The Crooked Letter (29 page)

Seth accompanied Synett through his adventures, one after the other: forests of delicate ghost-trees, with branches fading to invisibility at their tips and leaves as fragile as individual snowflakes; fields of razorgrass, each strand the green of old cider bottles and as sharp as broken glass, so that anyone straying into its territory was instantly torn to ribbons; magnificent cities and towns of all shapes and sizes, from those floating in the air like Bethel to those buried deep in craters blasted out of the substance of the Second Realm. All places teemed with life of every imaginable shape and size, and awoke powerful feelings of awe within him.

He saw the elohim, the aristocracy of the Second Realm, passing through their territories with all the dignity and horror of the majestic dead. They shone with the light of Sheol, as though the beams falling on them triggered a reaction in their skin (or scales, or hair, or whatever it was they exposed to the people around them). On some elohim it looked like fire, on others it resembled the sickly halo of marsh gas. Some shone — and flew — like angels.

He saw Gabra’il — only from a distance, but that was close enough. Yod’s second-in-command stood a full metre taller than the elohim beside him, a frightening figure of orange glass and sharp edges radiating potent, exacting cruelty. Few would dare to speak in his presence, and it was said that he drank acid-milk from his master’s teat and could devour souls whole. No one wished to put that rumour to the test.

And over all of them — over Gabra’il and the elohim and their daktyloi subjects; over the devels and the creatures of sky and the ground; over everything in the Second Realm — loomed the black, bleak monolith of the alien invader, Yod.

He could see from Synett’s perspective that Yod was a blot on, not just the people of the Second Realm, but its very fabric, too. Black tubes spread everywhere, snaking out of its base, taking sustenance directly from the foundations of the realm. Cavernous pipes, like the one Nehelennia plied in
Hantu Penyardin,
delivered vast quantities of ethereal waste — all that remained of human souls after the giant creature had absorbed what it needed from them — to bulging reservoirs that leaked into and poisoned the landscape around it, generating hideous wraiths and life-sucking creatures that could not be killed. Voracious mirrors sucked energy from Sheol to fuel Yod’s foul engines of creation in the underworld, taking the light and turning it into darkness.

From the viewpoint of Synett’s mind, Seth felt the man come to the conclusion that Yod was the enemy of all the realms, and of all life within them, and that any available means to stop it should be taken. This was more than just civil unrest; this was carefully plotted insurrection. He followed rumours of rebellion to their source, and there found Barbelo and other creatures like her, united by the same goal: to rid the realm of the cancer that blighted it, and to restore life to its usual ebb and flow.

‘Easier said than done,’ Seth said, pulling himself that far out of the illusion with difficulty.

Synett agreed. ‘“Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul,”‘ he said. ‘“Rather fear Him who can destroy both soul and body in hell!” The Nail has been building its strength for centuries, growing steadily and biding its time until it felt confident of taking on two realms at once. Its dominance is assured here, if nothing changes, but a Cataclysm changes everything. It’s putting the rules of the world to the torch. Even if we stop it now, we might not ever be able to put the heavens back together.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean just that. You can’t go screwing around with the laws of nature and expect them to snap back afterwards. Take what happened to Xol and his brother, for example.’

Seth leaned forward with interest. At last, he thought, he had a chance of finding out what had happened to his guide. ‘Go on,’ he said, trying not to sound too eager. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘Don’t you know all this already?’

‘No.’

Synett shook his head, dark skin catching the strange light of the kaia. ‘I don’t believe it. They should’ve told you as soon as you arrived.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it affects you directly, Seth. It’s where the Nail got the idea for this plan. Xol and his brother were perfect mirror twins, just like you and your brother, only no one knew what that meant then. There was no grand scheme to bring about the Cataclysm, to join the realms into one. It just happened by accident. Xol’s brother died, and everything went to hell.

‘The Cataclysm happened in stages, each worse than the last. By the time anyone worked out what was going on, it was too late to turn it back. Xol did the brave thing and killed himself, but his brother had already gone to Sheol by that point. The Sisters made him a ghost. On Earth, it nearly triggered an ice age. Whole civilisations fell, including his.

It took decades to sort out the mess. People wrote legends about it. Xol’s brother was worshipped as a god by the Toltecs and the Aztecs, you know. Xol on the other hand was relegated to the underworld, which was pretty close to what actually happened to him in reality. The dimane took him in, eventually, but before that his life was pretty miserable.’

‘How do you know all this?’ Seth asked, appalled anew by the scale of what Synett was describing. How could one single human death bring about such catastrophe?

‘I asked around, when I joined the resistance. They told me what they knew. The Nail saw what happened with Xol and his brother and decided to try again — only this time it would be ready. The surge of deaths had made it stronger, so it was in a better position to jockey for something like this. On top of that, it instituted a tradition of human sacrifice in Xol’s old neighbours to make sure the plan stayed afloat. Then all it had to do was wait for another set of mirror twins to be born and put its plan in motion. It probably didn’t expect to wait for so long but that ended up working in the Nail’s favour. The last century brought it more fuel than all the previous thirteen centuries combined. No wonder it’s grown cocky, it and its company of destroying angels.’

Fourteen hundred years.
Seth felt slightly dizzy. ‘It’s been waiting for that long? I can’t believe it.’

Synett chuckled. ‘You ever get the feeling you were being watched?’

‘Everyone does.’

‘In your case, it was probably true. Yod has been looking for you and your brother for one hell of a long time.’

Seth nodded dully, understanding why Xol had been reluctant to tell his story earlier. If his own actions resulted in such widespread death and destruction, he would be reluctant to talk about them too.

‘What changed?’ he asked.

‘What changed what?’

‘You said that things might be permanently altered if the Cataclysm gets any more advanced. What changed in Xol’s day?’

‘Well, it’s hard to tell, exactly. Empires were dropping like flies around the seventh century; not just the Roman, but the Persian and northern Indian too. Greek fire was first used in warfare at that time. Alexandria was destroyed. Christianity was on the rise; maybe there’s a supernatural connection there. The notion of romantic love didn’t come in until much later, but it could still be related. Sometimes it takes a while for things to become evident, or to be given a name — like perspective in painting. There are some who think that the destruction of the Aztecs at the hands of the Spanish triggered a fundamental shift in the way people thought. Xol’s people influenced human evolution more than anyone ever realised, so the echoes of their deaths, nine hundred years later, resonated around the world.’

Seth struggled to get his head around the notion that human consciousness could be so changeable. That the rules of the world around him could directly impact on his thoughts or emotions was hard to swallow.

‘Why shouldn’t it be like that?’ Synett asked him. ‘We’re talking about the way the world works, and the way the world works inevitably affects those who live in it. Tipping half the world into a dark age was bound to have consequences on the way we see things, and on the way we create those who follow us. Our kids inherit everything whether they want to or not. The sins of the father, and all that.’

Synett chuckled again, lower in his throat. ‘Sometimes I wonder, though. People are stupid and self-destructive; they have been forever. And nowhere do I see any sign of remorse. It’s just the same sins, over and over. The same crimes: murder, theft, betrayal, adultery, suicide ...’

Something about Synett’s tone made him think of Hadrian and Sweden, and the mess he had left behind. He pulled away, feeling that he was being laughed at. He realised then that the man’s tone had subtly changed: Synett was speaking less like a Born Again murderer than a cynic like himself.

Seth had dipped into Synett’s mind. Who was to say the exchange hadn’t been two-way?

‘“He who commits adultery has no sense,”‘ the man said, his voice full of mockery. ‘“He who does it destroys himself.”‘

Seth wrenched his hand out of Synett’s strong grip, tearing the bandage off with it. His sense of connection to the man vanished in a flash.

‘That’s not who I am!’ he protested.

Synett’s broad grin held only amusement as he held up one unbound hand for inspection. The wounds weren’t through his palms, as they were on many depictions of the crucified Christ or in stigmatised Saints. They were long, straight lines carved deep into the veins of his wrist and lower arm.

‘Unfinished business,’ said the man.

Seth turned away, revolted by the sight.

A kaia entered the room. ‘Your companions call for you, Seth.’

‘Perfect timing,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t sit around here doing nothing all day.’

Synett laughed as the kaia led him away, but the sound lacked even the slightest trace of humour.

* * * *

‘Gods are not to he trusted. If they should ever

return, our days of good fortune will he over.’

THE BOOK OF TOWERS,
FRAGMENT 71

he car roared along a narrow underground tunnel like a bullet through a gun. With the top of the roof folded back — blending seamlessly into the grey bodywork as though it had never existed — the throbbing of its engine was so loud it made Hadrian feel slightly sick. He clutched the dash for dear life, and tried not to think about what might lie ahead. Kybele had driven them for kilometres along underground roadways, linking up with subways, basements, municipal garages, bunkers — anything the car could fit into. She never once stopped to consult a map. Her fingers tapped restlessly on the steering wheel and gearstick. Her eyes shone green from the dash. The headlights were bright in the confined spaces. Sometimes light reflected back at them off things that scuttled swiftly away into the darkness.

Needs must when the devil drives,
Kybele had told him earlier.
All the cities have merged into one and the old maps are useless.

But who was the devil? And where was he — or she — driving them? To Lascowicz’s lair, he hoped, although there was no way he could tell.

Lightning had split the sky into a jagged jigsaw earlier that night as Kybele and her army of stone creatures had filed down the entrance ramp of a car park two blocks away from the summoning point. The latter was spent, she’d explained; what potential lay in its geometry was expended in the effort of wakening the Gabal from their rest. If they were going to perform more magic, they’d have to find somewhere else to do it.

‘It’s all about location,’ she’d said. ‘Location and shape. They define utility. You so-called modern humans have always misunderstood that.’

The car park had been cold and dank. For a while, snakelike trickles of water had preceded them down the curving ramps, but then they too fell behind. Hadrian was acutely conscious of the weight of the city above and the old, cold earth below.

‘Okay,’ Kybele said, gathering the leader of the stone people, Elah-Gabal, together with the Galloi and Hadrian in the lowest level of the car park. ‘We separate here. Elah, follow the route I’ve given you through the tunnels to where the others are gathering. You’ll know them, and you’ll work with them — even the hiisi, or I’ll deal with both of you afterwards. The Bes will go with you to show you the way.’

Elah-Gabal nodded solemnly. The large contingent of half-men didn’t change expression.

‘There are forces awakening that haven’t stirred for thousands of years,’ she went on. ‘We can expect Feie at some point; ghul, too. We don’t know exactly what else is coming, so be careful. This is just the beginning. What happens today will set the course of the future. I don’t want any mistakes.’

Another nod. If the newly obedient Elah resented her tone, it didn’t show. ‘Yes, Mistress.’

‘Go, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll contact you when I can. Keep an eye out for the birds.’

The Gabal and the Bes turned and marched off into the distance, vanishing into the shadow of a tunnel mouth at the edges of the concrete chamber. Their crunching footsteps echoed for a while, then faded to silence.