by Edward Cox
Marney’s eyes were pinched shut. She could feel Lady Amilee’s arms crossed over her chest, holding her securely, and she knew they were flying, borne upon the Skywatcher’s wings of fluid silver. A gentle breeze caressed Marney’s face and her ears were filled with the distant moaning of a lonely wind. Her emotions were hardened like the wall of a dam, preventing her fear bursting to the fore, but she dared not open her eyes.
‘Do not hold back from this,’ Amilee whispered into her ear. Her voice was soothing, benevolent. ‘You may never get the chance to experience it again.’
Marney opened her eyes and moaned.
The walls, floor and ceiling of the Skywatcher’s observatory had disappeared, fallen away, expanded into an endless void of space.
‘The sky above your realm,’ Amilee told her.
Stars, millions of stars, more than Marney had ever seen from Labrys Town, in clusters and formations that she never had known existed. The sun, too, looked different, lighter in colour than when viewed from the ground, its edge jagged and alive with liquid fire. Silver Moon hid behind the sun, not so bright now in the glare of the great fiery orb, but Marney could see that the peaks and craters on its surface were monumental. And in the distance, loitering in the shadow of its silver sibling, Ruby Moon appeared small, smooth and blood red.
These visions might be majestic, but Marney’s brain was struggling for understanding; she could not deny what she was seeing, but could not comprehend how she could be seeing it. Had Lady Amilee travelled far from her tower, or were they still in her observatory? Were the things she saw real or illusion?
‘How … how can this be happening?’
‘Thaumaturgy,’ Amilee explained, as if this word should give comfort and assurance and understanding. ‘I am a Skywatcher and it has long been my duty to safeguard the Labyrinth from outside interference, to protect the denizens. I watch the sky, Marney. And I listen to it, decipher its language. For some time now, the sky has been speaking only of trouble and uncertainty. Still, it is beautiful to behold, yes?’
Marney clutched Amilee’s arms. Such openness, such freedom – she felt like a child clinging to her mother. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘You are among the privileged. No denizen outside the Relic Guild has ever been permitted to my tower. But I have not brought you here merely to experience the grace of the sky. Observe …’
Suddenly it felt as if Amilee had dived, and they were falling down into darkness. But Marney supposed they could have been heading in any direction. The effect was stomach wrenching nonetheless, and she fought back a wave of nausea. The star-studded darkness became a hazy blue, and when Amilee levelled out their flight she began circling high above a huge city.
It took Marney a moment to realise what she was looking at; but when she saw a cube-like building at the exact centre of the city, and followed the line of a road that led from it and headed directly north to a much, much bigger cube, it dawned on her that the road called Resident Approach connected the police headquarters building to the Nightshade, and she was gazing upon the town she called home.
‘And now the Great Labyrinth,’ Amilee said. Her body was pressed hard against Marney’s back. ‘The realm that connects all the Houses of the Aelfir.’
Beyond the town’s boundary walls the alleyways of the Great Labyrinth went on and on, further than Marney could see, seemingly without end. She had been told so many times that no one but the Timewatcher knew how far the alleyways stretched, and to where they eventually led – if anywhere – but nothing could have prepared her for seeing the vastness of it all with her own eyes. Labrys Town was not only dwarfed by the endless maze that surrounded it, it was an inconsequential speck by comparison.
Amilee said, ‘But for the creation of the Labyrinth, the Aelfir would have continued warring among themselves, existing within chaos and ignorance. Our Mother gave them a common ground in which to find order and peace. You, Marney, as an agent of the Relic Guild, play your part in preserving this state. Until now, your personal existence has been small, restricted, and it is high time you understood the full magnitude of Spiral’s plan.’
The Great Labyrinth fell away as the Skywatcher gave a beat of her wings. Marney was carried upwards, fast, and soon the view of her home was obscured by thickening mist that quickly engulfed her in utter whiteness. Amilee gave another beat, and the mist thinned as she and her passenger rose out of it. With one final beat of those fluid silver wings, Marney’s stomach was left behind as Amilee jaunted away at impossible speed; not stopping until the mist they had passed through seemed no more than a patch of fog at an unimaginable distance.
Then Marney saw it, hanging in a black void, like a vast, nebulous cloud of pale white. Bursts of luminous blue crackled along its surface, like brief but monstrous flashes of lightning.
‘The Nothing of Far and Deep,’ Amilee announced.
Marney could only stare in speechless awe. Her grip on her emotions slackened only slightly, but enough to let her know that if she lost her focus completely, she would be swamped, drowned, by what she saw.
‘The Great Labyrinth sits at its core,’ Amilee said. ‘The pathways to the Aelfir lead through its primordial mist.’
From the body of the Nothing of Far and Deep, thin and wispy tendrils snaked out. Marney was too fearful to even guess at the distance each tendril covered before they halted at pinpricks of light – hundreds of them, it seemed – all glittering around the great white cloud like moths around a glow lamp.
‘Every light you see is the sun of an Aelfirian House,’ Amilee explained. ‘Most, your people have had contact with. Some do not treat with the Labyrinth.’
‘I …’ Marney took a breath. ‘I had no idea there were so many.’ Her voice was hushed.
‘Ah, but these are only those that you can see, Marney.’
Beneath Marney’s emotive control, she realised she felt so small, so insignificant in the face of the Nothing of Far and Deep, she could have wept. Van Bam entered her thoughts; had he, at some time, been shown this awe-inspiring vision by the Skywatcher, too?
‘At this very moment,’ Amilee said, ‘the war is raging, out among these lights. The Houses are divided, Marney. If Spiral succeeds in his quest to subjugate the Aelfir in their entirety, they will not revert to their warlike ways, squabbling among each other, harbouring petty hatreds. They will be united under Spiral’s tyranny as a single, unimaginably huge army.’
The nebulous cloud flickered with blue lightning, and Marney struggled to comprehend the full significance of the Skywatcher’s words. Each wispy tendril that connected the vast whiteness to a pinprick sun was a pathway from the Great Labyrinth to a House of the Aelfir. Countless realms divided, caught in a feud between creatures of higher magic; she could understand only that the scope of this war was too enormous for her mind to conceive. And to think, she had held to the ignorant belief that her role as a Relic Guild agent could really make a difference.
As if sensing her train of thought, Lady Amilee said, ‘The protection of the Labyrinth, and the part of the Relic Guild is, without doubt, the most intrinsic element to this war, Marney. For without control of the Great Labyrinth and Labrys Town, there are too many Houses Spiral cannot reach, and without them he cannot hope to raise an army capable of defeating the Timewatcher.
‘The Genii are greedy. They crave dominance and power, and – be assured – if this war ever went in their favour, if the Labyrinth fell under their control and all the Houses of the Aelfir stood with them, it would still not be enough for Spiral and his kind. His ambition has always looked beyond what you can now see …’
Once again, Amilee beat her silver wings, and Marney was speeding through the dark void of space. The Nothing of Far and Deep and its pinprick suns disappeared. For an instant, Marney felt pulled in all directions. She groaned as her emotive control slipped from her grasp a little more. The flight only las
ted for a few heartbeats, and then she was motionless once more, clutching desperately to the arms of the Skywatcher crossed over her chest.
She could see a new, vast cloud-like formation in the far, far distance. Unlike the nebulous whiteness of the Nothing of Far and Deep, it roiled almost angrily, churning with a deep purple luminescence in the darkness. It somehow seemed both violent and majestic, forbidding and welcoming. Of all the things the Skywatcher had shown Marney so far, the empath shied from this vision the most.
‘What is it?’ she whispered.
‘We call it the Higher Thaumaturgic Cluster,’ Amilee replied. ‘There are many realms inside, Marney, but can you guess what world sits at its heart?’
Marney didn’t reply; she didn’t know how to. She both wanted and didn’t want to know the answer. Even as Amilee’s lips brushed against her ear, she could feel cracks beginning to splinter her last empathic defences, and she tried to bolster herself for the words that had to come.
‘Mother Earth,’ Amilee told her softly. ‘The home of the Timewatcher.’
Marney’s control shattered. With a moan her body fell limp, and if not for the Skywatcher’s tight embrace she might have drifted off into the dark void, lost forever.
‘This is where Spiral’s ambition would lead him,’ Amilee continued. ‘And should he raise an army large enough to conquer the Higher Thaumaturgic Cluster, and the Timewatcher falls, then the Genii and their hordes would spread like a plague across distances and realms you could not comprehend, Marney. Nothing would be safe, and there would no longer be a Mother Earth waiting to welcome your soul when your end comes.’
Marney’s mouth opened, but no words came forth. With fear and wonder, she watched the roiling mass of luminous purple within which the Timewatcher could see all things from Mother Earth.
‘And so, I hope, you begin to appreciate the implications of Spiral’s quest, Marney. When considering the full scale of the war, the Great Labyrinth might seem small, and you might feel smaller within Labrys Town, but if we allow your House’s purpose to be perverted by Spiral, it would then become the catalyst for a time of darkness unlike anything we have seen before.’
It was more than she could fathom. With a daunting, sinking feeling, Marney suddenly wondered if the Timewatcher was watching now, staring out of this vast cloud to see an insignificant empath looking back at Her.
Again, Amilee’s lips came close to Marney’s ear. When she spoke, her voice was filled with such love and kindness that Marney found it hard to bear, so she closed her eyes to the Higher Thaumaturgic Cluster.
‘Never underestimate the gratitude and respect that we Thaumaturgists hold for the Relic Guild, for your part in keeping the denizens safe. And have faith, always, that the Timewatcher most assuredly knows your name, Marney.’
She felt as though the Skywatcher had let go of her. She imagined floating away into space, curled into the foetal position. In actuality, Lady Amilee’s embrace had tightened around her, and Marney’s eyes squeezed shut even harder, spilling tears onto her cheeks as she wept deeply, unashamedly.
‘To feel overwhelmed is no sin,’ Amilee soothed, ‘but I think, for now, you have seen enough.’
Marney’s sobbing continued for some time. When it finally abated, she realised that she was no longer clinging to the Skywatcher, but kneeling upon solid ground, and her forehead was pressed against something smooth and cool. She opened her eyes to the soft glow of purple mist drifting beneath a glass floor. After another moment, Marney looked up; the circular, metallic grey wall of the domed observatory surrounded her once again.
Lady Amilee was nowhere to be seen. Had she just disappeared, or had she remained in the strange and far realms of space? But there was a man standing in the observatory, before the open doors to the elevator; an old and kindly gentleman in a rumpled suit, crushing a hat in his hands.
Denton smiled at Marney, sending her pulses of comforting emotions, but he seemed hesitant to move towards her, as though it was important for his protégé to make the first move.
Tears filled Marney’s eyes again as she got to her feet.
Denton, she thought to him. I saw … I saw …
I know, Denton replied. Something wonderful.
Marney moved forward, half-stumbling, half-running to the sanctuary of her mentor’s outstretched arms. He came to meet her, and his arms were as engulfing as his empathic embrace.
Invisible, the four agents of the Relic Guild made their way up to the topmost level of the Anger Pitt. Van Bam brought up the rear; ahead of him, his comrades appeared as faint green skeletons of illusionist magic. Bryant led the way. Behind him, Macy guided Samuel by the hand. Silently, the group entered a spiralling stairwell and began climbing the bare wood steps to Mr Pittman’s private apartment.
Van Bam’s thoughts turned to Marney.
Some things were too personal to share, even between lovers. The agents of the Relic Guild never talked about the details of their personal meetings with Lady Amilee. Only once had Denton alluded to it with Van Bam; he had said, for most, what was learnt at the Tower of the Skywatcher was a perception-altering experience, the moment when an agent finally understood the difference between promising to uphold a duty and believing in it. However, on very rare occasions an agent had found the experience too profound, too heavy for their minds to accept, and had fled from the duties, crushed by the staggering responsibility. Denton wouldn’t say if he had known an agent who reacted adversely to what Lady Amilee had revealed to them, or what happened to them after, but Van Bam had to wonder how the experience would affect Marney … and their relationship.
He didn’t realise that Bryant had brought the group to a halt until he almost walked into the back of Samuel. Up ahead, the stairs ended at a small landing and a set of closed double doors. Beside the doors, a thick-set man sat guard in a chair, reading a newspaper. The jacket of his crumpled suit was open, revealing the handgun holstered to the side of his meaty body, the power stone inactive and as clear as crystal. He seemed engrossed in the article he was reading.
Bryant’s faint, green skeleton crept up the remaining stairs. A step creaked, but the guard didn’t look up from his newspaper, and Bryant didn’t pause until he stood directly in front of him. With two quick movements, the green skeleton first snatched the newspaper away, and then grabbed the man around the throat.
A shout of surprise was choked off by strong fingers as Bryant hoisted his heavy frame into the air with ease. Thick legs kicked and struggled but dangled limply as soon as the head met the ceiling with a dull crack. Bryant carefully lowered the guard back into the chair where he slumped, unconscious.
Bryant checked what lay behind the doors. He then whispered to the group that it was safe to continue after him.
Van Bam heard voices as the agents followed a short corridor. They came from a drawing room beyond an open archway. There, twelve of Pittman’s henchmen lounged around on sofas, or sat at a long table, playing cards. Most of them looked bored. All of them were armed. There were two doors in the room, facing each other on the left and right walls. Both were closed, maybe locked. There was no way the group could sneak through the drawing room without attracting attention.
Van Bam took Samuel’s arm and held him back in the archway while the skeletal forms of Macy and Bryant stepped into the room.
As the twins, unseen and predatory, moved among the guards, the sound of an amplified voice, muffled and unintelligible, rose up through the floor from the arena below. It was followed by a dampened roar from the crowd. Clearly, the first bout of the night had been announced.
One man playing cards at the table gave a groan and bemoaned that fact that he was missing out on the entertainment and gambling. As Macy moved up behind him, his proclamation was met by a few grunts of agreement, but the henchman sitting in the next chair along slapped his arm and said, ‘Shut your moaning and make a bet. The bo
ss said he’ll see us right when Llewellyn comes through.’
‘If he comes through,’ sniffed the other, throwing a few chips onto the pile on the table. He shivered. ‘You all saw the state he’s in.’
‘That’s right,’ said another, sitting on a sofa to the left of the card game. ‘Gives me the creeps just looking at him. Don’t know how the poor bastard’s still breathing, but I’ll tell you something—’
He didn’t finish the sentence. Bryant punched him unconscious, hefted his limp body into the air, and threw him onto the table. Chips scattered and the card players jumped to their feet, staring with mute shock at their crumpled companion ruining their game.
Van Bam supposed that the stunned silence might have lasted a few moments more had Macy and Bryant not continued their assault. The twins set about the remaining henchmen with brutal precision.
Shouts of alarm and panic filled the room as Macy smashed two heads together with a sickening thud, and Bryant kicked a man so hard that his body cracked plaster when it hit the wall. Pittman’s men tried to draw their weapons, but the twins swirled among them in a flurry of violence. They moved in synchronisation, as though one didn’t need to see the other to know which head to crack next, and when. They kicked and punched and threw, speedily debilitating each man in turn. They were an unstoppable force.
However, one guard had managed to draw his pistol. He had dived for cover beneath the table when the trouble began. But now he had crawled out of hiding and was backed up against the wall watching the scene with frightened eyes. The pistol, its power stone primed and glowing, shook in his hands. He seemed unsure where exactly he should be aiming as the invisible entities whirled so violently through his friends. He was young, clearly inexperienced, and looked just about ready to start shooting blindly.