Shadow (13 page)

He waited for it to say more, but it did not. Within a minute it had faded from existence.

It ends here.
He allowed himself to hope it meant
the Project
ends here, that Vous was relinquishing his part and succumbing to death, and that that would (if possible) disperse the force about him. No one could pry Vous from his throne at this late hour but he himself. Was there enough of the man left within the changing entity to do it? The Arch Mage hoped, but didn't think so.

He pushed at Vous's door and jumped back as it swung open. The spread of death across the rich carpet was as distasteful to him as excrement. On the throne, splayed, Vous looked almost as dead as the rest.

The Arch had not dared enter this place in a long while. There'd seldom have been a more dangerous day to do so. But Vous did not presently wear his wards and charms. Was this permission, even an instruction, to enter?

The candles on their stands flashed to life, casting orange light through the chamber. Such simple magic it could almost be taken as a jest. The Arch limped in, stepping over remains. Large piles of pebbles lay in the mess. They scattered from his boot.

Vous did not stir as he came near. What would be the safest approach, tone of voice? ‘My Friend and Lord. It has been a hard night. How may I aid you?'

‘It's over,' said Vous quietly.

‘May I ask what, Friend and Lord?'

‘The evening.'

‘Yes, Friend and Lord, morning has come. Perhaps you also mean the evening's irregularities. Is it your wish to discuss them?'

Vous rolled onto his side, convulsed, hissed, lay still.

The Arch Mage gestured at the bodies about the chamber. ‘Friend and Lord, the last time you performed this … kind of ritual, the Entry Point opened. Do you recall it? The slaughtered peasants. Had you similar intentions, this time?'

‘Intentions,' said Vous mockingly.

Movement caught the Arch's eye and he very nearly fled, only to see it was Ghost flitting across the wall's tall mirror. ‘I had assumed, Friend and Lord, there was some point to the recent destruction. Surely not simply the relief of boredom? Friend and Lord, with your leave I shall speak bluntly. Great power gathers itself about you. Immense power. Any of the gods, if they wished,
could
slay us all. In their wisdom they let us live. You will soon join them, Friend and Lord. You shall have their status. Do you share their vision for humanity? Or have you different wishes? I ask only that I may better assist you.'

For a long while there was no answer. Vous was still as a carving. ‘Do you think … magicians never fall for magic tricks?' he said at last.

‘Friend and Lord?'

‘Do the Windows show only plain truth? Only ever bald plain truth, Avridis?'

The Arch Mage baulked to hear the name his parents had given him, jagging him unpleasantly for an instant into the distant past, where he was nothing, no one, reviled and cursed and spat upon. Cast out of the magic schools for exploring his taste for forbidden arts. Held up as a thing of mockery, an example made for others. Memories so ancient it was startling to now and then recall them, and feel their usually impotent sting.

He said, ‘I'm sure the Hall of Windows keeps many secrets, Friend and Lord, even from me.'

‘Even … from … you.' Vous's gaze bored into him. His lip curled. ‘Secrets! Yes, Avridis. And lies.
Lies.
I learned much, tonight. I am so very tired.'

‘Shall I send for your meal?'

‘There is no one to make it.'

‘Ah.'

‘She's gone.' Vous shut his eyes. ‘In no sense ever will she return to me.'

‘May I ask who, Friend and Lord?'

Vous's inert body draped like a pale sheet across the throne. The Arch waited then turned and limped away, his forked staff picking its way through corpses.

She's gone.

Ruin was all about him. The halls and floors had been torn up by that curious effect, those monstrous stone creations which crumbled to loose pebbles when the life went out of them. The damage dealt to walls and floor had begun to ‘heal' as though it were organic flesh instead of stone, jade, ivory and marble.

He had not brought the keys to Aziel's room with him, but would not cast just to open a door. She did not respond to his call. With some effort he ripped the handle free.

She was not there.

Dismayed, he rested a moment on her chair, wondering who he could get to search through the lower floors, when there again was Ghost. Its faces flitted across the shards of broken window on the floor. Tiredly the Arch raised a palm, cast a smaller version of the spell he'd used to trap the Invia in the halls last month. A web of force sprang up among the glass shards and drew them, scraping, till they were together. Sick heat flushed through him. His horns belched smoke and stink.

‘We don't speak to you,' said Ghost's tremulous voice. ‘You aren't trusted.'

As always his words must be cautious to this detestable thing. ‘I shall never ask you to trust me. I would be more worried if you did. It is well your loyalty is for our Friend and Lord, and him only. Where is Aziel?'

‘A drake came and took her.'

‘Nonsense.'

‘The marks on the window sill. On the floor to our left. Evidence!' The faces shook and grimaced in their jagged glass prisons. ‘Release us!'

He broke the spell when he saw what Ghost referred to. Quick as a heartbeat, Ghost was gone.

On the floor was a thin red drake scale, broken off as the creature had barged in.

Avridis got to his feet and quite uselessly went to the window. The vast realm in all its emptiness swallowed his searching gaze. Horror and rage ripped through him.

2

Aziel was secure enough in the drake's ridges and lumps, which formed a natural saddle, even a strange kind of chair. The drake's warmth felt like his belly was full of hot coals. But the creature was terribly slow to respond to instructions.

‘Horrible thing, put me down! Do you want me to soil my dress? I
need
to go.' To talk of such things (even to an animal) would normally have made her feel little better than an animal herself.

The cold air, funnelled by the drake's labouring wings, tossed her hair violently in all directions. The drake had more or less stuck to the Great Dividing Road, with detours to either side as though it were searching for something. They'd flown over an army marching south, over mountain ranges, fields, villages, farms. And over things she'd never heard of at all, like those big blue domes. How huge it all was, the outside world! How peculiar, the way it went about its business without a word or instruction from her.

She'd learned the futility of slapping the drake's scaly skin when a break was needed. Kicking its sides had once made it belch flame. But it certainly didn't enjoy being whined at. ‘Why did you take me from my room?' she asked in the tone it found most objectionable, leaning forward and pouring the words right into its ear. ‘Did I ever ask to be taken away?' (Well yes, but not by a
drake,
certainly.) ‘Where do you mean to take me? Did Arch arrange it, or did you come to steal me by yourself? That's what you did, you stole me! Set me down or take me back!'

The whining at last broke through the drake's patience. She heard it sigh like a grumpy old man then it began its descent. ‘Oh no you don't,' she said. ‘Not in the bushes again, I'm not a beast like you are. Take me over there to that building by the Road. I'll go inside for once.'

The drake made an anxious noise but it obeyed, setting her down behind the tallest building of a small roadside town, the only one for miles. She got off him and swayed, dizzy to be on her feet again.

Loud brash voices boomed and roared from the building, along with the smell of ale. A tavern or inn – she'd heard of these. They were necessary to keep soldiers happy. From the sky she'd assumed this was a subject's house, that a meal and facilities would be eagerly offered to their Friend and Lord's daughter. But that ale smelled awful. She changed her mind and went behind the building instead. ‘Don't you watch me!' she told the drake.

But the drake suddenly had little interest in her. It sniffed the air and its ears perked up, eyes widening.

When Aziel had finished, she saw the creature's tail slithering around the building's corner as it made its move. A chorus of amazed and frightened shouts sprang up. She ran along the alley to the inn's front. Near a row of outside tables a group of men stood, their backs against the wall and their mouths agog. The drake had its front paws up on a table and the tip of its snout in their beer jug. A few greedy sucks and the jug was drained.

‘Stop that!' Aziel ordered it.

The men were so amazed at seeing the rare monster they didn't notice her. ‘Catch it,' one of them suggested.

‘Is it tame?' said another.

‘No saddle on it. And it's not a young one. Must have escaped!'

‘They don't
wear
saddles, fool, tame or not.'

‘Never knew these things drank ale.'

‘Your shout, drake!'

The drake's snout didn't fit into the cups and mugs. It knocked them to the ground and lapped up the spilled ale with appalling eagerness, not concerned for the dirt and pebbles the ale fizzed into. Aziel ran to it and hopped on its back. ‘Fly!' she ordered, nervous suddenly about these strange men who'd not so much as bowed in deference to her. ‘What are you staring at?' she yelled at them. ‘Go inside!'

‘Is this pet yours, girly?' someone asked her drunkenly. ‘Where'd you find him?'

Aziel blanched, amazed to find these people so animated, much less impetuous enough to call her ‘girly'. Arch had told her most people were like the grey-robes, docile and obedient, or mindless and violent. ‘Go inside!' she repeated; it was all she could think to say.

The drake kept licking at the damp puddles of spilled ale. Aziel toppled from its back as it examined the next table over, her dress hiking up around her thighs. Her face went almost as red as the drake's scales. A crowd began to trickle out of the inn, gawking at the creature. ‘Haven't you seen a drake before?' Aziel snapped, getting to her feet. She leaped onto the drake's back again. ‘Go, fly!' she said, trying with little effect to wrench its head away from another toppled jug.

‘You be careful, girly, these reds breathe flame, they say.'

The drake made a loud growling sound which made the onlookers cringe in fear of a blast of fire, some of them cowering back inside the inn. When they understood the creature had belched they laughed.

The drake gazed at the crowd of men with surprise, as if it had only just noticed them now that all the ale had all been drunk. It took a few steps away from them, back onto the road, steps a touch unsteadier than usual. Then a voice sounded from one of the upper windows, bellowing in tones of disbelief: ‘That's Aziel!'

Startled, she looked up and saw the savage face of Strategist Blain staring down, mouth wide in astonishment. He turned and snapped an order at someone in the room behind him.

Twice the drake had drunkenly tried to take off, to much laughter from those watching it. It took a last look back at the crowd, then froze as a tall red-headed man pushed violently through the onlookers and drew a sword.

Immediately the drake shook Aziel off its back and charged, knocking the man over, battering him with its wings and head. The redhead dropped his weapon and wedged a forearm in the drake's mouth. His punches glanced off its hard leathery hide as the pair rolled about in the dirt. The crowd scattered.

Another man leaned out Blain's window. He held a long pipe to his lips and blew through it a thin dart.

The drake yelped and jumped off his victim, belched again, then scuttled back to Aziel. She climbed on its back. Its skyward lunge this time succeeded. As they lurched higher she looked back over her shoulder to see the redhead getting to his feet, blood seeping from his forehead and arm. ‘Why did you attack that man?' she said. ‘It's almost as though you knew him.'

Blain's shocked face was still at the upstairs window watching her go, his mouth still wide open.

3

Thaun smiled down at Kiown, feeling the young one would benefit from his embarrassment. But they would have to move, and soon. This was too memorable a tale; drakes were very rare, and there were some rebel infantry drinking down there at the tables.

Blain's order had been poor reflex – ‘kill the drake, get the girl'. He would not be pleased at Kiown's failure. He
would
be pleased to learn that the dart in the drake's rump would lead them directly to the doorstep of whoever had managed to kidnap their Friend and Lord's daughter with a trained pet.

Thaun took from his travel bag what looked like a thin wooden card with a metal point, slowly spinning till it settled on a direction. It pointed at the dart now lodged in the drake's rump, the tip of which should by now have wormed its way inside the creature's body, all but irretrievable. It was the second time he'd used this Engineer-built device, named a ‘chaser' by its creator, carried with him in two decades' service. He hoped it still worked.

THE TOWER

1

The sound of lapping waves was stronger within the tower than it had been when Eric and Siel were waist-deep in the water of its moat. Its interior was the colours of earth, browns, greens and stone-grey, gently lit from a hidden source. A small, shallow, sparkling pool lay in the middle of the floor, giving no hint of its purpose. The large floor space was interspersed with tall statue-things, vaguely tree-like in shape, made of black metal which flowed like the liquid in a lava lamp. Their ‘branches' twisted and spun slowly round in a way that made the eye grapple uncomfortably with what it saw. Down one side of the room were half-a-dozen such things, of wildly varying design. The slow movement of their limbs was mesmerising. ‘Don't touch them,' Siel cautioned as Eric went for a closer look.