Carcosa


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Reviews
“It lacks the predictability of many fantasy novels and keeps you on the edge of your seat. The authors reveal just enough to tantalize you with the promise of coming secrets to be revealed. It weaves in history and fantasy with creations of new worlds and new views on our own. I can't wait to read more.” –Amazon reader

“A great sequel to what is becoming one of my favorite series.” –Goodreaders reader

“I thought I really liked the first book of this series, but I liked this book even more. The characters now were like old friends and, as with Book 1, I had a really hard time putting this down . . . It had just as much action and adventure as the first book, which was really exciting.”  -Smashwords reader


"An inventive, well-written fantasy novel." -Amazon reader  

Excerpt  

 They’d left their meks hitched in front of Brother Nicodemus’ place. The meks seemed eager to go, reaching out to them with their snouts and ticking. The team saddled up and rode back through town, passing first the school, then the chapel.

“Wait.” Kate tugged hard on the reins, turning her mek around toward the building. It plainly did not want to go in that direction and made a soft keening sound.

“What is it?” JD asked.

“There’s something in there.”

JD and Murphy steered their own meks around, drawing their guns.

“What do you think it is?” Murphy asked.

“Something... not good,” Kate drew her wand. “And the whole town’s in there with it.”

Murphy chambered a round.

JD sighed. “God dammit all to hell... All right. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Reverend Zane Taggert greeted his congregation, “Good evening, brothers and sisters,”

“Good evening,” the congregation responded.

“Yes, good evening indeed. It is a fine and blessed evening He has seen fit to give us this day. I have been blessed to live in Hormiga all my life, as have we all. And never have I seen a sunset without thinking of His blessings. Even now, I look out at the faces before me, and I wonder and marvel at His works. From the young couples I see just beginning their journey together, to the children they have brought into His light, all see every sunrise in His glory. Because, before the sunset – and each sun, no matter when it rises on a given day, must set – there is the day. This day. His day. And after His day, the suns set and the world rests again. And in that peace, at last, we are with Him. In that peace, at last, we can know the full reaches of His glory.

“But today, we have a new generation before us. Today, we have a new beginning, a new crop of children ready, for the first time, to feel just a hint of the love He has to offer.”

The reverend held out his arms and the children came forward in their white robes, their little faces shining and eager. The congregation sighed and exclaimed over their preciousness. Then it was time for the hymn.

 

* * *

 

With one well-placed kick, the chapel doors burst open. JD swept left, Murphy right. They stopped and exchanged a look. “Where the hell is everybody?” Murphy asked.

Kate peeked in cautiously. The bad feeling had grown stronger as they’d reached the doors, something pushing at her mind, trying to get in, like the Cobar.

The chapel looked like millions of others—a single, large room with rows of long wooden benches for pews. A raised platform in front with a lectern for the reverend. The windows were simple, with simple wooden frames. The walls were whitewashed, bare of ornamentation except for empty hooks where, presumably, lamps could be hung. There were no candles, no bells, no books, no tapestries—no religious trappings at all.

They looked around uncertainly. “Where’d they go?” Murphy asked.

Kate pointed. “Look.”

In the center of the aisle at the front of the chapel, before the lectern, was a circle of rough stones.

“What is that-- a well?” JD asked.

“Shhh,” Kate shushed him. “Listen.

From below, they heard voices lifted in song.

 

He tames the things that hunt in darkness

He delivers us from pain and blight

We grow our crops on what He gives

And we know we’ll always have a guide

Because He lives

Because He lives

 

The three of them looked at each other, wide-eyed.

“We have to go down there,” Kate whispered. “There’s something down there with them.”

“They sure don’t sound like they need rescuin’, Katie,” JD said. “You sure about this?”

Her face was very white, but she raised her wand. “I’m going down there. You can stay if you want.”

“Wait—”

 

And because He lives, I do not fear the night

Because He lives, I can face whatever storm

He is our shield, He is our might

And we’ll always be kept safe from harm 

Because He lives

Because He lives

 

There were rungs carved into the side of the well. As Kate climbed down, the sense of something pressing against her mind grew stronger. She could feel it probing at her skull, searching for a way in.  

 

Though man and woman may be wed

And they become each other’s light 

Even that cannot compare

To the closeness that we share with Him

Because He lives

Because He lives

 

At the top, Murphy said, “Uh, guys?”

“Just stay up there and keep watch,” JD ordered. He still had a few yards to go.

Kate was already at the bottom, where a stone archway led to a chamber. Lanterns had been hung along the walls, illuminating the room with a yellow glow. The congregation stood with their backs to her, hand-in-hand, swaying in time to the song. At the front, she saw the children, gathered around the reverend.

 

And someday He will call to me 

And I will go, singing praises to His glory 

For then, the dreadful plight is ended

For then, we’ll be united 

Because we’re His

Because we’re His

 

Behind the reverend was a sort of shrine or tabernacle carved out of the rock, with stairs leading up to it. Within, Kate saw, was the object of their adoration.

 

* * *

 

Many years ago, a small thing had crawled into Hormiga from the wastes. It was little, maybe the size of a sand puppy. The boy who found it caught it in a wooden box and kept it as a pet for a while, feeding it bits of meat and watching it grow. And he loved it. He loved his little beast. His name was Zane Taggart.

When his folks out about his pet, they knew they should destroy it—Nathan would be furious if he found out. But they didn’t. They loved their son too much. And they loved the little beast.

It grew on the meat they gave it. Others could feel the love emanating from it. Neighbors began to come over so they could see it, too, so they could watch it eat, and so they could feel its love.

Eventually, the beast got big enough that Nathan could sense it. Funny that he hadn’t before, but sometimes, things from the gates could be pretty sly. By that time, it wasn’t in a house anymore. The people had built a temple for it under the town square, and there, the beast lived, pulsing, shapeless, and loving them. The boy had become a man and his pet had become the town’s god.

When Zane’s father’s health began to fail him, his mama said she didn’t want to be without him, so they both went down below, to be one with the beast. Zane was so moved by the sight that he wept and wrote a hymn to the beast shortly thereafter. He built his church around the dried-up well that led to the temple. For many years, he held services there whenever it felt like a week had gone by. But the temple below was the true holy place, only visited on holidays, or when the sacrament was made-- like a pig or a goat, or a baby the beast marked for His own at birth, for there is no red silt in this most holy town of Hormiga. Or when someone felt the call-- usually the very old or the very young. Then, if there was time to rally the faithful, they all gathered around to watch their loved one go to the beast.

In the temple, they made an alcove for the beast. The mouths of all who had given the sacrament worked inside it-- singing Him hymns, the townspeople had no doubt. Some of them had been there for a long time. The Taggarts’ faces were almost gone, all traces of madness and horror at their torment nearly gone with them.

Nathan had considered killing the beast, but that would’ve meant killing the whole town, and then the other towns would have panicked and tried to take him, and then everybody would have died but him. He couldn’t have that. Besides, though he’d been immune to the beast’s powers so far, he wasn’t so stupid as to go wandering into its cave to find out. And how impressed is a mek-sized (or even larger, by now) mass of slimy flesh going to be by a revolver?

Instead, figuring it would come out eventually, Nathan set by a few toys he’s managed to dig up over the years. After all, Carcosa had had bigger machines once. He had a cannon with some ammunition and a belt-fed gun to soften it up, and some black powder explosive to finish it off. Then he’d spread oil through the town and burn it down, just to be sure. It would be a good lesson to the other towns—that’s what happens when you count on something other than Nathan DePriest to save you.

 

* * *

 

Kate stared. 

It was hideous. Easily ten feet across at its base, it was a quivering, grayish-pink blob, like a massive, beached jellyfish. But it had no tentacles that she could see, nor eyes, nor a face of its own. When her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the lanterns, she saw that it was not the thing itself that was moving-- it was the shapes within it. There were faces inside of it, mouths working, eyes open, their features mashed, like faces pressed up against a window. Now and then they would blink. Mostly faces, but on one side, she could make out a partially dissolved, humanoid form. One face was still mostly intact. Pressed up against the skin of the beast, tiny hands to either side. Mouth working silently, eyes wide...


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