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like smoothness by the ravages of the eons. |
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In the center of the enormous room was a natural stone altar; atop it sat a black, brooding sepulcher, the top half constructed of beveled glass and the bottom of a flat black depthless material that defied description. |
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The perimeter walls were sheer, nearly vertical, networked with a multitude of depressions. The creatures, the generals of Korbac, as Kelto had referred to them, languished like indescribable gargoyles waiting for the momentous event; their squinty, prehistoric burning yellow eyes were fixed on the centerpiece entombment. |
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"Behold the great Sate, Ancient of Ancients," Bert Johnson beatified. |
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His hand clamped down on my shoulder, forcing me to my knees, as if I was just one more supplicant of his devil god. It was uncomfortable, but it afforded me an opportunity to get a better fix on my surroundings. |
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The sepulcher was guarded by no less than eight hooded and shrouded true believers who knelt at the base of the altar. Each knelt with their heads devoutly bowed, hands folded. Next to each of them was a single candle and a sprig of pine in a crystal vase. Spread before them was an opened, large, leather bound journalthe Book of Commitment. |
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The room was filled with a monotone |
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