The Cathedral of Known Things

by Edward Cox

  Samuel frowned at the illusionist, suspicious. ‘You did?’

  ‘His name was Gulduur Bellow,’ Namji answered, a strange expression on her face. She turned to Van Bam. ‘I don’t know what happened to him,’ she said. ‘He never came back, and I waited out the rest of the war alone in his cavern.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Samuel said. By his emotional shades and colours, it was obvious his confusion was pushing him towards a second bout of anger. ‘Are you saying this doorway is supposed to lead to the House of the Nephilim? The Sorrow of …?’

  ‘Future Reason,’ Namji finished.

  ‘Whatever!’ Samuel snapped. ‘That’s where Known Things is kept?’

  ‘I do not know,’ said Van Bam.

  ‘Just for once, I’d like a straight answer in all of this,’ Samuel whispered dangerously, and his hands clenched. ‘The Nephilim don’t have a House, Van Bam,’ he said with strained patience. ‘They’re nomads.’

  ‘Samuel, this symbol is part of a legend.’ Van Bam tapped it again with his cane. ‘It is that of the House that the Nephilim have been roaming the realms seeking for a thousand years. And forty years ago, I was told by a Nephilim named Gulduur Bellow that if I ever saw the sign for the Sorrow of Future Reason again, I was to remember that it would lead me to friends.’

  ‘Friends?’ Samuel said. ‘The Nephilim are blood-magickers, Van Bam. You do remember the stories, don’t you?’

  ‘Doesn’t everyone?’ said Hillem. ‘Nothing good came from the Nephilim, did it?’

  Namji shook her head. ‘Not everything you’ve heard is true.’

  ‘And I think this House Symbol was left here as a mark of trust,’ Van Bam added.

  ‘I’m sick of this game,’ Samuel muttered.

  ‘Can someone fill me in?’ said Glogelder. ‘What’s going on?’

  Gideon, Van Bam thought. When the dead Resident didn’t reply, the illusionist looked at Clara.

  The changeling wasn’t paying attention to the conversation; she was quietly studying the host of symbols carved into the heavy doorframe, her eyes narrowed. Van Bam could tell by her expression that she was conversing with Gideon.

  With a sigh, Samuel faced the doorway again. ‘Whatever all this means, it still doesn’t tell us how to activate the bloody portal.’ He looked back at Van Bam. ‘If that symbol was left as a mark of trust, maybe you should try opening the door—’

  ‘Samuel, can I borrow your knife?’

  The old bounty hunter frowned at Clara’s request. She was still studying the symbols on the frame, but she held out her hand, ready to receive the knife.

  ‘Why?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘Gideon has an idea.’

  Samuel pulled a sour expression and glared at Van Bam. ‘What’s he up to?’

  Why all the suspicion, my idiot? Gideon drawled. Surely, as soon as you saw the Nephilim’s symbol, you would’ve guessed I’d feel the calling of my ancestry.

  Blood-magic, Van Bam realised.

  And blood doesn’t get much more powerful in a magicker than that of a changeling, does it? All Clara needs is a little guidance from me, and … well, the touch that doorway requires might just have to come from the Nephilim’s legacy.

  ‘Samuel,’ Van Bam snapped. ‘Give Clara your knife.’

  Samuel opened his coat, and drew the long wicked blade from the holster strapped to his ribs. He paused, looked distrustful, but handed the knife to the changeling, hilt first.

  Clara accepted the weapon almost absentmindedly, and only looked away from the doorway to concentrate on poking the palm of her hand with the blade’s tip.

  ‘What’s she doing?’ Glogelder called from the room’s entrance.

  Namji and Hillem shushed him in unison.

  Clara winced as she cut her palm. She gave the knife back to Samuel, and cupped her hand to let her blood pool.

  You might want to give Miss Clara a little room, my idiot, Gideon said, chuckling. I can’t guarantee this won’t backfire on her.

  ‘Samuel.’ Van Bam beckoned the old bounty hunter to join him further down the steps with Namji. Hillem moved up alongside them.

  ‘Please, someone tell me what’s going on,’ Glogelder said.

  No one answered him.

  Clara stood directly before the closed door, scrutinising the symbol for the Sorrow of Future Reason. She was still for a moment, undoubtedly speaking with Gideon.

  ‘I’ll need lifting,’ she said eventually.

  With a quick glance at Van Bam, Samuel stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around Clara’s midriff and hoisted her into the air.

  ‘Hold me still,’ Clara said, focusing on the carving.

  And she began speaking in a language that was too deep and whispery to understand, using a voice that was hard to believe emanated from so small a woman. The voice of blood-magic, Van Bam remembered, taught to Clara by Gideon, a magicker who had been born with the taint of the Nephilim in his blood, a curse that had practically driven him mad.

  Using her cupped hand as the ink well and the index finger of her other hand as the quill, Clara began painting the carving of the Nephilim symbol with her blood, chanting all the while. She began by tracing the blood around the spiralling pattern; by the time she was halfway along the straight line that connected to the square with the mirrored triangles, Van Bam began to see the magic imbued in the wood of the door flaring into life.

  Clara stopped chanting the incantations of blood-magic at the same time as she finished painting the symbol. She told Samuel to let her down. She seemed energised by her first foray into such an alien power.

  ‘Blood-magic,’ she whispered.

  I won’t deny it, Gideon said a little breathlessly. After all these years, it felt good to use my magic again.

  ‘Here,’ Namji said, and she passed Clara a cloth from her satchel.

  ‘Is that it?’ Samuel said. ‘Will it work now?’

  Clara shrugged as she wiped away the blood and bound her hand. ‘Gideon seems to think so.’

  And why wouldn’t I? Gideon said. Look at the colour, my idiot.

  The doorway was alive, filling Van Bam’s inner vision with the purple radiance of thaumaturgy.

  ‘It is active,’ the illusionist announced.

  Samuel grabbed the handle of the doorway, yanked it open, and this time a lonely wind moaned around this room dedicated to the memory of humans. The doorway framed a thick, churning whiteness.

  ‘The Nothing of Far and Deep,’ Van Bam said, exhilarated.

  ‘Bloody Timewatcher,’ Glogelder muttered, stepping into the room and coming up alongside Hillem.

  Hillem exhaled heavily. ‘I’ve always wondered what it looked like.’

  They were too young to have ever seen the Nothing of Far and Deep before, or remember a time when all pathways to and from the Labyrinth had led through it. But where did this doorway lead? Surely not back to Labrys Town?

  Namji, however, remembered the Nothing of Far and Deep, and she was clearly relieved to see it again. ‘I think it might be time to leave,’ she said.

  Van Bam stood to one side, holding the door open. ‘I believe you know the drill, Samuel.’

  The old bounty hunter drew the ice-rifle from the holster on his back. ‘Really?’ he asked. ‘The Nephilim?’

  ‘We will talk about it later,’ Van Bam promised his old friend.

  ‘Yeah.’ Samuel gave a quirked smile as he primed the rifle’s power stones. ‘Seems like you and me have a lot to catch up on. I’ll see you on the other side.’ Taking a deep breath he stepped into the dense whiteness.

  Clara faced the doorway with fear in her yellow eyes. ‘You still promise to stay by my side?’ she said with a nervous smile.

  ‘Every step of the way,’ Van Bam said.

  Clara nodded. ‘This had better be worth it,’ she mum
bled before she followed the old bounty hunter and disappeared.

  Namji and Hillem came forwards, but Glogelder seemed reluctant.

  ‘Will it hurt?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘That depends on what we find on the other side,’ Van Bam told him with a chuckle.

  ‘Fair enough.’ Glogelder slipped his spell sphere launcher from his shoulder, and took his place behind Hillem. ‘After you,’ he said, and shoved his friend forwards. Hillem’s yelp of surprise was cut short as he disappeared into the Nothing of Far and Deep.

  With a grin, Glogelder jumped in after him.

  ‘Been a long time since I last did this,’ Namji said to Van Bam.

  ‘A lifetime ago,’ the illusionist replied.

  ‘To old times,’ she said, taking a breath and stepping forwards.

  Now alone in the room of Human Curiosities, Van Bam’s eye was caught by movement. Symone the night guard had appeared in the entrance. She leaned against the jamb, holding a hot drink and smiling wryly. She blew away the steam and raised a hand in farewell. Van Bam returned the gesture.

  Don’t dawdle, my idiot, said Gideon. I’m already bored.

  Forty Years Earlier

  Origins

  ‘I hardly recognised them, Van Bam,’ Namji was saying. ‘I might as well have been meeting them for the first time.’

  She was talking about her parents, distressed that they had swapped their loyalty to the Timewatcher for obedience to Spiral.

  ‘They had turned into … caricatures of themselves,’ Namji continued bitterly. ‘It was as if their personalities had been cut out and replaced with a shadow of who they used to be.’ She sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye. ‘My mother and father were such loving parents – patient, kind. But in the end, I’m not sure they really knew who I was.’

  ‘You acted bravely in the face of such adversity, Namji,’ said Van Bam, though his mind was very much on other things.

  They were resting at the bottom of the path that led up to Gulduur Bellow’s cave. The morning sky was a cloudless pale pink, promising another day of blistering heat in the desert of Mirage. But the shadows cast by the crater walls were cold, and Van Bam had used his magic to summon a fire. He and Namji sat on opposite sides of the rich, golden flames, keeping warm.

  It wasn’t that Van Bam didn’t feel sympathy for Namji’s situation, but as terrible as the fate of Mirage was, the implications it wrought were far more terrifying. Lord Buyaal was planning to send an invasion force of Aelfirian soldiers to the Labyrinth, where they would aid Fabian Moor in conquering Labrys Town. There was still so much that confused Van Bam, and as sad as he felt for Namji, he wished it was Angel sitting with him now. But Angel had yet to emerge from the Nephilim’s cavern.

  Frustratingly, it was impossible for Van Bam to know what the state of play was back home. The Labrys Town Police Force consisted of around three thousand officers, and Buyaal’s invasion force was at least ten thousand trained soldiers strong, or so Bellow had said. But even with so large an army, Fabian Moor still could not fully control the Labyrinth without first gaining power over the Nightshade. Yet the invasion was going ahead, nonetheless. What did that mean?

  Had the Relic Guild failed? Had Fabian Moor already found a way to conquer the Nightshade and the denizens? Or perhaps Van Bam and Angel’s arrival in Mirage had panicked Buyaal into action. If the magickers didn’t send a report to the Nightshade by the end of the day at the latest, Gideon would get suspicious, questions would be asked. Maybe Buyaal had been motivated to send his troops before anyone noticed. And if that was true, would Fabian Moor then use his army to hold the denizens hostage? Ransom them in return for the Nightshade?

  Van Bam’s frustrations increased as grisly thoughts plagued him. He doubted that the Timewatcher would consider the lives of one million humans a fair exchange for control of the Nightshade, and the billions of Aelfir it would give the Genii access to. The illusionist gripped his green glass cane tightly, swallowing an impulse to shout a curse at the sky.

  Whatever the situation back home, Moor and Buyaal had obviously devised a method of transporting a huge army through the endless alleyways of the Great Labyrinth to Labrys Town. The invasion was happening, and only the Nephilim Gulduur Bellow could get Van Bam and Angel home ahead of it. But when? How?

  ‘Van Bam?’

  The illusionist looked at Namji through the golden flames of the fire, and only then did he realise she had been speaking to him.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I was asking what you thought would happen to Mirage now,’ Namji said, her face downcast. ‘I can’t believe my mother and father joined Spiral willingly. Buyaal must have subjugated them, and the citizens.’ Her voice betrayed how much she was searching for hope. ‘The Timewatcher would recognise that Mirage isn’t a true enemy – She would know, wouldn’t She?’

  Van Bam paused. ‘I will not lie to you, Namji. I have no idea what happens next.

  Namji wiped away tears, and fell silent.

  Once again, Van Bam was struck by how young Namji was. Stripped of pretence, no longer in a position to play her flirtatious games, she appeared no more than a child to the illusionist. She had spent her life being trained to govern her people – the heir to House Mirage. But now her feelings were all too clear: Namji, daughter of High Governor Obanai, was starkly, fearfully aware that she had not only lost her family and friends, but also her future.

  ‘Namji,’ Van Bam said gently. ‘I am truly sorry for what has happened to your family and your people. I cannot begin to imagine the sense of loss you are feeling.’ He gave her a kind smile. ‘You must be devastated.’

  Namji wiped more tears from her eyes ‘It’s how this could happen without anyone noticing that I don’t understand, Van Bam.’ She snorted and shook her head. ‘I knew Buyaal – I watched his spectacular before the war exiled me to the Labyrinth. I can’t believe I was so excited to see him at the bazaar. He was just a performer!’

  ‘Buyaal is a creature of higher magic, and he is clever,’ Van Bam said consolingly. ‘He burrowed his way into Mirage’s society perfectly, and no one suspected what he really was until he had gained control.’ Van Bam thought for a second. ‘I believe he was some kind of advance scout for Spiral, working under clandestine orders – much like Fabian Moor, I suppose.’

  ‘By the time the war started, Buyaal had already subjugated Mirage.’

  ‘And no doubt with the help of the dutiful soldiers he had already planted among your people. Like Ursa, for example.

  ‘And Ebril,’ Namji whispered, staring into the fire.

  Van Bam warmed his hands at the flames and sighed. ‘You are not the only one who was fooled by your father’s ambassador, Namji. Ebril managed to dupe the Relic Guild too, along with Lady Amilee. By no means an easy feat.’

  ‘You know, I’d actually come to think of Ebril as my surrogate father,’ Namji said. ‘He looked after me during my exile. Made me feel as though I was with family. But now? Now I have nothing and no one.’

  ‘You have Angel and me,’ Van Bam assured her. ‘We will not abandon you, Namji. We will take you home with us to Labrys Town.’

  Sadly, appreciatively, Namji tried to rally. ‘We have to make it to the Giant’s Hand first,’ she said. ‘We need to reach the doorway to the Great Labyrinth before Buyaal sends his army through it.’ She stared into the flames again. ‘The Giant’s Hand is in plain view of the citadel, Van Bam. I can’t see how we’ll get to it without Buyaal noticing.’

  ‘Well, I am hoping our new friend Gulduur Bellow has a good plan.’ Van Bam looked up the path to the cave at the top, his thoughts returning to the first time he saw the Nephilim. ‘Namji, do you recall how Buyaal reacted when Bellow confronted him? The Genii fled after their skirmish. It seemed as though Buyaal was frightened.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Namji
said. Her large eyes stared at Van Bam through the dancing flames. ‘It’s not just Bellow’s size and appearance that’s frightening – it’s his power. I’ve had a little magical training, enough to mask facial expressions, and giveaway tones of voice. I can hide my thoughts from most telepaths – I know what magic feels like, Van Bam. But when I watched Bellow healing Angel with his blood-magic, I can’t begin to describe the energy that filled the cavern.’ Her young face was awed. ‘I’ve never experienced that kind of power before.’

  ‘The magic in Bellow’s blood is thaumaturgy,’ Van Bam said. ‘I do not believe that anyone has realised just how powerful the Nephilim are.’

  Namji gave hopeful, if uncertain smile. ‘I suppose we might stand a chance with an ally like that—’

  She broke off, stretching to see over the illusionist’s head. Her face filled with surprise.

  ‘Angel!’ she called.

  The healer had emerged from the flickering light of the cave. She stood at the top of the path, smiling lopsidedly at the pair. She was holding a small wicker basket.

  Closely followed by Namji, Van Bam hurried to greet his fellow magicker. She was still covered in the symbols and glyphs of blood-magic that the Nephilim had painted upon her body.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Van Bam asked.

  Angel seemed almost amused. ‘If you ignore the fact that I’m covered in someone else’s blood, pretty good. You?’

  Van Bam smiled. ‘Oh, I have known more straightforward days.’

  Namji stepped forward. ‘It’s good to see you back on your feet,’ the Aelf said. ‘Are you healed?’

  ‘Never felt fitter.’ Angel considered Namji for a moment. ‘How are you holding up? Or is that a stupid question?’

  ‘I—’ Namji stopped as tears threatened to fill her eyes again.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Angel soothed. ‘We’ll talk in a while. As for now, I have figs!’

  The healer held the basket out for her colleagues to see the round, green fruits it held. ‘I have no idea where they came from,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen a single tree since I came to this bloody desert. But apparently our host knows where to find figs. And speaking of our host—’ Angel turned a meaningful glare to Van Bam. ‘He’s a bloody Nephilim!’