The Knowledge (The Circle Book 2)

by Lee Isserow

  Another tentacle took hold of the window from above, then two more at the sides. A thick smoke billowed, but it was not perturbed, and continued to put all its might into wrenching the gate between realms wider and wider.

  Shaman Kahgo could not let this stand. . . this had been his idea, to open a window for a parlez. He would not be the reason that the Natural World fell. He reached out and pulled the blood from the sand. He might not be able to reshape the sigils held tight in the grasp of the mundanes, but to tug them from their place upon the earth would loosen the tether it had on the realm. It would not be instantaneous, but it would close the portal. . . eventually.

  He felt the creature's cackle resounding through his skull, but did not dare falter. Its tendrils pulled back from the edges, as the window began to collapse in on itself.

  “You say this realm was chosen, rather than it being your choice. . . but when it comes for one to stand at the gates, to defend it, you are the only one of our kin to stand in the way. . . when there are so many that could do as much. It is truly pitiful, that one so diluted, a mere echo of what has come before, should be the last line of defence.”

  “I am not alone,” Shaman growled, at the eye that still had not blinked, despite its myriad appendages being seared. “And this realm is not nearly as defenceless as you believe it to be.”

  “We shall see,” the creature replied, as it pulled away from the window that had been created between the realms.

  Kahgo stared at what was left of the portal of light, which once again looked out into nothing but darkness. The ancient being was fixed in its way―as old things often are. His hopes of bartering with it for the fate of the Natural World had been dashed. There was only one thing for it. . . The creature, that had lived for longer than the realm he resided in, would have to die.

  He pulled his true face back into the core of the body he used to walked the lands, and reflected upon the choices that had been left at his feet. They were limited, and none of them were preferable to an amicable agreement for it not to cross and take the planet as its own.

  As he returned to his former state, he let out a long, guttural sigh. The intent of killing a god was all good and well. . . but to carry it out successfully was another thing entirely.

  38

  Godsend

  EPICENTRE, THE CIRCLE

  As Kahgo returned to the Epicentre, he found himself surveyed by the accusing stares of many of those that worked there. The word had spread that he cut off ties with the Circle, refused to let his actions in the desert be monitored. Even if Three had not told them of the ritual that encompassed the globe, that had turned the window into a doorway ever so briefly, their analysts would have noticed it, they would have felt all that magick being focussed in his direction. . . They would know that his attempt at diplomacy almost ended in an incursion by the very creature they were trying to stop.

  Tali shot him an expression that was an attempt at empathy, but even she seemed to be having a hard time of supporting his choices. She pointed across the main floor towards a briefing room, and Kahgo nodded with a muted smile.

  “Well that was a waste of bloody time, and close to a damn catastrophe!” Faith barked, before he had barely stepped into the room.

  “I did not expect it to take advantage of the situation as it did,” Kahgo explained.

  “Well we've been bloody underestimating this damn thing since this all kicked off. It's about bloody time we did something stop it once and for all―unless you want to invite it over for tea, or take it for a romantic bloody candlelit dinner?”

  “I want neither. . . I concede that there is but one course of action we can take from this point. . .”

  “And it's the one I wanted to take from the bloody start, isn't it?”

  Kahgo's brow contorted into what he thought felt like a scowl, but he could not be sure. The mask that he wore through the Natural World was feeling alien to him, as if to release his true face from deep within his core had changed him somehow. And the stares from the main floor of the Epicentre did not help―even though none of them had seen what had occurred there, in that moment he felt more monster than man.

  Faith took his lack of response as a sign that he had no further objections, and returned to the briefing.

  “Latest estimates put the damn thing's size at approximately twenty-two thousand miles wide. . .”

  “Slightly wider than the moon,” Shana added, as if to offer a comparison that might be easier to comprehend. “And given that the earth itself is just under eight-thousand miles wide, you can see how this is worrying. . .”

  Faith glared at her for delaying his briefing with facts that he did not deem of importance in the midst of the crisis.

  “Three is calculating the next potential sites for incursion, and in the meantime, I want to discuss the possibility of borrowing the nuclear capabilities of―”

  “Nuclear will not work. . .” Kahgo offered. “The being that attempted to cross over in Nevada was not even close to the scale of this one. . . And I do not believe fusion will harness enough energy to cast it back into the abyss, let alone end its life.”

  “Then we throw some magick behind the bloody fusion―”

  “Thermonuclear energy is not this being's weakness, you must stop thinking of those that exist in the Outer Realms in your terms of understanding life. . . They did not evolve, they have always been. And whilst they mate and have offspring, their genetics do not transfer with procreation―”

  “I know the bloody stories!”

  “And yet it seems as though you are ignoring the fundamental facts that those stories are intended to impart. No two beings in the Outer Realms share the same traits, or weaknesses, or abilities. They exist in all shapes and sizes, all with pure and unadulterated magick flowing through their veins. . . It is foolish to cite the attempt to send one back into the void ―which did not kill it, if you will recall―and use that as a basis for attempting the same foolish endeavour all over again.”

  Faith growled at Kahgo's response. “I'm getting a little bloody tired of you offering criticism, rather than suggesting bloody solutions.”

  Shaman took a breath, as he reflected on his knowledge of those that existed beyond the veil. There were many solutions to impede their actions, but few of them would have much impact in their current situation, given that the entire world was essentially beckoning the damn thing forth.

  In fact, he was prepared to suggest that as much as they wished to put a stop to the incursion once and for all, that it was not possible. The beast's transition between realms, with all its might intact, was an eventuality. . .

  Their only option was to use that to their advantage. . . It would be mighty when it crossed over, but it would not expect the world of man to have a weapon that could harm it. . . and he knew of a weapon that could do just that.

  His eyes scanned the room. None of these men or women would have likely heard of it. He had been careful, when he assembled the tales to be told through the generations, so as never to mention it. A weapon of that might could not―and should not―be wielded by the hand of those that were so easily swayed by selfish desires. Magickians were as fickle as mundanes in that regard, and were they to be able to find a way to take hold of it, the wax and wane of the tide could easily have them turning it upon him.

  “I know of a blade,” he said, trying to hold back all the reluctance that was on his mind. “One that will be able to deal untold damage upon the being.”

  All eyes fell on him.

  “A blade?!” Faith scoffed. “What use is a bloody sword against a thing that's two thousand bloody miles wide?!”

  “Size, as you no doubt know, is not everything,” Kahgo said. He had not meant it to be an insult, but from Faith's reaction it certainly came off as such.

  “What blade?” Shana asked. “I have not heard of such a blade, in any of the stories, in any of the books―”

  “It was kept from the stories, not described for fea
r of one magickian attempting to find it, and wreaking havoc. . . But it has been referred to in passing, made reference to by a phrase that your tongue has adopted without knowledge.”

  “What bloody phrase?” Faith grunted. “What the hell are you talking about.

  “Elo'uls,” Kahgo said, with a glance to Shana.

  “Enochian? For 'godsend'?” she thought for a moment, and then took the word apart. “God's. . . End.”

  He nodded.

  “That's a thing?” Faith perked up, as murmurs made their way across the room. “The God's End? It's an actual weapon we can use?”

  Shaman nodded. “It is.”

  “So? Where the bloody hell is it? Get it out here and let's put it to work.”

  Kahgo's eyes fell to the floor, and a rumble crawled across his periphery.

  “She will not be pleased to see you. . .” Three said. ”Even given the situation.”

  Shaman glanced up, as he felt the entire room look in his direction.

  “Who?” Faith barked. “Who bloody has it?”

  Kahgo pursed his lips, and sent a glare through the ether to Three. He would have preferred that those at the Circle did not know where the God's End was kept―let alone who kept it. There were things about himself that they did not yet know about, things that he would rather they never knew. . .

  He swallowed over a lump in his throat, and looked back at Faith.

  “Bloody speak up already! Who has this damn god-killer?”

  Kahgo took a breath and chewed on the inside of his lip. It had been a long time since nerves like this had come upon him, a longer time still since he had to think about the person in question. He met Faith's eye, and sighed deep and heavy.

  “My sister.”

  39

  Impossible depths

  MARIANA TRENCH, PACIFIC OCEAN

  Faith protested when Shaman insisted that he was to make the voyage by himself. With time of the essence, the very idea of sending just one person to retrieve such an ancient and powerful relic seemed foolhardy at best.

  But Kahgo's will was stronger than all those around him, and as much as they attempted to resist the aura that radiated out from him, they acquiesced. There was, however, one caveat to the approval of the solo mission: that this time he allowed Faith see the entire interaction through his eyes. This was not up for debate. And Kahgo was not in the debating mood. He was too preoccupied with the thought of the exchange that was to come.

  At the approval of the operation, water some ten thousand metres below sea level began to fluctuate. It disobeyed the current, swirling around itself, a whirlpool with no natural source. Three was that source, creating a point in which Shaman could teleport. The whirlpool siphoned the oxygen out of the molecules from the water that surrounded it, creating a clear bubble of pure oxygen, the approximate size of a man. Once it was formed, for the slightest of moments, barely a blink of an eye, light exploded into life. Darkness that had never seen anything so bright, was illuminated by the flash, all that lived in the murky depths skittered away instantly. And when the light dissipated, the bubble did too, and Shaman Kahgo found himself beset by the water and ungodly pressure of such impossible depths.

  *

  Sitting at his desk, Faith watched through Kahgo's eyes as he adjusted to the pressure. He felt no sign of a rebreather casting, nor need to adjust his irises to see in the darkness. His body adapted to the conditions, as if this was no different from stepping from a humid street into an air conditioned building.

  He had heard the stories―just as every magickian had―that Kahgo was as old as mankind's earliest genetic forefathers, that beneath his human visage he was closer to Old One than he was a man. But having known him for as long as he had, he had never considered those stories to be true. Until now, witnessing the impossible―even by magickian's standards―with his own eyes.

  *

  Kahgo could feel Faith's mood shift in his periphery. The casting that allowed t he Circle's man to see what he saw was not meant to be a two-way street, but the magick of man was not the same as the magick he wielded. He decided it was best to pay no mind to it, for this would not be the last of his most guarded secrets that Faith would likely witness―and even the mention of his sister, something he had not spoken of aloud for aeons, was already further than he had ever thought he would have to go in terms of sharing such things.

  With a thought, Kahgo made the skin he wore more porous. This allowed it to absorb water via a self-styled osmosis, weighing him down, making him sink lower and lower into the depths of the trench.

  The ground below was in sight, a rocky base awash with a muddy silt that slicked across smooth volcanic expunges that had long since become solid. He navigated towards a rocky outcropping to take a lay of the land, and as his feet hit the ground, he realised that the slick of darkness that meandered across the volcanic base was no mud.

  It had eyes, thousands of them, each a swirling mass of yellow and green, all of which turned to him as he stood there. It had teeth, tens of thousands of them, all of which looked like diamonds glinting in the dark. And there were tentacles, a massive throng of them, all wrapped around one another, as if the myriad beasts all worked together as a unit, interconnected by their limbs, each one's gyrations moving the next forward, and so on. They were a network of angry, slithering demons. Black as night and hungry as all hell for a morsel to chow down upon.

  The writhing mass of fiends coalesced towards him, surrounding him from all sides. He glanced up, around, and found that they were closing in from every angle―what was once a blanket coating the sea floor had curved up at the edges, swimming at speed to encase him in a living cage of salivating horrors.

  He balled up his fists and reached within himself to change his aura, to use it to inform them that he was of their kind, that they had nothing to fear and no reason to attack. He didn't want to have to piss Faith off by cutting the live feed again―but also didn't want to keep the connection, and risk blowing the back of Faith's head off when he suddenly saw the point of view of the hundred eyes of Kahgo's true form.

  The creatures continued to swarm towards him, swimming through the depths, their eyes glowing brighter the closer they got, their teeth looking all the sharper and larger with every passing moment.

  He would not risk Faith's life, but he also did not want to kill these things. They were not malicious, had no intent, they were simply protecting their domain, just as any animal might when they felt at risk.

  The ocean was soon completely blacked out by the horde of savage beasts, and all he could see was the light of their eyes and glints of that light on their fangs. It was only going to be seconds before the first of them attempted an attack―and Kahgo was not going to let that happen, not then, not there, not while the entire world above was at risk. As much as he cared for the sanctity of life, this life was most likely not sentient, it would not know what it had lost once it had been dispatched with.

  He brought his fists together, raised them, and closed his eyes. His casting would put an end to these things, of that, he was certain. But it did not mean that he had to witness the massacre.

  With a swift movement, he threw his arms out, and a torrent of liquid fire erupted from his skin. The water around him boiled instantly, the light coursed out like a tide and blinded the creatures as it came for them with the intent of cooking them to the core.

  But the fire did not reach them, and even with his eyes closed, Kahgo could feel that. He could feel that nothing had passed on from this life. His casting was being contained, a blaze searing around him that was mere feet from his intended targets, but not close enough to do them damage.

  He heard words on the current, in a tongue he had not heard another speak in the longest time. A voice he had not heard for millennia. He knew the voice, knew the face that would greet him when he ended his casting and allowed the flames to die their death. And yet, he could not bring himself to quash them, for that was a face he had not seen in so long f
or many good reasons.

  But it was a better reason that brought him to those depths. And despite his reluctance, Kahgo brought the blaze to an end.

  As the last of the flames dissipated, he saw no sign of the creatures, nor did he see the face he expected. A slender woman of a myriad mixed ethnicities stood beyond the threshold of where his fire had reached, a long mane of curled black hair swum around her like a Gorgon's snakes, and her eyes glowed a bright and vibrant yellow. A wide smile sat on her lips, and she cocked her head to the side.

  “Oh Sha'ma,” she said, with a lilting, wry tone “Is that any way to treat your nephews and nieces?”

  40

  Its protector

  “Dam'i-Ka,” Kahgo said, acknowledging his sister, but knowing it was not yet time to tell her why he had come to her domain.

  “It has been a long time since last we met.”

  He nodded.

  “Would you like the grand tour?”

  Shaman did not want a tour, nor did he want to indulge in small talk. But as much as there was a crisis miles above, he knew that much tact would be required in convincing his kin to fulfil the request he had. And so, reluctantly, he accepted the offer.

  “Hear much from our father recently?” she asked, with a wry smile, as she pointed out caverns and coves she had created for her children.

  “Nobody hears from him, he is no longer in the Natural World.”

  “Oh of course. I did hear you went a little. . . excessive, shall we say? In terms of hiding him from the hairless little apes.”

  “It was his wish to be relocated, for more than just the fear of the mundanes that wished him harm. He did send his regards, last we spoke.”

  “Of course he did. . . still with a critical tone, no doubt, telling me I'm wasting my life, that I should be a productive member of society instead of breeding. . .”