That reply got the voice’s attention. Now?
Not now, she clarified. But soon, possibly today if I need help to rescue Guyon.
We have already explained, the knight cannot be…
Answer my question.
The voices were silent for a long time, long enough that Una began to wonder if they were still there, or whether they’d decided to ignore her question. But finally, the reply came.
The old blood is that which is closest to the Ancestors, the beings that walked this Earth bearing magic in abundance. They shaped the world around them, branded those like them, created worlds, and traveled to the stars.
Una’s eyes widened slightly. Suddenly her mind was full of new questions, new thoughts. Just what did the voices mean by all that? How could anyone possibly create worlds or travel to the stars? The stars were part of the cosmos, part of the heavens and unreachable by any person.
You’re saying I’m directly descended from these beings.
The magic hesitated again, but there could be no other answer. Yes.
And what of the Otherworld, could the old blood travel there too?
The Otherworld…
Yes, tell me.
We will speak no more.
Una jumped on that. They could travel to the Otherworld, couldn’t they? In fact, that’s been proven now, hasn’t it. My parents created a breach.
They made the tear, they could not pass through.
But I could. Una phrased it like a statement.
The voices went silent, and Una somehow knew they intended to stay that way.
But then, something happened that she did not expect. One of the voices did reply, the one that always spoke in a fearful tone. It is difficult. You could destroy yourself and us.
Una raised her head and nodded slightly. Now it made sense. The voices didn’t want to travel to this Shadow Realm place because they feared what would happen if they did. And from what she could tell, there was little chance she could convince them otherwise, even if she did promise to use the magic.
Suddenly, the sound of a third figure came in the distance, with heavy footfalls accompanied by loud screams. It was a man, and the sound he made was horrifying.
Archimago and Phaedria whirled to see what was coming. Phaedria made a single hand motion and the fog cleared in places, parting like a great arm had waved it away.
Approaching them was a knight, clad in unique black armor, the same armor Una had seen several times before. Pyrochles had found them.
21
“Pyrochles,” said Archimago as the man approached. “I thought you were dead.”
But Pyrochles did not answer. He continued to scream and to hold his hairless head like his entire being was on fire. Stumbling, he ran right past Archimago and Phaedria, throwing himself into the water beyond.
From her vantage point, Una leaned forward, curiously. There was no obvious explanation for Pyrochles’s behavior. He was simply crazed, all but oblivious to Archimago and Phaedria’s presence.
“What in Annwyn,” said Phaedria, one hand to her breast as she watched Pyrochles thrash about.
“Pyrochles,” Archimago repeated. “What is wrong?”
Pyrochles was now up to his neck in the water, half lying in the shallows so his entire chest was submerged. “The hag cursed me!” he screamed.
“Occasion?” Archimago asked. Una spared a small smile. Perhaps it had been a good idea to leave that one alone after all. If not for her and Furor, Guyon would have died, and who knew what would have happened to Una.
“Yes, her and that beast of a companion. I feel like my insides are burning up.”
“Pyrochles, come here,” Archimago stepped forward, pulling back the sleeves of his dark coat. “I will see if I can help.”
Pyrochles pulled himself out of the water, though he did so with obvious pain. When he wasn’t moaning or letting out the occasional yell, his face was contorted with anguish. Good, Una smiled to herself. It was no more than he deserved.
You said you would use the magic, said one of her voices. The lustful one, she thought. Let us kill him now.
“No,” Una said out loud, though quietly so no one else could hear. However she used her magic, for now she did not want to use it for killing, even of someone as base as Pyrochles. If she was going to use it again, it would be to accomplish something truly good, like saving Guyon.
Archimago bent next to the ailing Pyrochles, who was still half submerged in the water, lying on his belly among the rocks.
“It is as I thought,” said Archimago, looking a little relieved. “It’s nothing but an illusion spell, one I can easily remedy.”
“This is no illusion!” cried Pyrochles. “If you could feel what I feel.”
“I have no doubt the pain is very real.” Archimago put a hand on Pyrochles’s forehead. “And I did not say it wasn’t dangerous. Given enough time, it could kill you from the strain alone and from remaining conscious for so long. But you would die of fatigue, nothing more.”
With that, something seemed to glow around Archimago. It was a new sensation to Una. She’d seen him use magic before, but this was the first time she’d seen any physical evidence that he was doing so. Odd. Perhaps it was her own increasing familiarity with her own magic that she was beginning to make out magic use in others.
Pyrochles’s breathing began to come easier, and his moaning diminished. Soon, the glow around Archimago dropped away, and he straightened, offering a hand to Pyrochles. The man took his healer’s hand and rose to his feet, shakily at first but with increasing confidence.
“I take it then, that you did not apprehend Occasion and Furor.” Archimago said as Pyrochles got his footing.
“Not yet,” replied Pyrochles. “But it won’t be long. They are far too easy to track.”
Archimago waved a hand and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We have more pressing matters to attend to. I thought you were dead, so I recruited your brother to take down Sir Guyon in your place.”
“So where is he?” said Pyrochles. “Wasn’t Guyon coming for the amulet?”
Archimago nodded, but it was Phaedria who answered. “The plan failed. Cymochles lies unconscious on the island. I only managed to save his life by sending Guyon to the Shadow Realm.”
Unlike Archimago, Pyrochles did not seem to take this news too badly. He placed one hand on his jaw and appeared to be thinking hard. “We should probably go after him to ensure he doesn’t take the amulet.”
“There is little chance he will ever return,” said Phaedria with a bemused expression.
“Yet there is still a chance,” Archimago gave Phaedria a contemptuous look. “And if we fail in this, neither Acrasia or Duessa, or any of the Sins for that matter will allow us to go unpunished. We must ensure Guyon does not leave that island with the amulet. We’ll go to the island, revive Cymochles, and await Guyon’s return. If three days pass, we will know he is trapped forever. But if he returns, we will be waiting.”
“You do not command us,” Pyrochles took a menacing step towards Archimago, who looked up at the tall knight, unabated.
“True,” Archimago nodded, though his voice was low and dangerous. “As a citizen of this realm I am beneath you. But do not forget you would have died just now if not for me. Do not forget that I was the one who opened the breach that brought you and Duessa here. And do not forget, that none of our lives will be worth scraps if we fail!” His voice rose in a crescendo as he spoke, his eyes ever staring upward at Pyrochles.
The black knight hesitated, but in the end said nothing. Archimago had made his point.
“So we go back to the island, then?” Phaedria watched them both with folded arms.
Archimago nodded. “We go and we wait.”
“Very well,” she said. “I will take you there.”
“Before that, where is the girl?” Pyrochles asked. “Did she pass into the Shadow Realm as well?”
“We do not know her location,” said Archimago. �
��Except she is not on the island.”
“How are you so sure?”
“No one can navigate through the fog without my help,” Phaedria answered. “My illusions have made it so.”
“You mean she could be here, anywhere?” Pyrochles turned as if to search for her, though the fog was still thick. Una lowered her head so he wouldn’t see.
“She is not our concern,” Archimago waved a hand in dismissal. “If she can’t get to the island, then we needn’t worry. She will not stop us from eliminating the Faerie Queen’s knight.”
Phaedria retreated to the boat, signaling to the others. Pyrochles took one last look around before following Archimago into the vessel.
Una glanced around, a feeling of desperation sinking in. If what Phaedria said was true, she wouldn’t be able to find the island on her own. So even if she could enter the Shadow Realm to reach Guyon, he would come out where he had left, on the island. And Archimago, Phaedria, Pyrochles and his brother would be there in waiting.
Perhaps she could enter the Shadow Realm from here, then somehow reappear on the island. It worked like that, right? From what the voices had told her, travel was somehow different in that realm.
It only works where the fabric of time and space is weakest, came the clarifying voice. The island is the only way in.
Una cursed. Well so much for that. Even if the voices did agree to help her enter this Shadow Realm, she would have to be on the island. And as Phaedria pulled out the pole to begin pushing off from shore, it didn’t look like she would ever get a chance of traveling there.
There is another way, said the clever voice in her head.
Instantly, the voices had her attention. What is it?
Use your magic, and you can follow them unseen.
Una considered that, but as Phaedria began pushing the boat forward, she found her time for consideration was up. Show me.
Something passed out of her, through her, and Una nearly gasped as a sensation like cold water being dumped on her back sent shivers down her spine.
Look down.
She obeyed, and to her astonishment, she could no longer see her body. She was completely invisible.
How is this possible?
Magic persuades. We have simply persuaded the light to pass through you. Now go, and we will show you more.
You will show me how to enter the Shadow Realm?
No, but there is another way. We will teach you how to communicate with him.
Una set her jaw. That was better than nothing. She still didn’t like the idea of using her magic, of giving in to these strange voices when she still didn’t know enough about what they were, and whether they would result in her going mad. But now, as she raised her hand to her face, and stared at nothing, she couldn’t help but agree that magic had its uses.
Standing and hurrying around her rock, she silently sprinted forward and caught up with the boat, just as Phaedria succeeded in pushing it away from the shore.
Hoping the others would mistake her splashes for those made by the boat itself, she grabbed onto the side of the vessel and let her feet drag behind her. From there, it was simply a matter of avoiding the large pole that Phaedria used to steer.
Yes, this magic was useful, she could not deny that any longer. Skills like this invisibility could become invaluable in the future, if used appropriately. If she was careful not to give up her power to these voices, whatever they were, then perhaps she could use her magic more often.
Yes, breathed the voices. More than one of them. Yes…
22
Guyon stood in a vast desert, a plain that continued on for miles in every direction. There was nothing to see here, nothing at all. For all he could tell, not a single soul lingered in this place but him.
Though it was not hot, as he expected a desert should be. In fact, there didn’t appear to be any sun at all. The sky was illuminated by some kind of ethereal light, something that was both nowhere and everywhere. It cast a glow much like moonlight, but stronger, and yet there was no moon either. The sky was simply one solid source of dim light. It had the uncanny effect of making everything around him appear as one single color. He didn’t even have a shadow in this place.
Phaedria had tricked him. She had told him this was the only way to get the amulet, and he had believed her. Stupid. If he had one flaw, one part of himself that needed additional temperance, it was his aptitude for trusting people. And she had looked so concerned for Cymochles’s safety.
Still, perhaps she had been telling the truth about some things. In fact, he was reasonably sure that she had. The mere existence of a place like this suggested a larger story. And it was the perfect way to hide the amulet. If that amulet was attainable at all, this was as good a place as any to search for it.
Well, there was nothing to do but to move forward. He would gain nothing by staying put.
So he walked, and he walked. The journey was not arduous. The air was neither too hot nor too cold, and the ground was level wherever he went. The trouble was, there was simply no topographical features with which to judge his progress. For all he knew, he could have been wandering in circles. He needed something, some feature to use and ensure he was not aimless.
He pulled out his sword, before remembering that it had broken, and all he held was the hilt. So he unstrapped his scabbard instead and began dragging its tip through the dirt. At least this way he would know if he ever crossed his old path again.
He continued on that way for what seemed like forever. And even though he was marking the trail behind him, he never came across that trail again. For some, this would have been a comfort, it signaled that he was not going in circles, at least not in circles small enough that he would retread his path so soon.
But for Guyon, it only reinforced the notion that there truly was nothing here. Nothing but flat desert. Not even the sky held any sign of...well anything. There was no moon, no sun, no stars, just a pale illumination coming from all around that remained uncanny no matter how long he stayed.
When he was about to fall to his knees, and curse Phaedria for sending him to this hellish place, he paused.
Ahead in the distance he could see...something. It wasn’t a mirage, for though this was a desert, he hadn’t seen any mirages since arriving. And mirages were usually of large water sources, and that wasn't what Guyon saw at all. If anything, it looked like a small grove of trees.
Well there was no doubt where he was going now. After hours of senseless wandering, he would take anything new that came his way, even if it belonged to his enemy. He’d rather be fighting than persist in this nothingness.
As he approached, he saw that it was indeed a small, shady glade. Though as he drew even closer, he noticed there was no water source to account for the strange oasis. But there had to be some water somewhere. Perhaps if he dug into the ground, he would find the source.
Oddly, he wasn’t all that thirsty. He still had water in his canteen, and though the entire land was arid, Guyon hadn’t sweat much during his travels.
Nevertheless, he was tired from all that walking, not to mention his battle with Cymochles before coming here. This seemed as good a place as any to rest.
He set down his gear and lay down in the shallow grass, closing his eyes. He kept them slightly open, however, as he didn’t want to let down his guard completely. This being the only anomaly he’d seen in this place so far, there could no doubt be dangers.
Yet despite that fact, his eyes began to grow heavy. This was a pleasant little area. Perhaps he could just take a little break.
Guyon.
Just a short nap. It wouldn’t hurt to rest for a bit. He could take up his search again...eventually.
Guyon.
That was odd. It was like there was a voice calling his name, though he could not make out the source of the voice. It seemed to come from all around him, from everywhere at once. And it seemed to him that it sounded something like Una’s voice. Probably just a manifestation of his tired
mind to…
Guyon!
Guyon’s eyes snapped open and he scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily. Swallowing, he realized what he had almost done. He had almost fallen asleep when his time in this place was limited. But that voice had snapped him out of it. Where...
“Well, Sir Guyon, you’re out of your element.”
Guyon turned suddenly to see a man sitting in a lavish, golden throne that had seemingly come out of nowhere. He wore a golden coat, so weighted down it looked like it could be woven with real gold. Beneath his coat was another one of chainmail. Yet despite his rich appearance, the man was completely filthy. His face was covered in grime, and muck covered his coat and boots. The chainmail appeared rusted in places, like it hadn’t been oiled in some time. And dirt stood out between his nails and in the creases of his hands.
But what caused Guyon’s eyes to widen, were the mountains of gold that surrounded the man. Not coin. That at least would have been familiar. This was pure gold comprising great, heavy bars, all stacked around the man. They formed a wall, half surrounding the speaker. Had all this appeared in the moments while he closed his eyes?
“Who are you?” Guyon asked.
The man smiled at him. “I am your friend. My name is Mammon, though I go by many other names.”
Mammon. Greed. Guyon stilled, his body tensing. “You’re one of the Seven Sins.”
“Yes, but more than any of the others, I am on your side. I’m on all of Britain’s side. I want them to succeed, to be rich.” He waved a hand at the gold surrounding him.
Guyon slowly rose to his feet, watching Mammon carefully to ensure he didn’t make any sudden movements. But Mammon simply remained where he was sitting, appearing quite as collected and comfortable as ever.
“Have you come to kill me?”
Mammon smiled. “This is not the place for that. I cannot kill you because...well you’re not exactly alive.”
“What do you mean?”
“This place,” Mammon waved both hands and twisted to stare around them. “Christians call it Limbo, others called it Barzakh, Naraka, Bardo, Purgatory.”
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