The Infinity Gate: DarkGlass Mountain: Book Three by Sara Douglass

Author:Sara Douglass
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Magic, Gods, General, Fiction, Fantasy, Fantasy fiction, Women priests, Australian, Epic
ISBN: 9780060882198
Publisher: Eos
Published: 2010-04-23T08:59:26.380000+00:00

Chapter 3

Hairekeep

Serge and Doyle literally did not know what had hit them. They’d watched in horror as Avaldamon tore apart, then saw the entire tower reverberate and collapse.

Before they could say anything, or move, or even blink, something hit them with such resounding force it threw them to the ground and knocked them unconscious.

Doyle was the first to regain his senses. Before he opened his eyes, Doyle was aware of the most appalling stink.

It was the stench of rotting flesh, and it was so bad, so overpowering, that Doyle found it almost impossible to breathe. Coughing and gagging, he pushed a weight away from his chest, opening his eyes only slowly. He’d thought the weight had been Serge, but when he blinked and finally managed to focus his eyes, Serge saw that he’d been covered in the bones and rotting flesh of one of their horses.

“Serge? Serge?” Doyle could barely get the words out, the stench in his throat was so overwhelming. He struggled to his feet, slipping in the slime of the flesh and bones about him, and moaned in revulsion as he surveyed the scene about him.

For as far as Doyle could see, lay rotten flesh and bones. There was a pile of it, perhaps fifty paces high, where Hairekeep had once stood, but the entire landscape was covered in a carpet of rotting, dismembered corpses.

Above the malodorous layer, the buzzing of millions of tiny black flies.

“Gods . . . gods .” Doyle muttered, unable to comprehend the enormity or the disgusting nature of the disaster.

These must be the remains of the people the One had trapped in Hairekeep.

He wondered for a moment why he and Serge were still in one piece when their horses had disintegrated, then realised that the horses, which they had so “miraculously” discovered to aid their journey, had likely been constructs of the One, too.

“Serge? Serge?” Doyle yelled, struggling about, trying to find his friend.

“Serge?” He slipped and slid, once or twice falling to his knees, always scrambling back to his feet with a cry of disgust, twice stopping to retch up bile. Eventually, he saw a movement to one side and he waded over, tearing away a pile of rotten-fleshed bones and skulls to reveal Serge, coughing and gagging as he regained consciousness.

Doyle helped him up and for long minutes they stood, rooted in horror, trying to get their gag reflexes under control and trying to come to terms with what had happened.

“Fuck,” Serge eventually muttered, which, so far as Doyle was concerned, summed up the matter succinctly.

“Maxel and Ishbel?” Serge continued.

Doyle indicated the huge pile of bones and flesh on the site Hairekeep had once occupied. “If they’re anywhere, they’re in that pile.”

Serge muttered an obscenity again, then the two men started to move through the sludge of body parts and bones toward the larger pile.

“How in the gods’ names are we going to find them in that?” Doyle said as they neared.

“Perhaps we won’t,” said Serge. “Perhaps we just need to keep on walking through this obscene sea of flesh and try to get to the coast as fast as we may.

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