The Devoured Earth (18 page)

The glowing blue structure towered over them all. Shilly craned her neck to look up, wondering who had built it and for what purpose. It was as large as a building but had no obvious doors or windows. There were no charms inscribed on or implied by its curving faces. It radiated neither cold nor heat and it emitted no sound that she could discern.

‘Now what?’ she asked.

‘Now you open it,’ said a voice from behind them.

Shilly, Tom and even Vehofnehu jumped. Out of the shadows stepped the tallest creature Shilly had ever seen: a vast, imposing figure in a suit of orange armour that stood head and shoulders above the most massive man’kin in their party. All sharp edges and cruelty, the figure wore a long two-handed sword at its hip that looked strong enough to fell a ghost gum with one stroke. The face visible through the helmet possessed masculine lines, with high cheekbones and pale white skin, but had a distant, calculating air that was anything but human.

‘Ah,’ said Vehofnehu, a little shakily, ‘the traitor. Gabra’il. I’d wondered if you had survived the Cataclysm.’

‘No Cataclysm, so-called King.’ The giant man’s voice echoed through the chamber like the clashing of steel. ‘A hiatus only. My master’s work will soon be finished and the Cataclysm complete. You will fall, every one of you.’

The empyricist stood straighter and strolled with studied nonchalance around the base of the glowing object. ‘They’re fine words, coming from a guard dog.’

‘The Tomb of the Sisters falls under my protection. There is no shame in that.’

‘Only one sister left, I’m given to understand. And most people today refer to her as the Goddess.’

‘There are no gods but my master.’

‘Who
you
let into the Second Realm. Isn’t that right? You betrayed the people who gave you life; you betrayed every living thing. Is your conscience easy? Do the years weigh heavily upon you?’

Instead of answering, Gabra’il took two long strides forward. His armour grated and clashed, and Shilly backed hastily away. Expressionlessly, coldly, he reached down and cupped Vehofnehu’s head in his massive right hand. ‘Open the Tomb, or I will kill you now.’

Vehofnehu didn’t flinch. ‘I don’t know how to open it.’

‘Then why are you here?’

‘Why are
you
here?’

‘I serve.’ Gabra’il’s gloved hand tightened around Vehofnehu’s head and began to squeeze.

Instead of answering, the empyricist pointed at the Holy Immortals.

Unnoticed, the circle of green figures had linked hands and formed a circle around the base of the Tomb. Strange energies swirled among them, and their flickering increased. The greenish light they radiated seemed to war with the blue of the Tomb, creating a stuttering, erratic light display that hurt Shilly’s eyes.

Gabra’il let go of Vehofnehu and stepped back. One great hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it and cut everyone down.

Shilly fought the urge to be violently sick. She didn’t know who Gabra’il was, but Yod was clearly the master he spoke of — and why would anyone willingly do something
it
wanted? Only her utter impotence in the face of the giant’s strength and the length of his sword stopped her from doing what she normally did in such crises: rush in and start laying about with her cane.

She couldn’t open the Tomb, so it was up to the Holy Immortals now. They seemed to know what they were doing. She watched through narrowed eyes as the jarring light grew brighter, oscillating wildly from blue to green with occasional flashes of pure white. The stone beneath her began to vibrate. Dust rained down the length of the tower, making the air even thicker and fouler smelling than it already had been. She put her free hand over her nose. A low rumble rose up, drowning out the sound of Tom’s coughing.

A cracking sound came from the Tomb, corresponding with a streak of lightning that carved a jagged path up the tower and into the sky. Then another. Shilly stepped back, feeling utterly overwhelmed by the power swirling around her. She had never felt such a concentration of the Change before, even around Sal. There was more in each mote of dust than there had been in Lodo’s workshop; more perhaps than in the entire Haunted City. Whatever source the Holy Immortals were tapping into, it outshone anything humanity had ever tamed.

With the third crack, the lightning came and didn’t go away. An intensely bright line of energy cast hellish shadows all through the tunnel, dancing and leaping and making Shilly even dizzier than she had been before. Telling herself not to falter, she gripped the top of her cane and walked forward, closer to the source of the lightning. She had to see what was going on.

The Holy Immortals still circled the Tomb, hand in hand. One of the Tomb’s shell-like ‘petals’ had fallen away. Another followed, dropping heavily to the stone and shattering into countless tiny crystal shards that flashed in all directions. Shilly took another step forward and felt a crunching underfoot. Gabra’il’s attention was focussed firmly on the unfolding Tomb, and with each falling petal he stood straighter and gripped his sword more tightly. Lightning cast his angular features into sharp relief.

Vehofnehu had sidled away from the giant’s side and come close to Shilly. ‘Be ready,’ he shouted into her ear. The words were barely audible over the opening of the Tomb.

‘But you were wrong about the charm!’ she shouted back. ‘What do you expect me to do?’

He just gripped her arm. ‘You’ll know. I trust you.’

She thought frantically of her future self’s work and found it hard to concentrate on anything but the lightshow and the growing thunder. The elder Shilly had shown her the charm numerous times, pointing out specific features and broader patterns that she knew better than anyone. The sketches Shilly had taken down were pale shadows of the finished product. She required the essence of the pattern, the mental image of what it should be. As long as it existed in her mind, that would be enough to bring it into the world, for a while.

The trouble was, it didn’t exist in her mind, not in its entirety, and not even in all its component parts. She was beginning to see how some of the pieces slotted together. Every time she slipped into the mind of her future self, she came back with a little more of the knowledge required — and the most recent time, when the exchange went both ways, she had gleaned even more. But knowledge wasn’t the same thing as understanding. She needed that before she could do anything.

More of the petals fell away, dropping faster and faster as though the loss of the outer petals had unleashed a pressure from within. The bolt of lightning became thicker and more fluid until it began to look like a fishing line cast into the sky.

The booming of thunder became a low throbbing that made her insides tremble. A feeling that she might wet herself only made her efforts to concentrate that much more difficult.

Then, in a wild storm of violence, the final layers of the Tomb suddenly blew apart, sending crystalline shards in all directions. Shilly shielded her eyes as wind and energy raged, whipping her hair around her face. When she dared look again, everything was covered in snow-like dust and lit from above by an intense column of white light. What had once been lightning or a line whipping through space no longer moved at all, just pointed up into the night sky like a spear. A spear a god could have wielded against the stars, as wide across as the base of the Tomb.

Tom stood with his mouth open, aghast. Vehofnehu peeped out from around his knees. Even Gabra’il was taken by surprise, with one arm upraised against the brightness of the light. Only the Holy Immortals and the man’kin were unmoved by the silence that filled the air — the silence that wasn’t silence at all, but a sound so large and loud that it defied perception.

The circle of Holy Immortals contracted as they stepped hand-in-hand into the light and onto the dais, closely followed by the man’kin. Gabra’il drew his sword with a snarl and physically threw himself after them, roaring like an animal. Metal met stone with a terrible sound. Pieces of man’kin flew in all directions. One powerful stroke split the steed that had carried Shilly up the mountains in two, from forehead to tufted tail.

‘Now, Shilly!’ cried Vehofnehu, rising from his crouch and waving for her attention. ‘This is the moment! Use the charm now!’

Shilly frantically tried to gather the fragments and assemble them into a whole. Whatever inspiration Vehofnehu had been hoping for, it wasn’t coming easily. A faint shadowy structure began to take shape in her mind, a broad outline of what her future self had been trying to impart, but it was as slippery as a fish. Every time she tried to pin it down, it slipped through her mental fingers and darted away.

Help me!
she silently cried out to the other versions of herself who were entangled in this dreadful conspiracy.

Urgency gave her the power. One mighty mental lunge saw her catch the image in her mind. ‘Yes,’ she breathed, seeing finally how the fragments could fit together. Individual patterns coalesced into broader swathes that attracted more and more pieces of the puzzle, until it almost seemed that she really could emulate her future self’s feat and bring the charm into being.

The potential in her stick stirred at her command, ready to answer her call.

Then something struck her head from behind. Something hard. She went down with stars flashing before her eyes. The surprise was as debilitating as the pain and made her even more confused. Who had hit her? Had someone else stepped out of the shadows like Gabra’il had? What other menace had come forward to deal with them?

She raised herself to her hands and knees, prompting another round of stars. Some of them were real, she slowly realised. Through blurry eyes she made out the crystal fragments of the Tomb rushing upwards around her, shining with their own light like miniature suns. A wind was rising, hot and dry. Her hair curled against her scalp. She reached up to touch the centre of the pain and felt a warm stickiness on her fingers.

Then Tom’s hands were under her armpits, hauling her to her feet. Disoriented, she batted at him with her cane. He shouted words she couldn’t quite understand. Everything was doubled and the world swayed violently beneath her. The green light of the Holy Immortals had vanished and the blue light was getting stronger. A hurricane seemed to be brewing at the bottom of the hollow tower. The Tomb was closing, trapping the Holy Immortals. Although the view swam crazily in and out. of focus, she thought she saw Gabra’il caught half-in, half-out of the crystal petals, trapped like a giant bee in blue amber.

‘I’ll help you,’ said a voice she didn’t recognise. A woman’s voice, mature and confident. Hands grabbed Shilly under her right arm, taking half her weight from Tom. Still she couldn’t stand, but she could turn her head to look. She saw a small pale-skinned woman with a crooked nose and hazel eyes, clad in a black robe with a hood that draped down her back. Her hair hung in a long ponytail over her right shoulder, bound in brass. It was brown and shot through with streaks of grey.

Together, she and Tom dragged Shilly to where the balloon was waiting for them, the sound of its engines rising sharply in pitch.

We’re going to escape
, Shilly realised through the pain and the disorientation as they scrambled into the gondola and lay her across a seat. No one was stopping them. The floor moved and the balloon leapt upwards, gaining altitude much more quickly than it had descended, thanks to the swirling hot wind. They shook from side to side, but Vehofnehu kept them as far away from the walls as he could. Only once did they brush something with a terrifying scrape and lurch that almost threw Shilly from the seat.

Tom crouched beside her with pieces of white crystal in his hair. She wanted to ask him so many questions.
What happened? Who hit me? Who’s she
? But she felt her consciousness slipping. Her fingers were stained red with the blood from her head wound.

The mystery woman joined Tom just as the world began to recede. Shilly tried to reach for her, but her arm wouldn’t move. A hunch formed too late for her to do anything more than stare.

Then all thought ceased and she was gone.

* * * *

The view across the lake was magnificent. Even in its current agitated state, the water reflected a large number of frequencies, many of them invisible to the human eye. The alien observer found time to appreciate the play of this reflected light across the world. There were more things to life than hunger, to eating or being eaten. Transcending such base axioms, it sometimes considered, was what life might actually be about.

Accordingly, it found the antics of the humans more than simply amusing. Their strivings might have seemed petty or pointless to some, but not to it. In aspiring to greatness — by opposing a force more potent and deadly than any they would normally come up against — they exposed the spark that was missing from realms that contained no sentient life. They called that spark
will
, and it was both a blessing and a curse for them. It made them vigorous and vital, but such vitality always aroused attention.