Timekeepers: Number 2 in Series
Page 22
Shadows crept across the hall, shadows with claws ready to rip, shadows that danced nimbly through the people and, as one, converged on Jehovah.
‘Where are you?’ repeated Jehovah.
And me, and me, and me, and me, and me.
A window smashed at the far end of the hall, but no one noticed it. They were too busy watching the shadows that danced round them and which, for each individual, summoned up the worst nightmare that leered in the dark corner of their minds.
So no one saw the small, dark figure, trembling from strain, pale as the moon, pull himself through the shattered glass, bleeding from cuts by a dozen swords. You couldn’t maintain a complete enough illusion to hide for long from a Waywalker. Nor could you just magic others’ weapons aside as you flew to safety. You had to compromise.
‘You will die for this, Lucifer!’ screamed Jehovah, realising that his target was lost.
Unoriginal, thought Sam, but said nothing. There was already too much being said, and me, and me, and me, and me, filling my head, no escape…
The silence flooded in, and suffocated everything it touched.
*
The priority was to get a message to Seth, preferably without getting killed in the process. If he asked to meet Seth as himself, he knew Seth wouldn’t come. The only alternative was to force the message on to him.
Sam Waywalked back to the edge of the night.
It was a strange sensation, standing between day and night in a pink desert, with nothing around for hundreds of miles and yet knowing, knowing that somewhere in the night an entire army moved, trudging slowly towards Tartarus. Sam didn’t stir from the Portal, fearing being caught unawares by attackers, and wanting a quick line of retreat. He laid out his remaining Molotov cocktails and loosened his sword in its scabbard, looking round at the bare landscape and questing gently for any sign of danger.
He felt nothing. The Portal stood smack in the middle of the desert, there being nothing alive for miles around to warrant it being protected or sheltered by nature. Any features that might once have stood around the Portal had been eaten away by the sand, and now only it remained, an empty patch of air behind Sam that just happened to be slightly more interesting than every other patch of empty air.
He cast his mind into the night.
Silence, but just on the edge of sensing… another mind brushing his own?
A stirring of thoughts. Then,
Sam smiled, and wondered that he should be so relieved to hear his enemy’s voice. Then his smile faded again and he tried to speak seriously.
And another mind slid into the gap between Sam and Seth’s.
Seth’s mind, breaking in.
Sam hit him. He hit him with everything he had and felt Jehovah stagger back in shock, felt his head fill with buzzing. And then, sensing Jehovah’s pain as every blood vessel in his nose burst, he hit him again with just a little bit more, that bit of magic inside that he’d never let anyone know about.
Always play your cards close, that was the rule. No one knew what a Son of Magic’s potential was, no one understood how much he’d hidden.
Sam hit Jehovah again, and again, and again, feeling Jehovah’s mind buckle under the pressure of his own, and even when Jehovah’s shields failed he struck yet again into the soft, malleable parts of Jehovah’s mind, driving home centuries of hate and anger, turning his emotions into magic, his magic into arrows, and firing those arrows with unwavering aim.
Another mind slammed in front of the stricken Jehovah, another voice.
And just behind Sam, calling his name softly, ‘Lucifer.’
Sam staggered and turned. Thor smiled, leaning on his axe. ‘Little light, little fire,’ he said. ‘You think you can fight your way to freedom?’
Sam drew his sword but didn’t attempt to rush Thor, leaning on the blade instead and drawing heavy breaths. He felt emptied of everything; the last attack had taken it out of him. ‘It’s a trap,’ he said. ‘Cronus sees through your eyes, let him see my words! You’re being led into a trap.’
‘You’re lying to save yourself.’
‘Please, listen to me,’ begged Sam, edging away as Thor advanced. ‘Listen!’
‘It’s too late, little light and little fire. You’ve lost. You’ve been losing for centuries. In fact, I don’t think there’s a single battle you’ve ever won.’
‘You people always underestimate the plucky little guy. Last time we fought, you limped away with a dagger in your leg.’
Thor patted his thigh. ‘I’m feeling much better, thank you. And I don’t plan to make the same mistake.’
‘That’s what they always say. “Sell me your soul, Lucifer, go on. I won’t underestimate you, Lucifer. Run and hide, come and fight, it’s all for a good cause, Lucifer, One sacrifice for the Many, Many for the One, it’s all the same, Lucifer.” It’s bullshit, but it’s all the same to certain people, isn’t it?’
Thor took a step towards Sam, who dropped his sword and held up his other hand. A bottle full of petrol was clasped there. ‘Do you know what this is?’
Thor shrugged, but magic rose around him, thick magic to ward against fire. Sam smiled and shook his head. ‘No, no, no. You’ve got entirely the wrong idea. I’m not going to use this on you. I’m going to use it on them.’ He pointed behind Thor.
Thor grinned back. ‘No. I know that trick far too well, Lucifer. You don’t catch me out with it.’
‘Suit yourself,’ said Sam. ‘Tinkerbell will be pleased.’ Thor frowned, recognising something in Sam’s face that shouldn’t have been there.
Sam heard the thunk of the crossbow. Thor must have heard it too, because he moved in the way that only Cronus might manage, becoming a blur and snatching the crossbow’s quarrel out of the air. A sopping wet Tinkerbell, flanked by at least a dozen Ashen’ia, was already reloading.
Thor spun on Sam, who shrugged. ‘Don’t look at me. You’re being led into a trap; you don’t stand a chance.’
Cronus hissed in Thor’s voice and sprang back as another bolt sailed through the air. Without a word he stepped back, a Portal opening behind him. Sam made no move to stop him as he stepped into the Portal, which closed upon him.
That left Sam and two dozen Ashen’ia, who didn’t look at all sympathetic. There was an uncomfortable silence. Caref
ully Sam picked up his sword.
‘Help me,’ he said. ‘You’re sacrifices. You’re going to die. Many for the One. You’re going to be butchered by Seth’s army and left to die. Help me stop him.’
‘Don’t listen,’ said Tinkerbell, his eyes not leaving Sam’s face.
Sam gave Tinkerbell an almost sympathetic look. ‘You’re going to die too, you know. You’ll be in Tartarus with the rest of them, and Night will take you over, lead you to the battlefield, and there you’ll die in a sea of blood with a thousand other innocent souls for a needless fight. This is your fate too. Help me.’
‘Night will protect me. I’m of her blood, I strive to free her son. Night will keep me safe.’
‘Time would kill his own daughter, his own son. What gives you the impression that Night is better? Night had Loki, Loki killed Balder. Night had Seth, Seth seeks to free Cronus. Is this a promising family record?’
Tinkerbell raised the crossbow, aimed straight for Sam. ‘This is a steel tip, Lucifer. It’ll put you to sleep, it won’t kill you.’
‘It’ll put me out of action for days. I’ll be regenerating too long to save the universe.’
‘You cannot win, Lucifer.’
‘I can sure as hell try.’
The Ashen’ia heard his words, and charged. Sam lobbed a Molotov cocktail at them and brought his sword up and across as the first blade headed towards his face. All the while he never ceased his frantic transmission.
A fist. An ending in the transmission. A big, dark place somewhere down below. A long way to fall. A still, silent sea lapping against black cliffs. Teetering on the edge of the fall. Pushed over. Waters closing over his head, pulling him down despite his struggles.
Eventually, darkness.
EIGHTEEN
Darkness
H
e woke intermittently, feeling much too large for his skin. Everything seemed out of proportion, his hands larger than his stomach, his head larger than his chest, his toes larger than his feet, his feet larger than his legs. He tried to speak, but there was no moisture in his mouth, and when he tried to move, he couldn’t. He wasn’t entirely sure why.
Sam could feel a regenerative trance humming away deep inside him, but it was uneasy, uncomfortable. Every second it wanted to snap, for fear of the dangers around him. But as danger became a background constant it began to work nonetheless, healing wounds, pulling at energy he didn’t have, keeping him in warm, empty darkness.
He thought he saw faces, heard voices, saw needles. They were poisoning him. Giving him a small dose at a time, enough to kill an ordinary man and keep Sam himself asleep. Whenever he woke before they wanted him to, they poisoned him a bit more, so that no sooner had one toxin in his bloodstream been washed away by the regenerative system than another had replaced it.
Soon, he thought, they’d run out of poisons, his system would build up immunity and he wouldn’t have to regenerate. Soon, but not soon enough. Not within three days. There were enough poisons in the world for it to take some weeks.
Run out they would, but not in time. Never in time…
Drifting, dreaming.
‘Why did you defy me?’ Soft voice, filling his mind.
Lying handcuffed to a bed, surrounded on every side by wards, poisons, poisons in the blood. Trying to speak, knowing it wasn’t real, knowing there wasn’t an escape. Father…
‘Freya has been taken from me. Why did you take her from me?’
You would have killed her, Father. Killed her so I would destroy Cronus. Many lives for One, One for Many, no escape…
‘You cannot win. I will now take what before you offered.’
Let me go, please let me go.
‘Give me your soul, Lucifer.’
You’re slipping, Sebastian.
‘Let me in. I’ll take the pain away. I’ll purge the poisons from your blood. I’ll keep you safe. Nothing shall harm you. You shall be my new golden child, and your name shall be praised as protector of the universe. You shall be welcomed in Heaven, called a hero. You shall belong once more, my child, my heir. Give me your soul.’
I always found it ironic that people were supposed to sell their souls to Satan. What use did he have for them? Go away, leave me alone.
‘Let me in. It’ll be all right if you just let me in. We can do this easily. No pain, none…’
There is a part of Us that can destroy Time. For Time is but a One, and we are Many.
‘The Light won’t protect you from me, Lucifer. I created the Light, and you are already slipping into a dark place inside.’
We are the intention and the act, the strength and the weakness, the light and the dark, the individual and the whole, the magic and… and…
I can’t make miracles when I’m dead.
You’re slipping, Sebastian…
Poisons in the blood…
‘If you don’t give up, I will take by force what could have been gently won. Cronus will be freed, Cronus will fall, and you will take him down. But if you let me in, I’ll keep you safe when the time comes. I’ll hold your mind up, above the others.’
I am many things, you are but one, a part of me. 1 have seen the minds of the world, and in a small way they are all part of me.
‘I’ll give you peace.’
Many dying for One, One dying for Many, but that doesn’t matter to you. Just a part of me…
‘Lucifer? Lucifer, why are you hiding in other minds? Why are you burying your soul? I will keep you safe. I will keep you whole. Give in to me, and it will all be over.’
Give in to me…
‘Father?’ Standing in the centre of the summoning circle, holding the knife. A smile. Sam looked down at the floor, gazing through the swirling images until, just for a second, he saw the clock. He seized on it, dragged it up to the fore of his mind, focused on it. Raised the knife.
Give in to me…
He drew a line of blood across his hand and moved it, uncertainly, towards the image. The image danced and shimmered in expectation. ‘Father?’
And Time sensed it. He must have sensed it because the image swirled and spun, tried to leap backwards. There is a part of Us that can destroy Time. He drew the knife across the image of the clock, but the knife was no longer a knife, and in his hands it left a trail of pure white fire. As bright and as white as the Light. Sam shoved his bloody hand into this tear, pressing his mind into it. A miracle would save him, that was for sure. I can’t make miracles when I’m dead…
He sank into the mind of Time, feeling Time tear, ineffectively, at his own mind. There were too many minds between Time and his own. And the more Time dug, the more minds Sam tossed his way, barring his passage until Sam was sinking behind a world of other minds. Still Time came on, reaching through these other minds for Sam, rushing after him with tendrils of power to turn him into just another puppet, a servant who would live, fight and die for Time. He was crawling through Sam’s blood, reaching for his elusive mind, itself a tiny, tiny dot in a sea of others, so small and insignificant it could hardly be seen.
Poisons in the blood. I have seen the minds of the world, and in a small way they are all part of me.
There is a part of Us that can destroy Time. For Time is but a One, and we are Many…
At the last, just o
ne mind in all the universe stood between Time and Sam. Sam smiled, wrapped himself in the memory of this one mind, so briefly touched by the Light, and used it like a shield. And though Time tried, he could not tear through this mind that Sam had found within his own, because it tore back with equal strength.
‘Your mind, Father,’ Sam called. ‘A part of your mind is written into my soul, just like a part of my soul is now written on to your mind. You cannot touch me.’
‘You cannot win.’ It will be easier, I will keep you safe, I will keep you whole.
There is a part of Us that can destroy Time. For Time is but a One, and we are Many…