Twist of the Heart

by James Val'Rose

  To which I hastily added, “Don’t twist my words around. It was you who said I was here to kill you… I was merely asking.”

  He surreptitiously lifted his chin, while his eyes regarded me, and I knew he was mildly irritated that the trap he’d thought I’d fallen for had failed to ensnare me. But it didn’t change anything. It didn’t change the fact that I was here to kill him, and it didn’t change the fact that he knew.

  “So—” he was about to say, but was stopped by Slayne knocking on the big metal door.

  We had both been leaned on the wall behind him, but his knuckles clapping out the tinny rhythm brought us both upright and eager to find out what would happen next. In a weird way, I was brought to understand the strange programming that we humans have inbuilt into us, that of the silence we uphold whenever there’s a knock at the door.

  As Slayne retreated his fist, Vison and I looked at each other. He shrugged and we both looked back at him, looking at his hand, which he’d since opened.

  Then, without a moment’s more thought, he drove his open palm forward, pumping it sharply into the metal door which, astonishingly, buckled under the might of the blow. With rapid recoil, Slayne withdrew his hand and punched it back into the weakened door, and the world shook around me as it broke from its hinges and blew back, quite literally, into oblivion – utter nothingness.

  Slayne’s muscles relaxed while he kept his posture strong even afterwards, because he understood how to generate power; true power coming not from the initial burst of strength, but from maintaining it and continuing it from the start all the way to the finish.

  For a split second, what lay beyond the door fascinated me in ways I still can’t comprehend, white lines upon a black canvas, marking out the details of a corridor but no actual texture. It was so incredibly surreal, but it confirmed all my suspicions.

  However, moments later, as though we’d all witnessed something we shouldn’t have seen, it was covered up and made real. I say real, but all that had happened was the walls, ceiling and floor had all been given the plainest of grey surfaces I’d ever seen. But there was still no door. It didn’t even exist as a chunk of broken metal.

  ***

  I could not decipher the deeper truth of this place, if there really was one. I had a feeling that if anyone knew it would be Slayne. Witnessing his power in destroying that metal door made me feel both afraid and awestruck, and it confirmed to me the fabled power of the magi.

  And he hadn’t even looked back around to Shadan or me afterwards, as if for some sort of acknowledgment of what he’d done. I can even remember seeing his shoulders visibly sink a little, like he was broken at the sheer power he possessed.

  Shadan was now as silent as she was before, silent and deep in thought.

  I considered talking, asking her what she was thinking, but I realised that I was as silent as she was. I had nothing to say.

  And so we walked, Slayne at the lead, Shadan and I a few steps behind, all three of us twisted together into a knot no one could undo.

  I lost myself to the time, to the drab and empty corridor. It was utterly lifeless. Not even a hint of an echo gave token that anything was here, but eventually, we came to something of significance.

  It wasn’t by any means grand, certainly not by any standards I’d previously attributed to things of grandeur, but, I suppose by the recent standard, I corrected my opinion and was more than happy to dub it as ‘grand’.

  Several steps led up to a large door, much larger than any I’d so far seen here.

  “You two,” Slayne said, turning to us, “stay armed, but don’t fight. You have no idea what you’re involved in and I have neither the patience nor the energy to worry about saving you if you decide to be heroic.”

  He turned back and that would have been that, except Shadan had a question for him. To be perfectly honest, we both had questions for him, but it was she who found the confidence to ask.

  “What is this place?”

  Slayne turned back, disgruntled. He breathed in. And breathed out.

  I thought he’d turn back, not give us an answer, but above his visible annoyance he said, “Have either of you ever heard of Alatacia?”

  I’m sure I remember him saying that word before. I could have guessed that it was where the magi lived, but again, of the two of us, Shadan was the one to say, “Home of the magi?”

  “Yes, and do you know anything about it?”

  I looked blank, and Shadan shook her head.

  “It’s not like the non-magic towns and cities. It’s real, and physical, but only because it’s powered by the many magi who live within it. If they all left, it would be destroyed. It’s a construct of their minds, and because their minds make it real, their bodies can adopt it as real too.”

  We both understood it as much as our non-magical minds could, but it was me who asked, “But can it support the presence of normal people?”

  “We’re all ‘normal’,” Slayne pointedly added, “but yes, with enough power.”

  “So that’s what this place is? A construct … built of magic?”

  “Yes. But it’s not anywhere near as big or as strong as Alatacia. You may have noticed how it doesn’t quite feel real, at least not from a distance?”

  We both eagerly nodded.

  “It requires energy and concentration to make this place exist, and it takes even more to make it seem real. Some of that realism is forfeited so it can exist. The more people that it can attract, the more powerful it will get.”

  “Even though we’re—?” Shadan began.

  “Even though you’re not magical, yes,” Slayne said, cutting her off. “Because just by being here, you’re adopting and accepting it. You’re believing it and, in doing so, you’re giving it strength. After all, belief is the most fundamental law of magic. It’s a tremendously powerful thing, this planar prison in which we find ourselves… It reminds me of home.”

  We both saw a glint of passion as he threw those words away.

  “And is that how you broke the door?” I asked.

  “When you understand that it wasn’t a door, it’ll make it easier to understand. Where they don’t want us to go, they will put obstacles in the way. These are not real obstacles though, only deterrents.”

  I understood, but what I didn’t understand was—

  “Who are ‘they’?” Shadan questioned, beating me to it.

  “…‘They’ are the architects of this place.”

  “So, what are you?”

  Slayne hushed her with a piercing gaze. “Remember what I said: stay armed and don’t fight. And stay together, too.”

  Tension

  On his word, Slayne led Vison and me up the stairs to the great door and pushed. It seemed easy to open, unlike the huge metal barrier that had originally blocked us from entering.

  Beyond the doors was the most astonishing place I’d ever seen. Surrounding the whole room, which seemed palatial in size, adjoining floor to ceiling, were dozens of towering columns with what I made out to be a crystalline texture.

  Beneath my feet was simply the most beautiful floor. It looked like a layer of glass – maybe crystal – on top of a layer of gold geometric shapes. Beyond its aesthetics, I saw no function to the detail.

  At the other side of the room, in front of me, there was a second floor. I noted the sparseness, the emptiness like everything else, and wondered why there was so little when so much time had clearly been taken on the floor.

  “Come out!” Slayne boomed.

  And from out of the emptiness emerged a figure. From the walk, I assumed it was a male, but the face was covered by a hood, while the body by a long cloak, garments I’d expect to see worn in some sort of monastery.

  “Let these two out,” Slayne said, “and I will return quietly.”

  The figure pulled the hood back to reveal, yes, a man. His face seemed ageless, although that wasn’t quite right. He seemed young, but I could decipher wisdom therein, young and old – ageless
.

  I had no more time to consider when, suddenly, from nowhere, springing up from the ground, arose a battalion of shadow-like creatures, faceless demons, tangled in charred veins. They were vile things, things that breathed through mutated bodies, which writhed as the atmosphere was digested into their energy.

  Returning to see Slayne in front of me, I was struck to notice that, upon his back, were more scars. Of course, until now, I hadn’t noticed, but as he was prepping himself those scars began to freshen, look angry and red, just as the ones he wore on his front had become before, when his emotions ran high.

  I was sceptical about Slayne’s wishes, telling us not to fight, what with the addition of those blackened beasts. Who knew how much risk they would pose, but they seemed dormant for now, beyond their slow, minor squirms.

  “Return now,” said the man beneath the cloak, “or—”

  Slayne didn’t let him finish before exploding into action. I saw his back muscles tense, just as they had when he pummelled down the metal door, which I remember him saying wasn’t actually a door – I was still getting my head around it.

  Faster than I’d ever seen it wielded, Slayne carved an arc through the air and drove my sword firmly through the neck of the nearest black creature. Billowing into a puff of smoke, it ceased to exist.

  Upon the command of their maker, the others turned and attuned their attention to Slayne. Their laboured movements, their limped and broken bodies stirred in me the expectation of weakness, yet what I saw belied that of beings who seemingly struggled to breathe. They moved quick and attacked quicker and, in that initial moment, seeing them weave like that, I feared for Slayne – but I came to rapidly understand that the reason I feared for Slayne was because I feared for myself.

  My fear was misplaced though, because as I watched him, as both Vison and I watched him, we saw him move in ways that surpassed either of us. In my ignorance, I attributed it all to his magic, but the truth was that, while he may have been imbued with that power, he was simply the consummate warrior.

  The swarm of beasts came at him, wave after wave, slashing for him, clawing at his exposed skin. But he would not be stopped; he would not be thwarted.

  I saw the cloaked man carving shapes in the air with his hands. Mischief swam in his eyes and I couldn’t help but take a step nearer to him, but I felt Vison’s hand stopping me. And if that wasn’t enough, I saw Slayne find a natural lull in the skirmish to snap me a look saying ‘NO!’

  I could almost hear him growl at me to stay still, so I did, without question.

  At that moment, the air began to fizz and crackle. I couldn’t hear where it was coming from, as it sounded like it was all around me, but I knew that it emanated from the cloaked man, whose hands were now circling a glowing shape amidst the air in front of him. The sound grew, thickening around me like the tension that still lingered. It grew until my ears felt blocked by so much sound that no more could enter.

  And then it erupted into a bolt of fire that was sizzling towards Slayne.

  I was worried he hadn’t seen it, but it was magical watching him, as he dispatched yet another shadow-creature into a billow of black dust, shortly before using my sword to strike the fireball like a club, belching it up into some distant fathom of the ceiling.

  I heard the cloaked man let loose a growl before eradicating the remaining few blackened creatures.

  And Slayne calmly desisted. He dropped his arms to his side, gently pulled his shoulder blades together, as if to simply ‘stretch off’.

  “Let these—” Slayne began to say, but the cloaked man pumped several bolts of magic towards him.

  All muscles firing together in perfect concinnity, Slayne lifted my sword, adjusted his stance and began his counteroffensive. He dodged the first missile and it singed and whined its way towards us.

  While we’d been entirely detached from all fighting, we were both fully alert and were able to also dodge out of the way of the magical incendiary. We both turned to see it fizzle out as it smashed into the door behind us, leaving a residual crust of charcoal.

  Turning back, Slayne deftly encouraged one bolt out of his way, pushed aside another with what I thought was his bare hands – but I’m sure there was more at work – and again used my sword to bash another up and away. And while he was doing this, he was also closing the gap between him and cloaked man, who rapidly began backing off in response to Slayne’s approach.

  I saw him grasping at the air in front, like he had done before he brought forth that first bolt of flame. I saw him rushing, struggling, fidgeting, until he was more preoccupied with backing off than he was about destroying Slayne.

  But Slayne was a big man, tall, his muscles ripped and angry, and he marched like a machine to the diminutive, by comparison, cloaked man. In a last ditch attempt he tried sinking into the room’s hidden shadows, into the same place – I assumed – from which he had conjured the black demons.

  But Slayne, having none of it, grabbed him as he began fading out, pulling him firmly back to visibility before slotting the sharpened edge of my sword into his ribs, past his heart and out the back.

  Blood leaked from his mouth and his eyes almost popped from his head. Slayne held the blade in place for a few seconds, why I couldn’t be entirely sure, but all of a sudden the cloaked man was dead.

  Now I’d killed people like that before and I knew that death wasn’t a quick thing, at least not from that injury alone. With that in mind, although I felt slightly crazy thinking it, I wondered if there was some magical thing he’d done to make it a quick death. And once I saw the life completely vanish from his eyes, his body began to ghost from view, until all that was left was my sword, not even blood upon it.

  And then, the room suddenly died as well, becoming just a featureless arena, just like the corridor that preceded it.

  Slayne turned, looking in no mood to talk, but nonetheless I asked, “What happened to him?”

  He spared me the facetious answer I was half-expecting from him in the form of ‘well, I killed him’, and instead said, “You remember I told you this place was built on belief?”

  Both Vison and I nodded.

  “If the mind is dead, the body can’t believe anything; and so it will revert to reality, including the blood, which is also under the dominion of the body.”

  “And … this?” Vison said, looking around at the nothingness.

  “One less ‘they’,” Slayne sardonically said, “one less person pumping power into this planar prison.”

  He brushed between us and we parted for him, for the incredible being we accepted he was.

  ***

  Shadan was looking sad again. Actually, she hadn’t not looked sad at any point since meeting her, not even in those glimpses of smiles had she shown anything else. Whatever was on her mind, it was a weight too great for her mind alone to handle and her body wore it like a cloying garment.

  “You don’t strike me as an assassin,” I said to Shadan, as we followed Slayne down the interminably bland tunnel.

  “And I never said I was one,” she replied.

  “So spare me the nonsense and tell me what’s on your mind, because we both know the truth.”

  “What—?”

  “Tell me,” I said, hearing her go into defensive mode again and cutting her off.

  “Why do you want to know?” she snapped. “What do you think it will solve? And why, even if there was something—”

  “—is something,” I interjected.

  “…is something,” she frustratingly said, “would I tell you?”

  So I gently replied to her, “Because we might not get another chance.”

  But she was heated. All that sadness was now anger, fiery, burning her core to molten rage. Even though I thought I’d made some progress in breaking down the walls between us, the tension, the unforgiving tension, still hung in the air, but I couldn’t press her anymore. She needed time to cool off.

  It seemed she would get it too, because we
found ourselves by another grand door and Slayne gave both of us the look that said he’d heard every single word and now he wanted us to be quiet, and to stay quiet.

  Slayne put his hand to the door and pushed as much as he needed to for it to open. There was more caution exercised than before, and before I had time to consider why this was, it became patently obvious when another bolt of magic – I thought – hurled through the open door and caught Slayne square in the chest. The impact chucked him back, but the door was still open and there were more utterances being emitted.

  In haste, I rushed for the door, while Shadan dropped to help the floored Slayne. Praying that whatever had struck Slayne wouldn’t strike me, I reached in, grabbed at the door and pulled it shut. Moments after, I heard collisions against the other side of the door akin to that of the flame bolt Shadan and I had dodged.

  “How is he?” I asked her.

  “I can’t say,” she responded, “but he’s not breathing…”

  His chest was blackened from the missile, but no severe injury looked to have been caused.

  “However,” I said, “he can’t be dead.”

  “Wh—?” she began, but stopped herself and then said, “Ooh.”

  “Exactly,” I reinforced. If the mind is dead, the body can’t believe anything; and so it will revert to reality…

  At that point, Shadan began gently trying to shake Slayne awake, while I overlooked, feeling very unhelpful.

  Any signs of life were hard to discern because of the rocking, but I could have sworn I saw – thought I saw – his eyes begin twitching. And then, yes, both of them flicked open and Shadan stopped. And once his eyes were open, he seemed to be rapidly able to accrue the rest of his strength, quickly enough that he went from being on his back to on his feet in mere moments.

  Shadan, who had also taken to the floor, albeit out of choice, had now joined Slayne and me.

  “The last one was a conjurer,” Slayne said. “A brute.”

  “What’s this one?” Shadan asked. I admit, I didn’t know there were different kinds of magi, but I suppose it was logical that there were.

  “An illusionist. Look, it’s all magic, and every magus can perform the exact same thaumaturgy as every other, but magic is not as simple as a collection of spells. With enough understanding and enough experience, the capability of magic is infinite. As a consequence, magi tend to choose one or two different foci.”