Lazarus Rising

1.26 The Angels of Mhon Saraat

Cheyenne's head swam. Far above her the pale moon of Phobos wavered and shimmered in the darkness. As if to take it in her fingers, she reached out her arm and tried to pull it from the heavens. Something, warm and soft enveloped her hand and pushed it gently back down to her side.

"Stay still," echoed a voice far above her. "You've been stung by a Jörmungandr.I've given you a potion that will help with the pain. Lie back or the effect of the poison will be magnified."

The moon shifted and melded itself into a glowing disc before morphing into the shape of a head. Confused Cheyenne twisted around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Far off the clanging of chains banging into metal bounced around her, the sound winding round her mind in a shifting pattern of shapes and colours whose resonance appeared to mimic the intensity of the sounds. Her vision fluttered and cleared.

Next to her knelt Charisa, her glittering body seemly melting away from physicality and then reasserting itself into reality like a candle's flame in a fickle breeze. Lazarus's stood far above her, his face written with concern, the strung out lights pulsing his chest reminded her of a long line of aero's whizzing  across a city's nightscape.

Suddenly Jamek loomed over her, so large she jerked back in shock. She felt his touch on her hand, hot as a burning iron. She snapped her hand back and pulled something from her face. "What's happening to me?"

"Cheyenne, listen to me," a voice deep and slow resonated around her. "You have been stung. The poison in you is not of this world, it's from the tentacle of the Jörmungandr. Normally it would have killed you, but you were lucky it brushed by you. The Jörmungandr are creatures of the Extensity, they drift in and out of this world at will. The poison you have ingested is making you see .....feel this world as they do."

She focused on the source of the sound. It was the man that had lifted her from the sand, his long mane of unkempt hair drifted across a face studded with a million tiny crystals of sand that sparkled like the sea under the moonlit sky. He gently slipped the mask back over her face. "Here put this back on, it's an oxygen feed it should help alleviative the visions."

She fell back and breathed deeply. "What's that noise?"

"There is a storm upon us. We have taken refuge in the wreck of the Martian ship; no one will dare leave until it has passed. When you are strong enough we will head out. Lie back, rest now."

"But where are they, Urbaine's men? They will find us...it's not safe" She heaved herself up and looked around. They were in a long wide room, strewn with broken machinery, above them a jagged hole in the ceiling revealed the vastness of Mars Southern skies. The sudden exertion caused her to fall back, her breath coming in short sharp shocks.

"It's a big ship, they are in it somewhere, but have no fear I know this place well. We are safe here. They'll wait until the storm has gone and are sure it has taken the Jörmungandr with it. Close your eyes." He smiled, his teeth bright against his dark features.

She lay back, closed her eyes and slept. When she opened them, she was in Charisa's arms. They were moving quickly down the passages inside the ship led by the man who had rescued them from the Jörmungandr. As he stepped out onto the sand his cloak whirled about his shoulders revealing a lose fitting hooded top and britches tied tight around his ankles to prevent the sand creeping into his lower body. The wind felt bitter and cold. She shuddered and drew her arms around Charisa's neck and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

She opened her eyes. The sun had risen, the sky above had turned dull rouge. She was still in Charisa's arms, held close to her implacably hard chest. Carefully she ran her fingers across the whorls and loops in the design of the engraved Martian text, it seemed to hold some impalpable message that twisted and danced in front of her. They were in the open, moving quickly across the open sand. Ahead three hooded men probed the soft sand with their long staffs, waving them on as they went. Jamek and Lazarus were close by wading through the sand like it was tidal water.