by Simon Kewin
There was no time for further questions. Cait turned and stepped into the darkness of the tunnel. A thin light from the kitchen revealed a sloping floor paved with smooth cobbles. Nox shut the door and darkness consumed them.
“I have a torch on my key ring,” said Nox. “Or we could wait around while you try and witch-up one of those little lights?”
She didn't rise to it. Maybe sarcasm was how he coped with fear. And maybe it wasn't. “Yes, shine your torch,” she said. “That would actually be useful.”
Stooping in the cramped, damp tunnel, they shuffled forward in the bubble of shifting light from Nox's torch. She reached out with her mind to find the massed undain. Perhaps they were only a yard or two above their heads. The mind-expanding moment of clarity she'd experienced had receded. She could sense only a blurred mass of undain. Perhaps the thickness of the ground above them muffled her senses. She needed to know where the tunnel would take them. What they would face when they reached the other end.
“What is an Ice House anyway?” she asked over her shoulder.
“It's a house for ice,” said Lugg. His voice was strangely intimate in the enclosed space, as if he were whispering in her ear,
“Why do you need a house for ice?”
“To keep it cold. Obviously. We don't have fridges or electricity like you. We prefer to stick to stylish, old fashioned technology that doesn't actually work.”
“So you put ice into a damp cave to keep it cold?”
“Just as people used to in your world. We have big blocks of it delivered from the north. There's not a lot of it left by the time it gets here. That's why it's so precious.”
The air was certainly freezing enough to make her toes go numb. They splashed through pools of water. Nox's torch showed stone walls coated with green. Here and there, sconces for candles had been set into the walls, the algae thick around them as if it clustered there for warmth. Cait waded through an ankle-deep puddle and then the floor sloped upward again. Her felt squelched unpleasantly in her shoes.
“What's with the sword?” said Nox from the shadows. It sounded like he didn't trust Lugg at all. “Are you planning to take on all the undain when we get out there, boy?”
“Not me,” said Lugg. “This is a dragonrider's sword. We have a collection of them from the old days, but this is the best. It's very old. The Duke will be furious when he sees it's gone.”
“I think he's going to be fairly furious anyway,” said Nox.
“Why do you even have it in the house?” asked Cait. “Shouldn't the dragonriders have it?”
“I told you, they're not true riders,” replied Lugg. “When they submitted to the Ritual they lost everything they were. The dragons would no longer allow themselves to be ridden. All the riders' ancient magics failed or turned against the corruption. The riders couldn't even wield their ensorcelled blades any more.”
“Their what?” asked Cait.
“Their magic swords,” said Nox.
Fer had told her about Ran's sword. He'd used it to wedge a grille shut in the cellar of the library in Manchester. Their swords were precious to them, made for each individual. And he'd thrown it away without a thought to save Fer.
They emerged into a square room, the walls stone and the floor mud. A cube of ice stood on a stone plinth. Shards had been chipped off it by the servants and a puddle of mud surrounded it as it melted and dripped. Beyond it lay a low wooden door. Cait walked past the ice and gripped the handle.
Lugg stopped her with a hand on her arm. “It's going to be dangerous out there, Cait. Best I go first.”
“You?”
“I'll protect you.”
“Lugg,” said Cait. “When you studied our world, did you cover sexual equality at all?”
“Huh?”
“You know, equal rights, all that stuff?”
“Uh, yeah. I think so. I may have skipped a few lessons.”
“Good. Well, here's the thing. It's sweet of you, but you don't have to protect me because I'm a girl. And you don't get to tell me what to do, OK? That's how it works in our world.”
He looked genuinely confused. “But … I've got a sword.”
“A sword you can barely lift.”
“And I know the ground out there. I know the best route to take.”
“Sure. But I know where the undain are. More importantly I know where they aren't. Do you?”
“Well I was hoping they wouldn't see us.”
“Then it's best I go first, isn't it?” said Cait. “And don't worry, I'll protect you.”
She caught a glimpse of Nox, grinning at her. She ignored him. Lugg looked like he was about to reply then thought better of it.
Cait turned and reached out with her mind into the night beyond the stone walls of the Ice House. The undain were there, some only becoming visible when they moved. She stood for long moments, studying the visions in her mind, looking for a safe path through. It wasn't going to be easy. Most of the undain were behind them, thronging around the palace walls. But there were sentinels dotted around out here. Lugg might need to use his sword after all.
“Is your gun loaded?” she said quietly to Nox.
“I've got a few shots left.”
“Don't fire unless you have to,” said Cait. “That will bring them all running.”
“What a good job you mentioned it,” said Nox. “I was about to race outside firing.”
She ignored him. “Walk quietly and follow me. The undain are everywhere but we might be able to thread our way between them. If we can get far enough without being seen, maybe we'll have a chance.”
“But if you can sense them can't they sense you?” asked Lugg.
In truth she had no idea. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Depends how powerful they are.”
Without waiting for further objections she pulled the door open. It was fully dark outside. The Ice House lay in a steep-sided dell in the ground. Black trees encircled them, leafless branches silhouetted against a starry sky. Cait crept forward, feeling her way through the night with her mind's eye, trying at the same time not to trip over a root and sprawl in an embarrassing heap on the ground.
There was an undain presence about twenty yards away in the trees. She could feel its seething hatred, but it didn't appear to be aware of them. A foot-soldier. She was about to move on, search farther afield, when she caught the flicker of light in the undain's aura. This time she glimpsed a rapid blur of faces, sounds, colours. She saw what they were. Memories. Echoes of the life the undain had once lived.
She turned aside and stepped carefully away. Nox and Lugg followed. They worked their way up the sloping side of the pit and weaved between the boughs of the trees. She caught a glimpse of the undain she'd sensed, a distant shape between the trees, impossible to say which way it was facing. It made a snuffling, snarling sound, like some hungry beast.
She moved on, treading as lightly as she could, terrified of snapping a twig like people always did in the movies. She counted seven or eight of the undain in the immediate area, arranged in a rough arc. She headed for the biggest gap in the ring.
Could any of them sense her? Nox kept his mind closed off, guarded. She needed to do the same, although she had no idea how to go about it. Another thing she should have been taught. She tried to imagine glass windows and walls, anything that represented a barrier, but had no way of knowing if it had any effect.
Like this. Hide from them like this.
The tiny voice from within her was unexpected. Bethany. Bethany was showing her how to work the magic. Bethany who'd spent so many years hiding beneath the cobbles of Manchester.
Cait let Bethany guide her. There was a brief pinch in Cait's insides as the witch-girl worked the magic, but it faded immediately. The spell put up a wall of thin fog around her mind, obscuring her. It was like looking at the world through frosted glass. Standing up close she could see through it, but anyone looking at her would see only vague shapes. It wouldn't hide her completely but it would help. Thi
s was clearly something she had to practise, get a whole lot better at if she were to have any chance of surviving in Angere.
Thank you, she said.
Just get away, said Bethany. Get away from here as fast as you can.
They crept from tree to tree, moving as quickly as they dared. More snuffling grunts came from here and there in the darkness, but no alarms were sounded and no one came running. They reached the last of the trees without being seen. Beyond lay a sea of darkness, fields and lawns by day. There was one undain nearby, the last guard in the ring, but it appeared to be unaware of them. Behind them, the house blazed with candlelight and lamplight, beautiful as a fairy palace.
Cait shivered, peering into the darkness ahead, deciding which way to go. And her mobile chose that moment to sound its low battery bleep.
“No. Damn. No.”
As she fumbled to turn the device off, the nearby undain snarled. It stamped forward, snuffling the air, a deep growl in its throat. She could see the shape of it moving toward them between the trees.
Nox raised his pistol while Lugg struggled to raise the sword. Cait's mind spun. What had she done? What should they do? The monster was coming straight for them. There was no way they could hide.
Then she saw it. The glimmer of memory in the void of the creature's mind. Could she use that? Was it even possible? She could think of nothing else.
She reached into the approaching undain's thoughts. It was like diving into a pool of freezing water in a lightless room. For a moment she was lost, drowning, the void sucking at her. Then she saw the light again. It bobbed and danced away. It was such a thin, weak flame, barely there at all. She willed herself toward it.
She caught an echo of something from it: confusion mixed with fear. Again and again it was eclipsed by the all-encompassing hunger of the undain's mind, the yearning to snuff out all the light in the world.
Then she saw the speck again, nearby now. It was beautiful up close: all oranges and reds and swirling yellows. As gently as she could, she reached out to touch it. The light dimmed but stayed where it was, allowing the contact.
Help me, she said to Bethany. Help me do this.
Hurry, hurry, said Bethany. Here, like this. And this.
Between them they peeled away the layers of the light, teasing it open like the bud of a flower. More and more colours flashed. There were sounds, too. Shouted words, brief bursts of laughter. A woman's kiss. Cait carried on peeling, revealing. Then with a blinding flash the speck of light exploded. The whole of the undain's mind was flooded with colour and light. A jumble of sensations rang out: faces, voices, cries, more laughter.
Cait fled the undain and looked through her own eyes again. Their attacker lunged at them, a snarling beast that was all teeth and claws. It was carrying a sword big enough to slice through all three of them in a single stroke. But the creature stopped as if it had struck an invisible wall, a look of shock twisting its features. It dropped the blade and studied its own hands as if seeing them for the first time. It began to scratch and scrabble at its own flesh. It sank to its knees then crashed to the ground, writhing and mewling in agony, thrashing around as if a swarm of wasps were attacking it.
For a moment, no one spoke.
“What did you do?” said Lugg. The horror in his voice was clear. “How did you do that?”
The undain continued to flail on the forest floor, oblivious to them, seeing only the visions filling its mind. What would her gran say to what she'd done? That she'd freed the poor creature from its fate or subjected it to terrible torment? Cait watched the creature lashing around and didn't know what the answer would be.
“I showed it what it had become,” said Cait quietly. “I let it see itself.”
“Dear god,” said Nox, staring at the writhing creature on the ground.
“Let's get away from here,” said Cait. “Even if no one else heard, something might have sensed the magic being used.”
She turned and had walked one step when a sudden blur of movement flashed through the night air. Where a moment before there had been only darkness, a figure now stood before her. An old man, bent over, frail looking. A large key hung about his neck, seeming to weigh him down. His eyes were milky white as if he were completely blind.
She wasn't deceived for a moment. She could sense the seething malevolence of his mind. This was no foot-soldier or mindless beast. She could do nothing to defeat or trick this one. This was the howling presence she had felt before.
The leader of the army.
The old man bowed his head to them. “Welcome back, Lord Albion. And welcome to you, Cait Weerd. My name is Lord Charis, Holder of the Keys, Guardian of the Aether, Prince of the Holy Court of Menhroth the Undying. Truly I am delighted to meet you.”
9. Wyrm Roads
Nox stepped toward the ancient undain and kneeled. “My Lord Charis. As instructed, I've brought you the witch from our world. I've brought you the heir of Ilminion.”
The undain sent a white light above his head, illuminating the scene with a harsh glow. The branches of the trees loomed over them as if leaning in to listen. Distantly, Cait was aware of Bethany screaming. She'd walked into Nox's trap after all. He'd manipulated her, brought her to this palace and summoned the undain to come and take her. How could she have been so stupid?
But Charis was shaking his head, looking down at Nox with indifference, apparently able to see him despite his opaque eyes. “Still playing your games, Lord Albion? Do you think you can manipulate me? That you can buy your way back into the King's favour even now?”
Nox stayed where he was, staring at the ground. “I've only done what I had to, to find the witch and bring her to you. What alternative did I have? She escaped with the help of others and I was thrown out of Genera as a result. The only way I could bring her here was to pretend to befriend her. Surely you see that, my Lord?”
Charis laughed a dry, humourless chuckle as if he had stones in his throat. “And now you wish to accompany me to the White City, yes? To resume your place as our trusted agent in your world?”
“I do, my Lord.”
“And why would I agree to this?” asked Charis. “We have the girl now. You offer us nothing. And another now acts as our eyes and hands among your kind.”
“Who?”
“I think you know.”
“You mean Clara? Ms. Sweetley?”
“Just so. Your former underling now runs Genera. So you see, we have no further need for you and your games, Lord Albion.”
“But I think you do,” said Nox. “The shadow path we used to come here. I can show you it. It is a threat to Angere. Only two of us came through this time, but others could follow. A whole army could march upon you while you gaze east across the An.”
Chris shook his head, as if disappointed. “Oh, I intend to find out all about this gateway, seal it or make use of it. These western lands are riddled with the ancient wyrm roads. But I don't need your help for any of that. I don't need you for anything.”
Charis waved a hand. Three giant soldiers appeared from the darkness. They wore silver and brass armour, but their heads were bare and the skin of their faces was like glass: completely transparent, like some classroom anatomy model. A light glowed from within their tissues, illuminating the workings of their muscles. The white orbs of their eyes swivelled within their sockets. Dark lines decorated their skin – if it even was skin – the patterns similar to the spiralling tattoos on Ran. Each of the three held a serpentine blade, although they were far larger than the one Lugg carried. They could only be wyrm lords. Dragonriders. Or what the dragonriders had become in Angere.
“Inform the Duke of Greygyle his spawn has been located in the company of the renegades,” Charis said to them. “Bring him to me now. When I am finished with him you will take these three to the White City with all haste. Kill the males if you must but the female must be kept alive. Winter is drawing on and time is short. I shall take the army west to this stone circle in case more have c
ome through. Inform the King I shall return to the An as soon as possible.”
One of the dragonriders bowed and hurried away.
“Lugg has done nothing,” said Cait. “He didn't know about us. I asked him to show me around, show me a way outside and he did. There's no need for him to be taken, too.”
Lord Charis's parched little laugh sounded again. “Oh, I think there is, daughter of Ilminion. He is well-known to us: a sick, deluded child, imagining rebellions and revolutions where there are none. Strictly speaking he is too young to undergo the Ritual of the Seven Ascensions, but I think we can make an exception in his case. It will do him good to be ritually slaughtered.”
“Never,” said Lugg. “I'll kill myself first.”
“Oh, no need, my young friend,” said Charis, delighted with himself. “We do all that for you.”
The ancient undain stepped forward and studied Cait, seeming to sniff at her. Something about the pallor of his weathered skin made her want to retch again. “So, here you are at last, Cait Weerd. You have caused us much difficulty, you and your brood. Rest assured when we kill you there will be no ascension, no eternity for you. It is your blood we want, nothing more. You are the carrier, girl. The container. The vessel. Once we have what we want you will be discarded. Do you understand?”
She tried to summon some terrible magic to strike back at him. Tried to find the ice within her to blast at him, hurl him away from her. But there was nothing. The presence of this ancient creature numbed her utterly, stilling her power. Bethany was only a silence inside her.
Instead she spat at him. Futile, but it made her feel a little better. “You're a creep, you know that?” she said. “You're hideous. You're sick, all of you.”
Charis simply smiled. “I believe the boy said something similar. Just before the end.”
“Wait, Danny? You saw Danny?”
“Of course. He lived for a while. But he refused to answer our questions or he couldn't answer our questions. It amounted to the same thing. He mewled and begged to be saved. I imagine you will, too.”