by Edward Cox
Though the spider was invisible to the naked eye, the magic in the goggles revealed it as a huge eight pointed star shape made from wispy, purple smoke. It wasn’t moving.
Hamir had said that if Fabian Moor detected the spider closing in on him, he could destroy it easily. The necromancer needed Samuel and the twins to divert Moor’s attention – which was a polite way of saying the agents needed to be bait – and keep the Genii unaware of the spider’s mission. Did the arachnid construct understand the situation? It had been created from a thaumaturgic metal that was supposedly sentient. Did that mean it could know to wait for the Relic Guild’s diversion?
‘What’s going on?’ Bryant asked.
‘I can see the spider,’ Samuel said.
‘What’s it doing?’
‘Waiting for us, I think. I hope.’
‘I know that place,’ Macy said, indicating the building. ‘They call it a shelter.’ There was a bitter edge to her voice. ‘But really, it’s where the infirm and homeless get dumped and forgotten.’
‘Perfect place for Moor to hide,’ Samuel said. He slipped the spirit compass into his coat pocket. ‘Don’t forget what I told you,’ he warned the twins.
The three agents stepped from the alley and made their way across the garden. The vagrants ceased their conversation and stared at them. The old woman began cackling as they neared; the man grinned, revealing crooked and stained teeth.
‘Well, look at this,’ he said, gesturing to the hidden faces. ‘A visit from the Resident’s men.’
‘And woman,’ said the woman. She seemed pleased with herself and jabbed a finger at the man beside her. ‘Told you something strange was going on. Didn’t I tell you?’
Macy was the first to reach the pair. She crouched before the fire, slipped off her gauntlets, and warmed her hands while Samuel and Bryant stood watching.
‘And what are you two doing out here?’ she said genially. ‘Why aren’t you inside that place?’
‘It’s not from lack of trying,’ the old woman said, looking at the shelter building behind her. ‘The doors are locked, and no one’s gone in or out for two days.’
‘You’re right,’ said Macy, ‘that is strange.’
‘But don’t think that’s the end of it,’ the old man chipped in. He too glanced at the building, and he shivered. ‘The noises that come out of that place ain’t right. Sounds like someone’s in a bad way.’
‘More than just someone, I reckon,’ the woman added. She leant forward and gave Macy a gummy smile. ‘Let’s just say we’re not surprised the Resident sent the Relic Guild, dear.’
The man agreed with a wide-eyed nod.
Macy looked quickly at Samuel and her brother, then turned back to the vagrants. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said, reaching under her cloak to fish out a folded wad of money. ‘While we go and do our job, why don’t you two catch a tram to another part of town?’ She flicked off forty Labyrinth pounds and held the notes out to the woman. ‘Go and find a better shelter and get some food. Sound good?’
Encouraged by a quick, affirming nod from her fellow vagrant, the old woman snatched the money from Macy’s hand. ‘Sounds brilliant,’ she said. ‘Thanks very much, dear.’
‘My pleasure.’
They got to their feet and shuffled away from the fire. By the sly smiles on their faces, Samuel knew the last thing they would spend Macy’s money on was food and a tram ticket. But at least it got them out of the way.
As Macy slipped her gauntlets back on, Samuel drew his revolver and thumbed the power stone set behind the chamber. It gave a brief whine and glowed with violet light. Bryant led the way to the entrance of the crooked and decaying shelter building.
Samuel crossed the garden and passed through a patch of warm sunlight. He gave an involuntary shudder when he stepped out of it and into the chill of the building’s shadow. The automaton spider was still clinging motionless to the wall. Samuel followed the twins up the steps to entrance doors which were firmly locked. Through a slim gap, a rusty chain could be seen looped around the inside door handles.
‘I’ve got a phial of acid in my belt,’ Samuel said.
Bryant scoffed at his idea, leant back, and kicked the doors. They burst inwards with the ping of snapping metal.
Bryant shrugged at Samuel’s irritated look. ‘Hamir said to distract Moor. We might as well make some noise.’
Macy clapped Samuel’s shoulder and pushed him after her twin into the building. ‘Bet you wish you’d gone with Van Bam and Angel, don’t you?’ she chuckled.
High above a shimmering desert, the sun burned so fiercely that the sky was bleached to the palest shade of pink imaginable. Dunes rolled into the distance like frozen swells on a sea of copper, casting weak shadows upon golden-red sands. The horizon was a jagged line of broken teeth, a mountain range of mystery and foreboding. Nothing disturbed the silence, no breeze shifted the stillness. Harsh and unforgiving, the desert of Mirage was not the most welcoming realm among the Houses of the Aelfir.
Amidst this barren, lifeless landscape, a huge monument of rock protruded from the desert. It was named the Giant’s Hand, for it resembled the wrist and hand bones of a long-ago buried behemoth. It rose from the desert as if offering its palm to the sky. The ledge of its fingertips was thirty feet above the hot sands.
Two frames stood in the palm of the Giant’s Hand. The first held a bell made from red glass lined with veins of gold that reflected the sun with dazzling sparkles. Bulbous and heavy, the bell hung from a rope dangling from the sturdy stone frame. The second frame, also made of red glass, held a simple wooden door. Set high on the door was a metal plate which had been engraved with three concentric squares: the House symbol of the Labyrinth.
A hum filled the air. The wooden door opened to reveal a sheet of viscous whiteness, churning and moaning. When the whiteness parted, the desert plains of House Mirage greeted a tall human with dark brown skin, holding a cane of green glass.
Van Bam stepped from the doorway and shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun. The heat took his breath away. Squinting, he looked out across the golden-red landscape that stretched all the way to the mountains. The shimmering sands and copper dunes made for a majestic view, but the illusionist was immediately struck by how empty, how lonely the desert seemed.
He looked down at his sandals. They protected the soles of his feet from the burning stone of the Giant’s Hand, but he didn’t much like wearing them. Van Bam always preferred to feel what was real against his skin, and they said that everything was hidden in Mirage.
Twirling his green glass cane in his hand, he watched Angel emerge. The healer was dressed similarly to Van Bam, in a loose fitting shirt and trousers of white cotton. Her long black and grey hair was pulled back into a tail, and she had prepared for the journey by bringing along a lace sun-umbrella.
Angel gasped and fanned her face with her free hand. ‘Timewatcher’s arse!’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten how bloody hot this place is.’
Van Bam shrugged. ‘It is not too bad.’ He wiped away the beads of sweat that had already formed on his bald head. ‘Certainly not as hot as the Floating Stones of Up and Down.’
‘Hardly a fair comparison, Van Bam, seeing as the Floating Stones are volcanoes.’
‘Ah, yes, there is that.’
Angel puffed her cheeks and flapped the collar of her shirt. ‘I’m really not made for this kind of heat, you know.’
‘Perhaps it is your age.’ Van Bam grinned. ‘I have heard that it is the province of the elderly to find complaint in all things, including such a pleasant change of climate.’
‘I’m forty-four, you cheeky bastard.’
Van Bam gave her a mock bow. ‘Of course, my lady. Perhaps it is time for your nap, yes?’
Beneath the shadow of her umbrella, Angel’s smile was lopsided. ‘Why are you in such a playful mood?�
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It wasn’t as if Van Bam didn’t appreciate the seriousness of the situation. He and Angel were following the trail of a delegate of House Mirage, a dead Aelf by the name of Ursa who had been complicit in bringing Fabian Moor into the Labyrinth. Who knew what dangers they would encounter in this desert realm? Yet Van Bam’s mood was indeed light, and there were a couple of answers he could’ve given to the healer’s question.
After two years of isolation, Van Bam felt great relief at having swapped the squalid streets of Labrys Town for the open wonder of an Aelfirian House – a House he had never visited before. It would also be true if he said that he still felt the warmth from the previous night when he and Marney had admitted their true feelings for each other.
‘Oh, I get it,’ Angel said. ‘Is being in love agreeing with you, Van Bam?’
The illusionist chuckled. ‘It is that obvious?’
Angel rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve been around long enough to recognise the look.’ She sighed, fluttered her eyelids, and her voice became wistful. ‘The eyes become glazed, and a sort of dumb, vacant expression appears on the face. And everything in the world is sugar-coated with dreamy romance …’ She gave a pitying pout. ‘The young are masters of looking stupid in love, even illusionists. It’s a little bit irritating, to be honest.’
Van Bam gave a twirl of his cane. ‘I will take your jealousy as a compliment.’
Angel scoffed. ‘I’m happy for you, Van Bam, but you need to be careful.’
‘Angel, if you are worried about Marney …’ He shook his head, smiling at fond memories of his lover. ‘Believe me, she can look after herself. Honestly, have you ever tried to hide your feelings from an empath?’
‘Oh, I’ve no doubt Marney knows how to handle you,’ Angel said. ‘But that’s not what I’m talking about, Van Bam.’ She paused for a moment. ‘It’s the Gideon factor that should be worrying you.’
At the mention of the Resident’s name, Van Bam’s good mood ebbed a little. From the open palm of the Giant’s Hand, he surveyed the barren desert and the shimmering waves of heat rising from the copper dunes.
‘Gideon is not in favour of our relationship, this much I have come to learn,’ he told Angel. ‘But Marney and I understand our commitment to the Relic Guild. We will work hard to ensure our relationship never hinders our duties.’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ Angel said, her voice sad, expression serious. ‘Gideon doesn’t care if your relationship never causes problems to the Relic Guild. He just doesn’t like his agents being romantically involved, full stop. Trust me, Van Bam. I know that from personal experience.’
Van Bam frowned at Angel, waiting for an explanation. But before she could speak further, the Nothing of Far and Deep began churning, and a hum vibrated the rock beneath their feet.
‘We’ll talk later,’ Angel said, and the portal opened to release the rest of their travelling companions.
The first to arrive was an elderly and portly Aelf, dressed in desert robes with his head wrapped in scarves that concealed the points of his ears. His nose and mouth were small, but his eyes were twice the size of any human’s, and his face carried the odd triangular shape that was typical of the Aelfir. Ebril, Ambassador to House Mirage, shielded his large eyes from the sun, and a toothy grin split his impressive grey beard.
‘The Giant’s Hand,’ he whispered, and then bellowed at the pink sky. ‘Home at last!’
He dropped to his knees and kissed the rock.
The rest of Ambassador Ebril’s entourage emerged from the doorway: five younger Aelfir, three women and two men, all dressed desert-fashion. The last and youngest of them was Ebril’s daughter Namji. A petite Aelf, her face had more of a subtle heart shape than the typical triangular appearance. The long plait of her black hair hung over her shoulder like a snake. As Namji breathed in the desert air, her soft green eyes gazed at Van Bam for a moment. They filled with tears and she mouthed the words ‘thank you’. She then laughed happily at the sight of her father kneeling upon the floor, lips pressed to the Giant’s Hand, before sharing excited hugs with the rest of the Aelfir.
Ebril and his entourage had been conducting diplomatic business in Labrys Town when the war against Spiral began, and the use of the portals leading in and out of the Great Labyrinth had been revoked for all. Two years they had lived in exile from their House, refugees of the war, and their joy at returning home was infectious.
‘You should be careful,’ Angel whispered to Van Bam. ‘I think Namji has a thing for you.’
Van Bam nodded distantly as he watched the celebrations. Namji was a young Aelf – only fifteen, sixteen at the most – but the illusionist had already been warned that she was a slippery customer who was not to be trusted.
With a groan, Ebril got to his feet and bowed to the Relic Guild agents. ‘My friends, we are in your debt,’ he said, and then turned to his entourage. ‘Come, let us announce our return.’
From around his neck, Ebril removed a thin chain connected to a small gold pendant that had been cast in the shape of a teardrop. Van Bam and Angel stepped aside to allow Ebril through as he marched up to the bell of red glass. He pushed his hand up into the bell, and began running the pendant around its interior. The bell emitted a tinkling that seemed to spread rather than grow in volume. It continued after Ebril had stepped back.
Van Bam gained the impression that the bell was calling out to the desert.
The air shifted and wavered.
‘You might want to catch this show,’ Angel said, nudging Van Bam forward.
He stepped closer to the edge of the Giant’s Hand and gazed down onto the desert.
Fifty yards from the rock sentinel a wall began to form, like a great veil of water that glistened beneath the scorching sun. Beyond it, dunes began to collapse, one by one, their sand running away to lie flat on the desert floor. Blocky shapes formed, shadowy movements whispered across the levelling landscape; all of which was soon hidden as the veil thickened into the hard golden-red stone blocks of a high wall. Beneath the bleached sky, a mighty citadel revealed itself.
‘Behold,’ Ebril said proudly. ‘The House of Mirage.’
It was said this citadel was home to more than one hundred thousand Aelfir, and Van Bam could well believe it. To the left and right, the wall stretched away into waves of heat. He gazed up at the turrets and crenellated ramparts. Armed guards, looking small at that distance, stood sentry, gazing down at the new arrivals, their rifles in hand. Flags struggled to flutter in the weak breeze, each bearing the House symbol of Mirage: a simple castle shape beneath the circle of a desert moon. There were no window slits cut into the mighty wall of the citadel, but almost directly opposite the Giant’s Hand, across a gulf of hot air, huge wooden gates had appeared.
‘Impressive, is it not?’ Ebril said, standing alongside Van Bam.
Van Bam agreed. Even his skill with illusions had not enabled him to see through the magic that had kept this House invisible. He looked at Angel; she didn’t seem any less impressed for having witnessed this spectacle before.
They said, in Mirage everything was hidden.
Finally, a stone bridge materialised between the citadel’s gates and the fingertips of the Giant’s Hand. Once the bridge had fully formed, the gates swung open and an Aelf marched out with eight armed guards following him.
The lead Aelf was dressed in crimson robes. His head was swathed in scarves, and his hand rested on the hilt of a decorative sword sheathed at his hip. Each of the eight guards, marching in sync behind the leader, wore robes of light blue but no headdress. They held their rifles diagonally to their bodies. Despite the searing glare of the desert sky, the violet thaumaturgic glow of power stones could still be seen. These weapons were primed and ready for use.
‘Trusting lot, aren’t they?’ Angel muttered, as the militia marched closer.
‘Living in a desert as harsh a
s Mirage, it is in our nature to be cautious,’ Ebril said with a smile. ‘Please, do not take offence.’
He stepped ahead of the two magickers and his entourage, stopping where the bridge began, to meet the armed welcoming party. Van Bam felt a presence standing close on his left. Namji had taken the space her father had vacated beside him. She gave the illusionist a dazzling smile; she appeared young and innocent. Beautiful. Van Bam moved his hand away as hers brushed against it.
The leader of the guards came to a halt a few paces from the end of the bridge. His face was clean-shaven, old and weathered. He scrutinised the group behind Ebril whilst his guards stood stiffly to attention.
‘Ambassador Ebril,’ the leader said with a nod. ‘Mirage welcomes you home.’
‘Thank you, Captain,’ Ebril answered brightly. ‘It is very good to be back.’
The Captain then nodded to Van Bam and Angel, and said, ‘High Governor Obanai also welcomes the delegates of the Nightshade to his House,’ in a humourless sort of way.
Van Bam and Angel shared a look.
The captain addressed Ebril again. ‘The High Governor has asked me to relay his apologies. He wished to greet you personally, but affairs of state have tied his hands. The days in Mirage are never without duty, I’m sure you’ll remember, Ambassador.’
‘Of course,’ Ebril replied.
‘Rooms have been prepared at the High Governor’s house for our human guests.’
‘That is most kind.’
Although Van Bam couldn’t decipher details, he caught a definite intent, a hidden meaning, behind the exchange between the two. Denton had taught him long ago that Aelfirian politicians were clever, devious, and never to be fully trusted. Van Bam wondered if High Governor Obanai had just relayed a coded message to his Ambassador via the captain.
‘Your families are eager to see you,’ the captain said to the rest of the entourage, who stirred excitedly. ‘Please, allow me to escort you into the citadel.’