Chapter 4: The Wager

I don’t think I was supposed to see what came next.

Alive, dead, or undead? I had no idea. I’m still not sure.

When I became aware, I found myself at the bottom of a giant shadowy vault. Drowsiness weighed on me like a ton of wool blankets, but I couldn’t get over the feeling of smallness in that place. The only comparison I could think of was what it must feel like being in one of those behemoth storage tanks for the crude oil on a refinery.

Other vaguely human forms lay sprawled around me, but nothing moved. Except for my eyes—and I think that was a mistake—I couldn’t move either. I saw the faces of the two people sprawled closest to me, a man and a woman, I think, but they stared out with blank expressions. I blinked to try to focus, but the other people still seemed thick and gray as if they’d been sculpted from modeling clay and had never been painted with colors.

“… I do not believe they had any notion of the end coming.” The voice, in very stilted aristocratic British, spoke from high overhead, but I couldn’t turn to look up.

“Astonishing, really,” a similar but female voice responded. “Pitiful lifespans, and still they fancy themselves immortal.”

“They are immortal,” came a different male voice, this one youthful but deep and dripping with contempt. “Therein, the value.”

I understood their words but at a very surface level. I had no ability to process the meaning or apply it. Something tingled in my spine, an undercurrent of absolute terror. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even tell if I was still breathing.

“You know very well what I mean, Seamus. Need I remind you of your station here? Impudence does not become thee.”

I heard a throaty, phlegmy exhale similar to the kind of sound I made as a teenager when the therapists tried to tell me something I already knew.

Seamus said, “I have all the rights accorded the senior staff. Probation lives now, only in your mind.”

“Gad, Justus,” the womanly voice protested, “will you please put Seamus and his colleagues in their proper place?”

“Their proper place is here, Miercal,” Justus replied. “That said, children would be quite wise to give due deference to their elders.”

Laughter broke out in the vault, and it was creepy as hell. I don’t know how many of them there were up there, but all those different voices all laughing at once sounded like a combination of breaking glass, rattlesnakes, and rolling thunder. At the sound of it, I blacked out for a moment.

“…time for you to move aside,” Seamus was saying as my mind cleared. “Traditional means may have satisfied for a few millennia, but now it is our turn.”

A blast of heat surged down from above along with a tumult of loud voices that I couldn’t make any sense of. I opened one eye a crack, but still couldn’t turn my head or move anything else. A burst of color, red and orange like blood and fire, lit the vault, slowly receding up the walls until all returned to shadow. None of the other human figures strewn all over the chamber floor showed any evidence of having moved so much as an inch.

“Traditional means?” Justus boomed. “By traditional, I assume you mean the methods we have used for successful harvesting since the Dawn? Traditional means, indeed.”

“And I suppose you think you could do better than your elders?” Miercal asked, her voice honey sweet. She sounded to me like she was baiting a trap.

“I do not think,” Seamus replied. “I infer to the most likely conclusion, just as you elders have taught us. You have seen our results I—”

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“Such a small sample size,” a new voice muttered, followed by a cascade of murmuring.

“It is all we have been allowed,” Seamus riposted. “But now, the opportunity is here.”

There came a derisive snort and a scattering of harsh laughter. “Now?” Justus questioned. “You wish to ply your methods during the current generational Reckoning. You are either a greater fool than I have imagined or nearly as bold as our own High Inquisitor.”

At that name, the chamber fell silent once more. When Seamus spoke again, I thought I could detect a thin layer of timidity in his voice. “If only my colleagues and I could be mentioned in the same volume as the High Inquisitor, I should think our lives fulfilled. Nay, I do not boast. I simply want a chance. We have waited for so long—”

Miercal laughed. “You do not know the meaning of the word wait,” she said. “For three generations you have lobbied. We know your mind. You aim to supplant us.”

“Not supplant. We merely wish to prove to you and all of our masters that our methods deserve consideration. We wish to stand along side you, as peers.”

“You shall have opportunity,” came a new voice, low pitched with concert hall reverb and a slight slavic accent. A deep muffled thump sounded, followed by a weighty metallic dragging. Thump. Drag-clank. Thump. Drag-clank. Thump. Drag-clank.

A chill prickled my flesh, a sensation both icy and feathery like hoarfrost. It was galling not to be able to see them, but in that moment, I felt relieved that they were out of view. Like hiding under the covers as a child, as if that thin barrier could protect me.

“High Inquisitor,” Justus blurted, “your presence here is most valued.”

“Unexpected, you mean,” the Inquisitor replied. “This I find strange because you spoke of me twice now. One with due deference. One without. Present circumstances considered, I am inclined to overlook offense.”

“I submit to your judgment,” Justus said. “You hold the Abyssal Key. I kneel.”

“Just so,” the Inquisitor said. Thump. Drag-clank. Thump. Drag-clank. Thump. Drag-clank. “Supliant Seamus, you and your strain have chosen?”

“Yes, High Inquisitor.”

“Gallery!” the Inquisitor thundered. A whoosh of heavy wind followed. Strange lights and shadows danced on the vault’s curling walls.

“You risk a worthy sum!” Miercal gasped. “Perhaps, Seamus, we have misunderstood your commitment.”

“Every wager on this Generational Reckoning must show such unwavering conviction,” the High Inquisitor declared. “Preeminent Justus, add your wager to the Gallery.”

Again, a rushing wind and light show. I tried in vain to move. Whatever they were doing, whatever they were wagering, I felt sure it was something critical. I could not will myself to turn or move at all. My spine tingled again, a razor sharp blade of terror, sliding from vertebra to vertebra.

“These are proper stakes,” the Inquisitor said. “You each have chosen both champion and approach. Multitudes hang in the balance, for this is open contest. You understand what that means?”

“The enemy will be involved?” Seamus asked.

“The enemy is always involved, curse him, but… in this Reckoning especially. I believe he has grown fearful of his losses, our gains. He has grown desperate and will try to make a statement with a victory. One of these gray forms left over from the Sifting.” Thump. Drag-clank. Thump. Drag-clank. “That one there will serve as the enemy’s champion. The bid registered moments before I arrived here. Hmmm… doesn’t look like much.”

“That one?” Miercal scoffed, incredulous.

“I shall raise my bid,” Justus jeered.

“As shall I,” Seamus replied.

Thump. Drag-clank. Thump. Drag-clank. Thump. Drag-clank. “Underestimate our enemy’s choice at your own peril,” the Inquisitor said, his voice fading. “But hear this: should you fail me, the abyss awaits.”

A few moments later, Miercal repeated her previous skepticism. “Him?”

“I do not understand it either,” Justus said, “but the Gallery does not lie. The enemy’s wager is set.” He exhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “You heard our master: there can be no mistakes. In this Reckoning, we will need to chronicle everything, only with greater precision than in the past. We must be able to determine without argument whose wager wins.”

“I have just the thing,” Seamus said. “I will see to it, and together we will watch the enemy’s choice perish.”

“Agony first,” Miercal said.

“Agony always,” Justus replied.

I still couldn’t turn my head or body to see, but I could feel them glaring down. Somehow, I could feel their malice hot upon my back, and I knew they were talking about me.

The undercurrent of stark dread surged once more, like dancing spiders all over my flesh. The light in the chamber went out. Either that, or I’d gone blind. The bottom dropped out beneath me. Still unable to move my body, I toppled and fell. I kept falling until I lost all sense of being.