Father and Child Together Again

The Silvergrey Sea

Part Five: The Best Laid Plans

Father and Child Together Again

* * *

This fucking town made no fucking sense. First off, there were no streetlights so when the sun set, I couldn’t see a goddamn thing. Second, the drunk who laid out the streets of this berg must have been on some kind of hallucinogen as well.

I’d heard stories about Glyph’s streets being insanely laid out, but they couldn’t have been any crazier than this place. I’d never been to the Nonspace City for obvious reasons; the Silvergrey made me nervous as hell, but the City Without a World made my heart race just thinking about.

I needed to use my zippo to see well enough to find a place to crash until sunrise. Continuing in the dark was asking for a painful, possibly crippling accident as I’d likely trip over, walk into, or fall off something I’d never see.

The yellow flame cast rippling reflections of the somewhat warped panes of glass across the street. A public house of some sort, I concluded as I crossed the avenue.

I went through the front door, which I had to put my shoulder to. No alarm. I did find a panel of light switches. Power worked. Good; I was running low on lighter fluid. I lucked out again; it had a full bar.

It looked to have been a nice lounge in its day. Come to think, it didn’t look like it had been closed long. Like everything else in this city, it was clean. No dust, no sign of neglect at all. Reminded me of that kids’ story where a kingdom is put into a magical sleep. After helping myself to a shot—okay, two—of a good whiskey, I looked for food. I’d packed rations but waste not &c.

The fridge and freezer weren’t on, though the lights in the kitchen worked. The food in them looked okay, but I decided not to take a chance. Eventually, I found a pantry stocked with labelled canned food. I got the gas stove working and heated up some chili.

Dinner finished, I grabbed the bottle I’d been sucking on and looked for a bed. The three floors above the restaurant looked to be residential. I had to break down two doors to find a set of stairs going up. Oh, my aching shoulder.

I settled into an apartment empty of people, predictably, but looking like was recently and cozily occupied. I passed out on a double bed, fully clothed.

* * *

A dreamless sleep (raw spirits will cause that).

Sunlight in my eyes (lack of curtains will cause that).

Extensive cursing (a hangover will cause that).

A satisfied sigh (emptying one’s bladder into a convenient toilet bowl will cause that).

The sad character of the flush (the water being off will cause that).

Anyway.

Coffee with a shot of hair-of-the-dog and a bit of leftover chili (cold) and I was ready to continue.

My first cigarette since waking was almost enough to put me in a good mood. The chili burp put me over.

Smiling, I wandered until I saw the building on the hill I was headed for. I began walking. I was determined not to let these crazy streets annoy me; I had all day to get there.

I took my time. Despite the urgency of my task, I found myself enjoying the day. It was warm and breezy. The city was old and well cared for. It had many points of interest, some of which I spent time exploring. As the day wore on, I found that, despite my habitually low expectations, I was getting close to my destination.

From my current vantage, it still looked like a building in the same style as the Mother Lodge. I’d never known of a chapterhouse of the Order that wasn’t a cube, so I suspected it might not be connected to the Hermetists. Still seemed damn peculiar that it was so like it. I wondered if one inspired the other and, if so, which way the inspiration went.

I had to climb a rather sharp incline as I approached the enclosure that surrounded the structure. It was a wall of mortared stone; at least I thought it was. When I got to it, the stones themselves were smooth and shone. I thought they might be some kind of metal.

I circled almost halfway around the wall before finding a break that allowed access to the grounds on which the building stood.

I couldn’t cross the threshold.

Nothing appeared to be in the way, but the closer I got to the arch under which I must pass, the more effort it took. Were it not for the lack of wind, I’d’ve thought a breeze was blowing strong enough to arrest my progress. I stood half a step from the arch feeling no force on me at all. I reached out a hand—no resistance. I lit a cigarette—no problem getting either the zippo or my smoke alight.

What the hell?

I had a clear view of the side of the building. I thought it was shaped like a cross, lying flat. One of the arms of that cross ended close to me, on my left. I could see steps that lead up led to large double doors of metal. Above, below a peaked roof, was a large round window. The side of the main part had two rows of windows, the larger ones higher and farther away. A maze of stone arches and spires forested a smaller sloped roof against the main structure. The side of the arm near me was similarly constructed. At the point on the peaked roofs where the crossing was, a spire stood. Way to my right, two more spires flanked what I assumed was the main entrance.

Over the next twenty minutes, I made several more attempts to pass under the arch. I was just on the point of leaving, as the sun was going down again, when something pushed me forward.

I fell to the cobbles inside the gate amidst the end of the world.

Sounding like the screams of the damned, a wind from hell tried to pull me off my belly. I managed to hold on to my hat, but it was a struggle. Grabbing the fedora off my head, I stuffed it into an inside pocket and rolled over. Black and deep blue clouds spun widdershins above the building. At the heart of the storm was a point of red-gold light, throwing white sparks.

I looked back through the arch but could see nothing but storm clouds—not even the ground.

Crawling back, I discovered two things. The city seemed to have disappeared, and I could not get back out. I had a view almost straight down from where I crouched, seeing the storm below me was queasy making. I withdrew. I had to get inside.

Taking a chance, I got on hands and knees and set out for the nearest door. I soon found myself crawling like a crab, belly on the ground. I managed to get up the dozen steps and climbed slowly to my feet, leaning against doors of carven metal.

The doorway formed a lee, where the worst of the wind couldn’t enter.

I straightened myself as best I could and tried the double doors. To my surprise, the left one opened relatively easily. I ducked inside and pulled it closed.

The silence roared in my ears. I sank to the floor and just panted for a few seconds; eyes closed. Once my heart rate descended past hummingbird, I began to hear the storm again, faintly.

The interior was gloomy; not surprising considering the cyclone outside. The windows were miniatures of the ones gracing Azhure’en, as I had heard it described. I didn’t recognize any of the images depicted.

No point laying around.

I stood, lit up, and began wandering. The nave, when I got to it, was not surprising. The end to my right must be the main entrance. I made a note to check it before I left. I had no idea when or how I’d be able to leave, but ever hopeful. Ahead of me looked the same as behind. To my left was a pale blue light.

It obscured what I assumed must be the point of this building. Perhaps the light was the point, but I couldn’t see what caused it. It looked like a frosted, spiky snowball about three yards across and it floated between the floor and the arched roof thirty feet above. I hoped it would prove to be worth the visit to this planet. I was becoming bored and frightened of this whole place. I was past the point where I cared whether I found my child, the Æthyr, or any answers to the mysteries I sought.

Never, never, never, give reality a set up like that.

“Father,” from the ball of blue-white.

—Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, September 2026

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