‘And have you ever felt the need to leave the better portion of the food, so you may go hungry, but your friend may eat?’
‘Yes, of course I’ve done that. Since I was a kid. Maya, she . . .’ Gray broke off. ‘Yes, I have,’ he said again, with finality.
The little girl smiled for the first time. ‘Time is my friend, Spider Lord. And you—you are the meal.’
27
The mirror was gone.
It took Maya a while to reach the cliff. The storm had left pure devastation in its wake, and the island now bore scars. Almost all the trees were damaged beyond recognition, all mostly uprooted, cripples barely standing. Animals lay dead everywhere, animals Maya hadn’t ever spotted. Birds. It was a torturous sight, and she endured it, walking to the mirror. She wanted to see what the hail had done to the mirror, though somewhere inside she knew it would be unscratched.
The usual paths were now closed. The hills had spat landslides, mud burying roots, trees now barriers. She had to weave another way to the cliff, a slow and agonising route. She knew this was not her home, this island, yet there was a feeling of sorrow, all the life snuffed out, all the helpless beings which never got a chance. She forced herself to focus on the mirror and the mirror only, her way out of here.
The cliff was even thinner now, a large section of the path having fallen away. Maya balanced herself, feeling for all the world like a tightrope artist, and reached the edge. She had already seen it from a distance, but she had to get up close.
The mirror was gone. The frame remained. Perplexed, Maya passed an arm through it, feeling only air. She passed her head through, looking down at the sheer drop, the turbulent waves beneath. What could have made it disappear? Was this part of the test?
She inspected it for a while, and finding nothing, she tiptoed her way back to solid ground. What had changed? Two things. Her discovering the room in the caves, and the storm. And one of these things had triggered this. She looked back at the frame, then shook her head. Nothing made sense.
Her stomach grumbled. Food was going to be a problem now, with the trees in such a state. There weren’t many animals left to hunt either. She could try to catch fish from the sea, a long-term solution that depended on luck and skills she did not possess, but it was something. Maya sat at long last, down on the damp ground, and fished some fruits out of her bag. She ate slowly, thinking. Perhaps she needed to set up some sort of a base after all. Maybe a cave, a shallow one, down near the sea, where she could fish, and find a path to come up to the mirror. Exploration was needed—she realised she hadn’t wandered the coast much. For now, however, she needed to cook whatever animal she would find dead, before it rotted. If only she had salt, she could have conserved the meat for longer! Perhaps she could, somehow, harvest salt from the sea? A long-term goal, but possible nonetheless. Maybe even breed some animals for consumption. And of course, right now, she also needed to pick up fallen fruits, as many as she could find. And make a fishing rod. She needed a strong, thin rope, some sort of substitute. Bait could be found easily, the wet earth had worms—
A new sound. Maya looked up from the apple. A faint sound, growing. Steadily. Clop clop, clop clop. Something connecting with the fresh earth at high speed, a sound she had heard before. A horse. She stood up, the fruits on her lap falling. She listened, perfectly still, and the galloping got nearer, nearer, audible over the loud sound of the surf, over the squawking of the seabirds that had survived.
She turned, slowly, to face the forest. The apple. She must finish the apple. Maya bit into it with the desperation of a cannibal, chewing hard and fast, and then she was done, having eaten the apple core as well. Her mouth was full, she chewed violently now, and as the mash slid down her throat, the horse burst out of the trees. There was a rider on it.
Maya took everything in at a glance. The horse was huge, much larger than normal horses, muscular and wild. It was armoured, almost completely so—on its head was a helmet with large spikes facing outwards, the eyeholes revealing uncontrolled red eyes. The body and the hooves had the same metal armour, constructed and placed with several levels of thickness. This layered armour shifted and adjusted when the horse moved, not impeding its mobility. The skin visible within revealed itself as a deep red, and the horse’s mane was living fire, burning and twisting, a thing of wonder and horror. It looked like a rhinoceros with an elaborate seat for its rider, who pulled the reins—chains—drawing the horse to a stop. The beast obeyed and pawed the ground in anger. The wet grass under its hooves caught fire.
The rider looked down at Maya, and Maya observed her in turn. A woman. She was beautiful, her hair free in the wind, long and untamed, a fierce red. Her face, fair, seemed like perfection—the features were chiselled in just the right proportions, without any flaw, the large eyes, the thin nose, the symmetrical lips, and the smooth curve to the chin. But now her eyes were flaring, her white teeth were grit—she was no damsel to be courted. Every inch of her body was covered by armour, an armour bulky, huge, several times her body’s width. It was crafted beautifully though, the red armour with silver linings, the chestplate, faulds, vambraces, gauntlets, chausses, and greaves, all blending into each other like a single solid piece. A dark red cloak clung from her pauldrons, and it whipped behind her in the sea breeze like a flag.
Anger, but not the feeling. A vision of sorts. Anger. Uncontrollable rage. People dying, dead, buried, cities burning, clouds of red mist, the spray of blood from fresh wounds, heads flying, hands chopped, a thousand men and women begging for mercy, mass graves, bodies being exhumed, mutilated children—
‘Stop! Stop!’ Maya screamed shrilly.
Snap. Silence. Maya could see her again, the rider. She slowly reached to a rest on her saddle and slid off the horse. Her sabatons hit the grass, and the earth shook for a second. Then she straightened. She was tall, several feet taller than Maya. Maya realised she was still clutching her own head; she straightened.
‘You’re the human called Maya Ghosh,’ the rider spoke, a voice resonating power. Confidence. A woman’s voice, but somehow different.
‘You must be War,’ Maya said. ‘No one told me there was a woman among the Horsemen.’
‘It does not make a difference,’ she said. ‘They are my brothers.’
‘What do you want?’ Maya hissed. She was rankled about her state, about the first impression the Horseman had of her—lost, surrounded by fruits, without gauntlets, old, dirty clothes, and a plea to stop the visions, mercy from War’s aura.
‘Your brother has tricked my brother,’ War said. ‘I rode here to kill you.’
Maya looked at her in distaste.
‘All of you are cowards,’ War continued. ‘All of you, every last one of you. Rats. Hiding in holes, running and running. Death hunted you for so long, yet you elude him. You do not face him in battle, it disgusts me.’
‘I’m standing right here, Horseman,’ Maya said. The old anger. It had come, it was flaring, but there was no release. The dragon swept, flew, roared, the magic weighed her hands down, desperately looking for outlets, but there were no gauntlets. Maya drew the knife without realising it.
‘It is a two year wait now, for the akshouthur,’ War said. ‘Two years. Another two years. It passes like a second for us, but you must realise—even this wait pains us, burns us. I thought of a distraction. You. I have heard of you. A mage.’ She looked at Maya’s hands. ‘Without her gauntlets, it seems.’
Gray was safe. They had eluded the Horsemen yet again somehow, that is what War was saying. The Horsemen had resigned themselves to a wait, but there was another akshouthur promised to them. What Victor Sen had said, it was true. But Gray was alive, somehow. These were facts, and Maya went through them in a second, a matter-of-fact second. Then she was back there on the edge of the cliff, facing the Horseman.
End of the road, then.
‘And what do you wait for?’ Maya asked.
War smiled, a smile sickening in its genuineness and condescension. �
��I had previously thought I would kill you. But I am War itself. I have laid waste to kingdoms, shattered empires of men, ended lineages. I will not unleash my weapon on something like you. Unarmed. Powerless. ’
Maya snapped. ‘I’m NOT unarmed!’ she screamed, and ran, the knife raised. It was blunt, but it would puncture the Horseman’s throat. The armour, the armour would make her fall over backwards and Maya would keep at it, keep plunging the knife until—
War grabbed her throat. Maya jerked to a standstill, choking, her air clogged, knife dropping. She was being raised in the air, and then War had thrown her back on the grass, all with one arm. Maya felt her own throat, still cold, and scrambled to her feet. Her eyes were downcast, and then she looked up at War, a venomous look, with her now tear streaked eyes.
War looked at her, still smiling. ‘This might be difficult to understand, human, but Ire—my weapon—and I have a long history. He would not like it if I added your blood to his collection, I see that now. I had heard different things, but now to see you . . .’ Her eyes glowed for a second. ‘A strange Web,’ she continued. ‘It seems you want to become a Shade.’
More tears came. Maya tried to stop them. What is going on? Why am I crying now, having my greatest moment of weakness in front of a Horseman? But it caught up then, in that moment, everything that had built up. Her dreams of becoming something more, the fight with Gray, her separation from her only ally, her only friend, her own flesh and blood, her brother, her marooned state here on the island, gnawing on fruits that were never enough, gnawing like an animal, like a filthy rat, her sorry, sorry half-starved state, watching her body get thinner, wirier, watching her breasts shrink, becoming more bone than fat, the hair beginning to fall from lack of anything that could help, the reflection of a skeleton, a shrivelled ghoul in the mirror, a haunted presence alone on an island, waiting, weeks becoming months, endless months, clothes becoming rags, the dark circles and dirty, stubby fingernails chewed off when too long, living inside a cave miles beneath the earth, scrawling poems and songs on the walls, the talking to herself constantly, the whispers to herself when scared, the pleas, the bare pleas to Daan all the fucking time, the crazed dances with the skulls, the dances and leaps and whoops in front of the mirror. Reality. Reality. What had been going on, what she must look like. What she was.
Maya could not stop the tears now. There was no more confidence left. The will was gone, it had fucked off. The anger was nowhere. Gone, all gone. She felt like a wreck, she was a wreck, an abomination. She started sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for breath, tears gushing down her cheeks for the first time in years. She realised dimly that she had collapsed, that she was on the ground, her fingers clawing the dirt, desperately grappling the wet earth as her body rocked in gasps and sobs, all alone. All alone. So alone.
War watched her. ‘Broken dreams, yes,’ she said. ‘Do you know the most interesting thing about Shades? They have no fear. They feel no fear. So say the stories. I think it impossible. Even the Horsemen have felt no fear, not for millennia—but Shades are human like you, mostly. Fear is what you are born with. My brother Death, he thrives on that fear. He is fear itself.’ She walked, slowly towards Maya. Upon reaching the sobbing figure, War knelt, and her cold hand gently caressed Maya’s head.
Maya instinctively held on to the gauntlet. It was something, it was something, it was a human touch, something she needed. She was howling now, howling in pain.
‘But you know fear all too well,’ War said. ‘You were never meant to be a Shade. You’re meant to die here, on this island. You know, starve to death, or swim in the Leviathan’s maw. I would end your suffering, but you disgust me.’ She grabbed Maya’s skeletal, malnourished hand and cast it off. Maya tried to hold on once more, sobbing, shaking her head wildly, muttering, but War slapped her hard, a blow that sent her reeling. War got up, walked back, and mounted her horse. ‘Die afraid, Maya Ghosh.’ The horse trotted around, and without so much as a last look, War rode off.
The minutes ticked. Hours. Maya got to her feet, her sunken cheeks trembling, her once attractive face now repulsive, marred with tears and scars. She looked in the direction the Horseman had taken, and at long last, she shook her head.
‘I am not afraid,’ she whispered. Then a scream, a mighty scream, a scream of some animal she had never heard before, a scream that was issuing from her own throat, and she was running, running wildly.
But not at the forest. She was running at the mirror, the mirror on the cliff, except it wasn’t there, and she had reached it and she leapt through the frame, through it, and then she was falling, falling down, down towards her death on the rocks below.
28
Gray stood on the balcony, greeting the first rays of the sun, bidding his last sunrise farewell. It was a good day to die, no miracles, no more tricks up anyone’s sleeve, nothing really left to do. The Horsemen had hunted them down, and their host would shortly see them out. Gray felt mellow, and he was debating whether he had any kind of feelings for Zabrielle, how misguided they were, and whether he should tell her now or not. Then the Horseman Death appeared on the far horizon, a silhouette in the sun, standing on the outskirts of the city, near the train tracks. Gray marvelled at the sight—the Horseman was a tiny figure, but Gray could see the shawl fluttering, the sun visible through the hollows in the bony horse. Then the horse opened its skeletal wings on each side, and Gray almost smiled. The irony of Death arriving with the rising sun, a majestic spectacle.
‘It’s here,’ Gray said, and Zabrielle ran to the balcony. Unlike Gray, she was grim. Before their eyes, the horse raised itself on two hooves and pawed the air angrily.
Fayne lay inside, a mess in a corner. ‘Apologies,’ he said softly.
There was a roar then, and a wave originated from the Horseman, a wave of something dark, sweeping outwards, towards them. Gray looked at Zabrielle and opened his mouth to speak, but the wave engulfed them just then and collapsed. Ash. Gray coughed, his mouth full. He dusted his clothes in disgust.
The ash fell off Zabrielle’s face, but she did not react, her large green eyes still glued to the figure in the horizon. ‘Zabrielle,’ Gray coughed. ‘There’s something I must tell you.’
‘Shut up, Gray,’ Zabrielle snapped. Gray recoiled in surprise, never having heard her so strict, and slowly followed her gaze. The horse was rearing again, neighing angrily in the distance, wings beating uselessly. Death was roaring and screaming, again and again, its shouts echoing in the wind.
‘Why isn’t it coming?’ Zabrielle asked, mostly to herself.
‘You have a visitor,’ a voice said. The little girl stood behind Gray. Gray looked at her in disbelief, and then it clicked. Of course. There could only be one visitor. Without a word, he ran out of the room.
‘Gray, wait!’ Zabrielle called after him, but Gray was running, sprinting down the stairs as fast as his legs would allow. By the time he reached the bottom he was out of breath, panting, his chest hurting, his lungs strained, but he did not care, staggering out into the sunlight.
A figure faced him, seated on a horse. A white horse.
‘Pestilence,’ Gray panted, hand on his knee.
The Horseman wore a white crown amongst its crazy red hair. It was dressed in grey robes, robes that seemed to flow. In its hands was a giant, elaborate crossbow, also white.
‘Spider Lord,’ Pestilence said, nodding. Its wild eyes looked tame, calm. Almost moist.
‘The curse that binds the Horsemen,’ Gray said, still panting. ‘It prevents you from meeting each other. Death cannot advance because you are here.’
‘It is like an invisible wall,’ Pestilence said, nodding. Zabrielle was out already, staring at the Horseman in surprise. Fayne’s grunts were audible as he made his way down the stairs.
‘Why?’ Gray asked.
‘Because it is time I took a stand,’ the Horseman said. ‘And I do not stand with my brothers. It hurts when I don’t—’ it looked at Gray’s expression, ‘—no, I mean physi
cal pain, unbearable pain, when a Horseman does not obey the Master, but I am beyond it now. What I see before my eyes soothes the pain. It seems like I have been blind all my life, in my experiments and my research.’
‘What you see before your eyes,’ Gray muttered. ‘You’re not talking about me?’
‘In all the Horsemen,’ Pestilence said, as Fayne finally emerged and froze, ‘I was the only one who could keep my heart intact, beating. It is because I had been in love, and it protected my heart, encased it in armour beyond metal, beyond magic.’
‘Oh my God,’ Gray moaned. ‘Am I your . . . your son?’
‘Perhaps someday,’ Pestilence said. ‘No, you are born of the Lich. But I, I cannot forget my love for Aasa, I cannot forget the betrayal of my brother. The Horsemen have come together against you. I could not—simply sit and let it happen. Since Adri Sen has visited me, and I saw you in his Web, I have been in deep thought. It has taken a while, yes it has, and there is a lot more to explain. But we do not have that time. I’m here now, and that is what is.’
‘You’re here to help us!’ Gray exclaimed. ‘Bloody hell, yeah! You’re here to bloody help us! A Horseman! Now we’re talking! It might be a little weird, you having loved my mother and all that, but we need the help right now, Pestilence, we need all the help we can get.’
‘There’s only one way out of this place,’ Pestilence said. ‘And that way lies with the Sentient.’
‘But if you ride with us to the Eiwa Jarwa, the Horsemen can’t come!’
‘Correct. But the threat is not Death any more. The threat is Famine. He has set up a few kilometres north of here.’
‘A few kilometres, so?’
Pestilence sighed. ‘Famine is a sniper.’
Gray’s jaw was hanging. ‘A sniper? The Horseman? Are you kidding me?’
‘His weapon, Dearth, is a highly powerful sniper rifle, one that shoots corrupted magical rounds. He can hit targets miles away. If you simply head for the tower, he’ll drop you in seconds. Even if I’m there with you.’
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