29 – Can Eternally Lie

Erika stood with her neck craned upwards despite staring down into the chasm. The disorienting vertigo made her wobble where she stood, even with a hand placed against the car to steady her. If she fell, she was far enough away that she wouldn’t fall over the edge of the cliff.

Probably.

Turning to the approaching Emperor removed the sensation that she might fall, letting her stomach settle, but seeing the Carrion Eater in full gave her another hit of vertigo. More than its sheer size—which was absurd, but which Erika felt she had gotten used to—was the way it sat. The bulk of its mass perched on the very edge of the chasm’s cliff, like it was the elongated point of a pyramid. Any normal creature would have fallen off, tottered over the cliff, but the Carrion Eater remained.

It was hard to describe, but it felt more like it bent the cliff, turning the right-angled edge into a downward pointed cone in which it sat. Like Carter bending time, but for space instead.

“After much deliberation, experimentation, and consultation,” The Emperor said, flanked by The Hermit and The Hierophant. She paused, and for the first time since Erika met the woman, she looked pained and reluctant. “We have determined that entering through the existing opening is the optimal choice.”

Erika’s eyes flicked to the gaping hole that was its throat, still sucking in that unraveling bit of flesh. “I was afraid you would say that. I can break its skin if you can’t get through—”

“I can cut its skin,” The Emperor interrupted. “The issue is three-fold. The sheer amount of material between the skin and the stomach is unknown, but likely immense. It would take a vast amount of effort on all our parts to make our way through. Then there is the issue of the material being unstructured. Any hole we make will collapse upon itself almost instantly. Even if we manage to support it in some way, it likely would not survive the movement of the being’s breathing. I, for one, do not intend to die trapped within mounds of meat and flesh.

“Finally,” The Emperor continued on before Erika could even grimace at the mental image, “if this creature possesses non-standard biology, locating the stomach from an external invasion is likely a non-trivial task.” She turned slightly, scowling at the Carrion Eater. “On the other hand, we have a tunnel that assuredly leads directly toward the stomach. If you truly need access, that is our best method.”

Although she delivered her assessment with a neutral tone, Erika could almost hear her pleading in that last bit.

Unfortunately for her, Erika had been spending the last ten minutes trying to think up an alternative. Maybe if she and Carter had swapped abilities, he could have figured out something, but Erika couldn’t use her powers apropos of nothing. She needed something to hit, and with its head gone…

“Through the throat we go.”

The Emperor’s shoulders dropped so subtly that Erika thought she might have been projecting her own reluctance on the other woman.

“It is unlikely, though not impossible, that you will face much opposition within,” The Hermit said, taking over. “We will leave the majority of our team out here to ensure nothing follows us in.”

Erika turned, looking over the small bivouac with unbelievable envy.

“The Hierophant has command in my absence,” The Emperor spoke with authority, turning to command everyone gathered. “You will hold position and ensure nothing follows us. The Adjustment, The Aeon, and The Hanged Man will support us, along with your Hunters, if they must,” she said, turning to Erika. Her slit-pupiled eyes snapped over the rim of her glasses, finding Sofia a few steps behind Erika. “Explosives are ill-advised in confined quarters.”

Sofia let out a long sigh of relief, though she tried to hide it with a cough. “I got your backs.”

Anna leveled a flat look in her direction. “Try to stay out of the throats of the smaller birds while we’re gone.”

The Aeon swept down from above, landing with his hands poised on his hips. The red sun turned into a watery smear as it reflected across his smooth mask. Erika wasn’t sure why The Hanged Man joined them, having swapped his sniper rifle for a shorter submachine gun—Erika thought he was the head of the SWAT teams, but presumably The Emperor knew her people better than Erika did. He didn’t look particularly enthused with the idea of venturing down the throat of a giant bird, glaring at it harder than he glared at Erika.

No one looked enthused except The Adjustment. Hopping up next to Erika, nudging her in the side, The Adjustment flashed a grin before turning to Rick. “Nervous?” she asked.

Rick stood to her side, one hand gripped tight around the hilt of his sword, knuckles turned white, while he ran his fingers over the semi-circular lines that covered his medallion. For a moment, Erika thought he wasn’t going to answer, too lost in thought. “I just… never sheathed my sword so easily,” he said. He took a deep breath, smiling a little. “Yeah, I’m good.”

The Emperor whistled, sharp and crisp, silencing all even though it wasn’t directed toward any of them. Instead, she waved over The Fool.

The short boy, sat atop the shoulder of his golem, donned an expression like Christmas had been canceled. The ground thumped under heavy footfalls as he nevertheless made his way over. “I don’t think I’ll fit inside,” he said, patting the golem on its shoulder.

“Elevate us.”

“Um…” The Fool’s dark eyes flicked away from The Emperor, touching each assembled member before he returned. “Excuse me?”

“We require an elevator,” The Emperor said, pointing a long finger toward the Carrion Eater. “Unless you expect me to climb up severed ligaments, arteries, and bone.”

“No, right. Of course. Ma’am.” As he stuttered out a response, his golem reached forward, hand lowering to the ground slowly.

It must have been a larger model than the one he used back at the hotel, because there was enough room for everyone assembled to climb aboard. Barely. Erika wound up squeezed next to The Hermit, keeping her balance as The Fool moved them toward the opening thanks only to the golem’s thumb acting as a large railing. Erika eyed The Hermit for a long moment, eyes lingering at the loose kimono before she found herself staring at nine absurdly fluffy tails—and got a sudden urge to touch them.

“Enticed?”

Erika’s eyes flicked up to find those golden eyes staring down at her. “Wondering why you’re here, actually. It’s going to be messy. The fur of your tails might get ruined.”

The Hermit chuckled, breathing out gold-tinged smoke. It wafted away in thin, coherent wisps, swirling around the group. “I’m here because I think I can keep us from being digested—for a short time.”

Erika sniffed at the air, wrinkling her nose in anticipation before catching a hint of… creamsicle. “Ah… Well, thanks.”

“You speak like you have some authority venturing into decapitated gods.”

Erika returned her question with a flat look, feeling like it was imminently obvious that it would be messy. Thinking a minute more, considering the ziggurat, she had to nod her head. “I’ve got more experience than most, I guess, not that you need experience to know that this is going to be gross.”

“Truly? How… interesting.”

Somehow, the look The Hermit gave Erika felt more disturbing than the prospect of walking through this thing’s throat. Turning back to the creature, Erika reassessed.

Up close, the Carrion Eater somehow felt smaller than it actually was—Erika couldn’t to see the true scale of its body. It was just a tunnel fit for a few humans. At the same time, getting closer somehow made everything worse.

The mottled skin was like the walls of a building, one made from darkened ridges of muscle. The neck itself didn’t have feathers so much as it had long, sinewy strands of something closer to hair, lying flat in slick black sheets. The pull of the creature swallowing itself dragged the sheets, moving them in a tangled mess that looked alive.

The wind was the worst of it. It did not smell. For that, Erika had to thank The Hermit and her golden, glittery smoke. However, it very much felt. It ripped and pulled and tore and yanked. Erika felt like she was being drawn towards it—not in the sense that it had been made for her, but the constant inhalation felt like it might sweep her off her feet.

Blood dribbled from its neck, but didn’t pool. As soon as it got caught in the wind, it turned to a fine mist, drawn inside.

Without warning, The Emperor unhinged her jaw and unleashed a short, quick blast of searing fire. It severed the strand of flesh being drawn in. The throat slurped it up like a wet noodle through puckered lips, until it all vanished into the darkness, leaving the way clear for them.

Hesitation gripped the group. The Fool’s golem leveled the tips of its fingers at the lip of the throat, pressing down to make a bridge. Nobody stepped forward, not The Emperor, not Erika, nor anybody else. Despite her experience in venturing deep into dank tunnels filled with muck and vile mucous, Erika was unenthused to add to that experience.

Anna eventually stepped forward, moving in almost perfect step with The Adjustment. Her boots squished into the flesh of the throat, imprinting before the rigidity pushed back.

“Oh, that’s revolting,” she said, sounding anything but. “Would it be bad if I collected a small sample? I didn’t get anything from the ██████ of Maggots, so—”

“Maybe on our way out,” Leslie said, gently pushing her forward to keep the group moving.

The three of them moving broke the hesitation among the rest of the group. Everyone started trudging forward, walking like they had been told to go dig their own graves. The Hanged Man hesitated the longest, polished shoes refusing to leave the stone fingertips. He looked back to The Emperor, wordlessly pleading to be reassigned.

The Emperor did not budge until he finally took a step off the platform. When she moved, it wasn’t to step forward. She grabbed Erika by the back of the neck, pinching firmly. “If this ends up unnecessary,” she hissed, barely audible even with glowing red embers crackling against Erika’s ear, “I will kill you.”

Erika broke out of her grip with a casual twist of her head, making The Emperor look down at her own fingertips like they betrayed her. “Try it, bitch,” Erika hissed back. “I’ll break your little empire into so many pieces that Ozymandias would weep.”

“What.”

Erika ignored her, striding forward with confidence.

She almost tripped and fell flat on her face when her boots set down on the fleshy throat. Picking up her boot left long trailing strands of saliva, blood, and whatever else was caught on the floor. It dragged her leg like an inverted stair stepper, only to turn to slick grease once she tried to put weight on it.

“Most birds have fairly strong throat muscles, forcing food down whole since they don’t have teeth for chewing.” Anna, easily the most enthused member of the group, kept at the head. The golden smoke that The Hermit breathed out did not dissipate, lighting their way as much as it protected them from the muck. “Hopefully it doesn’t start squeezing us down. Probably wouldn’t be pleasant.”

“I can do without the commentary,” The Hanged Man snipped back.

“Information is half the battle,” Rick said, though he didn’t sound like he believed it now.

“I do wonder how far we will have to go,” The Hermit said, her own stilted sandals keeping the majority of her feet off the throat floor. “I did not bring enough herbs for a multi-day journey.”

“Fuck that,” The Adjustment said, “If—ack—” She started hacking and spitting, rubbing the bottom of her face with her arms. “I think I got something on my chelicerae.”

Thankfully, Anna didn’t keep up a running biology lesson. Everyone kept their mouths clamped shut after The Adjustment finished hacking up a lung. Erika focused on trudging forward without losing her balance. She just had to place one foot in front of the other, thinking about nothing else. Especially not about how they would have to turn around and march through this all again, possibly while the entire bird collapsed down around them.

Erika shuddered to herself as they passed a branch in the road—the throat. The wind blew strong in one direction, and not so much in the other.

“In my investigations of old gods,” The Hermit said, breaking the group silence as they headed down the less breezy path, “few, if any, have made such physical impact in the world as the ██████ of Maggots and now this Carrion Eater. There are references to these very beings in some archaic work, but as ephemeral ideas more than beings, manifested through animals—such as birds and maggots—or the physical actions of worshipers and cultists.”

“Yeah, well, best start believing in ancient gods, Hermit,” Erika said with a flat look over her shoulder. “You’re in one.”

“We are in an aspect, per your own testimony. Presumably one which represents an intake of nourishment. And the other, motherhood… or birthing, I suppose.” The Hermit hummed. “Are they all body parts or bodily functions—components of a living being?”

“I fucking hope not. If I have to venture into another digestive tract, I’m going to break something big.” Erika slowed to a stop, glaring at the wall of flesh in front of her, pinched closed with little wrinkly lines radiating outwards. “If I have to see another fucking sphincter…”

Anna cocked her head to the side. “Odd. I did a little research in preparation: birds don’t typically have esophageal sphincters. Muscles in the throat push food down. Perhaps its size—”

“Fascinating as biology is,” The Emperor said, unhinging her jaw. The brief sparkles of flame were all the warning Erika got to form up a firebreak before light and sound erupted into the small tunnel.

She spread her arms wide, acting as a bulwark, knowing that her friends probably wouldn’t survive without giving them a break.

The blast lasted a mere instant. By the time Erika fully spread her arms, it was over with. The sphincter simply did not exist anymore, the only evidence of it being a slight bulge, charred over, jutting out from the fleshy, ridged tunnel. She still had to blink away the spots in her eyes to get back the majority of her vision, but when she did, she couldn’t help but gasp.

The world beyond stretched so far that Erika couldn’t see the other side. The walls coming off the esophagus stretched in either direction, slightly curved, but in the same sense that the horizon slightly curved when standing on a beach. They were fleshy and veined, but looked hard as rocks at the same time, a massive crag made up of red-hued basalt columns.

A pool of liquid did exist below, far below. Waves pushed and pulled, slapping the orange-red acid up against the walls. It clung like sticky slime, slowly dribbling down the sides with an audible hiss, merging with the main pool just in time for the wave to throw it up the sides once again.

Erika stepped forward past the charred threshold, onto an odd platform made up of the alien ridges that lined the sides of the walls. It was like the stomach intended for someone to stand there and witness the enormity.

A loud plop broke Erika’s stupor, drawing her attention up to a geyser spouting in the middle of the pool. She thought it came from something underneath, boiling and decaying in the acid, until she caught movement in the corner of her eye. Snapping her gaze upwards, she found a red, misty atmosphere and one little dark shape flying off into the distance.

“A bird?” Erika said as she processed the silhouette. “Inside its stomach?”

“More than one,” The Hanged Man said, sharp eyes scanning the skies.

Another bird swooped down from above, dropping something into the massive pool. It sunk in with a plunk, shooting a spout of acid chasing after the bird, but the bird was already disappearing off into the red mist.

Leslie wandered up to the lip beside Erika and simply stared, using the small scope he mounted to his carbine to scan the fog. Nobody had any intelligent answers for this… impossibility. Even an ancient fox and a dragon could be dumbfounded. Erika felt like she had stepped into a whole new world, except instead of being in the center of the earth, it was down the gullet of a god.

“Look,” Leslie said, passing his carbine over to Erika, pointing it just off center.

Erika leaned into his scope to find a tall black shadow jutting up from the pool in the far distance. She wasn’t quite sure what the significance was, and was about to ask, until he started angling her view upwards. Another shadow crossed the top of the first, stretching horizontally from end to end.

A deep seed of nausea sprouted in Erika’s stomach as she pulled back, looking at the structure in the distance without the scope.

“It’s the bridge,” Rick said, putting to words what Erika had been avoiding.

“I might have to kick Nya into the acid,” Erika hissed. “We were in its stomach the whole time.”

“Not the same bridge, surely,” The Hanged Man said, though he didn’t sound like he believed his denial.

“Of course it is,” Rick groaned. “This whole place is a tangled knot.” He stared off, hand gripping his sword, before a metaphorical lightbulb hit him in the face as he looked to The Hanged Man. “And don’t call me—”

Anna planted an elbow into his ribs with a glare.

“Spatial anomalies aside, we are here to do a job.” The Emperor glared down at Erika. “Do it.”

Erika drew her desert eagle, leading to everyone taking a full step back. Based on what happened to the Carrion Eater’s head, a single step wasn’t going to help if she misfired. Deciding not to comment, Erika stepped a little closer to the edge and aimed off to the center of the pool of acid.

She waited before firing, feeling it out. She worked her ability on instinct, probing for what might break the idea of the Carrion Eater. Holding her arm steady, she licked her lips—regretting it immediately as she tasted something acrid in the air. It felt alright, about what it felt like in the ziggurat, but just to test, Erika shifted and aimed at the crag wall of the stomach.

“What are you doing?” The Emperor asked, impatience growing.

Erika waved her off with a single finger as she probed at the stomach walls. The acid was definitely the better choice. It represented digestion a whole lot better than the container, and that was what Erika intended to break.

The Aeon, who hadn’t spoken once since entering the throat, jolted as if shocked. His mirrored mask angled upward, finding that same red orb hanging in the sky.

Erika followed his sightline as a cry, loud and frightened, fell from above. It grew louder until a blur crossed Erika’s eyes and crashed into the red soup below. Tension jolted through the entire group, but none reacted before a second shape plummeted down, more controlled than the first.

Jack hit the basalt, feet-first, inches from Erika. Her knees bent to absorb the impact, which she used to launch herself directly at Erika.

Erika went down, back hitting the basalt ground with a wet squish as Jack buried her shoulder in Erika’s chest, using both hands to grip Erika’s arm. Teeth bit down into Erika’s wrist, wrenching the gun out of her grip.

Erika broke out of the grapple, shattering teeth as she reclaimed her arm. Balling her hand, she broke Jack’s nose, splattering blood across her face.

The Adjustment swept forward, tackling Jack off Erika with webbing stretched between her hands and extra legs, wrapping Jack up.

Erika—dazed—glared at her bleeding wrist, only to widen her eyes. The gun. In the corner of her vision, a glint of silver flew through the air before vanishing over the edge of the basalt platform.

Bullets whizzed by over her head, as The Hanged Man unloaded his SMG into Jack, heedless of Erika or The Adjustment being in his line of fire. Erika dragged time, bending it and stealing it to the point where she felt something snap. The bullets slowed, warping the very air as Erika rolled out from under his direct line of fire. She crawled on her knees and elbows, dragging herself to the edge.

A blast of heat washed over her back, but Erika only had eyes for the glinting silver gun as it spun through the air toward that vast red-brown pool below. It was far, far below the platform, too far to reach normally. But she could see where it was as it moved in slow motion. Erika stretched her arm out, closing her fingers, feeling the hard grip of the gun solidify in her hand. She wrenched it to her side just before it could plop into the acid below.

The Adjustment sailed overhead, one limb torn off, another two charred and cauterized. Time crawled, giving Erika plenty of time to look over the small bullet holes marring her carapace, and to realize that if nothing changed, she was going to go straight into the vat of acid below.

Erika reached out normally, letting go of her gun, and closed her fingers around The Adjustment’s ankle just before she could fly out of reach. She had to break the tug of momentum before The Adjustment could pull her off the side, but that did not stop gravity. The Adjustment swung down, slamming into the side wall of the platform. Her remaining limbs spread out, anchoring her to the wall. As soon as Erika felt the weight off her arm, she let go, trusting The Adjustment had it from there.

Despite feeling The Emperor’s heat, Erika wasn’t surprised to find Jack ripping into The Hanged Man’s chest when she turned around. He tried to phase, legs dipping into the Carrion Eater’s throat, but Jack had one hand inside his chest and the other wrenching an arm up and backwards, breaking it easily. His phase didn’t take, arm blurring where it contacted her tattoos.

Anna pumped her shotgun, loud and aggressive. Not knowing what round she just chambered and being vaguely in the cone of fire, Erika pressed herself flat against the ground.

Nothing came from the barrel when Anna pulled the trigger.

Jack recoiled as if hit, thrown back by the physics more than any effect, only to freeze—not in the sense that ice coated her, but in a way that further strained the way time was trying to return to normal around Erika.

Something went wrong for Erika. She felt it. Whatever she broke, Anna’s gun fixed, but it fixed a little too well.

Things started moving faster around Erika, blurring while she swam through molasses.

Violet-hued smoke wrapped around The Hanged Man, and he wasn’t there when it dissipated, but everyone else barely got to take a breath before Jack’s tattoos shifted over her body ever so slightly. Her fist slammed forward, puncturing through the meat floor where The Hanged Man’s head had been.

Anna’s shotgun clicked in impotence. She snarled, pumping the shotgun again.

Jack was on her, knocking the barrel up toward the ceiling as she clamped her hands over Anna’s wrists. Undeterred, Anna slammed her face forward, and Erika saw a rare flicker of surprise in Jack’s eyes before their heads connected.

Erika pushed herself up to her feet, gun in hand. The cramped, close-quarters fight meant it was useless here. Safety engaged, she rammed it into her holster and drew a bat from her armory.

Both Anna and Jack came back looking dazed, but Jack recovered first. Hands still clamped around Anna’s arms, she hopped, planted both feet on Anna’s chest, and thrust, using Anna like a springboard to dodge a downward slash from Rick’s drawn sword.

Anna’s arms ripped at the seams, both still in Jack’s hands as Anna toppled backwards into Leslie, who caught her with a snarled curse. He set her down as gently and as swiftly as he could before putting his carbine up.

Two bullets hit Jack, slamming her into the floor like gravity had a personal vendetta. The Aeon phased from the meat-wall above her, dropping in from out of sight. He kicked his boot into her side; the pull of Leslie’s gravity bullets redirected, throwing and pinning Jack against the wall. He didn’t stop there, bringing up a knee in her waist, throwing her to the ceiling. His hand scraped over her backside, failing to find purchase, until he grasped hold of her thigh with both hands and swung her down to the ground once again. He drew his leg back, preparing to punt her straight down the tunnel, back the way they had come.

Jack’s hand lashed out, grasping hold of his foot.

Both careened into the darkness where they struck some wall with a wet, crunchy slap.

A beat of silence passed, with everyone still standing staring down the tunnel. Leslie bent, checking on Anna, while Rick repositioned himself, arms shaking and sweat beading down his face as he held his shiny, clean blade out toward the shadows.

The Hermit dumped ashes from her pipe, almost casually. The Emperor threw off her coat, brown-green scales racing up and down her bare arms as her hands elongated to claws.

Erika’s foot dragged as she tried to move. She pulled, hard, like she had when snapping Sofia’s glue. The little breath of relief when it worked came out completely involuntarily. Bending, Erika helped The Adjustment up and onto the platform. The Adjustment didn’t stand, breathing heavily as she grasped one arm.

A white, fractured smile appeared alone in the darkness of the tunnel.

“нⷩiͥiͥ,̓ hͪiͥiͥ,̓ hͪiͥiͥ…”