Виктор Пахомов – Sherlock Holmes: The Gate of Oblivion. Volume 1 (страница 2)

– A legend is just a fact that has lost its clarity in the hands of the ignorant. I intend to bring it back to sharpness.

The journey to Cairo took three weeks.As the ship dropped anchor in the port of Alexandria, Holmes was greeted by a chaos of sounds, smells and colors.After monochrome London, the East seemed oversaturated to him.Professor al – Faradi was waiting for him in Cairo.The archaeologist looked much older than his photographs. His face was dotted with wrinkles, and his hands constantly trembled, fingering his ebony rosary.

«You have arrived, Mr. Werner,» said the professor, bowing low.«I knew that the riddle would lure you out of your foggy den.«What we found… it’s not just rocks.This is a challenge to the universe.Nine days’ journey deep into the desert.Throat of Oblivion.There sleeps that which was created before the stars. The desert greeted them with merciless heat. On the seventh day the landscape changed.Sand dunes gave way to black rocks, worn away by the wind to the state of skeletons.The archaeologists’ camp was located in the shadow of a huge cliff, in which a narrow gap gaped.

«We found this a month ago,» al – Faradi whispered, leading Holmes to the crevice. – Look at the walls.

Holmes raised the lantern.The surface of the stone was perfectly smooth, as if it had been polished for centuries. But something else was strange: the stone did not reflect the light – it seemed to absorb it.

«This is not sandstone or granite,» Holmes ran his finger over the surface. – The structure seems organic.

The tunnel led steeply down. Holmes noticed that the air temperature began to drop – unnaturally quickly. A few minutes later they came out into a room that made Holmes hold his breath.It was a huge round hall, the vault of which was lost in the blackness.There was no floor in the center – only a bottomless abyss through which twelve stone slabs led, radiating from the entrance.In the very center, on a thin pedestal, the Sphere hovered.It was completely black and emitted a low hum that was felt by the bones of the skull.

«Twelve paths,» muttered Holmes. – Each one has a symbol. Sword, River, Arrow, Turtle, Ship…

«We lost three workers,» the professor’s voice trembled.«They tried to reach the Sphere.As soon as the foot touches the wrong slab, it just… disappears.Doesn’t break, doesn’t fall.It becomes transparent, and the person falls into nothingness.

Holmes knelt at the very edge. He picked up a small stone and threw it onto the nearby Sword slab.The stone flew through the slab, as if it were not there, and disappeared into the darkness.There was no sound of impact.

«Acoustics are absorbed by vacuum,» Holmes stated. – This is not a hole in the ground.This is a tear in the very fabric of space. You look for magic where you need to look for consistency.This place is built according to the laws of logic. Each slab is an ancient paradox. Holmes took a step forward.

– Wait! – Al – Faradi screamed.«You can’t just go!»

– You’re wrong, professor.This is the only way to go. If the Ship of Theseus is a continuity of form, then the slab must be material to one who is aware of this continuity.

Holmes stepped onto the slab of the Ship.There was a hard thud under his foot.The slab survived. He took the second step.The movements were precise, precise, as if he were walking on a tightrope over the Thames.

«Zeno’s arrow,» he whispered, moving. – Movement is an illusion consisting of moments of rest.To achieve your goal, you need to accept the stillness of each step.

With every step the Sphere’s hum became louder.Images began to appear in Holmes’s head.Baker Street. Watson sitting in a chair with a newspaper.The scratching of pen on paper. He saw it so clearly, as if he had only to reach out his hand and he would touch a familiar shoulder.

«This is a neuronal trap,» he ordered himself.«The sphere resonates with the memory, trying to break the rhythm.Concentration. Only logic.»

He reached the last slab.The Liar Paradox.«I always lie.«If the statement is true, it is false. Holmes stopped.The plate beneath him began to vibrate, becoming translucent. He felt his feet begin to sink into the stone, losing its density.

«A lie is just a distortion of the truth,» he said loudly into the void. – The existence of the statement itself is undeniable, regardless of its content. I AM.

The slab instantly hardened. Holmes made a final push and found himself on the central platform.The sphere was in front of him.Now he saw that it was not just floating – it was slowly rotating, and myriads of sparks shimmered inside it.She smelled of thunderstorms and old paper. He slowly extended his hand.

«A mystery,» he whispered. – Finally, a task worthy of a finale. The moment his skin touched the cold side of the Sphere, the world around him ceased to exist.There were no more caves, there was no professor, there was not even Holmes himself. He felt his consciousness scatter into millions of fragments, each of which became a number, a vector, a sound.

In this chaos he saw Watson again. But it was not a ghost.The friend stood in the center of the dazzling white space and looked at him with that same soft smile.

«You were always too curious, Holmes,» said Watson. His voice sounded clear. – But this path has no return ticket.Are you ready to exchange truth for a miracle?

«There are no miracles, John,» Holmes answered. He felt his body dissolve. – There are only rules that we have not yet learned. I intend to learn them.

Watson nodded and extended his hand, pointing somewhere behind Holmes.

– Then go.There’s a job waiting for you there.Don’t let the light go out.

A sharp flash of pain pierced Holmes’s entire being.The sphere in his palm began to expand, absorbing the light.At the last moment, he felt something take hold in his chest, right above his heart – heavy, pulsating and incredibly cold.The flash blinded him.The sound of a breaking violin string echoed in his brain, and Holmes fell into oblivion.

When he felt his body again, the first sensation was the smell.It was not the smell of dry dust or London fog.It was the scent of violets mixed with ozone. He opened his eyes.There was no stone vault above it.There, in the deep indigo sky, hung two moons – a huge silver one and a small, blood – red one.

Sherlock Holmes sat up, shaking purple pollen from his palms. He was still in his linen suit, but the clock in his pocket was no longer ticking.Instead, an alien, measured rhythm beat in his chest.

«Interesting,» he whispered, looking around the forest of trees with wine – red trunks. – It seems that the conditions of the task have changed. CHAPTER 2. AXIOM OF SILENCE

Holmes’s mind, despite his physical weakness, began to work at full capacity, launching the process of inventorying reality.The gravity here was a little weaker than on Earth – perhaps nine or ten percent. His movements became easier, but this deceptive feeling of freedom only irritated his brain, accustomed to precision.

The silence was absolute. But this was not the silence that reigns in an empty room. When the wind rushed through the crowns of the purple trees, it did not cause a rustle.Instead, there was a thin ringing sound, like glass bells beating against each other.

«The acoustics are distorted,» he noted, straightening the torn pieces of his frock coat.«Either the density of the atmosphere is higher than normal, or the very matter of this world has a different crystal lattice.

His gaze fell on the horizon, and for a second his breath caught in his throat.There, in the inky sky, islands floated.Real blocks of stone topped with white spiers.They moved along slow, measured trajectories. Holmes felt no fear. He felt the excitement of a predator who had discovered a trail.

He looked down at his feet and froze.Footprints were clearly visible in the purple grass.Not him.Someone passed here recently, leaving trampled stems.In one place the grass was stained with a thick purple liquid. Holmes bent down, touching the spot. Blood. But her biochemistry was different – she did not have the smell of iron. A piece of cloth lay nearby. Blue – gray silk with embroidered silver leaf.

«Healer,» Holmes stated, studying the weaving of threads. – And he’s wounded.

He raised his eyes, peering into the thicket. Holmes slowly moved towards the sound, trying to step as quietly as possible, although the crunchy grass made this task impossible. His weapons remained in Egypt. Weapons are a crutch for a weak mind. He parted the thickets of tough bushes and saw him. *** CARD LETTER «P» ***

Beneath a tree whose trunk glowed with an amber light sat a creature resembling a human, but with a thinner proportioned face and sharp – tipped ears. He was wearing a blue – gray robe, torn and soaked in blood.The creature was breathing heavily.Clutched in his hands was a crystal emitting a faint green glow.It tried to press the crystal against the deep wound on its side, but the glow was constantly extinguishing. Holmes walked out into the open.The creature shuddered and suddenly raised its hand. A complex geometric pattern of light instantly flashed around his fingers, and the smell of burnt wool filled the air.