Obsidian

by Alan Baxter

  The Autarch pushed the secret hatchway back into place and it clunked down, merged once more with the floor. ‘We’ll have to sneak upstairs and see what’s what.’

  Salome walked away from the group. ‘It’s been a lot of fun, all this. But you’re right. It’s over. I hope I see you on the other side. Let’s be sure to look each other up in a few days, yes?’

  The Autarch raised one eyebrow. ‘You’re going now?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll take my chances alone, thanks. By all means, go and slay this Caine. Capture his Kin bitch too, you might be right about needing her. But I’ll take my chances alone.’

  Without waiting for another word, she stepped into the portal and stretched away. As the flash of realmshift subsided, the Autarch looked around the group. ‘So now there’s six of us left here. How quickly everything crumbles.’

  ‘Five,’ Archibald said. ‘See you soon, hopefully.’

  He stepped through and vanished.

  The Autarch shook his head, looked at the dusty ground. ‘Fuck me. Anyone else?’

  Henri growled deep in his throat. ‘We should all have stayed!’

  ‘Too late for that now. You want to come with me or leave like they did? Katherine? Gerald? Gunnar?’

  Gunnar stepped up beside the Autarch. ‘I’ll always stay by your side.’

  The Autarch patted the small Swede’s shoulder, as ever glad of his allegiance, but uncomfortable with the tension of unrequited love that had existed between them for centuries. ‘Thank you, my friend.’

  Gerald and Katherine both nodded, faces downcast in resignation.

  ‘I think you’re right about needing this Silhouette as a bargaining chip,’ Gerald said. ‘I don’t want to risk going out not knowing what might be there.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Katherine said quietly.

  Henri snorted. ‘Well, fuck it all! I will stay where the numbers at least are in our favour.’

  The Autarch nodded. ‘Five then. Good. Let’s go and find these fuckers who ruined everything.’

  Alex jumped, disturbed from his slumber by Claude’s boot against his foot. He looked up into the man’s angry eyes.

  ‘Unfinished business,’ Claude said.

  Alex sighed. ‘Really? Now?’

  ‘Yes, fucking now! Seeing as you insist we wait and seeing as how we’re almost certain to die here, you owe me the truth.’

  Alex stood, his anger flaring. ‘I don’t owe you shit, Darvill! You were dumb enough to dive in here without a clue to where it led. You dug your own fucking grave if you die here.’

  Claude grabbed the front of Alex’s shirt, his grip trembling with rage. ‘I followed you because only you know where my father is.’ Spit flew from his lips. ‘Where is he, Caine?’

  Their lowen allies, eyes wide, moved away, confused. Alex grabbed the fingers at his throat and twisted them away as he palmed Darvill in the chest with his other hand. ‘He’s fucking dead, okay?’

  Claude stumbled back, half fell and quickly recovered. Muttering incantations he barrelled at Alex. ‘You fucking killed my father!’

  Alex gathered his own energy and threw up a defensive hand as Darvill ploughed into him, searing him with a massive arcane fire he could not see. He opened his vision to the man’s magic and saw its shades, powerful and old. He pulsed out power of his own and punched through Darvill’s guard. ‘Your father was an evil fucker who wanted me dead. He sent monsters to kill me simply because he wanted what I had. It was him or me, Claude, and I made fucking sure it wasn’t me.’

  Claude staggered, gathered more magic. ‘Why didn’t you just give him what he wanted?’

  Alex was stunned. ‘Fuck that! Besides, I couldn’t without dying myself. He sent the Dark Sisters after me, did you know that?’ He drove Claude back with magic and fists. ‘Do you know who the fuck they are?’

  Claude reeled from the blows, his eyes wide at the revelation. ‘The Dark Sisters?’ He tried to gather more magic but some of the wind had fallen from his sails at the mention of those creatures. Alex struck him again. The man’s magic was strong, but in close quarters he was no match for Alex’s physical skills. And the hint of defeat was already in his eyes. He pushed away from Alex, turned his back.

  ‘Fuck you, Caine.’

  Alex had sympathy for his loss. ‘It was ever bound to come to that eventually, I think,’ he said. ‘Your father was …’

  Claude spun around, his eyes still furious despite his despair. ‘I know exactly what kind of man my father was.’

  They stared at each other for a moment, before Claude dropped his gaze. ‘Where is his body? Where did he die?’

  Alex winced inside. He could never tell Claude the real truth. Could never risk the chance that Claude would somehow try to save Hood from his eternal burning, cursed with the indestructible force of Uthentia bound into his very being. Best that Claude simply think his father actually dead and gone. ‘He died in Iceland,’ Alex said, allowing a small truth to hide the bigger lie. ‘But there’s no body left.’

  Claude scowled. ‘If we get out of here, you take me to where he died. You at least owe me that, fucker.’

  Alex nodded. ‘Okay.’ He had no intention of doing so, but that problem could wait.

  Claude turned away, face in his hands, his body trembling, as much with anger as grief, Alex suspected. He let the man move away and take time for himself.

  Haydon fidgeted, muttered, squirmed, suddenly animated.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ one of the lowen asked.

  Alex crouched before Nicholas, tipped the trembling man’s head up. ‘What’s happening, buddy?’

  ‘I have to go there.’ Haydon nodded to the slab in the floor of the church. ‘Down there. I must get there.’ He pulled and worried at the strips of linen shirt securing him to the old wooden pulpit.

  Alex put a hand on his shoulder, tried to speak calmly. ‘I know. And that’s why I had to tie you up. I can’t let you start until I’m ready.’

  ‘I’m ready now! I must do the ritual.’ The frustration in Haydon’s face looked like it caused him physical pain.

  ‘I’m not,’ Alex said.

  ‘I am!’ Claude’s voice echoed across the church. ‘It’s insane to sit here doing nothing.’

  Alex stood. ‘Claude, the only option I have will bring massive devastation to the area at home.’ If it even works, he thought, but kept that part to himself. ‘We could kill thousands.’

  Claude’s eyes narrowed. ‘Could? Maybe not! I’m prepared to take that chance.’

  Alex turned away. ‘Well, I’m not. So we wait.’

  A deep, rumbling laugh rang through the church. ‘Wait for what, you pox-ridden son of a dog?’

  They spun to face the broken-down doors and a huge shadow filled the space. A shadow that could only be the Autarch of Obsidian. He held aloft the thin, pathetic form of Rowan.

  ‘Personally,’ the Autarch went on, ‘I’m glad you waited. We have unfinished business. Perhaps you’d like this back?’ He hefted Rowan, who whimpered.

  Alex turned to Lily and whispered, ‘Where are the rest of the council? Check for other entrances to the church.’

  Lily moved to her lowen and talked urgently. They hurried into the shadows at the back.

  Alex said, ‘Unfinished business, eh? Well, good. I do have every fucking intention of killing you.’

  The Autarch laughed again. ‘You are powerful, that much is true. I am impressed you shook off my magic and brought down my pets.’

  Alex watched the Autarch, but let his mind creep up to the church wall above. The mortar between the stones, centuries old, was not strong. He explored the elemental construction, the silica and gravel, the lime and sand, and pushed his magic through it. ‘Fuck you,’ he said. He shoved hard with his mind. Simultaneous shouts of pain and surprise erupted from the back of the church. The Autarch’s teeth flashed dimly in the shadow as he grinned, then he vanished as the entire front wall of the church came down on top of him and Rowan.

&
nbsp; Alex spun around to see Lily running back into the nave, struggling to move fast against the weight of her pregnancy. Her eyes were wild and blood covered half her face. As Alex moved towards her, she opened her mouth in a silent scream and her chest erupted in a geyser of blood and bone. A black, clawed hand burst through and retracted. Lily dropped to the flagstone floor.

  ‘No!’ Alex yelled and barrelled forward.

  As Lily dropped, a feral half-dog, half-bear creature, black-furred and furious, leapt over her corpse. Alex saw a crooked, skeletal creature to his right, dark, taut skin, uncannily long clawed hands and rickety limbs, and he hit the dogbear thing full in the chest. The Darak burned in him as he pummelled fists into its face, driving it back as its teeth snapped and spun aside.

  ‘Protect him!’ Alex yelled at Claude, pointing at Haydon.

  He need not have said anything, Claude was already crouched beside the tied-up mage, a strange crystal icon in his hand. He frantically muttered and magesign swelled around him.

  Alex moved to strike the dogbear again and something heavy and sharp slammed into him from the side. He grunted, tensed to preserve his air, avoid being winded, and rolled with the impact. Light crackled around the skeletal scarecrow creature’s hands and Alex kept rolling, came up in front of it and drove a kick up and out. His heel connected under the thing’s jaw and its head whipped back with a sickening crack. It crumpled to the floor and whatever had barrelled him over struck again.

  His head sang, light danced behind his eyes. This thing was almost dinosaur-like, some strange standing lizard shape, elongated snout bristling with teeth, hands of razored claws. What other shapes would these council members have? Were all seven of them here?

  Alex felt searing burns across his ribs as the reptile claws raked through his flesh. The dogbear thing advanced. Another shape stalked through the dimness at the back of the church.

  Alex roared defiance, refused to be taken down by these bastards, but they were old and powerful Kin. He slammed an elbow across the lizard’s face, felt the eye socket crack under his Darak-enhanced strength and hardened bone. As it staggered sideways, he moved past it, thrust a kick into the mid-section of the advancing dogbear. That one folded over, grunting a bark of pain. Alex rolled one arm back as he moved and hammered his fist into the back of its head. It face-planted with a wet smack into the stone floor.

  Alex kept moving, to intercept the other one coming for him. His senses were alive, singing with adrenaline and arcane awareness. Claude’s magic buzzed somewhere behind and he could only hope the man had something that would hold.

  Before him a creature emerged. What was this? Five? He flicked his eyes left and right, searched with vision and mind for any hint of the other two. The lizard one had turned and was moving away from him. Towards Claude?

  The one before him swayed on a long, thick serpentine tail, its head a mass of writhing snakes, black teeth dribbling venom down its chin.

  ‘Fucking Medusa?’ Alex said, aghast. ‘Well, I’m looking right at you, bitch, but I’m already hard as stone.’ He whipped one arm across in a sweeping blow, hit the medusa across the jaw as its hand raised, crackling with magic.

  It swayed on its heavy coils, hissed at him and struck forward like a cobra. Alex dodged, but not quickly enough and felt teeth like red-hot nails sink into his shoulder. He yelped, struck out again, missed. Staggering backwards, his shoulder a mass of searing pain, he drew breath deep, took control of the adrenaline in his system, gathered it with the power of the Darak and shot both arms out, fists balled tight.

  His knuckles cracked into the medusa’s face and she swung up and back on her tail, dropped crookedly to one side, stunned at least momentarily.

  A cry from the other side of the church pulled Alex around. The lizard thing hammered against some invisible barrier between it and Claude, but it was Claude who cried out. His face was twisted with effort. Alex let his vision open and saw Claude’s magic failing. Hoping the medusa would stay stunned, he drove his feet down, used the might of the Darak to propel him up and forward, and came down with both elbows driving into the lizard’s upper back.

  It arched up with a screaming hiss of pain. Alex dropped and spun, used one leg to sweep its feet from under it. As it flipped up and crashed down, Alex shouted to Claude, ‘Hold it together!’

  He hauled the lizard up by its neck and dragged it away from Claude and the gibbering Haydon. It thrashed at him with clawed hands, kicked with clawed feet, snapped its razor jaws. Lines of agony ripped into Alex’s thighs and side, but he refused to let go. His body toughened, his strength enhanced by the Darak, he gathered its power again, his power, and squeezed. His fingers crushed into the thick scaly neck and the lizard gasped and choked, its eyes bulged. Alex drew back his free hand and drove iron-hard fingers through its eyes.

  Suddenly limp, its body fell from his grip right beside the still inert dogbear. Alex gasped, grimacing at the pain of numerous hurts all over his body.

  The medusa thing raised itself and slid sinuously across the floor towards him. As Alex took a shuddering breath, braced himself to meet it, the rickety scarecrow creature stepped from the shadows with blue fire arcing from its fingers. The magesign burst into the space like a giant welder’s torch. Alex shifted backwards. The medusa moved to one side, crackling magic came at him from the other and the stones at the front of the church burst up with a deafening roar as the giant black bear of the Autarch leapt free.

  The scarecrow’s magic seared into Alex. Every nerve burned as if electrified, as the medusa struck him aside with a weighty, clawed hand. His eyes blurred, coloured lights danced around the periphery of his vision. The massive bear of the Autarch filled all the light before him as it jumped forward, enormous arms outstretched.

  Alex cried out, raised his arms to protect himself, knowing the gesture was useless, surrounded as he was by three hugely powerful shifted Kin. He had lost, blown it. Perhaps he should not have waited. Obsidian was doomed. He was dead.

  One distant thought glittered at the back of his mind. At least when he died here, the Darak would die with him and then there was no chance of the Fey ever getting their hands on the anchor stone again. That much at least was some comfort.

  He winced in anticipation of the bear’s impact, but instead heard a mighty roar. He popped his eyes open to see the Autarch flying sideways, driven off his trajectory by a smoky panther, forepaws outstretched. Silhouette!

  He spun and hooked a kick up into the medusa’s face before she could strike again and ducked another bolt of magic from the hideous scarecrow. Another shape shot through the nave, the giant black wolf of Jarrod, and slammed the medusa backwards. Alex grinned and turned his attention to the rickety thing, all limbs and crackling blue fire.

  Every part of Alex’s body burned with pain, he had no idea how much blood he was losing or how many bones might be broken, but he focused only on the energy from the Darak, pulsing through him with his lifeblood, and the fight at hand. The nightmare scarecrow stretched its mouth hideously wide, a high wail escaped. Blue fire burst from its fingertips and wrapped Alex like a furnace of dancing barbed wire. It sucked at the power within him, drew his very essence out. Alex roared in defiance and punched hard, connected somewhere on the creature’s bony, leathery hide. It staggered backwards and Alex followed, screaming against the pain that engulfed him. He grabbed the thing around its neck and hauled it forward onto his upwardly flying knee, cracked its face square across his kneecap.

  The thing rippled in his grip, almost collapsing unconscious, but rallied. The fire burst forth again, dragged Alex’s magic away. Alex put one foot behind the thing’s long, scrawny leg and turned his hip, flipped the creature up and over onto its back, slammed it into the hard stone floor. As it went down, he went with it. The impact jarred through his body, already alive with pain, and he raised his elbow and crashed it down into the scarecrow’s face. Bone splintered. He lifted his elbow again, brought it down once more. And again. And again
. And again until the thing’s head was leathery pulp, thick blood and lumps of pink brain smeared across the stone.

  The fire engulfing him died out and he gasped for breath, the pain threatening to tear his consciousness away. He heard a wail and a gurgle as Jarrod tore the throat from the thrashing medusa and she dropped inert to the floor.

  A crash and the smoky grey form of Silhouette skidded ragdoll-like across the ground. The Autarch stood, roared. Jarrod and Alex both launched themselves forward and met the Autarch in a shattering impact. They rained blows and pumped flashes of incinerating magic into the huge bear. Silhouette, morphing between panther and human form, stumbled groggily to her feet. She shook herself, rallied and joined them. The three of them beat and clawed, bit and kicked, tore chunks from the Autarch’s flesh and hide.

  He roared again, the deafening sound slipping from rage to agony to fear as they ripped him to pieces. He shifted back into his human form, barely recognisable among the wounds and missing body parts and fell to the floor. Alex stood over him, Silhouette to one side, Jarrod to the other, all in their human shape again.

  Alex drew one finger across his throat. ‘I fucking warned you, cunt.’

  The Autarch’s eyes swam independently of each other. His mouth shifted, his jaw shattered and hanging off. He gurgled something, hissed words that sounded like, ‘Fuck you.’

  Alex raised one foot and stamped down, crushing the Autarch’s skull.

  He looked behind and saw Claude and the whimpering Haydon, half buried by the debris of pulpit and pews, but alive. Pain engulfed him with another layer of agony as his adrenaline eased at his relief to see Haydon still breathing. Claude looked up, battered and bruised, his eyes sunken with a black exhaustion. He caught Alex’s gaze and nodded once.