by Alan Baxter
Even with his eyes open now, Alex saw the energies at play, his own and the Autarch’s. He drew one last mindful of blistering essence and pumped it against the spell binding him, throwing up his arms and bellowing as he did so, mind, body, will and spirit acting together. The Autarch’s spell splintered and shattered, the planes and shades of it spun away and vanished and Alex gasped as his own arcane strength flooded free once more.
Haydon stepped back even as the Guard stepped forward, their swords levelled at Alex’s throat. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ said one, a patina of fear in his eyes.
Alex grinned at him, feral, burning to give his newly released strength free rein. He nodded towards the door at the far end of the room. ‘This way, is it?’
The Guard laughed nervously. ‘Yeah. That keen to meet your death, are you?’
Alex flicked aside the Guard’s sword and strode to the door. ‘Stay close to me, Haydon,’ he said back over his shoulder. ‘Let’s do this thing.’
Silhouette and Claude kept near to Lily and her band of revolutionaries. It made Silhouette nervous to think about what they planned, how easily she might be revealed, but the streets around the great arena were packed as lowen jostled to get in. In a part of Obsidian she hadn’t seen before, the area was like a giant amphitheatre sunk into the black ground, with a high wall all around. Traders’ stalls were parked here and there, offering pennants sewn with strange signs, models carved from wood or glass, drinks and snacks. Crowds around each stall argued and bartered, the stallholders recognising the strange energy of the day and asking far more in return for the goods than normal, if the outraged voices of customers was any indication. Gates allowed access periodically around the wall and the crowds merged into excited lines as they pushed for entry. Several Guard and Priests manned each gate and Silhouette’s nerves reached a peak as her group neared the one they had chosen.
She nudged Claude. ‘What if the Guards here try to speak with us?’
‘What of it? We ignore them and keep moving. The gate is wide enough that we can keep lowen to either side of us.’
Silhouette nodded, took a steadying breath. ‘Okay, let’s go. Keep our heads down and keep moving.’
As their group neared the gate, the eyes of the Guard roving over them, Lily stepped up to one, her voice strident. ‘Is it really a demon? Is it? Are we safe?’
The Guard shook his head, a look of combined amusement and disgust twisting his features. ‘Keep moving, fools.’ He rolled his eyes at his fellow opposite.
Claude put a hand against Lily’s back and shoved her forward. ‘Move it,’ he barked.
The Guard laughed. Silhouette and Claude kept their faces to the front and, surrounded by lowen, slipped through the gate.
‘So we’re in,’ Silhouette said, scanning the broad arena. ‘Can all of Obsidian fit in here?’
‘No,’ Lily said. ‘Not by a long way. Many won’t come, others will be disappointed. This place holds thousands, but no all. Word will spread quickly from here though.’
The ground stepped down away from them, row after row of black glass benches, leading to a huge oval area in the middle with a floor of packed earth. The scale was staggering. Voices merged into a roar like an angry ocean as people jostled, sat, pointed, called out to friends.
Lily, helping her grandfather in the push and shove of fighting for seats, turned to Silhouette. ‘We’ll head there, to the high end, opposite where the Autarch will be.’ She pointed. A royal box hung directly over one end of the arena floor, festooned in blood-red hangings. In it, velvet upholstered seats sat empty. The benches of the masses swept up behind the box, already packed. ‘That’s where the Autarch and the council will sit. If we get to the far end, we can hopefully keep talking longer until the Guard and Priests get to us.’
Claude frowned. ‘You’re hoping the Autarch’s orders will take longer to affect you from further away.’
‘It’s the best we can hope for.’
‘You need to be heard by as many as possible.’
Lily nodded, looked ruefully across a sea of lowen. ‘Hopefully people will quieten enough. When the Autarch speaks in here, his voice carries well.’
Claude laughed, rummaged in his satchel. ‘That’s partly by physical design, but I bet there’s something less mundane at work too. I can help you with that.’
Silhouette put a hand on Claude’s shoulder. ‘We need to split up. If you stay with them …’
‘I know, I’ll be right in the sights of the Guard and Priests. I’ll take my chances. You know, don’t you,’ Claude said. ‘You could tell me what happened to my father.’
‘Let’s get out of here together and we’ll tell you anything you want to know, I promise.’
Claude stared hard at her for a moment and something distant and tiny seemed to shift in his eyes, a suspicion hardening into a certainty. Could he see the horrible fate Alex had condemned his father to simply by looking into her eyes? A heavy moment drew out between them, then Claude nodded. ‘We’re aiming to unleash hell, one way or another. When the shit hits the fan, what do we do?’
‘I don’t know. I have no idea what options we might be faced with.’
‘Assuming we survive, where do we meet?’
Silhouette thought, tried to imagine how things might go. ‘Well, Alex was keen to find the anchor stone, the real power behind all this. If he gets out of here alive, I’m guessing he’ll still want to go there.’
‘So we meet up again in Oldtown, at the church where I found you and Edmund?’
‘Okay. Good luck.’
Claude turned to Lily. ‘Lead on.’
Without a word, Lily helped her grandfather along the bustling rows, heading for the end of the pits opposite the Autarch’s box. Other lowen they had gathered on the way began to fan out, spread themselves as widely as they could through the crowds, ready to support Narth when he spoke up, fan the fury of resentment and force the uprising if they could.
Silhouette felt suddenly alone. Where should she be? The floor of the oval arena was empty, with four large gates at the cardinal points. She assumed that like in the colosseum in Rome these were where the fighters would emerge, and where anything else could be brought in or out of the field of battle. It seemed likely that Alex would be pushed in through the gate directly beneath the Autarch’s box, in the hope that his fight would happen there and give the hierarchy the best view. She decided to get as near to that gate as possible, in case she could be any help when the time came. Trying to act like the Guard she impersonated, while avoiding any actual Guard and Priests on alert all around the stands, she carefully made her way down.
23
Silhouette managed to position herself among a crowd of lowen across from the Autarch’s box. The arena was packed to bursting point, people standing several deep along every wall and others still jostled at all the entrances, trying to find a way in. She jumped at a sudden increase in volume from the masses as the Autarch emerged, standing front and centre, hands raised theatrically. He smiled beatifically as his council filed in behind, fanning out to either side. They lifted their hands, like a rock band soaking up the adulation of screaming fans.
A pulse of anger reddened Silhouette’s vision for a moment as Rowan slunk in behind, tried to hide in plain sight. She resisted the urge to leap from person to person in the crowd between them, clear the six- or seven-metre gap between stands and box, and tear him apart where he stood. She stared, her eyes boring hatred into the pox-ridden, craven son of a bitch. I’ll see you dead, seer.
The temptation to blindly attack anyway was almost overwhelming. But seven powerful Kin were too much for her, especially that Autarch. He truly was a bear of a man. It was no wonder he had wrestled control of Obsidian and held on to it still. But today that grip would shatter. She had to believe it was true. If only there were just a few more on her side. Her eyes roved around the arena again, picked out the uniforms of Guard and robes of Priests. She had tried several times to count the
m, but they moved slowly and purposefully through the crowd, seeming to follow a predetermined pattern that she had yet to figure out. It made estimating their number difficult but there were at least fifty. So it was hardly just the Seven she needed to worry about. How could they hope to stand up to more than fifty Kin?
A wave of despair weakened her knees and the thought of running for the pathway swam through her mind once more. Really, if all was lost, she could hardly be condemned for saving herself.
But she loved Alex. Actually loved him, like she had never loved anyone before and she simply could not leave if there was a chance to save him. She made a decision. If she saw him fall, knew he was actually dead, she would go for the pathway. Claude and anyone else here could take their chances, she owed them next to nothing really, regardless of their help. But she would not run while Alex lived.
The Autarch’s voice boomed out, preternaturally loud. ‘People of Obsidian!’
The crowd fell quickly to a hush, the silence almost a physical pressure on the mind. The Autarch smiled, scanned the rows and rows of expectant lowen. ‘Wonderful people of Obsidian, how proud you make me. Look how excited you are to see this event. And quite an event it is. The Lord of Void has often tested us. Tested you, each and every one. For it is lonely in the Void, and the Lord there has only his petty demons for company. And it is cold in the Void. The Hollow Lord desires warmth in his empty realm and that means he desires you! He wants you to walk from Obsidian and fall into his icy clutches. But will you give yourselves to the Hollow One?’
The crowd roared, an evangelical howl in the negative. But Silhouette was pleased to see many frowning faces among the lowen, eyes narrowed in a new suspicion.
The Autarch raised his hands for quiet and the volume fell once more. ‘And quite right you are. But he will try. Again and again he will try to turn you. Most recently he has sent demons to confuse you, to lead you astray. These demons look like us, your protectors. After all, what better way for the lord of cold lies to tempt you than to present a false saviour in the shape of those you know to be your defenders? We in the hierarchy are chosen by the gods to ensure your path to Ascension. We are different to you. We have the power to make sure your lives are good and just. To make sure you fulfil catechism, to breed, to love, to work, and then to Ascend!’
The crowd roared once more and the Autarch let them, smiled as their fervour grew. Silhouette ground her teeth. If this bastard’s rhetoric was too convincing, the resistance had no chance of turning them. They would be ripped to pieces the moment they stood up. But still, not everyone in the crowd was convinced. She looked back towards the high far end of the arena, hoped to see if Narth was ready, if he looked disconsolate or not. She needed some idea of how things might go. The powerlessness was debilitating. But it was too far to see, hundreds, thousands of faces blurring into one vibrant mess. Tears hazed her eyes and she cursed.
The Autarch spoke again. ‘People, please, a moment more of your time. These demons sent among us are no threat to the faithful, no danger to the true followers of gods and catechism. We have them here, and we will supply, for your entertainment, the destruction of these foul beings. They might be able to harm you, gentle people of Obsidian, but not us. We will protect you from the Hollow threat!’ He continued to talk over the baying of the massed lowen. ‘Should there happen to be any others hiding out among you, too afraid to show themselves, be assured we have no fear of them and neither should you. If you see anyone suspicious, there are many Priests and Guard here today. Point them out and we will throw them in with the two we have already caught.’
The Autarch put his hands on the railing of the box, leaned forward. ‘Open the gate!’
Silhouette held her breath. The gate swung open and Alex strode forward, wearing nothing but his jeans cut off into shorts and heavy wraps around his hands. He looked amazing to Silhouette, proud and muscular, every inch the fighter, the hero. His eyes were hooded and his expression calm. Every atom of her being wanted to burst free of her tightly held shields, reach out to him, let him know she was here, but that would only give her away to every Kin present.
Alex looked up, scanned the thousands of lowen as they booed and hollered at him. Some threw things, but she couldn’t see what. She looked past them and was pleased to see many people who looked at Alex with curiosity rather than hatred. Some even smiled. Several groups talked fervently, gesturing around themselves, drawing others into their excitement. Maybe there was a chance yet.
Alex turned slowly, looked up to the Autarch. He pointed one finger at the leader of Obsidian, his expression hard, and the crowd lulled somewhat, shocked. Alex pulled his arm back, drew his pointing finger slowly across his throat and pointed at the Autarch again. The crowd howled and screamed. The Autarch tipped back his head and laughed.
Love swelled in Silhouette, her pride in Alex almost too much to bear. Another man staggered out into the arena, stumbling as if pushed. He looked ridiculous in ill-fitting leather armour and carried a shield and short sword. It was clear he had no idea what to do with either. He huddled close to Alex, looked wildly around. Alex ignored him, stared unflinchingly at the Autarch.
The two of them were tiny in the dirt-floor expanse of the arena, so vulnerable. Silhouette looked towards where Claude and Narth and the others were in the stands, willing them to do something. Anything. Would they wait until Alex was forced to fight? To what end? If Alex’s skills had been compromised in any way, how long could he last?
The Autarch’s voice boomed out again. ‘The only threat to your Ascension is to listen to demons like these. They may look like us, your hierarchy, like Guards and Priests, but they are evil in a saviour’s skin. Do not be fooled. And now, to prove how worthless they are, they will die at our behest!’
The crowd roared again and Silhouette stared towards the end of the arena. What was Narth waiting for? It seemed clear that he planned to let Alex fight first. But why? Snarls and the snapping of teeth brought her attention back to Alex. He stood in a low crouch, facing the opposite end of the open space. The ridiculous man with the sword was actually hiding behind Alex, trying desperately not to be seen. His eyes were squeezed shut.
Through the far gates, three creatures stalked. Massive, muscled, grey-skinned, bodies like rhinoceros, but moving like giant cats. Their heads were long, canine, with huge sharp teeth and two tusks above and two below that scissored when they snapped their jaws shut. Their feet were clawed paws that hit the dirt and spread with every step, powerful and sure. Heads lowered, shoulders rolling at human eye level, they slowly closed the gap between themselves and Alex.
The Autarch sat with his council, Rowan cowering behind the chairs, forgotten. ‘Watch the crowd closely,’ the big man said. ‘The first sign of anything, we move.’
He signalled a Guard across from the box who nodded and passed the signal on. Priests and Guard all around the crowded seats redoubled their efforts to see anything among the lowen that might be out of the ordinary. The crowds roared and whistled, on their feet, waved theirs arms in a frenzy of excitement. The Kin had trouble seeing much at all and moved more quickly, scanning row by row.
The Autarch reached his hands to either side. Gunnar took one, Katherine the other. They in turn took the hands beside them until the Seven were joined. Together they concentrated and combined their power, let their awareness drift out across the arena, scanning for the slightest hint of arcane activity among the fervent masses.
Claude sat beside Narth, both hidden from view by lowen standing in a tight circle around them. ‘Alex is going to be fighting for his life any second!’ Claude shouted over the din.
Narth nodded. ‘We have to let him engage. You said he was powerful.’
‘Yes, he is, but I don’t know if anyone is powerful enough to fight those … things. And besides, we think Alex’s power has been muted somehow. What the hell are those animals anyway?’
‘They are called farald. The Autarch’s personal pets. Powerful or
not, Alex has to be seen to fight. If the lowen are to look to him as a saviour in the face of the Autarch, rather than an enemy, he has to show himself capable.’
Claude couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘He could die in seconds out there! How will that help anything?’
Narth smiled, strangely calm. ‘Peace, brother. I’ve seen this in a vision. Timing is everything. Ye’re ready?’
Claude took a deep breath, turned his attention back to his magic. Keeping the spell secured inside the shields he had erected around the pair of them was harder than the simple trickery itself. Muttering his own incantations to amplify the voice of another took little effort. ‘Yes, it’s all ready. When you choose to speak, you will be heard by everyone. Should you ever decide to open your mouth!’
Narth nodded, closed his eyes. ‘Then be ready. When next I speak, everyone must hear.’
Claude sat frustrated, watched the old man. What the hell was he doing? If they had any chance to turn this crowd against the Autarch, surely the sooner they tried, the better. But could Lily’s grandfather be right? Maybe Alex did need to prove himself first. In which case, Claude prayed to any and all powers who may be listening for strength on Alex’s behalf. Against those hell beasts, he was going to need it.
Alex watched the three giant creatures approach, thick drool dripping heavily from their enormous, fang-crowded jaws. Their eyes were black and shining, forward facing as every predator’s were, and fixed on him. They were bigger than cars, and looked heavier. Even with his magic returned, Alex wondered if his fighting skills were any match for one of these things, let alone three. His master’s voice spoke softly in his memory. The size of an opponent is only an advantage while they can use that size against you. Speed, cunning, skill, these things will always defeat brute size and strength.