Haven: Book Seven of "The Liminality"

Chapter 3 - Solo

Grehl stayed on the ground as the ripples faded. The interface remained abuzz, but she had rendered herself refractory. It took a concerted effort to maintain her receptivity and she was drained.

Her cabal mates had lost control of the crowd of onlookers. She turned to find a dozen souls who had slipped free of the cordon, sprinting across the cinder slopes their eyes wild with excitement. They were going to be surprised to find no open doors to the promised land.

Gijantus and Barth were hot on their heels, but Erasmus was already standing before her with palms raised protectively.

"Back! Back! There is nothing to see. There is no portal. Please, everyone, settle down."

Gijantus and Barth caught up with the lead group of runners just as they reached Grehl's position and formed a protective barrier with the staffs of their weapons.

"No portal! There is no portal!" Erasmus repeated over and over. "These things take time. I tried telling you all."

He glanced down at Grehl, her face buried in the hood of her cloak.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just ... embarrassed."

"No worries. We'll try again on the morrow. Unless you feel this one is too difficult."

"No. It's not the seam. The problem was with me."

Souls milled about, some gathering in a semicircle to gawk at Grehl. Some didn't even seem to care about the lack of a portal, they just wanted to see the renowned Summoner close-up. Others wandered the slope with arms extended, mimicking Grehl's technique as if they might be able to open a seam where Grehl had failed.

Erasmus reached down and offered her a hand.

"Come. Let's get back to camp. We can talk about what happened."

"Nothing," said Grehl. "Nothing happened."

"Exactly. And we should talk about it."

***

Barth extracted a glowing stone from wall of an active lava tube on the edge of their camp and carried it back to the hearth, adding it to the heap of coals heating a caldron. Grehl's cabal still went through the ritual of meal preparation, even though there was not a speck of nutritious matter present in this realm, other than human flesh.

Many cabals were indeed cannibalistic predators, as human flesh did provide a reasonable facsimile of meat, though eating it provided no physical benefit. Grovelers were commonly their prey, and some gave up their bodies freely. Grehl's cabal, who called themselves "The Summoners," were vegan in comparison. They drank tea made from rocks and ate clay from the mudflats, if only to make themselves feel a little more human. Their sham bodies were mere vessels for souls, perpetual motion machines without need of fuel.

Chalcopyrite tea was a tad salty, with a metallic tang from the sulfide and copper it contained. It was Grehl's favorite. It made the chalky white clay in their stews go down more smoothly. There was nothing better in this realm than a full belly after a long day. She never even dreamed about real food any more. Those days were long gone.

This corner of Sheol was infamous for its mud, not the edible kind, but a sticky and acrid dark clay that covered the ground ankle to knee deep, dampened by a perpetual mist that condensed in their nasal passages and caused their noses to drip.

Much of Sheol matched the mythical depictions of Hell with its volcanic wastes with hot and sulfurous winds, but the heights could get chilly, and heavy rains were the norm during the short monsoon season. Her cabal hailed from a place called Thorny Mesa, a massive plateau of hardened lava that loomed above the landscape. There, at least, caves and overhangs provided shelter from the rain. Down here in the basin, people just got wet,