by Alan Baxter
‘There are.’ Petra had regained her composure and confidence. ‘I think he’s the one that the prophecies allude to, Master.’
Cai Wu nodded. ‘Possibly.’
‘What prophecies?’
Cai Wu smiled. ‘I think you need to learn a little of the Umbra Magi, Isiah.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Us, young man. This way.’
Isiah followed Cai Wu from the hall, marvelling at a human that would refer to him as ‘young man’. He knew a lot of ancient deities, but few humans could match his longevity. As they walked, Petra keeping silent pace beside him, he wondered who these people were. The Umbra Magi. Latin again. Magi were anything from wise men to powerful magicians, depending on context. Having seen Petra’s abilities and the training just now, Isiah was in no doubt that these people were Magi in the truest sense of the term. Umbra meant shade or shadow. This was a group that seemed to be well hidden in the shadows, as he had never heard of them before. Two groups, The Umbra Magi and the Ordo Novus Cruor, both using Latin terminology. They had both escaped Isiah’s attention, quite an achievement in itself. How much of this was coincidence? How connected were these groups?
The ONC was a lot like any number of western secret societies, though it certainly had its own eccentricities. But the Umbra Magi were different. Something felt more cohesive and ancient about them and this place. It seemed incongruous to have a group with such obvious Eastern influences use a Latin name, but there must be a reason for that.
‘Yours is a busy mind,’ Cai Wu said as he led Isiah and Petra into a large room. The room was sparsely furnished, with little more than a large wooden desk, several chairs, bookshelves and a bed in the far corner. ‘I can hear your ruminations from here!’
Isiah laughed. ‘Your people do seem to have a talent for empathy.’ He cast a look at Petra as he spoke. Did she just blush?
‘Many people learn to manipulate the universe,’ Cai Wu continued. ‘Few people learn, as we do, to become one with it. To flow with it as the leaf rides with the stream. Our presence is one of fluidity, not one of disruption.’
‘I feel like I’ve just been told off.’ Isiah raised one eyebrow.
‘Not at all. There is very little that is right or wrong completely. Very few things are truly black and white. All there really is, after everything else is accounted for, is balance. The yin and the yang are one and the same.’
‘You truly are a man after my own heart!’
Cai Wu smiled his enigmatic smile again. ‘Let me tell you a little about us.’ He indicated chairs and they all sat. ‘We are an ancient order. I am not the first Master here and I won’t be the last. Our group was originally founded when powerful Magi from the west met with powerful Magi from the east. While many men sought trade or land, engaged in economics and battle, there were some that shared ideas and philosophy. Taoist masters met with Pagan warlocks and witches, Buddhist aesthetes conversed with Druids. Sufis and Hindus shared knowledge with Shamans and Animists. Learned people, powerful with knowledge and ability, yet hungry for more, travelled the world. Rather than battling over their differences, as so many did and still do, these people delighted in their similarities. They sought convergence and tried to uncover the roots of universal truth.
‘But their actions drew scorn and derision from many, even fear. They had to keep to the shadows, keep their activities a secret from men less enlightened that sought to destroy that which they feared. In their secrecy the first Umbra Magi were formed. And we keep that tradition.’
Isiah nodded. ‘So you guys really are Shadow Mages? Powerful and learned, but hiding from the world.’
Cai Wu shrugged. ‘We remain removed from the world, but we don’t really hide. Not as such. We have learned to remain unseen by those that we would rather not see us.’
Isiah laughed. ‘That’s a pretty tenuous division. Then again, I haven’t heard of you before and there aren’t many groups around that I don’t know at least something about.’
‘You’ve been pretty cagey about who you are,’ Petra said, with a slight pout. ‘If you’re who we think you are then I have reservations.’
Cai Wu raised a placating palm as Isiah’s face registered the beginnings of outrage. ‘Petra, we haven’t given him much opportunity to reveal anything, and there’s no need to rush. Let things take their natural course.’
Petra shrugged. ‘We’ll see.’
Cai Wu smiled broadly at Isiah. ‘Looks like you’ve got under her skin. Not many can do that.’
As Petra protested, Isiah laughed softly. ‘I do seem to make a habit of irritating people.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘Oh...’ Isiah blushed and was pleased to see that Petra had decided to use this particular moment to show a sudden interest in one of Cai Wu’s bookshelves. It would seem that Cai Wu was something of a wicked old Magus.
‘Let me tell you more of the Umbra Magi,’ Master Cai said. ‘We have always, first and foremost, had one primary mission. We are keepers of knowledge. We gather information from every corner of the world. In the spirit of our ancestors we try to master every aspect of the body, mind and spirit. To that end there is no one that we are not prepared to learn from. In return, we preserve their knowledge, we make it a part of our own. More and more, as the world rushes headlong to embrace technology and money, we find our course invaluable. Without us much would already be lost.’
Isiah nodded. ‘It’s a noble pursuit. But, in some ways, an impossible one.’
‘Perhaps. But we strive all the same. In many cases, the struggle is more important than the end result. Along the way our gathering and processing of knowledge has made us privy to other, less favourable things. Every once in a while we discover something that needs to be helped along or held back. We remain as unbiased as possible, but our actions are nevertheless a part of the whole.’
Isiah made a sound of surprise. ‘It’s even more interesting then that I haven’t crossed paths with any of you before.’
‘You may have done. You probably have. But how would you know?’
Isiah thought for a moment. That was a good question. ‘Well, Petra revealed herself to me but I suppose that’s no reason to think that anyone else from your order would.’
‘And Petra revealed something of us to you for a very good reason.’ The old man smiled at her. ‘Would you make us tea, child?’
Isiah wondered if Petra would baulk at the suggestion. ‘Of course, Shrfu. I would be honoured.’ She gathered things from one of Cai Wu’s shelves and began to set out the cups and pots of the traditional Chinese tea-making ceremony. As she busied herself, working deftly, confidently, Cai Wu continued.
‘Something we come across a lot in our work is the convergence of myth and the convergence of premonition. One, the convergence of myth, is a purely mundane phenomenon. People are prone to think of the same idea in different places at different times and people are prone to retell a story with the names changed to pretend it is their own. These things among many others lead to a convergence of ideas in philosophy and religion. Take the many variations of essentially the same Creation Myth as an example. Often there are more similarities than differences in the beliefs of seemingly wildly differing religions. That’s human nature.
‘However, the convergence of premonition is something else. When many people from different places and different belief systems begin to speak of visions or enlightenments with common threads, we take notice. When powerful people from varying locations and traditions start to see the same thing happening, we track details and we analyse. We have a number of scholars within our ranks dedicated to nothing but this task.
‘Something that has been bothering us for many years is a repeating theme encountered in many premonitions reported by members of greatly differing groups. All around the world, from the simplest animist Shaman to the most devout Catholic nun, from the Dervish to the Australian Aboriginal Dreamer, a theme keeps resurfacing. Our scholars have
spent many years analysing these stories and they have put together a few threads that appear in them all. This is rare and it is disturbing.’
Isiah’s face was dark. ‘This sounds very serious. How long did you plan to keep it to yourselves?’
Cai Wu laughed. ‘Who would we tell? We are used to dealing with our own discoveries.’
‘Good point. So what are these common themes?’
Master Cai held up one hand, counting off the points on his fingers. ‘One, a group with a global agenda of chaos will unite, causing great instability ; two, a dark god will gain enormous power; three, innocent blood will soak the earth; and four, an immortal human will be the only hope of salvation.’
Isiah sat quietly, staring at Cai Wu’s raised hand, fingers spread, the index finger of the other hand still marking the fourth point against the raised little finger. ‘I’m guessing you’re thinking about me when you make point four?’
Petra paused in her ministrations to watch Cai Wu’s face. ‘Petra would seem to think so,’ the Master said softly.
‘And what about you?’
‘I think she may be right. Those four common threads have appeared among many other things that have caught our attention, but for some reason this particular set of circumstances seems to repeat more often than any other. Over recent years they have been getting more common and more detailed. And the most information we have regarding this situation is concerned with the immortal.’
Isiah had a pained expression on his face. ‘Go on. Tell me more and hopefully I can dispel your suspicions.’
‘Our scholars have gleaned the following traits that seem to be repeated regardless of source. The immortal is human, but already very old. He is enormously powerful, a loner, an outsider. He is one regarded by many as a meddler, an interferer, yet usually regarded as a necessary evil. He is not a hero that consistently champions good, but neither is he consistently evil. He has both sworn enemies and eternal friends and he is not as amoral as his reputation would suggest, often torn, tortured, tormented by the things he has no choice but to do.’ Master Cai stared intently at Isiah, his old eyes bright, deep. Petra knelt motionless, the tea whisk held forgotten in one hand.
Isiah looked from Cai Wu to Petra and back again. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. ‘Oh, bollocks,’ he said eventually. ‘Oh, bloody, bloody, bollocks.’
The Sorcerer looked over the plans Chris had laid out before him on the scored and stained oak table. His deeply lined face was stern with concentration. Eventually he sat back, nodded once. ‘Good. It looks in order. You’ve spread the word as I requested?’
Chris nodded, leaning back in the wooden dining chair. ‘I’ve told all those that you asked me to. But why shouldn’t I tell the others? And why swear the ones I have told to secrecy?’
‘Like I’ve told you before, dear boy, trust me. We are in the middle of very powerful times, but they are also very delicate times. There is good reason for everything.’
‘Fair enough.’ Chris indicated the various maps and printed pages on the table. ‘The only thing we need to add to this is a plan to get yourself and the child there.’
‘No. That plan is taken care of.’
Chris looked hurt. ‘Really? Who by?’
‘By me, Chris. Remember, our secrecy is the most important thing. You do as I ask and let me worry about myself, okay?’
‘I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.’
The Sorcerer smiled, laying one hand on Chris’s shoulder. ‘Duly noted, Optimates Cruor. Now go and begin to make this happen.’
Chris nodded, gathering up the papers from the tabletop. ‘Yes, Dominus. As you command.’ He left the room without a backward glance.
The Sorcerer sat back again in his chair, his eyes closing. He raised his hands, palms down, before his chest and began to incant sharp, horrible words. Then he spoke in Latin. ‘Custodis Cruor, exaudio.’ After a moment, as MageSign built in the room, he spoke again, more forcefully. ‘Custodis Cruor, exaudio.’
The presence of MageSign grew stronger and words sounded in the air. Not just one voice, but many, speaking in unison, their effort to converse apparent. ‘Nostri mentis vestrum.’
A smile spread across the Sorcerer’s face. ‘Combine your minds and watch more closely than you have before. Watch all of my charges, all of my generals and foot soldiers alike. Put their image in my mind the moment they stray from my commands. And pull tight your cloak about me as I move.’
The multiple, wind-like voice drifted into the air again. ‘Nos obtempero.’
The Sorcerer slumped in his chair as the MageSign drained from the room. Blood ran in two thin rivers, one from each nostril. Blood pooled also in the shells of his ears, its coppery taste stark in the back of his throat. With a wince, he swallowed and set his jaw. Taking a deep breath, he stood and headed down the cold steps into the cellar, wiping his face as he went. Keeping his distance from the stone sarcophagus, he sat and began to meditate while he waited for Jake to return with more souls to serve their role in Yath-vados’s glory. He knew he could trust Jake as much as any of his closest followers, but he wondered if perhaps he was overstretching Jake’s abilities by asking for several victims this time. Not to worry. Jake was extremely capable and sensible enough to ask for help if he needed it.
As the Sorcerer settled his mind and let his power grow he barely suppressed a shudder. The amount of power and energy this would take, let alone the amount of blood, was overwhelming. He would have to trust himself too and rely on the strength of his own abilities. Failure was inconceivable.
Lars stared at Faith as she ate breakfast. Looking over a piece of toast at him, she raised one eyebrow, one side of her mouth curling up in a half smile. ‘What?’
Lars smiled back. ‘Nothing. Just looking.’
‘Looking at what? You were very amorous when you returned and woke me this morning. I would have thought you’d had your fill of me by now.’
He laughed. ‘Not nearly, love. Not even close. You are truly remarkable. It fascinates me to simply watch you. You have such great potential.’
Faith put her toast down on the plate. ‘You say that, or something like it, so often. But what do you mean? What potential do I have?’
‘You have great power within you. You can perform great tasks. Ask a little of Yath-vados and you can get a lot from yourself. Watch.’ Lars sat straight in his chair. He took a small folding knife from his pocket and slowly drew it across the side of one finger. Faith winced. Holding the cut hand over his own empty plate, he held out his other hand, palm towards Faith. A drop of blood landed, stark on clean white china, and Lars spoke in a language that Faith could not understand. Like nothing she had ever heard before, it sounded wrong, disturbing and unsettling, like the sight of a broken bird struggling to fly. Then her plate lifted and floated several inches above the table. It turned, slowly described a large loop before settling back before her.
She stared open mouthed at the plate, then looked up at Lars. He sucked his finger, smiled. ‘How do you do that?’ she asked.
‘It’s a party trick, really. I mean, what use is there in making a plate fly around? But it’s a demonstration. You could do it too.’
Faith tipped her head to one side, her eyes narrowing. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’
Lars walked around the table and stood behind her. He reached around her shoulders and took one of her hands in his. His other hand held his knife before her. ‘Trust me,’ he whispered.
Faith pulled at his grip. ‘I don’t know. Why the cutting?’
Lars pressed the blade against her finger. ‘The blood is everything. By blood are all things living empowered and by blood is all change effected. Nothing worthwhile is ever born without blood. It is a link to your power. It is a tiny sacrifice you make every time you take the power of the universe into your hands.’ He drew the blade across her finger. The pain was instant and sharp, a spiky, stinging pain that both unpleasant and strangely excit
ing.
He spoke into her ear, those broken words. ‘Repeat them,’ he said in a soft voice and spoke the words again. She attempted to copy words that she couldn’t really hear properly or even begin to understand. As soon as she tried to say them, the words came, like bubbles rising through muddy water. Lars spoke again and she echoed his words. She felt a power, an energy, building inside her. It swelled and pushed at the edges of her mind, desperate to be released. As she stared at the thin red line across her finger, one dark ruby droplet swelled pregnantly, dropped to her plate among the crumbs.
‘Let the power out,’ Lars whispered. ‘Let it go. Do anything you want to do.’
Faith stared at her plate, remembering how Lars had made it float and cruise around in one graceful loop. The power building in her was making her mind foggy, her thoughts straining to become coherent. All she could think of was how Lars had made the plate move.
‘Do it,’ he cajoled. ‘Let it go.’
She thought of the plate lifting, spinning, looping as it had under his control. With a swish of air the plate shot across the table, smashing into a jar of marmalade and exploding into dozens of stark white shards. A crack appeared down one side of the jar, oozing sticky orange ichor like blood. Faith cried out and Lars laughed.
She felt the power drain from her, sucked out as if it had been attached to the plate. Her mind cleared and she looked back over her shoulder at Lars. At first she was annoyed that he was laughing at her, but within seconds she could not help but laugh as well.
‘A little more control is needed perhaps,’ he said through his mirth.
‘I guess I need practice.’
‘And that’s all you need, my love. As I said, you have great potential.’
She looked at the shattered remains of the plate. ‘Do I though? Was that me or did you help? I can’t be sure I could do that on my own.’
Lars came around in front of her and crouched, holding both her hands. He kissed her finger where it was cut. ‘All I did was show you the way. You did all of that yourself. Practice and see what happens.’