Warren used his human hand to feel for the void beyond the wall. When he found it, he concentrated again and felt for the spaces between the atoms of the chemicals that made up the concrete and wood that sealed the tunnel off.
Once he had mapped the atoms in his mind, he stepped up against the wall and pushed. Slowly, as if moving through mud, he slippedthrough the solid wall.
On the other side, Warren stood for a moment and regrouped himself. The spell he’d used to slip through the solid surface was demanding, and it didn’t alwaysleave him feeling well. A headache pounded between his temples, and his stomach lurched sickeningly.
When he felt better, he continued.
The tunnel ran for a quarter mile. Scars from pickaxes, shovels, and blasting powder peppered the wall. Ruts from ironbound wheels scored the rock floor and made treacherous footing on either side of the narrow gauge rail track that ran through the middle of the tunnel.
Almost before he was ready, Warren reached the other end of the tunnel. Engineers had constructed a concrete plug to fill in the entrance to the British Museum’s lower levels. The oblong plug was twelve feet across and three feetthick. Evidently whoever had given the order to close the tunnel had planned to never use it again.
Warren placed the hand Merihim had given him against the rock. He gathered his energy, then pushed and twisted.
Slowly, then with greater speed, the concrete plug gave way and rotated free of the tunnel mouth. Thankfully the grating wasn’t overly loud, but Warren hadworked to dampen that as well.
A moment more and the plug was free. He pushed it forward just enough to clear his body. From the drawings the voice had shown him of Knaarl in the book, Warren knew the demon was larger than he was.
The darkness in the lower room was complete, but Warren’s enhanced visionallowed him to see perfectly. At some point the museum had been invaded by scavengers that had thrown priceless artifacts around. They’d somehow gotten accessto the hermetically sealed vaults that held the various exhibitions not currently on display. Paintings littered the floor, accompanied by shattered vases, plates, and other pottery from around the world.
A little farther ahead, an Egyptology exhibit Warren had read about in the research he’d done on the British Museum lay in disarray as well. Twenty-threeEgyptian mummies occupied sarcophaguses that had been stripped of gold and gems. At one point after Howard Carter’s discovery of the Valley of Kings, mummies hadbeen big business. England had especially taken an interest in the stories.
Another room was filled with Greek and Roman artifacts that had brought in from the Greek islands, Rome, and the Aegean Sea. Statues, broken and missing pieces, lay like broken toys.
“Knaarl isn’t here,” the voice said.
Warren walked through another room filled with African tribal instruments and weapons that was more debris than display now. The founders of the British Museum had sent archeologists in all directions to gather exhibits.
On the other side of the room, Warren walked down the stairwell to reach the second underground room. Candles burned there. The rancid tallow and the acrid smoke tickled his nose and almost made him sneeze.
The second floor held glassed panels of dried flowers, seeds, and roots that lay in ruins. Most of the items had been mounted for display, but now they were little more than garbage.
Knaarl and a group of Darkspawn sorted through the materials kept in the room. They’d been orderly about it, carefully going through the contents andseparating everything out.
The demon stood eleven feet tall. Stood wasn’t exactly the correctword, though. It was more like he coiled. From the waist up, Knaarl was humanoid in appearance, but from the waist down his body was that of a snake.
Broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, the demon was covered in purplish-red scales the size of one-euro coins. A single row of black and green horns stood out above his three black eyes set into a pyramid shape above his thin-lipped mouth. He had no nose. His ears were straight and flat, and they pulsed like a fish’s fins. His lower body turned more purple and the scales were larger.
It wore a protective vest made of some bilious green hide with strange sigils carved into it. A long, curved sword hung down its back in a scabbard carved of red and black bone.
When he spoke, his voice came out in a trill. The Darkspawn worked harder, but it didn’t keep Knaarl from lashing out with the whip he carried. The braidedlength opened flesh wherever it touched. Two Darkspawn lay nearby on the ground. Neither of them moved and Warren didn’t doubt that they were dead.
You’ve found him. Good. Merihim’s voice echoed in Warren’s mind. Nowdeal with him.
Without warning, Merihim suddenly stepped through a tear in the darkness and entered the underground room. He stood savage and terrible in the darkness.
“Knaarl,” Merihim called.
The demon wheeled around at once. His three eyes locked on Merihim. Then the lipless mouth curved into a smile that revealed a double row of fangs.
“Merihim,” Knaarl said in a thunderous shrill that pealed across the openspace of the cavernous room. It almost sounded like the high-pitched squeals of a dolphin. “Fulaghar said he’d chanced upon you in this world.”
As he listened to the awful sounds, Warren was certain no human ear could have understood what the demon was saying. He wasn’t sure how he was able to.
“It is Merihim’s doing,” the voice said. “Your ties to him have enabled youto understand the demon tongue.”
“Why is he taking part in this?” Warren asked. “He wasn’t there when Iconfronted Hargastor.”
“Merihim and Knaarl have a long and sordid history together.”
Warren couldn’t help wondering how the voice knew that, and why it didn’telaborate on that history.
“Did Fulaghar speak of me in fear?” Merihim responded.
Knaarl smiled even more broadly. “No. He spoke of you in annoyance. As hewould any pest. Or lord of such.”
“Stay back out of this for the time
