design if you will...amongst the other more
geometric ciphers. The pictograms were highly stylized, half-way to
being more symbology than representational images, but I could still
make out several that sent chills of uncanny recognition through me.
There was a flattened oval with what were clearly psuedopods emerging
from it ( the appendages shown in different positions - uses? - from
example to example ), that seemed to me to be a clear depiction of the
amorphous black blobs of my recent acquaintance. There was a stylized
slightly-hunched stick figure with large wings, shown sometimes with
wings folded and sometimes with wings extended. Sometimes these winged
figures carried tiny objects, usually depicted as boxes or circles or
lightning bolts...as often not. These two figures, the oval blob and the
winged stick-man were often seen in conjunction. In one such display the
winged figure seemed to actually be carrying a small oval blob in its
hands. There were other zoomorphic pictograms...wingless stick-men with
the lower bodies of four legged beasts, stick-men ( again wingless )
torsos atop the ophidian bodies of serpents, and one design that
appeared as best as I could tell to be depicting a large winged toad
that spit lightning. The most singular pictogram was that of a pyramid,
shown with two sides visible as one does when trying to depict a three
dimensional object in a two dimensional medium; a pyramid with what
could only be described as stars all around it! This pictogram
occurred only once, and that near the end of the lines of etchings
furthest from the door.
As I reached the last of the carved inscriptions I could see that there
was a larger chamber just ahead. I thrust my light forward. The
artificial beam seemed to catch and reflect redly from something in the
chamber. There was an all but indescribable play of crepuscular
blue-gray radiance upon a background of dark clotted crimson, turning
the whole a queasy amaranthine purple that seemed to...writhe...in the
subtle glow of my distant torch. No...it didnt seem to writhe at all
- I was quite sure that the source of reflected light was moving...
It was about then that the door slid shut behind me, its sephulcural
thud as it sealed into place echoing down the tunnel at my back.
---
ENDS PART TWENTY TWO ( LC 6.2.22 )