Gorel and the Pot Bellied God by Lavie Tidhar Page B

to him, engulfing the small, fragile body in his arms. Her heart beat against his chest, and as he felt it he could somehow sense the thing in the coffin responding, a flutter of the closed eyelids, a minute shift in the massive frame, and he pushed her away from him, and shook his head, and knew that they had to get away.
    He put his lips close to the girl’s ear and said, barely moving his mouth, his words a barely-felt whisper of air, ‘Do you know the way?’
    He felt her shake her head, but her lips were against his skin and she whispered, ‘We must go through them. I do not know the way any more.’
    He stroked her cheek and again felt the things respond, somehow aware of them now, and hungry, and he quickly took his hand away. He turned, and saw Sereli was already ahead, walking softly between the stone tombs, her Drowned God’s gun still held in her hand, like a long, muted flute. He motioned to Tonar. They followed Sereli between the tombs.
    How long had they walked like that, lost in that underground burial chamber? If the tunnels seemed like hours, time here in this primeval darkness had entirely lost its meaning. There was the sense of ancient, malevolent hunger growing around him with every step he took. Time was locked away here, not banished but dormant, and with each careful step time peeled away further, was nothing but a dream. On and on they went amongst the sleepers in the dark, and with each step the fear was greater, taking hold of Gorel and not letting go. He remembered again his childhood, the time his father took him through the Dark Wings, to the place in the earth where the roots lived, where the enemies of Goliris were bound to a timeless death, and he shivered. The air grew thick with menace, a hungry silence waiting to be filled.
    At last they passed through the last row of tombs, and beyond them was an exit, a faint natural light coming as from far away. The relief at seeing it was complete. It was then, unwisely – or perhaps, by weakness, he had finally succumbed to the suggestion of the shades – that he drew the girl Tonar to him. Without thought, aware only of a desperate need that had been building inside him ever since he first saw her, but hadn’t realised until now, until this moment, when it came to him, this strange feeling – he would never have called it love: he kissed her.
    Her lips were against his, his tongue was in her mouth, her body clasped against his and he thought – I will never let you go. It was then, in that moment of unguarded happiness, that the first creature broke through his sarcophagus.
    Gorel tore away from Tonar; the floor felt slippery under his feet; his head was swimming with a sort of dust that had nothing to do with the gods; somewhere in the distance, a voice – he thought, Sereli – shouting, ‘Gorel, you fucking idiot!’ – and something enormous, far larger than the tomb that had held it for so long, rising above them all, spreading out wings that were like cemetery earth, like flame, like the water of a drowning, like rancid air, and a terrible voice laughed, and the sound echoed through the cavern.
    ‘Get out of the way!’ he heard someone shout and again thought – Sereli. He felt dazed. She was standing side by side with him now, and she held the Drowned God’s gun to her lips, and she blew on it.
    The thing above them roared. A sort of music came out of the gun; the sound of a body drifting slowly to the depths of the sea, the voices of the world above gradually fading away in its notes, succumbing to the silence of the water: it had the resonance of doomed fight in it, as of a man struggling to breathe and encountering only water. The thing roared again and its wings spread impossibly-wide, filling up the cavern, and from here and there, there were sounds of other things moving, shifting, coffins creaking as they began to waken.
    Gorel firing at the thing, once, twice, both guns blasting, the bullets flying at the head, the