by Peter Oxley
“You really don’t want to know.”
We walked through the archway, surprised to emerge at the other side unchallenged. The path led over a bridge guarded by stone monsters to either side.
“I would resist the temptation to look over the side of the bridge,” Andras said.
“Why?”
“Because I want to get inside the building in one piece. Now, come on.”
We passed through another archway to find ourselves in a corridor bordered on all sides by monolithic stone blocks that stretched up into darkness. I had not been aware of us entering a building and yet we clearly had done so. We passed a window and I looked out, gasping to see that the city was now hundreds of feet below us.
“Oh, yes,” said Andras. “You should be aware that anything pertaining to the so-called laws of nature, in any realm, doesn’t apply here. It can be disconcerting if you allow yourself to think about it. My advice is to keep going forwards and don’t get distracted.”
The corridor stretched on before us, uniform stone walls interspersed at regular intervals by rectangular windows. Our footsteps echoed around us as we walked. “Be on your guard,” warned Andras. “This building may feel empty, but I can assure you it is not.”
We followed Mama round a corner that I could have sworn had not existed mere moments before, and then through another archway to a junction where four passages led off in different directions. Out of the corner of my eye I sensed another handful of passages that surely couldn’t be there. I spun round to look and my head reeled as it attempted to comprehend an endless number of passageways running off in an infinite number of directions.
Byron caught me before I fell. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I nodded as Andras reminded me: “Do not try to think about anything here, or spot things you would normally expect to find. Simply accept it and keep going, otherwise you will be driven insane.”
I focused on the floor as I followed the others, fighting my natural urge to scrutinise everything around me. A few more deep breaths and I felt my equilibrium return enough to look up, surprised to see how ordinary everything was. The stone-lined corridor could have been in any other building back on Earth, were it not for the fact that it stretched off into infinity.
“How much further?” I asked.
“Not far,” Mama said, gesturing ahead and to the right. “Just over that way.”
Andras stopped. “Are you sure?”
Mama turned and glared at him. “Of course I am,” she snapped. “I was here when she was brought in, and in any case there is nowhere else she will be.”
Andras rubbed at his forehead. “But… that is…” He looked back at the rest us. “Change of plan. Kate is lost, so we need to go to the Council Chamber.”
“What? What do you mean ‘lost’?” I asked, as Pearce shook his head.
“No,” Pearce said. “We are not giving up on her.”
“You do not understand,” said Andras. “She is either dead or as good as dead. In any case, it is pointless and suicidal to continue this way.”
Pearce pushed him aside. “I will not believe it until I see it for myself.” He glared at Mama. “You can take us to her?”
“I can,” she said, her voice carrying a touch of amusement. “Are you sure you want to, though? He seems pretty adamant,” she nodded at Andras.
“It would appear that the rest of us are made of sterner stuff than the demon,” said Pearce quietly. “Lead on.”
Mama continued on her way and we followed, leaving Andras standing alone in the corridor, pacing to and fro as he glanced up at us. After a few moments he muttered what I assumed were curses and then ran to catch up.
“This was not the arrangement,” he said. “The deal was you take us to the girl.”
“And that is what I am doing,” Mama replied.
“You know as well as I do that whatever is now in there is absolutely, categorically no longer the same creature that went in.”
“Wait,” said Joshua. “What do you mean?”
“She is taking us to the Birthing Chambers,” Andras said.
I frowned, searching my memory for a link. “The…?” I asked.
Andras turned to look at me, and for the first time I saw genuine fear in his eyes. “The Birthing Chamber. Where they transform prisoners into Mages.”
I looked over to Pearce, walking straight and tall in front of me, and perceived a stiffening of his back. “How long does it take?” I asked. “How long before she is turned into a Mage?”
“What does it matter? As soon as she entered the Chamber and was infected by the Wraith, she was no longer the same person you once knew. You need to accept that Kate is gone.”
Chapter Ten
We stood and pondered the door that Mama had indicated we should enter, which led into the complex that ultimately housed the Birthing Chamber. Andras was keeping as much distance from it as possible, now almost beseeching us to desist.
“You have no idea of the risks you will take just by opening that door,” he said. “The things they do in there…”
Byron peered at him. “You are actually scared, aren’t you?” He shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
I felt the blood pumping fast in my head as I contemplated this. For something to scare Andras, well…
I looked up to see Pearce’s eyes on me. “Gus?” he asked.
I took a deep breath and then nodded, in spite of every one of my baser instincts. “If there is anything of Kate still in there, then we owe it to her to help her,” I said, trying to keep my voice as firm as possible. “Whatever the cost.”
He nodded, and I felt as though I had passed some form of test. He then turned to Joshua, who nodded as well.
“I’m not leaving without her,” he said simply. “And besides, the opportunity to study such a place should not be passed up.”
Byron chuckled mirthlessly. “You are as insane as any humans I have ever met.” He hefted the axe he carried as a weapon. “What the Hell, this is as good a day to die as any other.”
Andras shrank under our combined gazes. “You do not understand,” he said again. “What lies beyond there… you will beg for something as welcoming as death, you have never—”
“We’re going in there,” said Pearce. “And you’re coming with us, so stop your bleating.”
Andras’ eyes darted from one face to the other of us, finally settling on me and the runic sword. He took a deep breath. “Very well. But when you die, I’m having that sword,” he told me.
“I’m not planning on dying,” I shot back.
I had half expected to find a screaming pit of hellfire when the door opened, or at least some form of hideous torture chamber, and was mildly disappointed to find yet another nondescript corridor.
“Are you sure that this is the right door?” I asked Mama, peering inside. “It doesn’t look much like a Birthing Chamber to me.”
“This is the set of corridors and antechambers that lead to where you need to go. There is still a little way more before you reach the Birthing Chamber,” she said. “This is the next line of defences. Just step through and you will see. But be warned that there are consequences.”
I frowned at her and then stepped forward, my sword raised and ready to fend off any attackers.
As soon as I passed over the threshold I felt it, a huge oppressive weight that threatened to crush me. It was the torment of a million souls, all their pain and terror and loss turned into an atmosphere soaked in a suffering that made me want to run and hide.
Pearce looked at me as he followed. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Can you not feel it?”
Pearce frowned as he cocked his head, straining to comprehend what was as clear to me as a sledgehammer to my head. He shrugged. “I am not quite sure…”
“You are wasting your time with him,” said Andras, wincing as he stepped through the door. “Humans do not have the capabilities to sense the torm
ent that has made this place.”
Joshua sniffed the air, seemingly the only person keen to be there for its own purpose rather than out of necessity. “There is a distinct sense of the Aetheric in here,” he said with mounting enthusiasm. “Almost akin to that which accompanies a summoning.”
“I suspect that comparison is pretty apt,” said Byron, glancing round warily.
“Indeed,” said Andras. “I told you that the Warlocks use Wraiths and other demons as a part of their experiments. Such things always leave behind… residue.”
“Like the pained souls wrenched away from those poor creatures unfortunate enough to be forced here against their will?” asked Byron with an acid tinge to his voice. He realised too late the meaning of his words and shook his head. “I am sorry,” he said to the rest of us. “I did not mean—”
“Regardless,” said Pearce, “the fact remains that the more we tarry here, the longer Kate is in their hands. So if you do not mind?” He gestured to Andras and Mama to lead us on.
I felt increasingly light-headed as we made our way along the corridor, the sensation making it harder and harder to concentrate on the task at hand. A few steps further and I could no longer recall exactly why we were in that place, or even where we were.
I turned at a humming sound to my right to see a familiar figure melt out of the shadows. She looked just as I remembered her, the same warm smile playing across her lips. My heart leapt to look upon her once more. “’Ello, Gus,” she said.
“Rachel,” I breathed. “How…? But you were—”
“Gone?” she shook her head. “I never left you; I’ve always been here.”
“But you died,” I said. “I saw it, I held your body.”
“Funny thing about death,” she said. “It’s not as permanent as it used to be.” She stepped forwards and I saw that her clothing was riddled with scores of slashes, the blood still seeping thickly from the mortal wounds that had been inflicted by her oldest friend, the boy who had been so jealous of her attentions towards me.
“I am sorry,” I said. “I never—”
“Meant to kill me?” she asked. “Maybe not, but you still did, didn’t you?”
I shook my head, partly in denial but also to try to free my mind from this hellish encounter. “That’s not it,” I persisted feebly.
The memory was still painfully fresh: finding her in that darkened alleyway when we had finally been so close to escaping that wretched life together, only to have it snatched away from us. I still remembered the words of her murderer as he had stood over her battered body, tears running down his cheeks: If I can’t have her, no one will. I looked at my hands, seeing them as raw and bloodied as they had been that night when I had gained my brutal revenge for what he had done.
The memory conjured up another ghoul to confront me, Rachel’s murderer following her out of the shadows. “No,” he rasped. “But he did for me, didn’t he?”
I frowned, the spell broken. This was all too convenient, too contrite, too familiar. Over the past few years I had had my deepest and darkest fears and memories pulled out of me and exposed like a raw nerve. One malicious spirit had even worn my mother’s voice as it had compelled me to commit suicide, using my pent-up feelings over her death and the mess I had made of my life to twist my feelings in a near-fatal manner.
But what animosity could Rachel possibly feel towards me? I had tried to save her, and I had done so much more since then.
I was Augustus Merriwether Potts, damn it! Sometime demon and fulltime saviour of mankind. I had nothing left to feel guilty for.
The realisation thrust me back into the corridor with a jolt and I looked around, shamefaced, fearing that my weakness had cost us all precious time.
I realised that I had not been alone in being afflicted by visions. The others cowered or ranted around me, oblivious to all save whatever torments were playing out in their minds’ eyes.
Byron was nearest to me, bending down and pleading with someone only he could see. “Please,” he whispered. “You must remember who I am.”
I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him roughly in the hope of jarring him from his twisted reverie, but to no avail. I turned and looked around, shaking my head as I did so; I could feel the sickly tug of the monstrous visions at the edge of my consciousness, still trying to pull me back under. I now knew them for what they were, however, and as such was able to find the strength to resist them.
Partway along the corridor Andras ranted and raved at shadows while Mama cowered in a corner. Pearce had his back to us all, but Joshua was closer at hand and waving his arms around erratically. Given the potential for accidental—and no doubt fatal—magical discharge, I turned to Joshua first, approaching him with caution.
Tears ran down the young man’s cheeks as he shook his head. “I did everything I could,” he whined. Then, cocking his head as though listening to someone: “She didn’t—”
He bowed his head under an onslaught I could neither see nor hear. “I tried, but she should not have been with us in the first place…” He flinched. “I did not mean… I just…” His voice choked into a fit of sobbing.
I risked bending closer to discern the nature of the visions that were afflicting him, in the hope that I could help him force his way back to reality.
“Mother, please…” he whispered.
So that was it: he was being tortured with the thought of telling his mother about Lexie’s death at the hands of the demons. As he had told me on the ship to France, he had resisted meeting her in person, instead choosing to write to her about the dreadful news. The response when it arrived had left him very shaken and upset. That was not much of a surprise: I had only met their mother once, but had been struck by the lady’s strong-willed nature. The blame that she clearly had attached to Joshua for her daughter’s death was very unfair though, for her son had been opposed to Lexie joining us on our adventures in the first place; it was mainly the stubborn insistence of their mother that had set his sister on the path towards her untimely death.
Be that as it may, as someone who had also suffered at the hands of an overbearing mother, I sympathised with him. However, my more immediate concern was the damage that Joshua’s magical powers could do to us in his current agitated state. Already I could see sparks and flashes of energy flare and strobe around him as he continued to play out his imagined conversation.
I grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him as roughly as I dared. I may as well have plucked on his sleeve for all the success it had in distracting him. I attempted everything save for hitting him across the face but failed to elicit any form of response. I took a moment to pause and consider my options and, as I did so, the pull of my own visions within my mind tried to reassert themselves anew. I shook my head; I would not allow myself to be dragged back, as I was at that moment my friends’ only hope.
I drew in a deep breath and allowed it to escape as a sigh. Throughout all of this, I was painfully aware that Kate was still imprisoned. Should I abandon my friends? Maybe freeing Kate would, as a side effect, also free them? I looked around in desperation and noticed that Mama was watching me intently.
I walked over to the corner where she huddled and peered at her. “You are not affected by all of this?” I asked as I noticed her eyes focus on me.
She took a deep breath. “I am, just not in the same manner as the rest of you.”
“Explain,” I said.
She spoke as though she were trying to use as little of her body as possible, in the manner of one attempting to remain motionless to avoid the attentions of a stalking predator. “The spells prey on your worst fears, paralysing you. That way they ensure that any intruders are stopped, without the need to post guards.”
“But you are not experiencing the same visions that the rest of us are?”
“I work here,” she said. “It would not serve if I were incapacitated by the simplest of defences. My fears only assert themselves when I venture somewhere I should not be
, at a time when I should not be there.”
“Such as here,” I said.
She nodded, shivering. “But they are not as intense as yours; merely enough to deter me from going any further.”
“Why did you not warn us that this would happen?”
“I told you that there were consequences to entering here. I assumed that the Almadite had warned you of exactly what to expect.”
I looked over to Andras, still ranting and raving on the other side of the corridor. “Yes, well, I got the impression he was not too keen on us proceeding this far, didn’t you?”
“With good reason,” she said. “I knew you non-Almadites would be able to free yourselves though.”
I grunted. “Only me so far. How do I liberate the rest of them?”
“How did you break yourself from the fugue?” she asked.
“They pushed the wrong levers,” I said. “I have already paid the debts with which they tried to bait me. In any case, I have been taunted before by spirits much more spiteful than these.”
“Then there is your answer,” she said. “You need to help them realise that what they are experiencing is just a mirage.”
“I have tried,” I said. “But they do not respond.”
She shook her head ever so slightly. “They are oblivious to anything in the physical world; you can only reach them by going where they are right now.”
I frowned at her, her habit of talking in riddles grating on my patience. “What exactly do you mean?”
“You need to go into their visions.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I may look like a demon but my powers are some way short…”
“And yet you alone managed to break free of the Warlocks’ spells.”
“Yes, but—”
“You feel it even now, do you not? The pull of the visions, trying to lure you back under?”
I ran my fingers through my hair as I allowed my senses to probe inwards with a tentative touch, enough to feel what was there but not enough to allow myself to be ensnared. The tug of the visions was as strong as it had been since I escaped them. “But if I go back in there, surely I would be lost once more?”