by Joe Ducie
The hilt of the sword grew warm in my hands, and the dragon jerked its entire neck away from the blade. A loud snap, like the chime of a broken church bell, echoed across the railroads, and I was hurled back by the flapping of Emissary’s massive wings. I rolled along the ground, over rubble, debris, and glass, and came to a sudden stop against a slab of fallen skyscraper.
I’d be a sorry case of bruises in the morning.
I managed to sit up. I was still holding the hilt of my sword, but it was cold now, and the blade was snapped jagged, leaving me about half a foot with which to stab things. Blimey… Three months of work and thousands of gems worth of star iron down the drain.
But I wounded it!
The dragon, what I had to assume was Emissary’s true form beneath his human facade, took flight with a mighty roar. A great gust of wind slammed me flat against the shattered concrete, but blood and light still bled from the wound on the creature’s neck. The dragon flailed in the air and crashed into one of the Pillars before gaining enough leverage to kick off and rise through the sky.
Myth, the Creation Knife, the world-cutter, was still embedded in the flesh between its wing joints. Of Annie there was no trace, nor of Vrail or Dessan. But Tia ran toward me through the chaos and helped me to my feet as Emissary reared high above the Pillars and breathed a long stream of flame into the crystal spheres of the Globescape.
The beast spun in the air and fell back toward the Lexicon. Emissary roared, and glass shattered. Wreathed in hot flame, the dragon descended upon us with power I’d rarely seen unleashed. This was a true dragon, not pulled from fairy tales but real, alive long before the written word and the stories that made Forget.
Emissary blasted through the skyscrapers, one after the other, like a missile wreathed in scorching pink flame. Tia cast a shield of pure energy over our heads as chunks of stone and glass rained down upon the Lexicon. The crowds ran for cover, still screaming but drowned out by the explosions, and many were trampled in the chaos.
The inter-dimensional railroad flickered and died. Enough of the Pillars had been damaged to cripple the Lexicon’s network. I feared, briefly, what that meant for all the people, thousands of them, traveling through the network of worlds at that moment. Did Emissary just snuff out the waygates and portals? Had the Void just... fed?
I was snapped out of my thoughts as, overhead, the crystal spheres projected with dozens of worlds shattered and began to fall from the heavens. Even I gaped, and I’d seen some truly awe-inspiring sights in my life. Worlds were literally falling out of the sky!
The crystal spheres fell in vast chunks and tiny slivers as the projections of distant worlds flickered and died. The ground shook hard enough to rattle the teeth in my skull as the crystal struck home.
Amidst all that, Emissary vanished. As he had done before, in human form, Emissary seemed to disappear into nothing. One moment the dragon was there, and the next a harsh clap of thunder filled the space he had occupied. Myth, my subtle weapon of celestial illusion, was gone—buried in the beast. Thick whips of liquid flame drizzled down through the air, tangled within the falling debris, as if they were a rain of deadly, fiery confetti.
Tia stood over me and raised her hands toward the sky. Another one of her shields popped into existence, a thick barrier of transparent blue light. She poured her heart and soul into the enchantment, stretching it a good distance of about forty feet, covering the wounded and the fallen nearby.
All but impossible to hide from the rain of sharp crystal and deadly fire. Like a gong, Tia’s shield rippled and rang as pieces from above slammed into the construct. Her knees buckled under the strain of the bombardment, and she fell with a cry. I was there, under her, and lent my strength. I grasped her under her arms and kept her hands above her head, aflame with liquid power, as chunks of thick crystal slammed into the ground, crushing those unfortunate enough to be caught beneath, outside the range of Tia’s shield.
And then the rain was over.
Only seconds later, but the time felt like hours. The maelstrom done for now, Tia let her arms fall with a moan of utter exhaustion. The sky was clear and blue above her. She smiled at me, holding her up, and then her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed into my arms. Her shield of pure Will dissipated, as spent as its creator.
Everything was quiet. Far too quiet.
I’d not seen destruction on this level since the darkest days of the Tome Wars. Yet powerless, I’d managed to drive Emissary away—but I’d lost Myth, which was a sore blow. The wound I’d delivered with my rough imitation of an Infernal Blade had seemed to stick, which was encouraging, but the beast was still alive.
What kind of Knight couldn’t even slay a dragon?
I lowered Tia gently onto the ground amidst the rubble and checked her vitals. Her pulse was thready but there, and her eyes moved beneath her lids. Her heart thumped a quick beat under warm, sweaty skin. She was alive—exhausted, shattered, but alive. Satisfied, I stood up and pressed a hand against the cut on my bicep.
My wounded, useless eye was as painful as a bee sting doused in sweet liquor and set alight. As if guided by Destiny herself, I found and retrieved a bottle of scotch from the broken storefront of a little, burning gift shop spared under Tia’s shield and wandered over to a wooden crate, loosed from an overturned truck of similar wooden crates. Pulling the cork out with my teeth, I took a heavy swig and felt all the better for it. My shoes were scuffed with ash and dust, and that seemed somehow more real than the true cost of the battle.
We’re outclassed, I thought. Emissary is faster, stronger, and simply better in every way. Broken quill, he’s destroyed the Lexicon!
“He’s not indestructible. Night’s bite... repelled the blight...” I muttered, and I don’t know why, but that felt like a thought in the right direction. “Only the guilty understand the cost of true power.”
Where had I heard that? Hadn’t Forget suffered enough under my true power?
Night’s bite...
I stared at the half a sword in my hand. The blade had snapped and formed a crude point. Too long for a dagger and far too short for a sword. So why had the blade wounded the dragon when all other means had failed?
“Night’s bite... Knight’s bite.”
A slow, careful smile spread across my face. Could it be that simple? I felt the weight of history on my back, the weight of something that had, over the last ten thousand years, become simply ceremonial. The Knights Infernal gifted their graduates with a blade made of star iron—an Infernal Blade. Star iron was a rare element, one of the few things that could not be written into existence, and owning a blade was a point of great pride. The element had many uses—from restricting Will power to increasing the potency of runic warding.
Perhaps, back in the days of Emissary and the Old Gods, before Ascension City, before even Atlantis and the Infernal Clock, star iron had been put to a more practical use.
Perhaps it could make gods bleed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Murder City
Annie found me, in the end, and took the scotch from my hand and tossed it aside. The bottle shattered against a chunk of crystal the size of a bus—flickering even now with faint images of fallen worlds—and amber liquid, like so much spilled poison, soaked the ground.
I wasn’t sorry to see it go. I drank too much—the last few days and hangovers had made that clear—and relied far too much on the dull buzz to get me through the day. A facade of happiness as fake as the human skin Emissary had worn.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I said. “How, Annie? How are you okay?”
“Not sure I am...” Annie turned, holding a pale hand against her hip. Blood stained her blouse, leaked between her fingers, and dribbled down her jeans. “It’s not too deep, but it needs stitching. Can we still get home?”
I nodded but didn’t elaborate.
“Is Tia...?”
“She’s alive. She overdid it, exhausted herself. Saved a good many live
s, but she’ll need some rest. A day’s worth if not more.”
Another woman stepped lightly through the pieces of fallen crystal, around the debris of the broken skyscrapers, and found me slumped and somewhat defeated. She wore a gown of midnight-blue, stretched gently across the bump in her belly, and over her right arm she carried a brown jacket.
“Timeless, graceful Emily,” I said. “Why, oh why, am I not surprised to see you here? Thank you, I guess, for sending those Renegade soldiers. They did some good.”
“Declan,” Emily Grace said with a smile. “And Detective Brie. I found your jacket, honey. Here.” Emily handed Annie the jacket and also placed a delicate hand over Annie’s bleeding side. A quick flash of light and the wound sealed over, leaving not even a scar.
“Thanks. Oh, that’s better. Thank you.” Annie shrugged into the brown leather jacket, singed a bit around the collar, and zipped up. She hugged herself. “So... he’s a dragon.”
“Yup.”
“We need a brave knight,” Emily said, her lips twitching. “Do you know any, Declan?”
“I’m reminded of a quote. Something about how all the brave men are dead.” Work of a few seconds to fetch another bottle of scotch, but... no. No answers to my woes in the bottom of a bottle, however many I check. “You know what’d really help—if I had the Roseblade.”
Emily had the good grace to blush. She’d killed me for that sword and the eternal petals of the Infernal Clock. “The Roseblade is... beyond my reach for now.”
“You lost it?” I blinked and then considered. “No, you’re up to something, aren’t you? Fair warning, Emily, I defeat Emissary, and I’m reinstated into the Knights. I’ll be coming for the crystal sword then.”
A wonderful smile claimed Emily’s face. She sat herself down on my knee and draped her arms across my shoulders. I found myself with a hand on the bulge of her unborn child. “They offered you a pardon? How exciting. You know, you could come and be my Knight, sweet Declan—Prince Consort of the Renegades. No? But did I just see you lose another weapon of celestial illusion?”
I grimaced. “I think it wounded the beast, but I’m not sure.” The gouts of dragon’s blood still sizzled in small pools beneath the fallen crystal globes. I met Annie’s gaze. “We should get back to Perth, reassess and regroup. Are you coming with me, Emily?”
“No, I am not.” She stroked the swell of her belly, her hand gliding over mine. If the old prophecies were to be believed, the child of the Immortal Queen would destroy Forget to save it, or some such nonsense. “I fear the Everlasting are about to cast their first stone on Perth’s still waters, Declan.”
“Emissary tearing through the population wasn’t enough?” Annie asked, somewhat sarcastically. She was tired—on edge. Weren’t we all? “How do we get back without the knife?”
“McSorley’s portal arch,” I said, tapping my pocket. The ornate key he’d given me was a comforting weight. “Should work, even despite this devastation. The arches, unlike the Lexicon, are powered by the negative energy of the Void and—”
“Enough,” Annie said, holding up her hands. “Enough. Let’s just head home.”
Emily let me stand, and I scooped up Tia in my arms, gave the Renegade queen a farewell nod, and followed Annie into the terminal. The damage was less severe here, but great chunks of shattered crystal had plummeted through the ceiling and smashed the stained glass windows, and the screams of the dead and dying echoed from wall to wall.
“The Knights will be here soon,” I said to Annie. Tia was as light as a feather in my arms. “They’ll help those that can be helped.”
*~*~*~*
It took a while—and Annie had to put three days of parking fees on her credit card to get her car out of His Majesty’s multi-story—but we made it back to True Earth in the late afternoon, having crawled through the debris and destruction at the Lexicon with Tia in my arms. We filled McSorley in on what we knew, what had happened at the Lexicon, and he in turn told us about the horror inflicted on Perth in the last few days. Emissary had been busy, preparing for Scion’s ascension. The streets were scarred and bloody. We drove in silence, just ahead of the day’s end traffic, north on the freeway back to my shop, Tia asleep and frowning on the back seat.
Annie jammed a charger into the car’s cigarette lighter and plugged the cable into her phone. After a few minutes, the device beeped to life, and a string of tiny chimes announced the arrival of a new message. Then another. And another.
The chimes went on for about a minute.
“Brian,” she said. “And work. Ninety new messages. Forty missed calls. Shit.”
“Are you going to call him?” I asked gently. First thing I was doing when I got home—after putting Tia to bed—was taking a shower and then grabbing a kebab from across the plaza.
Annie frowned. Her knuckles gripped the wheel as we zoomed down the freeway. “Later. Once I’ve dropped you off. Do you think... is Emissary here?”
“According to McSorley, he killed a good fifty people while we were away. Stole their hearts and all. He says police and federal agencies, as well as the military, are scouring Perth.” As I spoke, a cadre of police cars passed us on the other side of the freeway, just across the train line. “Which will do about as much good as tits on a bull... He’ll be here, Annie, if we didn’t beat him back. As Emily said, the Everlasting—Scion—is making his play. For whatever reason, perhaps to bloody my nose, they’ve chosen Perth to do it. We need to be ready.”
A tear rolled down Annie’s cheek. She didn’t bother to swat it away. “How can we fight them? You’re powerless, none of your friends made it back with us, Tia’s unconscious... Even the knife is gone! Declan, I’m scared.”
I watched the lines on the freeway zip past. “We’ve got half a star iron sword and your handgun.”
“I’m out of bullets,” she said and laughed shrilly. “Sorry.”
“Quite alright, my dear...” I yawned and just rested my eye for a moment.
What felt like only moments later, I jerked awake, Annie shaking my shoulder and startling me from a rough kind of sleep. We were in the alley behind my shop, just on the outskirts of Riverwood Plaza. After a few days on the wild and wacky rollercoaster that was Forget, we were back at the start.
I stretched in the late-afternoon sun, but that pulled at the tentatively scabbed wound on my arm, forcing a fresh trickle of blood to soak my shirt. More than anything right then, I couldn’t wait to shower and change into something fresh. I scooped up Tia from the back seat and then leaned in to Annie’s window and discouraged her plan to go and find her fiancé.
“He’ll be working, I know, but he needs to see I was home,” she said. “Forty-five minutes, Declan, and I’ll be back. After a shower and a change of clothes—just you have a kebab waiting for me.” She tried for a smile, but the tears kind of made it tragically beautiful instead of funny.
“Emissary will be looking for you—for us.”
A pale shadow of doubt covered her face. “Risks worth taking, you know?”
“Aye, I do.” I shifted Tia in my arms. She was in the featherweight division, but it was an awkward bag of feathers. “Be safe, Annie Brie.”
“Don’t go saving the world without me.”
With a bit of fancy footwork and a careful distribution of the load—I threw Tia over my shoulder—I managed to get into my bookshop without setting off the ward enchantments. Barred from my Will as I was, I had to wonder if the wards would even recognize me as a threat. Still, I only attracted a few mildly concerned stares from shoppers in the plaza. God bless the willful ignorance of the huddled masses.
Through the mazes and warrens of old books, up the spiral staircase, and I deposited Tia in my bedroom on my bed, which I rarely slept in, preferring instead to black out in front of the typewriter downstairs. The sun was sinking just above the horizon now, about an hour before sunset, out of the west-facing window above my workbench. I sat stroking Tia’s hair for a moment, wishing her well and
thinking about regret and death.
Gathering a clean set of clothes, I retired to the shower to wash away the grime and blood of this latest campaign.
*~*~*~*
Annie was late.
And, of course, perhaps rightly. I feared the worst.
Sitting in my writing alcove, hair still damp from the shower, I sipped at a glass of scotch and watched the street for any sign of trouble. This sitting around business was rather anticlimactic after the battle at the Lexicon. The new shirt and pants felt good, free of blood, sweat, and dirt, but the eye patch itched, and my Will-reinforced waistcoat felt all too heavy. I’d strapped my sword belt on again, too, as half a sword was better than no sword.
“Where are you, Annie...?”
As far as I knew, Vrail, Garn, and Dessan had died for me, distracting Emissary, and Tia was exhausted beyond comatose... Was it my crippled fate to outlive and outlast the best people I’ve ever known? “Tal,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
Now that was a sad song stuck on repeat. So was the amber liquid turning cloudy in my glass. I took a deep breath and, with a sense of long overdue finality, tossed back the scotch with the same old and tired well-practiced flick. Then I stood up and collected the half-empty bottles scattered about my alcove and front counter.
I knocked aside a few hundred books and retrieved a cardboard box. The bottles clanked and clinked as I filled the box, soldiers standing to attention. Swallowing hard, I retrieved the fancy stuff from behind the counter. A bottle of Glenfiddich 30, not yet opened. Here I almost hesitated, but my newfound resolve won out.
I climbed the spiral staircase to the second floor with a heavy heart, bypassed my bedroom and the unconscious Tia, passed the sealed washroom which held the Black Mirror—a path through the Void—and rested the box of bottles on the windowsill at the end of the hallway. The window looked out on the alley behind my shop. I unclasped the lock and swung it open. I could smell the ocean on the air and could see a glittering band of coast just five minutes away, shining in the last of the day’s sun.