The Source by Brian Lumley

Harry said: ‘Wait,’ and transferred to the Mobius Continuum. ‘Now talk to me,’ he said. ‘I want to get closer to you.’ He followed the other’s thoughts, emerged at the very foot of the mountains. And again the Mobius door shimmered, more than before, confirming Harry’s belief that he was moving closer to the gate.

‘You didn’t do badly,’ he told Nadiscu. ‘You covered, oh, maybe nine miles before that flood hit you! Are you still down there?’ He glanced at the stony mountain soil under his feet. ‘I mean, is there anything left . . . you know? How did you get trapped? Your companion was washed out.’

Trapped, answered the other, grimly. That’s the right word, Harry. I crawled onto a ledge. There was a crack in the wall. As the water rose I climbed deeper into the crack. Finally I got jammed, couldn’t move. I was wearing a lung, of course. It was a bad time. I lasted as long as my air . . .

That must have been pretty terrible,’ Harry commiserated. But:

Don’t waste time on that, said the other. You’ve things to do. How can I help you?

Two things,’ said Harry. ‘One: what was the course of the river up to the time you . . . when the flood came? And two: how deep are you, as you calculate it, under the surface?’

Nadiscu supplied the answers and Harry thanked him. ‘I won’t be looking for the river’s source,’ he admitted, ‘for it’s a different kind of source that interests me. But if it all works out I’ll come back some time and tell you how far I got. OK?’

Thanks, Harry. I’d appreciate that.

Harry used the Continuum and moved on into the mountains, exiting on a steep, pine-covered slope. This time the interference was such that Harry knew he was almost there. Directly below him, at some great depth in the roots of the mountains, the Gate to the world of the Wamphyri was waiting for him.

He calculated the distance to his starting point, fixed his location firmly in his head – his location not only in the mundane world but also in the metaphysical Mobius Continuum. It was a sort of mental triangulation. And then he went back to the copse where he’d hidden his gear.

Half an hour later, dressed in wet-suit and aqualung, equipped with fins and a powerful waterproof torch, Harry slipped into the water and conjured a Mobius door. No shimmer here. He moved upstream, emerging in darkness with his flippered feet on a pebbly bed. The darkness was absolute and there was a current strong enough to cause Harry to lean against it. He used his torch to scan the way ahead, its powerful beam cutting the dark like a knife. On the next jump his feet were still on the bottom but the bore had narrowed down, the water was chin-deep, the way ahead convoluted.

And so Harry proceeded.

Sometimes he swam; at other times he was underwater, where there was no gap between ceiling and river; occasionally the bore was wide as a cathedral and the water shallow. Almost before he knew it he found Gari Nadiscu in the crevice where he’d trapped himself. There was very little of him left: a single flipper and an air tank half-buried in shingle, and a trapped thigh bone.

Harry could have come to Nadiscu direct, he saw that now, but there could have been hazards. The caver had been trapped in a tight spot; Harry hadn’t wanted to emerge in a cramped, difficult location. Also, and more importantly, Nadiscu might have been too close to the Gate. Harry had experienced the danger in using the Mobius Continuum close to a Gate; it was to be avoided. No, he’d preferred his own way. If there’d been difficulties, getting out again would have been as easy as conjuring a Mobius door. And this way he’d got used to his system of sighting the way ahead and then jumping there. Which was as well, for beyond this point the route was totally unknown.

Now: he and Nadiscu exchanged a few encouraging words, and Harry moved on.

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