landscape, Tommy. This is when humanity looked into the face of the storm and almost became extinct.'
The atmosphere was loaded with tension. Tom felt his teeth go on edge, his stomach start to knot.
'You think you know everything, Tommy.' Morrison's smile had an unpleasant edge to it which Tom couldn't quite read. He raised his hand and pointed slowly to the roundhouse. 'Do you know what's in the hut? Do you want to look in there?'
Tom stared at the gaping door of the house, and felt what might have been dread, but wasn't quite; like fate come calling. Something he didn't want to see lurked just beyond the shadowy entrance. A part of him wanted to go in there, to see what was on the edge of his mind, but tantalisingly just out of reach. Another part of him knew it would break him to see it. Defeat in victory, he knew, and victory in defeat.
'Why are you trying to frighten me away?' he said to Morrison.
'Because you can't come in here and ask for the world without showing you really want it.' Morrison's smile was easier now. He clapped an arm around Tom's shoulder and shook him roughly, amicably.
'I wish you'd just tell me about Texas Radio and the Big Beat,' Tom sighed. 'Take me to GogMagog.'
The Celtic village had been replaced by the tunnels once more, although Tom still quietly yearned for the Whiskey; one more drink would have been nice, a time to rest. Morrison had not made the journey.
After about half an hour he noticed the quality of light was growing brighter, richer. At the same time the tunnel dropped into a steep incline, where he had to clutch on to the rocky walls to prevent himself sliding down into the unknown. The temperature rose rapidly; sweat soaked his shirt and dripped from his brow; the heated air choked his lungs.
Finally, he came out into a large cavern so bright at first he had to shield his eyes. In the centre was an enormous lake of bubbling, popping lava, occasion ally shooting up in miniature geysers. The heat radiated off it, but there was none of the sulphurous stink that should have poisoned the air.
Covering his mouth with his shirt to prevent his lungs searing, he eased forward until he stood at the edge of the red lake. The air pulsed.
Tom wondered if madness were only seconds away. He knew it would be best not to be there, but how could he turn back? The others had put him to shame with their continued risk taking, like he was a child, not the mentor. It was time to face up to his responsibility.
'I plead for help!' he said in a commanding voice, while at the same time bowing his head to show deference. It also helped to hide the fear in his face.
The pressure in the air ratcheted up a notch and he had to swallow to make his ears pop.
'I know that to look upon you could mean the end of me… I know that I'm not supposed to be here. But I have to. So much is at risk.'
Would it come? Or was he wasting his time?
'I'm prepared to sacrifice myself if that's what it takes. That the world should survive is more important than me.'
The pressure finally burst and a cooling wind rushed across his face, bringing with it a deep apprehension. His words had touched a chord. Something was coming.
The lava in the centre of the lake erupted, showering burning coals all around, although, miraculously, none of them touched him. Tom threw himself back in shock, dropping to his knees, one arm across his mouth. The lava bubbled up higher in a fountain of fire and smoke, up and up, gaining weight and consistency. And when it appeared it would finally come crashing down on him in a tidal wave, it stopped, hanging silently. It stayed that way for just a moment and then the lava shifted until shape came out of its globular form: an oval, indentations folding out of it, two slits halfway up, an elongated one running vertically and a horizontal slash below. Within seconds a rough-hewn face had grown from the glutinous lava, appearing remarkably like one of the statues that looked to the endless horizon on Easter Island.
Tom climbed to his feet, but a deafening roar burst forth from the lava thing, knocking him back to his knees, his ears ringing. This time he stayed there.
For a long moment he didn't dare speak. The cavern was filled with ebbing sound, dull and reverberate, as if the thing was breathing.
'Are you the Godhead?' Tom whispered. His voice carried with remarkable clarity. 'The source?'
'I am GogMagog.' The voice was the eruption of a volcano, an earthquake turning the ground to fluid. Tom knew he wasn't really hearing it; it was something else prepared for his limited perception. And he also knew this wasn't the Godhead either; he had been presented with another intermediary, albeit a much more powerful one. He felt both relieved and disappointed at the same time. 'You have been judged,' the force continued.
'But I haven't made my case yet,' Tom protested. 'Please-'
'We see through you. Your shell, to the essence inside. We see it all. Saw it as soon as you crossed over.'
Tom's spirits plummeted. It saw through him, just like that; picked the worthlessness from his soul, the cowardice, the indecision, the hopelessness, all the things he had tried so hard to hide. He had failed.
'You shine. A star in miniature.' The voice became richer, less elemental. Tom looked up curiously; the face could almost have been smiling. 'Stand tall, little light. You do good work, as do your companions. You do the work of existence.'
'I do?' Tom felt befuddled. 'I expected to be presented to the Godhead.'
'Do you really wish that, little light?' The lava glowed brighter. 'There is no going back from that. Only forward, only forward.'
'I hoped-'
'Your mission has been recognised. You need to return to the world.'
A part of Tom still yearned for the bliss of giving himself up to the spiritual source, and he accepted that some of what drove him to follow the path underground was akin to a death wish. But what lay beyond had saved him from himself by interposing GogMagog at the last moment. That affirmation was both surprising and affecting; he could feel it warming the cold, dark parts of him.
'The path you have chosen is fraught with danger,' GogMagog said, 'but it is the most important path. Many things hang in the balance, both now and in the years to come. In the great cycle, a change has taken place. There will be no peace until the period of transformation has passed and the new order has been established.'
'I understand.'
'No. You do not. The Adversary awaits on the edge of everything. Choosing his time carefully. Preparing for the ultimate battle.'
'Balor?' Tom asked. 'But he-'
'That is but one small part of the Adversary. A fragment of shadow within the greater shadow.'
'There's something else?' Tom's heart fell. 'Something worse?'
'There is always something more. Your kind must always be on its guard. There is no peaceful home on this side of the inviolate boundary.' The lava rose, then receded.
'When?' Tom asked. There was no reply. After a while, Tom put the matter to the back of his mind to concentrate on the issue at hand. 'A friend must cross into the Grim Lands to bring back someone vitally important to ridding the world of the evil now occupying it. This friend is not dead, nor is he alive, but his spirit is trapped in the Grim Lands. That itself is a transgression of the rules. I ask that you allow my agent to cross over. And to return with our friend.'
There was a long silence, filled only with the sighing of the heated air currents in the cavern. The more time passed, the more Tom feared rejection. But then GogMagog spoke: 'The inviolate boundary may be traversed. Your agent can make the voyage from which your kind may not return.'
'Is he given safe passage?'
'He is.'
'And for the return?'
'Yes. But know this: your agent faces great peril. He may cross the inviolate boundary as the rules say.'
Tom thought about this for a second, until realisation suddenly dawned with a cold chill. 'He might die?'
Another silence, the shush-boom of the lava breathing. 'Night is drawing in. The beast is preparing to snap at his heels.'
Tom cursed quietly; had Veitch not obeyed his order to vacate the camp at nightfall? 'Then I must return to help him.'
