by Lee Isserow
48
Their last stand
“We're ready to go,” Tali shouted across the main floor. Faith glared at her from his office, and she dialled him. “Sorry, shouting seemed more efficient.”
“Raised voices have a time and place, and neither of them are the bloody Circle. . .”
“Right, yes sir. Point is, we're ready to go on this op, the weak spot―thin spot―whatever, it's equidistant between the coast of Gabon and Antarctica.”
“Equidistant? What about bloody South Africa? Any chance of stray eyes catching sight of it? This is already going to be a hell of an incident, I'd rather not have to waste time wiping tapes and minds, on top of all the. . . casualties.”
“It's the best chance we're going to get. . . It seems to have stopped there, like it's waiting for something.”
Faith growled to himself. “It's waiting for us. . . isn't it. . .”
“No way to know that for sure, sir. But you should see this,” she gestured in his direction, and the light danced out of his light bulb, taking the form of close to fifty news feeds that appeared in front of him. Each of them reporting blood lettings and suicides, blood banks being raided. Those stories were accompanied by reports of entire villages, towns and cities making mass murals of blood, motorways and highways being painted upon in sanguine fluids to link the individual works together.
“It's making another sigil. . . across the whole bloody world.”
“Yes sir. No way to tell how far along it's got, or when it'll be ready. . .”
“Alright,” he grunted. Followed by a rumbling sigh that circled around Tali's periphery. “Let's get this show on the road.”
She nodded and ended the call, switching over communications to send the advance team out to spec the location for the incursion.
*
Light shot across Tali's vision as she watched through Shana's eyes. She felt the rush of the air on her skin as she hurtled down towards the surface of the ocean below, picking up speed with every passing moment. Three had teleported her miles above the Atlantic Ocean, as there was no nearby land, and certainly nowhere to send a door. The velocity made it hard to cast, it threw her intricate finger-work awry. But failure was not an option, the impact with the water would likely shatter half the bones in her body, and casting would be all the harder amidst drowning.
Tali couldn't help but chuckle as Shana sent those observational thoughts through to her as she plummeted. As much as she admitted the sheer speed of the fall was terrifying, somehow it brought on the ability to find a bright side.
Shana took a breath, and the time for levity was over. Her casting was almost set. She realigned her intent, threw her fingers down to her sides, and sealed the sigil.
In the ever-nearing water below, movement came to life. Movement that was counter to the wills of the current, a swirling vortex that rocketed up from the depths of the ocean. It burst through the surface, sending an almighty explosion across the sea as a turret of sand and rock ascended into the sky. It rocketed towards Shana, and caught her in its grasp, not stopping, but slowing her descent―for stopping it would likely have the same result as an impact. It latched on to her and guided her down to the ground.
There had not been a 'ground' on which to land before her intent had been set. But as the turret brought her down, its mass had solidified on the surface of the water, creating a platform that was close to twenty metres long and wide. As her feet met with the reclaimed silty land, she glanced around the ocean, standing on a magickly-made island in the midst of a calm and desolate sea. This one platform alone would not be enough to hold all the numbers that worked for the Circle. They needed more platforms, many more, covering all angles of the creature's incursion. Their updated operation required the damn thing to be brought into the Natural World, and it would be down to them to keep the damn thing at the gates, to do whatever it took to hold it in place as Shaman Kahgo took it apart limb by limb, tentacle by tentacle.
Tali confirmed that there was at least an initial block of land upon which the rest of the advance team could be teleported, and with the sharpest flash of light, Shana found herself surrounded by comrades
Together, they commanded more silt to rise from the sea bed, Shana tried to hide the doubt she had in her mind―the same doubt she could feel in Tali's mind. What they were attempting had never been done before, never on this scale, with so many magickians, with a god of those proportions. . . This was to be their last stand, and she was going to make damn sure at the very least they had enough land to make that stand upon. . .
49
Cowards
EPICENTRE, THE CIRCLE
Isaiah Faith was of two minds. The Circle had barely been his to command for a month or so, and in all his time as a field operative, he had never seen anyone who sat in that office step out into the fray of an operation.
They were the figureheads, they sat behind the desk, they gave the orders, that was their place, their role. It was their leadership and strategy that had insured the Natural World remained in one piece. . . And yet, there was something about taking that role that did not sit right with him. The strategy was set, the operators could advise on amending it, if so required. There was nothing he could add from the comfort of his damn chair.
However, this was going to be a battle unlike any other, in which many lives would be lost. They could be unwritten―they would be unwritten―once the dust had settled. . .
His predecessors, from Comstock to all the others that came before him, they all had one thing in common. They were cowards. Sitting in their cushy offices, barking orders in the ears of the men and women that valiantly fought to protect the realm and secure the futures for all of its occupants. . . Those men―and the commanders were always men―as much as they had risen through the ranks to gain their positions of power, they had rarely ever shown themselves as exemplary human beings. . . they had never stepped out onto the front lines and led the damn charge.
And that, he decided, was where his leadership could be different. He was going to be there, alongside his troops, as their equal, rather than their leader. He had no qualifications that made him better than any of them, not truly, he had simply served his time and just so happened to be next in line when the last guy turned completely insane and tried to destroy the world. . . he deserved no special treatment for such happenstance.
Yet, there was something from stopping him from raising his hand, or making the call to inform Tali that he would be joining the operatives in the field. It was fear. Pure and unadulterated fear, the likes of which he had never felt from any operation in the past.
Faith chuckled to himself, perhaps he did deserve the position after all, just another coward in a long line of cowards.
He would not let that be his legacy. He would not go down regarded as yet another ageing man consumed by fear. His body fought him as he rose to his feet, it fought him all the more as he walked to the door.
“Hour to show time folks,” he grunted to the operatives outside, underscoring it with a growl, to try his best to hide how dry and quivering his voice was. “Hope you all made some room for me on the beach. . . this is one party I ain't gonna miss.”
Murmurs spread across the main floor of the Epicentre. It was unprecedented, to have someone in his position venture out on an operation, let alone delving into the fray. Faith could practically feel the moral boosting as he looked out across his people. The fear was still coursing through his body, but at the very least, his presence out in the field might give the troops some confidence, make them believe they had a fighting chance―and perhaps as the time drew near, he too might start to believe that this attack was not doomed to end in catastrophe.
50
The abyss
The time had come, and the word spread across the Circle. Doors were taken, the rays of teleportation shot out across the Epicentre, and soon, all but a handful of operators were left at their desks.
There were fewer than there sho
uld have been for an operation of this scale. Most of them had volunteered themselves to be part of the troops on the ground, leaving Tali in charge of their movements ,and amending the strategy of attack as and when.
“You got this,” Faith told her, with a reassuring smile, which was most unlike him.
Tali wasn't sure she had ever seen him smile in support, as if he had been born an angry, scowling baby and had decided it was never worth learning that other facial expressions existed. It meant a lot to her that he made the effort, and she shot him a smile back before he was teleported away.
She took a deep breath, and began to set up her station for the operation. From her desk drawers, she pulled six shallow dishes, each a foot in diameter and full to the brim with inky black water. One by one, she picked them up and flipped them so the water faced her. The liquid remained in each of the dishes, never daring to drip out upon the surface of her desk. She arranged them in the air in front of her, and cast a different viewpoint upon them all, to give her a full view of the location that was soon to become a battlefield.
There were so many bodies on the ground, all spread out across miles of calm ocean, surrounding a single point. Soon all those troops, her friends and colleagues, would be hers to command. And she had never felt so much fear in all her life.
Dwelling on it was a distraction, and she knew as much. The time was at hand, the thin spot between the Natural World and the Outer Realms was fixed in place, the result of the worldwide ritual. It was time to pierce that veil, and make this damn thing regret the day it ever thought about popping its head over their side of the fence.
“Okay,” she said, in the periphery of those under her command. The utterance of just the single word made her realise just how much her lips were quivering at the notion of giving orders on that scale. . . She swallowed hard, cleared her throat, glanced at news feeds monitoring the global ritual, and spoke again. “Looks like the folks setting up the welcome party for our visitor are taking their sweet time. . . let's give them a hand, shall we?”
Tali could feel the chuckles that a disproportionate number of the operatives let fly. Her style of command was nothing like that of those that came before her, and amidst the laughter, they were appreciative of it. Better a calm and conversational manner than being shouted at whilst they were trying to do their damn jobs.
The mass of magickians closed their eyes, almost in sync, and each took a breath as they realigned their intent. Tali was the mind that bound them, that set the tone and purpose of that-intent―and she in turn based that on the image Shaman put in her mind's eye, the grand sigil that he had used to cast open the veil in the Gibson Desert. There were so many elements to it, so many smaller sigils interlinked, so many inscriptions from alphabets that she had never seen before, she couldn't help feel that there was no way she would be able to remember it all without his guidance. And yet, he assured her that she could, that she did not need to doubt herself.
Together, the magick of the Circle reached out across the world, it took hold of the blood that had been shed, the blood that had been stolen, and reshaped it. The global casting that had kept the thin spot in place began to shift, the painted lines changing to reflect a new intent.
It did not take long to create the sigil, to make it span the globe. To some degree, Tali wished that it would take longer, that she would have more time to prepare herself for what was to come next. But there was no more time.
At the centre point between the islands of magickians, rays of light shone out from a thin slit in reality. They tore through the sky, burning through the clouds, and shot through the waters below, making it simmer and steam.
The front line of magickians were prepared for this eventuality, they knew from London that the initial rays of the incursion had an intensity to them that might be harmful to some degree, and fifty of them had constructed a cylindrical barrier half a mile wide, to halt the passage of the light. . . and perhaps, it might also halt the movement of the creature once it emerged. . .
As Tali watched on her scrying pools, she could feel some of the barrier magickians losing focus. There was something about the light that distracted them, its glows and glimmers were becoming hypnotic.
“Close your eyes! She instructed. “Don't look at the light!” She could feel the majority of them obey her command, but some of them did not, they were compelled to keep their eyes wide, not even daring to blink. The barrier began to waver in the places that they were meant to be supporting, and they continued to stare, with wide smiles upon their lips. She could feel a constant tone playing in their heads, a vibration coming from the ever-growing tear between the realms. The light was singing to them, and as it did so, it appeared to take strength from their attention, as if it was using it as an anchor in the realm, becoming more solid and tactile in the process. The light was no longer comprised of simple rays, it took on a liquid texture to its shimmer that even Tali had to admit was stunningly beautiful.
She growled at herself and brought her attention to the matter at hand, as the glows began to darken and take on saturation. They cycled through colours, from blue to green to yellow to orange to red to purple and back to blue, over and over, round and round.
It was then, that she caught sight of what lay beyond the light. It was a just a scant glimpse at first, a slithering movement of indiscernible origin, somewhere beyond the magnificent shining light. Against her better judgement, she did not look away, and could understand how London came to a standstill by the beauty and the horror, the splendour and the terror. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Even the sketches in text books that spoke of the Outer Gods could not prepare her for catching sight of one of the great and powerful creatures with her own eyes.
Her attention was pulled from the spectacle as she became aware that the barrier magickians that had been unable to look away were now laughing. Not just laughing, they were cackling loud and uncontrollably. She redirected one of the scrying pools to observe them, and found them losing control of their limbs, collapsing to the ground, rolling about in fits of giggles like some sugar-overdosing child. A couple of them lost bowel and bladder control, laughing all the more as they lay in their own effluence.
They would be no more use in this battle―that was clear―and she opened up a channel to Three.
“Bring the gigglers home please, and put them somewhere they're no harm to themselves. . .”
She felt the triumvirate nod, and thanked them again as she scanned the pools for the initial signs of the incursion. The glare was obscuring the view for the most part, and there was no obvious way to tell what was liquid light, and what was tentacle. . . She pushed the view of one of her pools in deeper, closer to the slit between realms.
“Careful,” a voice whispered in her head. Shaman, communicating from the room in which he sat with the blade. It was not his time to stand with the others, not until the beast showed its face. “Do not stare too long into the abyss. . .”
“What's it going to do, stare back at me?” she chuckled.
“It will do more than that. . . The Outer Realms are not a place for humanity, the mere notion of what lies beyond the veil has driven lesser men and women mad.”
She knew that his word should be taken as gospel, and yet couldn't help but catch sight of something between the glimmers and glows from the light of the veil. It was an abyss, just as Shaman had said, one of pure darkness that looked as though it went on in every direction for an eternity. And yet, despite it simply being a snapshot of inky black, a great foreboding filled every fibre of Talika Rei's body. A tremble rocketed across her skin, her legs gave way and she collapsed into her chair, with no true understanding of what was occurring to her or why. . . she had seen darkness before, and that was all she caught sight of in the scrying pool. . .
But this darkness was not like any other she had witnessed in all her life. It was the seed of creation, the flameless fire of destruction, the origin of life and the very definition of death
. It was everything, and it was nothing, all in one.
At that thought, of the all in one, one in all, she realised that she was not alone, that her thoughts were being broadcast. Not to the troops, they had no notion of what she had just been through, the rush of the emotional rollercoaster ride that had barely lasted a second, but felt as though it was an aeon in and of itself.
She had blinked into the abyss, and now not only did the abyss know her through and through, the creature, the avatar of the abyss that was preparing to invade, it knew exactly what they had in store for it as soon as it emerged to the other side of the veil.
51
The plan
The magickians that surrounded the slit in the veil held their positions, none ready to make a move until the order came through. The tentacles of liquid light still swirled around, but their movement had calmed. The fracture to the Outer Realms was still growing, but there was no sign of an incursion, not yet.
At her desk, Tali was catching her breath. She was not sure at what point she lost it, all she knew was that her body desperately needed oxygen, and fast. She threw a hand towards the scrying pool that was looking through the realms, and sent it far away from that viewpoint. The creature knew exactly what they were planning. . . As soon as it was ready to cross over, it would be prepared, and it would be a slaughter, plain and simple.