The tug of war went on, Zal losing steadily, slowly, as the music ran through him and into her and was destroyed.
Lila felt the rain running down her face, at her side the beast in the darkness breathing heavily and Zal’s life flowing away from her like sand through her fingers.
She snapped the two AI units shut regardless of the sensory distortion that resulted from being in two places at once, and let the black android Sandra Lane move ahead of them through the open doors. The sopping rags that bound her torso, legs and head with their black dripping burnwater tightened like steel boning. She was dead, but walking. She knew it. She was dead, but not crossed over, because Tath was standing in the way.
This understanding had come to her in the office at some point when she understood how the phantom called Nemesis was able to cross over. The collapsing house at Solomon’s Folly had fallen on her and the quantum forge had done the rest. Maybe the faery dress had pulled a divine intervention at its own cost. She didn’t know, but she did know that she’d lost interest in Xaviendra’s story around the time Sarasilien had been talking about the this and that of it, the organisation, the time, the game, the stake, because simultaneously she’d been with Zal in this vile place, reading the names, watching the papers burn, feeling the poison of the demon’s last curse leaving him and listening to the insane dub of his endless supply of music and it had come to her that she could place bets wherever she liked but when it came to play there was only one way – forward. It was her move.
As she came around the door’s heavy block on Lane’s tail, she saw the inferno that the room had become, a war of lilac and orange fire in which the elven figures of a man and woman could just be discerned. One had wings and was on his knees. One had a tail and stood over him in a position of power.
Lila commanded her secondary body to release Zal and reattach. There was nothing she could do for him any more.
Shards of metal flew out of the conflagration towards her as she did something she hadn’t tried to do since she and Bentley had spent a few hours revising the plans and working bugs out of the systems: she activated her battle systems.
Lane stood, taking in a scene Lila was already on top of. From behind Lila the dark slinking shape of Nightbane oiled forward, strangely flat and two-dimensional as if he were no more than the bad dreams of children seeing shadows in their room at night. He leapt on Xaviendra’s back and the blue fire faltered. She staggered but only for an instant. The fire itself coiled around the catlike body, immobilising it and pulling it away in a web of force.
Malachi screamed.
‘Clear,’ Lila said to Lane, and watched the android perform an inhuman leap sideways out of range as she let two shatter grenades rip free of her arm and into the detonation point of Xaviendra’s partially material ribcage. Fragments of super-hot, depleted plutonium reactor core charged with a faintlife aether frag capacity, exploded in the confines of the shell’s split-second forcefield, their violence contained within a three metre radius well clear of Zal.
The elf’s small body flew apart.
She knew it wouldn’t kill Xavi. Nothing that Lila had would kill her, but it would buy some time.
Then the blue fire snapped back to its mistress with a single, backdraft surge and it let go of Malachi and of Zal.
‘Suppressing fire,’ Lila said to Lane, who was in position now, on one knee, her arms opening up into the huge silvered fans of radiant reflectors as she shielded herself from the backwash of the light pulses coming from her fingertips. Super-focused beams sliced the blue fire into strips, strobing with a speed no eye could match.
Lila watched as Xaviendra pulled herself together. Zal was much slower to do the same. They were almost out of delaying plays.
The light hit Xaviendra and for a few moments the form shuddered and seemed as if it shrank. Then with a pulse much brighter than before there was a returning bolt of purple violence and Lane was knocked backwards with a sharp cry, her reflectors wrapping and crunching around her. She did not get up.
From the white-hot burning cyclone that stood where Xaviendra had been, came a sharp pissed-off voice.
‘Where is that damned book? You can save a lot of time and life if you just give me what I want, Lila. Then you can be free of that pathetic spirit and we can all go our lovely amicable ways.’
Lila reloaded the shell launcher in her arm. It was her last shot. She watched Zal, an agonised figure of light and shadow getting up, but so slowly. She willed him to move, but she could see he’d taken too much damage. He might be able to fuel himself on firelight or darkness but Xavi could fuel herself on him much more effectively.
A line of blue-white flame licked out towards him. He fell down, agonised and the coil began to draw him towards the whirling tornado of energy. She guessed it was too hard for Xavi to return to a physical form now, required too much of an effort to reconfigure all that detail, all that information. She waited as Zal clawed the floor, trying to escape, but was dragged relentlessly back by the white-lilac flares of Xavi’s hunger. Cries of pain came from what was left of his mouth.
Lila shot the second grenade when she knew he was still safely outside the blast radius and watched Xaviendra falter and flicker. Zal breathed again for an instant.
Pop a few more of those and she’d collapse the local instability enough that there wouldn’t be much of anyone left to worry about. She measured the time it took for the mage to pull it together. Not much longer than the first time. Meantime Zal hadn’t moved an inch.
Lila backed a step and reached down to Lane. The android gave off no signals. When she touched the body there was no response. She tried hacking a port but there was no resistance in any channel. Lane was blown. Even her reactor core had shut down.
‘Too late,’ Xaviendra’s voice said. The coil and the cyclone were back. Zal was unconscious now, the orange fire dying out quickly all across the dark form of his body. Lila picked this for a bluff but she didn’t know for sure.
Then there was a light behind her and a burst of quantum particles flaring their unpredictable tracks.
She turned and saw an angel behind her, radiant with white blazing wings and a halo so intense it burned out several photo receptors in her head. There were hints of metal feathers in its wings, razor-edged and gleaming with jewel glints of blue and yellow and in its face two red eyes stared straight at her.
Zal woke up. He got to his feet slowly, swaying like a drunk and pointed accusingly at the angel. ‘You’re late,’ he slurred, falling to his knees.
Teazle held out a plastic food carton towards Lila.
Xaviendra saw the huge, spiked form of the armoured cyborg turn, glimpsed what was behind it and then saw the carton. It was blue, scratched, uneven, unmistakable. Inside it was a single playing card. She didn’t need to see it. She knew it. The Queen of Cups.
In those days she had liked a joke and storing her soul in something that mimicked the fey queen’s own tricks pleased her enormously, a perfect twist of fate. She felt sick, giddy. Her head was full of music and a sensation as if she had feet and was dancing, dancing, unable to stop.
She reached out and saw the cyborg’s black metal gauntlet close on the plastic carton, crushing and melting it so that the running plastic and the card inside caught fire.
Strange, she thought, that you cannot feel a spirit, even when it is within. Strange, she hadn’t expected to see so many moves turn out this way as she watched the machine open its empty fist and receive the angel into it in the form of a sword, a blazing shard of impossible light, existing equally and fully in all dimensions, the axis of the world at that moment.
Rooks, she thought. He said it would be like rooks. And he wasn’t even here to see the victory of his one Titan in her revenant rags and scattered bodies.
Friends, she thought.
The possibility had never occurred to her after so long and all that was done. Lila’s face was emotionless, impassive. Xaviendra wished for something else, anything b
ut indifference. If she had had eyes they would have cried.
Lovers, she thought, watching the blade swing free of the air, free of everything. Why wasn’t he here? They had all come for each other. Not for her. He’d loved her once. Lovers. Why hadn’t he come?
‘It’s not for you,’ she said to Lila, meaning no and how could this happen and it isn’t supposed to end this way and no. No. No. How could the blood that bound her all this time not hold this sword and this arm back? Friends. Lovers.
‘It’s my name,’ Lila said, and her expression changed in that instant as the blade cut. ‘Friendslayer.’ There were tears in those mirror eyes. And then they weren’t mirrored, they were blue.
Mercy, thought Xaviendra, I . . . but then Render had her and she was no more.
Zal felt Wrath leap through him, a flash of power.
‘Goodbye, friend,’ said the child’s voice, strangely exultant.
He heard other voices, an argument, stilled by that childish tone that said they all must go now, yes, time to go, long past time, it was late. And then he knew no more.
Teazle stood as Hellblade shed him. He felt all that power leaving him, all the ability, all the knowledge. It took some of him with it as the ghostly figure of the elf child standing over Zal’s body held out its hand. He saw a tall elf and a huge demon for an instant, each touch their hands to that small one, and then they were gone. Wrath had consumed them, transformed them. In front of Teazle, Lila’s huge armoured form locked into position with a solid, machinelike finality and moved no more.
‘Nemesis, you cannot stay,’ said the child’s ghost. ‘Come away now.’
‘Wait,’ Teazle said.
But a tall shadow peeled away from Lila’s body and paused. It looked back at him, dark pits for eyes. ‘It’s been too long,’ she said. ‘She cannot come back so far. I’m sorry.’ She moved forward, a graceful curtain of darkness, touched the child’s hand and vanished.
Teazle stared at Lila’s empty body in disbelief.
‘Hello, angel,’ said the boy, turning to him. The small face was peaceful and a little sad. ‘Because I am the Eater, I cannot eat myself. Only your blue sword can end me. The others are gone now. No more pain. No more tears. Don’t worry.’
Teazle stared at him. He looked at Lila’s immobile wreckage. Zal was a heap, almost invisible beneath the boy’s glowing outline.
A scrape of claws made him turn around. He saw the strange drake Zal had ridden and was about to turn back when suddenly it wasn’t there any more. An old dwarf had taken its place and came hurrying across the stone, almost tripping on a discarded book.
‘Do as he asks, boy, do as he asks, it’s not done to make such as he is wait for their mercies, you know that.’
Teazle looked back at the boy. He looked at the dwarf with suspicion, a slow conviction growing on him and then when he had the dwarf’s attention he glanced at Lila. ‘You have to pay me if you want me to serve.’
The dwarf, an old man, bearded and clothed in green, glared fiercely at him with a yellowing eye. ‘Don’t test my patience boy.’
‘Don’t “boy” me, granddad. You want me to serve. So you give me my favour.’
The dwarf stuck his thumbs in his belt and frowned, pushing his lips forward. He tapped his heels on the floor but he wasn’t wearing any boots, only striped socks, and this looked comical. Teazle wasn’t fooled by appearances however. He knew what, if not who, he was facing down.
The dwarf surveyed Teazle and then the entire scene. The book bonfire burned with ordinary fire now. The dwarf flicked a finger and the fire went out. Smoke rose in ugly clouds. He flicked a finger and the smoke vanished. He blew out between his lips and flapped them with a horsey sound, his attention coming to rest on Lila’s motionless body. He narrowed his eyes and peered sideways at Teazle.
The ghost boy waited patiently meanwhile.
‘Love,’ the dwarf said with a snort, ‘you would hold a soul to ransom what’s already waited lifetimes for peace, for this, would you?’
‘I am no slave,’ Teazle replied, folding his arms. He knew the fire and smoke were demonstrations of what could easily happen to him. ‘You pay me for all our service, old man. You pay us good.’ He drew both the swords easily.
The dwarf eyed him, turning his head but not his body. ‘You threatening me?’
‘Preparing to defend myself.’
‘You know what my name is, boy?’
Teazle shook his head. ‘You know mine, I expect.’
‘I do. So put your sticks away.Though they’ll do for me when the time comes, it ain’t now.’
‘I thought you wanted me to finish this sad story?’ Teazle looked at the elf ghost, which gave him a distant kind of smile.
‘It’s your duty, Lightbringer. Do this and the last of your demon days are over. Then you will be free to choose.’
‘Free to serve,’ Teazle said.
‘Aye but free to choose a name,’ the dwarf assented. ‘They call me Mr V. That help you any?’
‘I heard it,’ Teazle said. ‘I still won’t do it, unless you bring her back.’
‘Not my power that one,’ the dwarf said.
‘You were sent to see this finished. If he lives on, it’s not done. I think that the geas isn’t paid out. Is it?’ Teazle asked. He rested the swords’ points on the ground and leaned on them.
The dwarf took a snorting breath and puffed it out with blown cheeks. ‘Damn junkie elf forgot to call Miss Arie too. So there’s another loose end. What a goddamned mess.’ His gaze darted suddenly to Teazle and it was slitted and gleaming for a moment.
‘Is she for the chop as well?’
‘Well now, she’s what you might call the full house,’ the dwarf said. ‘If she’d been here I don’t doubt you’d have grabbed her and he’d have killed her. Leaving her alive’s trouble indeed but killing her in cold blood . . .’ He turned to the ghost boy. ‘This creature’s right. You’re one short of the number. Surprised the others let you take them.’
The elf ghost Wrath looked up at the dwarf and shrugged. ‘Dead’s forever and nobody pays. Some stories need ending. Others might have twists and turns worth leaving in. When I die, the whole is ended. No geas. Except yours, old man.’
‘Hmmm,’ the dwarf muttered. ‘Do you expect me to kill Arie with my own hands then?’
‘You did not when you had the chance before.’
‘Eating’s not my business,’ the dwarf said, but he looked deep in thought. ‘Killin’ neither.’ He looked darkly at Teazle. ‘And now held to ransom, both of us, by this pipsqueak invention here. Death asks for life, for love.’ He turned to Teazle again. ‘Why’d’you love her, boy? She’s not your type.’ He pointed at Zal’s body. ‘Him was the one. Not you.’
Teazle looked down from his greater height, leaning on the swords. ‘That’s my business. Pay me, or we’re done here.’
The dwarf scowled even deeper. ‘And then what? You go rampaging until someone stops you in your petty vengeance?’
‘It won’t be petty,’ Teazle reassured him.
‘You must not leave me,’ the boy said then to Teazle, his face serious. ‘My existence here in this plane is anathema and anathema will be the end. Anathema is the cracking and soon nothing will hold.’
Teazle glanced at the dwarf. ‘Hence your geas, Mr V? This is your duty, to ensure the survival of the worlds? Then I know you rightly. I want her,’ he hesitated for a moment and then pointed across at Zal, ‘and him too.’
The dwarf sighed. ‘Very well. I grant your payments. Don’t bloody ask me anything again, though?’
‘Summon the King and Queen,’ Teazle said, smiling without humour. He straightened and flipped both swords up into his hands. He put away the yellow blade and stood waiting.
The dwarf clicked his fingers three times and two people appeared beside him. One was a tall elf with white-blond hair and a dog, the other a small, black human girl with messy dreadlocks. Both looked surprised. ‘Deal’s good,’ Mr V sa
id. He turned to the ghost boy. ‘Bless you on your way, lads.’
‘Goodbye,’ said the boy.
Teazle gave the dwarf one last, long look that promised much if this did not go well, and then stepped forward and cut through all the enchantment that held Wrath to that or any world.
There were no lights, or explosion or sound.
Wrath disappeared, Teazle put the sword back in its baldric.
Mr V looked up at Sassy and at Ilyatath. ‘I’ve got a favour to ask you,’ he said to them both.
Behind them they heard a scrabble of claws and a yawning sound as Malachi rejoined the world of conscious things.
‘Wha’ did I miss?’ he said, trying to get up.
‘Nothing,’ Teazle said, rubbing his chest as if easing a slight twinge and smiling at Mr V.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Lila stood on the doorstep, flowers in hand. She’d been there five minutes and they were starting to wilt in the noon heat. Finally she knocked. She heard the footsteps and the creaky board and the opening door pulled her through into a hallway that smelled of paint and garlic.
‘Late,’ Max said through a mouthful of something, turning to let Lila show herself in.
She went through into the kitchen and looked around in surprise.
‘Tiles,’ she said.
‘Yeah well, they were on sale,’ Max said dismissively, and gestured at the table. ‘Sit down.’ She took the dying roses out of Lila’s hand and put them into a vase.
Lila sat down obediently. Zal and Sassy glared at her from the other side of the table, pointedly. She cleared her throat. ‘You can stop worrying, Max. He isn’t coming for you.’
‘Who isn’t?’ Max turned around and leaned on the sink, hands wet from the water. ‘Oh. Ilya. You can say his name, you know. Well, he came for everyone else.’
‘Not everyone,’ Lila said, reaching for a piece of garlic bread.
Lila opened her eyes. She was still in the library at Delatra. She felt like someone had run the mains grid off her for a few hours. In front of her the body of Sandra Lane was cold and silent.
Down to the Bone: Quantum Gravity Book Five Page 42