A Gathering Of Stones

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Trago clutched at Harra’s Eye. He fought against being swallowed, but he knew so little about what was going on, he was, after all, only a six-year-old boy, the ten years he’d passed in spell might have been ten minutes. All he could do was deny and deny and deny. He could not relate to the woman who said she was his sister, she was a stranger. He didn’t want any of this, he was terrified and angry, the god made him feel sick when he looked at it, it was ugly, rotten. No, he shouted into the crystal, no and no and no.

The noises changed, the noises were a chant.

The Chained God chanted, gathering his forces, thrusting his will at them, a wordless spell or if there were words, they were sunk so deep in computer symbology and machine noise they were wholly unintelligible to mortal ears, even Danny Blue’s.

BinYAHtii appeared, hovered over the Hexa-center.

The glittersack opened, poured out the geniod.

BinYAHtii quivered, hummed with power, put out a pulsing red aura, calling, calling the geniod to it: hungry hungry hungry: Hunger Incarnate. A HUNGER greater than even the geniod’s. Demanding. Compelling.

The geniod struggled, screamed-and streamed in a river of light into the heart of the talisman.

BinYAHtii ate and ate, ate them all, its power song sinking into subsonics.

The river vibrated, distorted, took on one shape, then another, then was Palami Kumindri half submerged in the liquid light. “The Promise,” she screamed. “We obeyed in all things. The Promise. Pay us what you promised.”

The God spoke, hits multiple voices like a swarm of locusts buzzing. “This is MY reality. What made you think I’d let you eat it bare? You’ve lived well enough. I owe you nothing. I used you and now I purge you. Consider it the price you pay for the worlds you have destroyed.” H/it sounded prim and complacent. Wit drove the geniod into the Hunger of BinYAHtii until every fleck of light had vanished and the talisman glowed like a small red sun.

H/its power enormously increased, the god reached out and PUT HATS HANDS on them: *Settsimaksimin/Simms^s *Brann/WakKerrcarr* *Yaril/Jaril* *Danny Blue/Felsrawg* *Trago* *Korimenei* Wit seized hold of them, turned them to face BinYAHtii. H/it seized hold of the Great Talismans and pulled at them, drawing the stone bearers with them into the heart of the Hexa, drawing them closer and closer to BinYAHtii, chanting all the time in its harsh insectile voices, faster and faster, the force in the machine words (if they were words) increasing, the rhythm more and more compelling.

They fought.

They struggled to join against him.

They could not touch, physically or psychically. The god held them separate, held them that way until h/it managed to bring them to the Hexa-center.

Maksim’s grand basso broke free suddenly, battered at the humming clicking tweeting chant, joined a moment later by the grand baritone of Tak WakKerrcarr, the Voices of Sorceror Primes at their most powerful, most urgent. They slowed the inward creep, they couldn’t stop it.

Closer and closer to BinYAHtii h/it forced them. Maksim’s arm jerked out, out of his control, he held Shaddalakh before him like an offering.

Danny’s arm jerked out, out of his control, he held Kiukesharna before him like an offering.

Brann’s arm jerked out, out of her control, she held Massulit cupped in the palm of her hand, held it like an offering.

Trago’s arms jerked out, out of his control, he held. Harra’s Eye between his two hands, held it like an offering.

Frunzacoache flew out from Korimenei’s breast, dragging her with it as it sought the middle, offering itself.

Yaril and Jaril dissolved from their sphere into twin bipedal shapes, moved side by side, each with an arm about the other’s waist, moved with staggering, reluctant steps toward the middle. Jaril’s arm stretched straight before him, Churrikyoo cupped in the palm of his hand, held like an offering to that demanding red Hunger throbbing at the Hexa-center.

Slowly, inexorably, resisting h/it all the way anyway they could, the stone bearers and their companions drew closer and closer to the HUNGER.

They touched it.

At the same instant the six talismans touched the seventh.

reality dissolves

ego-centers hover in a blinding burning golden featureless nothingness

hang disembodied, self-aware in only the dimmest sense

wait

are aware of waiting without being aware of time

are aware of waiting without being aware of purpose

are finally aware of otherness otherwhereness

six point-nodes of power tremble in a burning featureless nothingness

they begin to move

they swim toward certain ego-centers

they touch certain ego-centers, merge_, with them

ego-centers sense imminent change which is a change in itself

no time has passed

an eternity has passed

nothingness EXPLODES