The Chaos Crystal

by Jennifer Fallon

  'What's happening?' he shouted, doubting that even though he was screaming at the top of his lungs, Kinta would hear a word he said.

  'They've opened the rift!' Kinta yelled back, her mouth as close to his ear as she could get it.

  'Can they close it again?'

  'I hope so!'

  She grabbed Stellan's arm and pulled him further away as something cracked and shattered with the same deafening boom the ice had made when the Great Lakes

  were broken up by the immortals during the war between Caelum and Glaeba. A moment later, in the distance, Stellan saw the first of the fabulous ice palace's spires toppling to the ground. There was a Tide Lord clinging to it, but he was too far away to tell which one it was.

  'I have to go back!' Kinta shouted in his ear when they finally reached the relative safety of the rise overlooking the palace.

  Before he could answer, another spire cracked and tumbled to the ice, taking another Tide Lord with it.

  'But my lady!' Stellan objected. 'You'll be ...' He stopped himself, realising how pointless his warning would be.

  Kinta spared him a brief smile, as if she knew he was about to warn her she'd be killed if she returned to the palace. 'Don't worry about me, your majesty. Go home. Be a good king.'

  Stellan nodded and watched her leave, not sure how he was supposed to fulfil such an order, given he'd been brought to Jelidia magically and the world appeared to be disintegrating around him.

  'Stay safe, my lady,' he called after her, for want of anything more profound to say. It was unlikely Kinta heard him. She ran back down the slope, heading into the melee.

  Standing on the rise, Stellan watched the palace collapse as one spire after another broke off and shattered on the ice. There were large cracks in the ground now, spreading out from the underground chamber. A thick red swirling cloud of mist hovered around the black maw that had once been a fabulous fire-lit chamber of ice. Stellan briefly regretted never seeing the chamber, only having it described to him by Declan Hawkes.

  It had sounded like a true marvel, with its fabulous high-ribbed walls carved from the ice and its methane fires casting a hellish light...

  Stellan frowned, staring at the cracks in the ice as a terrible thought occurred to him. They were still spreading. The palace was collapsing before his very eyes. Six of the eight spires were gone now, and he could no longer see any of the Tide Lords who had been clinging to them, high above the dampening effect of the Chaos Crystal, in order to wield the Tide.

  The underground chamber, according to Declan, had been lit by perpetual fires, fuelled by gas trapped under the ice. With the ice breaking apart so rapidly, would the gas escape? Would it explode? Would it leak into the air and suffocate any mortals in the vicinity? And if it did, how far would the effects of it extend?

  Stellan found himself paralysed by uncertainty and fear. He'd faced down any number of catastrophes in his life, probably saved whole nations from the ravages of war with his skills as a diplomat. But this was too big to comprehend. It was too much for one mortal to deal with. Stellan found himself staring at a Cataclysm on an unimaginable scale and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

  The cracks in the ground were widening. Flames billowed out of the collapsed cavern. The snow steamed and spat and the sky darkened even more. The lightning was unnaturally frequent, as if something in the chamber was calling it down; the thunder so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts.

  Stellan could see nobody alive down there, but given a score of them were immortal, that didn't mean much.

  Of Warlock's fate, he had no doubt. No mortal could survive the fiery hurricane swirling over the remains of the underground chamber. Behind it, the Palace of Impossible Dreams was all but gone. Stellan never managed to see the inside of that, either.

  Another explosion boomed across the ice, another crack rent the ground in a cloud of steaming mist.

  It began to rain, but the rain was falling sideways. Stellan wasn't sure if it was real rain or snowmelt driven outward from the fiery vortex at the centre of the storm.

  And then, without warning, the vortex vanished.

  A sudden and eerie silence descended over the scene. With the disappearance of the swirling red storm, the rain stopped and even the lightning held its breath for a moment.

  Oblivious to the elements, Stellan pushed back the hood of his fur-lined jacket and wondered if it was over.

  Is it done? Had Declan and Warlock succeeded? Had they closed the rift? Had they prevented the Tide Lords from drawing so much power through the rift, it would endanger Amyrantha?

  For a long moment, it seemed as if they had succeeded. Stellan peered into the distance, half expecting to see Hawkes climbing out of the deep hole that was the remains of the shattered chamber, leading Arkady and Warlock with him, and any other survivors he'd managed to save.

  Hawkes was like that. He was the sort who always came through ...

  But nobody emerged from the ice and just as Stellan was on the verge of risking a return to the chasm to see what had happened down there, the ground shuddered again.

  A moment later, a massive column of fire shot up from the chasm, so hot that Stellan could feel the heat of it scalding his face even from this distance. He looked at it in awe, expecting it to subside, but it seemed to be growing rather than shrinking.

  Stellan stared at the fire in wonder for a moment and then realised what it meant. He swore savagely under his breath and turned, running as fast as he could manage on the rapidly melting ice, knowing it was futile, but too mortal, too afraid of death, to do anything else.

  The cracks multiplied apace as he tried to outrun the inevitable, many of the fissures exploding open in front of him.

  Stellan lasted longer than he thought he would. He made quite a distance before the fire overtook him. His last thoughts were of Arkady, wondering if, instead of being consumed in the destruction caused by the immortals and their power-hungry rift, she'd managed to reach safety on the other side.

  PART 4

  I killed them, but they would not die.

  Yea! all the day and all the night

  For them I could not rest or sleep,

  Nor guard from them nor hide

  in flight.

  Then in my agony I turned

  And made my hands red in their gore.

  In vain — for faster than I slew

  They rose more cruel than before.

  'The Immortals' — Isaac Rosenburg (1890-1918)

  CHAPTER 62

  The river sparkled in the morning light; the clear skies a mixed blessing, exposing both the cheery optimism of the couples walking along the south bank of the river and the grubby nature of the refugee camps that crowded the northern side.

  Declan spied the man he had arranged to meet sitting on a bench overlooking the river. He was wearing a suit, of all things, leaning back against the wrought-iron bench, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He didn't look up as Declan approached, or visibly react when he took a seat beside him.

  'You got the message, then?' he said.

  'So did you, obviously,' the man replied. 'Any idea what it's about?'

  'Tide's on the way up,' Declan suggested, quite unnecessarily.

  'It's been coming and going for sixty-five million years, Rodent, give or take. Seems a bit odd to call us in, just for that now.'

  'We'll find out when we get there, I suppose.'

  'Is it time yet?'

  Declan glanced at his antique Rolex. 'The note said eleven. We've some time to kill yet.'

  Cayal looked up at him. Declan was surprised to see the Immortal Prince looking a little older than he remembered.

  Or maybe he was imagining it. Maybe Cayal only seemed older because there was a world-weariness

  about him now, something that came with living not for thousands of years, but for millions of them.

  'So, how shall we kill the time, Rodent?' the Immortal Prince asked. 'Shall I t
ell you what I've been up to since I saw you last?'

  'If you feel you must.'

  Cayal grinned. 'Actually, I'd rather hear what you've been up to. Who did you roll for that watch and the suit?'

  'The watch is a fake,' Declan said with a shrug. It was easier to let Cayal think that than explain how he could afford the real thing. Then he compounded the lie by adding, 'The suit's a cheap knock-off. But at least I bought it new. Do you shop at the Salvation Army often, or just for special occasions like this?'

  'I see you haven't learned any more creative insults since the last time we met.'

  'Don't worry, Cayal. I'll keep trying.'

  'I'm sure you will, Rodent. Good thing you have until the end of time. Got a feeling you're going to need it.'

  The Immortal Prince seemed in a rare good mood today. It might be because the Tide was on the turn again, or it might be the prospect of catching up with the others. Cayal pushed himself to his feet and stretched, glancing around the riverbank. 'Shall we start walking? It's a bit of a hike.'

  Declan rose to his feet beside Cayal, put on his sunglasses and fell into step as they headed along the river, toward the bridge. They walked in silence for a time, before Declan thought to ask something that he'd been wondering about since before he fell through the rift and landed on this world.

  'You never finished telling me,' he said, as they strolled along the road, 'what happened in Kordana.' The last time they'd run into one another was during World War II in London. They'd found themselves in the same bomb shelter during the Blitz. Cayal was

  bored and feeling garrulous and had begun to relate the tale of Kordana's destruction, but the 'all-clear' siren had sounded before he got to the end of the story. 'Didn't I?'

  Declan shook his head. 'You got as far as being stabbed at Thraxis's hearth and surviving the experience. And there was a girl involved, as I recall. Serena? Selena?'

  'Sirella,' Cayal told him, smiling faintly. 'You know, that little bitch was nothing but trouble from the moment I met her. She's the reason — indirectly — Kordana was destroyed.'

  'I thought you said it was Tryan's fault?' As Declan spoke, they turned right, away from the river, and headed onto the Avenue de Suffren, toward the hotel. Both of them knew the city well enough not to need directions.

  'Well, it was, but she was the catalyst. Never try to convince one woman you love her, Rodent, when you've got another waiting for you back in your room, thinking the same thing about you.'

  'Doesn't say much for your intellect, Cayal, that you seem to have only just discovered such a self- evident truth.'

  The Immortal Prince eyed him curiously for a moment. 'You go out in public dressed in that suit and have the nerve to question my intellect?'

  Cayal thrust his hands into his pockets, and made no other attempt to needle him. Time appeared to have mellowed the Immortal Prince somewhat — not the few thousand years he'd already been alive when Declan first met him on Amyrantha, but the eons it had taken them to reach this point. Although it lasted several thousand years even after they'd fallen to this world, Cayal's determination to kill himself had eventually proved to be exactly what Lukys always insisted it was — a phase he was going through that he would eventually outgrow.

  Declan had experienced a similar phase, too. Fortunately, he'd recognised his melancholy for what it was and not tried to end his own life by taking everyone on the planet with him, as Cayal had on Amyrantha.

  'So what happened, since you finally seem in the mood to tell me?'

  'The girl I took as a mistress to console me in my grief over losing the love of my life decided the price of keeping her as a mistress was the throne of Kordana.'

  That wasn't the answer Declan was expecting and he found himself intrigued. But old habits were hard to break. 'So your preference for women you can't afford is something you've always suffered from, even back then?'

  Remarkably, Cayal didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he smiled faintly. 'Tides, but she was sharp, was Sirella. Sharp, cunning and fiercely possessive. She was a TideLord's mistress and she wasn't going to let anybody get in the way of her ambition once she realised what that meant.' *._

  'What did she do?'

  'She started acting like my queen,' Cayal said. 'I mean, it was a novelty at first, 1 suppose. She seemed so happy to be with me. What I didn't know — or learn until it was too late — was that she had quite an agenda going in that nasty little head of hers. In Sirella's world, my sister was going to die and I — an immortal — would naturally take the throne, because at the very least I could kill all my siblings and nobody would be able to kill me.'

  'Last man standing,' Declan said, as they crossed the street. 'There's a degree of megalomaniacal logic to that. No wonder you found her attractive.' There was no need to stop and check for traffic. Even in this relatively affluent part of Paris, the cars lining the streets weren't waiting for their stately owners to emerge from their stately homes to go for a stately

  drive in the country. For the most part, the cars were now home to the families of the refugees who'd managed to find employment as servants and menial labourers in the houses of the wealthy minority, who still soldiered on as if the world's problems were something that would eventually sort themselves out, provided one kept a stiff upper lip.

  'I don't know why I even speak to you, Rodent.'

  'I'm sorry. Did you end up killing the rest of the family?'

  He shook his head. 'I never intended to kill any of them. Quite the opposite. I was charged with bringing the Tide to Kordana, remember — and specifically the worship of Syrolee and her family as gods and goddesses — to have my exile revoked. You do that by performing miracles, Rodent. Not by knocking off the incumbent queen and taking her throne.'

  'So what happened?'

  'When we got to Lakesh and Sirella realised I intended to save my sister from dying by healing her with my shiny new magical powers, rather than killing her and taking her throne the way she thought I would, she was rather pissed off. A few days later, when she caught me begging Gabriella to break off the wedding with my brother and marry me instead because I still loved her, she really lost it.'

  Declan smiled. Not at the notion of Sirella 'losing it', but at how different the story must sound now to how Cayal might have told it back on Amyrantha. It was a necessary skill for immortals — the ability to blend into their surroundings, to adopt the language, idioms and vocabulary of the locals. It was something Declan rarely thought about any longer, so automatic had it become. But it sounded odd, hearing a story so ancient — a story that had, until now, probably only ever been spoken of in languages not even known to this world — uttered in a fairly good approximation of a North London accent.

  Declan's own English had a decidedly American influence, mostly because experience had taught him it was easier to talk to computers in an accent they understood, rather than waste time training them to understand a new one.

  'What did Sirella do?'

  'She went to Tryan and told him I was planning to kill my sister and take the throne with Gabriella as my queen, and then outlaw any mention of the Tide, or any other gods, besides me.' Cayal's voice remained even, which was hardly surprising, Declan supposed. These events had occurred a very, very long time ago.

  'Tryan didn't receive the news well?'

  'He tortured and killed Gabriella as a warning to me about the consequences of not toeing the line.'

  'Ah,' Declan said.

  He didn't need any further explanation. He knew Kordana's destruction had been the result of a falling- out between Tryan and Cayal, but not the details of what had caused it. Cayal's homeland, after all, was not — Declan had always assumed — something the Immortal Prince would annihilate on a whim. But destruction in response to the torture and killing of the one woman he had truly loved? That was something completely understandable.

  At least, Declan thought Gabriella was the only woman the Immortal Prince ever truly loved. By unspoken agr
eement, not since falling through the rift and landing here on Earth, had they ever spoken of any other possibility.

  'Ah, indeed, Rodent,' Cayal agreed, stopping on the kerb, is this the place?'

  Declan looked across the street at the reinforced entrance with its razor wire and armed guards on the street — as most five-star hotels were wont to have these days. He looked up. The building was at least ten storeys high and the power-hungry neon sign on the top floor proudly announced it was the 'ilto'. Even

  major hotel chains, it seemed, thought twice before forking out for frivolous things like replacing broken signage.

  'This is it. How are we doing for time?'

  'We've ten minutes or so, yet.'

  He frowned at Cayal. 'It'll take us that long to get through the security cordon.'

  'That's the cost of living these days,' Cayal said with a shrug, heading across the street.

  Declan hurried after him. 'Who's responsible, do you think?'

  Cayal glanced at him oddly for a moment. 'What makes you think one of us has done this?'

  'Hmmm, let's see. The climate's a mess, the planet has almost run out of resources, there's barely a functioning economy left anywhere in the world. Gee, why would I think one of us is responsible? That's not what we do at all. What could I be thinking?'

  'Well,' Cayal said, fishing his invitation out of his coat pocket and offering it to the guard who blocked their way into the hotel. 'I can tell you this much, Rodent; it wasn't me. It's far too subtle.'

  'Subtle? Is that what you call it?'

  'Not my sort of Cataclysm at all,' Cayal informed him, getting an odd look from the guard who was passing a hand-held metal detector over his body. 'I prefer the direct approach.'

  Declan couldn't argue with that. This gentle decline of civilisation wasn't Cayal's style, at all. In fact, if Declan remembered correctly, the last time the Immortal Prince got pissed enough to cause a Cataclysm on Earth — which was just after they arrived and he realised Lukys's promise of certain death was a lie — he'd grabbed a remnant of Amyrantha out of the heavens, slammed it into the Yucatan Peninsula and wiped out the dinosaurs.