by Edward Cox
‘For whatever reason,’ Matthaus continued, ‘the House we were fighting for switched allegiances. And let me tell you, Marney, when your paymasters start serving Spiral and the Genii, they don’t exactly give you a fair opportunity to review your contract of employment.’
‘I-I know,’ Marney said breathlessly. She swallowed, willing her voice to stop shaking. ‘I’ve seen how the Genii try to subjugate the Aelfir.’
‘Have you, now?’
‘Yes. I-It’s a terrible thing.’
Matthaus pressed his lips together, clearly suspicious.
His fellow deserters had yet to return from searching for Denton. Marney prayed the strange, sentient magic of this House would protect her mentor, perhaps show him a way to save her. It was hard to distance herself from the voice in her head that was telling her she would never see Denton again.
Matthaus sighed. ‘When you’re told to serve or die, that’s not much of a choice. But as soon our army came to fight in Ghost Mist Veldt, I saw a chance to escape, and a few of the other mercenaries came with me.’ He whispered a curse. ‘But apparently, Ghost Mist Veldt can’t see us as anything other than enemies. Its magic trapped us as soon as we left the Genii’s protection, and it has been picking us off one by one ever since.’ He looked at Marney again and his anger evaporated. ‘But then you come along.’
Matthaus tapped the secret instructions with the tips of his fingers. ‘Having spent a few years deciphering codes for the army, I picked up a trick or two. For example, knowing the origins of a code can give you a handy place to start.’
He plucked from the table a slim leather wallet which had been in the envelope with the coded instructions. Flipping it open, he showed Marney the plate of plain grey metal inside.
‘This is a sigil wallet,’ Matthaus told her. ‘If the right person touches the metal plate, a symbol or a crest will appear, letting that person know they’re in … good company, I suppose. Of course, it won’t work for me, see?’ To demonstrate, he pressed a finger to the metal plate, and it remained smooth and grey. ‘However, I do know that this metal was made by someone with magic a little higher than the average user.’
Matthaus closed the wallet and threw it down. ‘You’re working for a Thaumaturgist, Marney. And considering you’re a magicker from the Labyrinth, I’m willing to guess it’s Lady Amilee. You’re on a secret mission for the Skywatcher. Try telling me I’m wrong.’
Marney said nothing. She licked her dry lips, swallowed the taste of blood in her mouth, and desperately prayed for her magic to return. Only emptiness and fear answered.
‘Now then,’ said Matthaus. He took up the instructions and showed them to his captive. Four pages; and Marney could see they were covered in Denton’s handwriting. ‘This code isn’t too hard, but it’s clever,’ he said. ‘See, I’ve deciphered enough to know where you’re going, but I can’t work out the instructions on how you’re going to get there.’
‘Please,’ Marney begged. ‘I don’t know what’s in that letter.’
‘Oh, I think you do,’ Matthaus replied, flapping the pages. ‘If there wasn’t a Thaumaturgist involved, I’d write this off as a lie, a piece of shit – a joke! You’re searching for a House that’s not supposed to exist. Say its name for me, Marney.’
Marney clamped her mouth shut and looked away from him.
‘Say its name,’ Matthaus said, casually leaning over the table and sliding a throwing dagger from Marney’s baldric, ‘or I’ll finish what Red started.’
Marney closed her eyes, swallowed. ‘The Library of Glass and Mirrors,’ she whispered.
‘The Library of Glass and Mirrors,’ Matthaus repeated with a pleased air. ‘Incredible.’
Throwing the dagger onto the table, he sat back and studied the instructions again. ‘I might not be able to decipher how you intend to get there, Marney, but I do know you’re looking for information on a secret plot of Spiral’s. The Ice House, is it? Or forest? Maybe icicles – hard to say. But I’m on the right track, aren’t I?’
Marney nodded, sending more tears down her cheeks.
‘Good, now help me out with the rest,’ Matthaus said. ‘See, I’m confused, Marney.’ He leafed through the pages, his expression full of thoughtful concentration. ‘Two phrases keep repeating throughout the letter. One seems to pertain to knowledge – things that are known, it says. Or maybe it’s just … known things. Obviously, that’s referring to the information on Spiral you’re going to the Library to find – not sure how it fits in with this Ice Forest, but it definitely connects to the other phrase, which is a bit more enigmatic.’
He held two of the pages side by side. ‘Doubt and wonder,’ he said. ‘Several times it gets repeated. But I can’t work out if it’s referring to a House or something within a House. Every time it gets mentioned, though, there’s an overtone of faith or worship. Is it a church? Maybe grander – a cathedral? Doubt and wonder …’ He huffed and dropped the pages to his lap. ‘Tie this together for me, Marney. What does it all mean?’
Hopelessly, genuinely perplexed, Marney shook her head. ‘I-I don’t know.’
‘You’re brave, but you’re lying. Don’t think for a moment that I won’t hurt you, Marney.’
‘The Icicle Forest,’ Marney whimpered. ‘We’re going to the Library of Glass and Mirrors to find information on the Icicle Forest. I-It’s supposed to be a secret Genii stronghold. But I don’t know anything about doubt and wonder, or cathedrals – I-I swear.’
Matthaus sucked air over his teeth. ‘You either tell me the truth, or I’ll cut off your leg and make you watch while Jantal and Nurmar sit at this table and eat it.’
‘Please …’ Marney’s tears flowed free and hot then; sobbing, overwhelming and primal, shook her body. ‘I don’t know – I’m not meant to read that letter unless Denton dies. Please …’
Matthaus stared at her for a long moment, his large grey eyes as dispassionate as slate. Finally he sighed, and it seemed as though he was beset by a sudden tiredness that cut straight to his old bones.
‘I’m too exhausted to play games with you, Marney,’ he said. ‘You’ve called my bluff, and I just haven’t got the energy to torture more information out of you. I don’t suppose there’s a lot of point anyway, beyond sating my own curiosity. See, you’ve already given me a way out of this mess.’
Lifting the coded instructions from his lap, and dropping them onto the table, Matthaus tapped the sigil wallet. ‘The thaumaturgy in this metal should attract the attention of this House’s magic, if it hasn’t already. I reckon Ghost Mist Veldt will alert someone who’ll come and take me away from this poxy place.’
‘Take the envelope and do what you want with it,’ Marney said, her words interspersed with hiccups. ‘Just … just let me go.’
‘No, I can’t do that.’ Matthaus’s expression was almost sad. ‘It doesn’t matter which side finds me, you see. If it’s the Timewatcher’s army, the Thaumaturgists will be grateful that these instructions didn’t fall into the Genii’s hands. If it’s Spiral’s army, the Genii will be very interested in what the Thaumaturgists are up to. Either way, it’s win-win for me. I’d rather go back to fighting for Spiral than stay here.
‘But here’s the rub for you. I don’t need your help, and you’re too dangerous to keep around.’ Matthaus sat forward on his chair. ‘I have no anti-magic spheres left. In a few hours, your magic is going to come back.’ He looked at the patch of dried blood on the floor. ‘The last thing I want is an empath in my head.’
Marney also looked at the patch of Red’s blood that stained the floor; that had stained her vest, and dried to peeling flakes on her thighs. The voice in her head told her that the blood of the first person she had ever killed would be the last thing she ever saw.
Matthaus drew the pistol holstered at his hip. ‘Your magic might still be missing, but my power stone has regained its charge.’ To pro
ve his point, he thumbed the stone behind the chamber, and it whined into life with a violet glow. ‘I’m sorry, Marney, but I really can’t think of a good reason to let you live,’ and he took aim at her.
Marney heaved bile onto the floor, anticipating the bullet that would tear her life away.
But the shot never came.
The pistol was still aimed at the empath, but the grizzled Aelf had turned to the door. Marney became aware of shale crunching beneath boots.
‘Jantal?’ Matthaus called. ‘Nurmar?’
When the footsteps stopped and no one answered, Marney’s captor rose to his feet and aimed the pistol at the door. He looked back at the empath and raised a finger to his lips. The crunching of shale resumed.
Silence again, hard and icy, only broken by the moan of the wind, and then the door slowly opened with a chilly gust.
Marney managed to hold back a fresh flood of sobs as she saw the old man standing on the threshold, tall and burly, wearing a rumpled wide-brimmed hat.
‘Human,’ said Matthaus. ‘You must be Denton.’
With a strange sort of smile that seemed to confirm the words while admonishing the Aelf who had spoken them, Denton stepped into the hut and closed the door. He looked at Marney, and never before had she seen such a complete lack of compassion on her mentor’s face.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked her.
Marney shook her head.
A dark glint came to Denton’s eye, and just for that moment Marney was glad she had no magic that would allow her to experience the old magicker’s feelings.
‘I’m assuming you’re Matthaus,’ Denton said, undeterred by the pistol aimed at him. ‘I’m afraid your colleagues – Jantal and Nurmar, is it? – were reluctant in negotiating a peaceful resolution.’
‘They’re dead?’
‘Yes,’ Denton replied, matter-of-factly. ‘They were shot by the Timewatcher’s soldiers who came with me and are outside, waiting.’
‘Then … I’m surrounded.’
‘The demise of your colleagues obviously doesn’t cause you grief,’ Denton said. ‘Do you imagine their deaths help your predicament in some way?’
‘It certainly makes the way forward a bit simpler.’ With almost a laugh, Matthaus deactivated the pistol’s power stone, and laid the weapon down on the table. ‘I surrender,’ he said happily.
‘Well now, let’s not be hasty.’ The old empath was looking at the items on the table. ‘I see you’ve opened the envelope that I gave my companion here. Did you have any luck deciphering my code?’
Matthaus shrugged. ‘Parts of it.’
‘Commendable,’ Denton said, though he didn’t appear particularly impressed. ‘It’s written in an emotive script, you see – an old empath’s trick that only another empath should be able to decipher. Or a hierophant?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ Matthaus replied, bowing his head almost proudly.
‘Yes … but I have to wonder, Matthaus, did you manage to decipher too much?’
Denton looked at Marney again, his eyebrow raised questioningly. Marney nodded back at him.
‘That’s a shame, don’t you think?’ Denton said to Matthaus. ‘In fact, I’m quite positive you agree.’
The Aelf reacted by raising his hand before his face, as if trying to block the empathic magic that Marney knew had latched onto his emotions.
‘I understand,’ said Matthaus. ‘I was never meant to look at the contents of that envelope. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Denton replied, though there wasn’t much kindness in his voice. ‘You were looking for a way out of this situation. You were desperate. But …?’
‘But I saw things that no one was supposed to see.’
‘I suspect that you did.’ Denton drew a breath. ‘However, I’m sure that if you think very hard, Matthaus, you’ll know how to rectify your mistake.’
Matthaus raised a finger and wagged it in the air. ‘Yes, I have an idea,’ he said. He picked up the pistol and primed the power stone again. ‘You might want to stand back,’ he added before putting the barrel into his mouth and pulling the trigger.
Even as the back of Matthaus’s head burst and showered the hut wall with red, Denton was rushing over to Marney.
Marney collapsed into her mentor’s arms as he cut her bonds.
‘Denton,’ she sobbed. ‘My magic …’
‘Don’t worry, it will come back,’ he promised, and then he soothed her fear and pain with a wave of empathy, a magical embrace. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said, helping Marney to her feet and supporting her. ‘I’ve had enough of this damn House.’
They said that everything was hidden in Mirage.
The sky was steadily turning pink. The warmth of the dawn was creeping in slowly and pushing out the chill of the night, but not a sound was carried on the desert breeze. Standing in a crater within the mountains to the west of Mirage’s citadel, Van Bam was trying to make sense of events. How much of what he had been told could he believe? The Hermit, the fall of Mirage, the invasion of Labrys Town – what was truth and what false? The only thing Van Bam knew for certain was that he was looking forward to feeling the sun on his skin again.
What in the Timewatcher’s name was going on?
He looked up the path that led to the cave, where golden light flickered and shadows danced. A diminutive figure had appeared there but did not venture out into the open.
Van Bam judged that a couple of hours had passed since Namji had followed Gulduur Bellow into the cave, where she and the Nephilim laboured to rid Angel of the Genii-tainted poison that ran through her veins. Now, as Namji emerged from the cave, Van Bam was relieved to have something immediate to focus on rather than running the strange situation in House Mirage over and over in his head.
Namji walked down the slope towards the illusionist, wearing a lost expression upon her Aelfirian face. Only then did Van Bam fully appreciate how hard the fall of Mirage must be for the young Aelf. Who knew how many of her countrymen and women – the people she loved – had betrayed the Timewatcher and given allegiance to the Lord of the Genii?
Van Bam walked up the path to greet her.
‘How is Angel?’ he asked as they met. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I …’ Namji shrugged, and smiled wanly. ‘Angel’s fine, Van Bam.’ She glanced back towards the cave. ‘The Nephilim wants to see you now.’
‘He can wait a moment,’ Van Bam replied. ‘If you need to talk—’
‘No. I want to be alone for a while.’ Namji reached out and squeezed his arm. ‘It’s okay. Just … go and see him.’
Van Bam watched as Namji continued down the path, her arms wrapped around herself. There was no deceit in her body language; she genuinely desired solitude. The illusionist headed up to the cave. He discovered that it led into a tunnel that sloped downwards, cutting into the mountain.
The flickering light came from fire burning in hollows carved into the walls. Soft, yellow tongues spilled out of the recesses and licked upwards, blackening the stone. As he headed down, Van Bam was well aware he was walking into the lair of a blood-magicker, a creature that fables described as a savage, a monster. A small sense of dread bloomed in his gut as he wondered what manner of habitat a Nephilim might fashion for himself.
The tunnel continued to slope downwards, steeper and steeper, until it levelled out abruptly. Van Bam found himself stepping into a grand cavern that bore no resemblance to the nest of bones and skin that he had begun to imagine.
Whether created by magic or natural formation, the illusionist couldn’t tell, but there was energy in the cavern. It laced the air with a tingling sensation that raised the hairs on his arms. The walls and high ceiling were decorated with tiny twinkling lights and streaks of colours. At first, Van Bam wondered if he was seeing a projection of the night sky, but he quic
kly realised that the rock was inlaid with thousands of jewels and veins of precious metals. They reflected the light of the magical fires that burned at each corner of a huge flat-topped boulder at the centre of the cavern. And there, upon the boulder’s plateau, surrounded by the magical flames, the ailing healer lay, watched over by the giant form of the Nephilim.
Gulduur Bellow’s pure blue eyes shone like the jewels around him. He raised a huge, long-fingered hand, beckoning Van Bam to him.
As the illusionist made his way across, he could hear the gentle trickling of water. Steps had been carved into the side of the boulder; his footsteps whispered around the cavern as he climbed up.
Bellow smiled welcomingly when Van Bam reached the plateau. The giant sat cross-legged, dwarfing the body of Angel as she lay unconscious. Although he was seated, his face was still level with the illusionist’s. Again, Van Bam was struck by how human the Nephilim appeared, despite his incongruous size. His facial features exhibited no evidence of an Aelfirian heritage at all.
‘Please, sit,’ said Bellow, his voice calm and affable.
With his green glass cane lying across his lap, Van Bam sat opposite Bellow. On the ground between them was a stone jug and two bowls. The Nephilim lifted the jug and filled the bowls with clear water.
‘It has been a long time since I had guests,’ Bellow said. His smile broadened, parting lips and revealing blocky teeth. ‘Or a conversation.’
He lifted one bowl, and gestured for Van Bam to take the other. They drank together, surrounded by a thousand stars and the warm glow of magical fire.
The water tasted fresh and sweet – a welcome relief for Van Bam’s dusty throat. As he drank, he noticed a third stone bowl near to the giant. It was half-filled with blood.
Even though Bellow carried no obvious wounds, Van Bam was certain that the blood had come from the Nephilim’s veins. Hundreds of old and pale scars covered his exposed skin like a latticework of neat slug tracks. One on his forearm seemed fresher than the others.