Jack McDevitt - Eternity Road

“Do you believe that?”

“I’m not sure what I believe anymore. Ask me in the morning.” She turned and looked west into the trees.

A soft glow was moving out there.

“Here it comes,” said Flojian. His voice was a terrified whisper.

They crouched down in the bushes.

“Same place as last night,” said Quait. He quietly pulled his gloves tight, and wrapped his index finger around the trigger guard.

“Nobody shoot until I give the word,” said Shannon.

“No.” Avila’s voice was low. “I’ll say when.”

Chaka glanced at Shannon, who shrugged. “It comes after me.” he growled, “I’m not waiting for anybody’s okay.”

Flojian’s eyes had widened and his breathing was starting to sound irregular.

The glow opened out into a long string of lights. The lights were curving gradually, approaching along a great arc. It was above the treeline.

“Slowing down,” said Quait.

They watched it descend into the forest.

Shannon moved a few paces to his right and got behind a log. He steadied his rifle on it.

“Keep cool,” said Avila. “We are safest if we do not provoke an attack.”

“What kind of beast is it?” Chaka asked Quait. It looked two hundred feet long.

“Dragon,” said Quait.

A glowing eye appeared in the woods and rushed toward them in eerie silence.

“Shanta,” breathed Avila. “Be with us.”

Then an explosion ripped the still air, and the eye erupted and went dark.

“I got it,” said Flojian. “It’s blind.”

Avila jerked the rifle away from him. “Damn fool,” she snapped.

The thing floated out of the trees, still coming, riding the trench. It was long and serpentine, and light poured out of its flanks. It moved very deliberately now, with sighs and whispers and clicks, behaving as if nothing had happened. Chaka saw to her horror that it did not touch the ground. Her heart pounded, and she waited for the thing to attack.

Instead it continued to glide out across the esplanade. Finally it stopped, and there was a sudden loud sigh of escaping air it settled into the trench. Doors opened.

Chaka held her breath. No one moved. Beside her, Avila and Flqjian were frozen, she holding his rifle away from him, he with his hands over his face.

“Windows,” whispered Quait.

They could see inside the beast. They could see seats.

Doors whispered open.

The thing was a carriage. No, four carriages. Linked together. The interior was bright and clean.

Flojian whimpered and tried again to get his rifle from Avila. Without looking away from the esplanade she unloaded it and laid it on the ground.

“What makes it go?” asked Quait.

“It’s not of this world,” said Shannon.

It gleamed in the moonlight.

“Who’s it waiting for?”

The woods swayed in the breeze off the river.

“What do you think?” Quait asked Avila.

She took a deep breath and stood up. “Wait,” she said. “Don’t do it,” said Shannon.

Avila pushed through the bushes and started downslope. Chaka watched her go, watched the empty carriages, watched Flojian recover his weapon and reload it.

Avila strode out onto the esplanade, pale and spectral. In the distance, an ow! hooted. They heard a splash in the river.

She walked up to the waiting carriage, hesitated, touched it, and put her head through the open door.

Quait strode out onto the shelf. Chaka hadn’t even noticed he was gone. She watched for a moment and then started downslope herself. Shannon fell in behind. And moments later even Flojian.

They spread out along the flank of the thing and peered through its windows and doors. The interior was bright and clean. But Avila and Quait had seen something inside, and they stood frozen, staring. Chaka’s heart pounded.

Within, illuminated symbols and letters moved mystically above the windows:

And:

As the symbols reached the end of the conveyance (for that was indeed what the object seemed to be) they blinked off.

“Roadmaker technology,” said Quait. “I had no idea—”

“What does it mean?” asked Flojian.

The seats were fixed in pairs at each window, and were equipped with grips. The illumination seemed to be coming from overhead panels and patches on the walls.

“What now?” Chaka asked, barely audibly.

“I think we have the answer to the signs,” said Shannon reluctantly. “They want us to board this thing.”

Avila nodded. “I agree.” She stepped through the doorway, held out her hands, and frowned. “It’s warm,” she said.

The moving symbols were delivering a new message:

Avila walked to the rear of the carriage. There was a connecting door, which she opened. Chaka could see into the next carriage. It looked identical to this.

“What makes it go?” asked Flojian. “Where did it come from?” He was standing near the door, ready to jump off.

The empty seats glittered. They were made of a smooth material, but Chaka had no idea what it was.

“There’s no driver,” said Flojian. He looked close to panic.

“Is it possible,” asked Chaka, “that there are still Roadmakers alive somewhere?”

“Maybe,” said Quait. “Or maybe it’s something left over.”

Chaka recalled the stories of unquiet ruins.

Avila inhaled, and let out her breath slowly. “Well,” she said, “this is where the trail leads. We can get on, and let it take us where it took Karik; or we can go home.”

“Go home,” said Shannon. “For all we know, it may take us straight to the nether world.”

The thing seemed to be waiting.

Avila looked at Quait.

Quait nodded. “We’ve come this far,” he said. “It’s apparently only a transportation device.”

Chaka was less sure. Nevertheless, she wasn’t going to back away. “I say go,” she said.

Shannon looked disgusted. “Better get the horses on board. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

Everyone joined the frantic effort that followed. They scrambled out of the carriage, up the ridge, reloaded the pack animals, saddled their own mounts, and led them back down onto the esplanade, all within a matter of minutes. They loaded the horses, performed a quick inspection to assure themselves that they were indeed alone on the vehicle, and settled down to wait.

“For what it’s worth,” said Shannon, “the animals weren’t nervous about getting in. That’s a good sign.” He nodded sagely at Chaka. “Animals can sense demons.”

“There’s no driver,” Flojian reminded them. “That’s not a good sign.”

Chaka was inspecting one of the light-emitting patches. Like Talley’s lamp, there was no open flame. She touched one, yelped, and pulled away. “Hot,” she said.

There was a brief chime, and the doors closed. The floor vibrated.

“I think we’re committed,” said Quait.

Shannon grunted his disapproval. “You shouldn’t hire a guide if you’re not going to listen to anything he says.”

The space became claustrophobic. The lights dimmed, blinked out, came on again. The horses registered a mild protest. Chaka felt upward pressure, as if the floor were rising. The esplanade sank, the vehicle rocked, they got more sounds from the animals, and a couple from the humans, and she was jerked backward as they began to move.

Their carriage, which had been at the front of the vehicle when it entered the esplanade, was now at the rear. And it was hovering in air. They were about two feet feet off the ground, sustained by what invisible hand Chaka hesitated to guess. She murmured a prayer, and felt Quait’s reassuring grip on her shoulder, although he didn’t look so good himself.