The Relic Guild

by Edward Cox

  ‘Upon my return, Clara,’ he said as he began to climb the ladder, ‘there is a duty you and I must perform.’

  Clara watched him with a questioning gaze.

  Evidently sensing this, Van Bam added, ‘Ready yourself, and you will see,’ before disappearing through the hatchway.

  ‘And you say Yves Harrow is dead?’ Mo Asajad asked, without the slightest hint of surprise or remorse in her voice.

  ‘Yes,’ Moor replied. ‘His containment device had been compromised long before I found it. Without flesh to reanimate his essence, Harrow died a slow death over many years, I suspect.’

  Her lips drew into a thin line. ‘So unfortunate.’

  The sustenance Asajad had so gleefully hunted at the asylum seemed to agree with her. Gone was the fury and hunger that led a beast to rampage among madmen. A priest’s black cassock now covered her pale and bony nakedness, and she was as stoic and calculating as Moor always remembered her.

  ‘Tell me, Fabian,’ she said. ‘What of Viktor Gadreel and Hagi Tabet?’

  ‘Our brother and sister will be with us soon enough,’ he assured her.

  ‘That is … pleasing, I suppose.’

  The two Genii stood inside a square chamber with silver walls, floor and ceiling, which glowed with sterile radiance. Forty years this silver cube had served as Moor’s only sanctuary, his tomb of isolation. From this place, it had taken decades of searching the Nothing of Far and Deep to find the pathway that led to the Labyrinth. It now felt strange to share the cube’s confined space with another – although Asajad was not his only guest.

  From the centre of the chamber grew a strange treelike creature. Its trunk was fat, and its bark was deep brown, shaded with green, with a texture more akin to the skin of a reptile. At its base, a mass of roots writhed like a nest of snakes, pointed tips digging down into the metallic substance of the floor. Bare branches, like slender, sinuous limbs, coiled and wavered in the air. They protruded from all over the leathery trunk, and reached high to probe the silver ceiling some fifteen feet above.

  Asajad circled the tree, studying its strange form as she did so. Moor folded his arms across his chest and leant back against the silver wall as he watched her. She seemed impressed by the creature, though it was not in her character to say so.

  She stopped to study the human that was being held securely in the tree’s serpentine clutch. It was a woman. She was naked, suspended on thin and strong branches coiled around wrists and ankles. Another branch had punctured her lower back, spiralled up around her spine, and even now its tip was licking and probing at the base of her skull. The woman’s chin was pressed to her chest, and auburn hair hung in damp tendrils, streaked with grey. Her skin was mottled with ice burns.

  Asajad lifted her head by the hair to reveal a plain face, slack and unconscious. ‘And this pathetic denizen harbours the secrets we need?’ She let the woman’s head drop, and looked up the length of the strange tree with a disappointed expression. ‘Really, Fabian, I’m bored with waiting. Can’t we just torture the information from her?’

  Moor shook his head. ‘We do nothing without Gadreel and Tabet. And that pathetic denizen is an empath of some skill. She would block any pain we inflict upon her both mentally and physically. She would gladly die before revealing her secrets.’

  ‘Truly?’

  ‘Trust me – I know these agents of the Relic Guild well.’

  Asajad seemed amused. ‘Then this human is one of those who thwarted you so long ago?’

  ‘She is. Her name is Marney.’

  Raising a hand to her mouth, Asajad tittered. ‘Forgive me, Fabian, but I still find it strange that Lord Spiral’s most merciless Genii would struggle against so lowly a magicker as an agent of the Relic Guild.’

  Moor bit back an angry reply.

  He could have told Asajad that the Relic Guild was not to be underestimated. He could have explained that forty years ago this empath and all the Resident’s agents had proved a force greater than even Lord Spiral had foreseen. But he saved his breath. In truth, Asajad had always been jealous that Spiral had chosen him over her as his favoured Genii. If she wasn’t so ruthless, Moor might have considered her childish.

  ‘Understand me,’ he said levelly. ‘I have been waiting for this day for four decades, and I will not risk everything we sacrificed simply because you are bored.’

  She gave a pout, but her dark eyes glinted dangerously.

  ‘Have faith,’ Moor said, and he nodded towards the empath hanging so limp and wretched from the leathery branches. ‘This tree is a design of my own. It will harvest the information we require from the human – slowly but assuredly. Hold to that and find some patience.’

  ‘But all this inaction, Fabian!’ Asajad reached out and stroked a coiling branch. ‘Even the desire to feed has left me, and I grow restless.’

  ‘Here in this chamber, we do not need to feed. Here, we are whole.’

  ‘Funny,’ she said distantly, ‘but I find I miss it – the taste of blood, the fear and panic.’ She turned from the tree to face him. ‘Don’t you?’

  Moor paused for a moment, considering.

  Asajad pressed her point. ‘Surely we could use a few more golems about the place, Fabian?’ She ran her tongue across her teeth. ‘The denizens will learn to fear us soon enough, anyway. Am I right?’

  Feeding needlessly seemed like a reckless thing to do, but then the days of hiding and waiting were over now. The chance to taste blood again, to drain that exquisite life-energy from a struggling human, was tempting, almost overpoweringly so. Perhaps it was time to return to Labrys Town. After all, it wouldn’t be long before Viktor Gadreel and Hagi Tabet required their help. And, of course, there were still a few loose ends to tie up.

  ‘What do you say, Fabian?’

  ‘Come,’ he replied.

  He turned and pressed his hand against the cool, silver surface of the wall. The metal wavered, turning from solid to liquid. By the time it became shimmering air that gave a clear view into a shadowy alleyway, Asajad was already standing at Moor’s shoulder. She grinned at him.

  ‘Do try to temper your desire,’ he told her.

  Van Bam had no memory of his natural parents. They had died when he was an infant, and he had been taken in by a church orphanage. As a boy he had always felt alone, isolated from the other orphans. The priests mistook him for an introvert, a shy child who preferred his own company, but they were pleased with his great passion for studying scripture. Little did they know that Van Bam’s devotion to the Timewatcher was born from a need for forgiveness. The shy and introverted boy kept a secret; there was magic in his veins, and he believed that only the Timewatcher could absolve him of this curse.

  When he had grown into a young man, Van Bam became an acolyte, training to be a priest. Church life suited him well, and he considered himself an honest and faithful person learning from greater men. It was a simpler time, a good time, and he enjoyed tending the church gardens and reading scripture at services. He hid his magic well, but deep down he always knew that somebody would discover his secret one day.

  He reached his late teens before an old man came to the church looking for him. His name was Denton, and he carried a summons from the Resident. Van Bam was to be taken to the Nightshade.

  Of course, he hadn’t appreciated at that moment that Denton was also a magicker; the empath’s manner was kind and welcoming, and just being in his presence had a strange, calming effect. It hadn’t even occurred to Van Bam that he might overpower the old man and run into hiding. Where in the Labyrinth could he have truly hidden, anyway? Curiously, Van Bam had felt somehow freed of burden. He remembered feeling relieved that there was no more need for lies and deception, and that his conscience would be clear when he faced whatever punishment awaited him at the hands of the Resident.

  But when he had arrived at the Nightshade, there
was no punishment. He learned the truth of the Relic Guild, and that being a magicker was no crime if you used your skills in service to the guild. Denton, that kind and generous old empath, had taught Van Bam that his magic was not a curse. It was a gift from the Timewatcher Herself.

  So many years had passed since that day. Despite Van Bam’s experiences as a Relic Guild agent, his duties as Resident had kept him too busy to acknowledge how much the Genii War had stolen from them all. Only now, with the Relic Guild so desperately needed, was he forced to fully appreciate what Labrys Town had lost. And with that recognition came a deeper sympathy for those he had once called friends, who had been abandoned by their Resident as well as the Timewatcher.

  Van Bam found Samuel up on the roof of his hideout. The air was warm and the sun was bright, and he leaned against a guardrail, staring down onto a street in the central district below. He did not turn as the Resident approached, but Van Bam’s vision could tell from Samuel’s colours that he knew his old friend was approaching. The old bounty hunter was in turmoil, but his anger had vanished.

  As he came alongside Samuel, Van Bam could feel Gideon’s presence at the back of his mind. The ghost of the former Resident didn’t speak, but it was clear his interest was piqued. Van Bam left him to play the voyeur and respected Samuel’s silence, joining him in staring down into the street.

  By day the central district was a hive of commerce, home to the merchant and industry guilds, the entertainment councils, the town bank, the main hospital and police headquarters. Below, the street teemed with people, and the sounds of their voices buzzed in the air along with the rumbling of trams.

  Van Bam looked up towards the west, where the vague image of Ruby Moon hung in the clear sky. Invisible to normal eyes at this time of day, it was perceived by the Resident’s as a red ghost. He enjoyed seeing its hue, even though it loitered within a sky that appeared to him as a dreary canvas the tone of slate. Magic and emotion Van Bam always saw in colour; but for too many years now all other things had appeared to him only in myriad shades of grey. And of all those things, he missed the colour of the sky the most.

  ‘Do you ever think about it?’ Samuel said. He didn’t look up and continued watching the street below. ‘About the night we thought we had killed Fabian Moor?’

  Van Bam knew his answer instinctively. ‘As his face was the last thing my eyes ever saw, it is occasionally difficult not to.’

  Samuel nodded. ‘Did we make a mistake, Van Bam? Did we do something wrong?’

  ‘I have always reasoned we did enough.’

  ‘But the way the Timewatcher abandoned us. The way the Thaumaturgists just left. We must have done something to make them angry.’

  Van Bam frowned at his friend; he had never known him to sound so lost, so … ashamed?

  ‘Samuel, each of us thought Fabian Moor had died that night. We played our part in the Genii War to the best of our abilities. The decision to isolate the Labyrinth was not our fault. Why are you questioning this now?’

  Samuel rubbed his face. His hands were shaking. ‘I thought I’d grown too old and tired to really care about what the Relic Guild once stood for. But now Fabian Moor is back, everything we ever did feels so pointless. It’s humiliating.’

  Van Bam’s metallic eyes scrutinised the hues of Samuel’s emotions. At the back of his mind, he felt Gideon’s amusement grow colder. Obviously he found joy in the old bounty hunter’s uncustomary moment of vulnerability.

  Van Bam took a deep breath of warm afternoon air. ‘Samuel, even in light of Moor not being the sole surviving Genii, I have not lost hope for our situation – not while so much remains a mystery. For instance, I have been thinking about this avatar that offered you the bounty contract on Clara’s life.’

  At the mention of the contract Samuel stiffened – almost imperceptibly, but all too clearly to the Resident’s inner vision. His shade flushed defensively.

  ‘Avatars are conjurations,’ Van Bam continued. ‘And there is always a master controlling such things, yes?’

  Samuel nodded, albeit reluctantly. ‘I’ve been wondering about that, too,’ he sighed. ‘Someone offered me that contract.’

  ‘Indeed. But you are not the only one who was approached by the avatar. And that would include me.’

  For the first time Samuel looked at Van Bam, his surprise evident. ‘You saw the avatar?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘The specifics are not important, Samuel. However, I am beginning to suspect that this avatar is more than a mere servant. I have been asking myself if it could be the manifestation of a portent.’

  ‘A portent?’ Samuel said. ‘You mean a future guide? You think someone’s using the avatar to lead us into the future?’

  ‘To deliver us to a specific point in time after guiding us through a particular set of events – yes,’ replied Van Bam. ‘Such things have occurred before.’

  ‘To the Aelfir, maybe, but not to us. Van Bam, who’s left in the Labyrinth powerful enough to summon an avatar and use it as a future guide? Even Hamir couldn’t do it.’

  ‘But what is to say the avatar’s master is even in the Labyrinth?”

  Samuel shook his head. ‘That’s a giant leap of faith, Van Bam, even for you.’

  Samuel’s closed mind had obviously not opened with age. Van Bam sighed.

  ‘Samuel, consider for a moment,’ he said. ‘What if the avatar used the owner of the Lazy House and Charlie Hemlock to bring Clara to Marney’s attention?’

  Samuel nodded.

  ‘It then told me that Marney would send to the Nightshade the first magicker to be born for a generation.’

  Samuel’s shrug needled the Resident, but he pressed on.

  ‘What if the avatar knew that offering you a bounty contract was the surest way to get you in the right place at the right time to see Fabian Moor return, but also knew that Marney would stop you killing Clara?’

  Without even considering the exposition, Samuel shook his head. ‘Van Bam, you’re suggesting the avatar is a friend to us. I’m not ready to accept that.’

  ‘No? If you ask me, the avatar had a mission to bring together what remained of the Relic Guild, and knew which events would need to occur for it to happen.’

  The old bounty hunter stood his ground. ‘What about Marney? Why didn’t it warn her? Why did it allow Moor to take her?’

  ‘If this avatar is being used as a portent, then it had no choice but to manipulate present events in a way that ensured they unfolded exactly as they had to so it could guide us to the future its master desires.’

  ‘Then someone has a dangerous way of going about things,’ Samuel said adamantly. ‘You’re talking about future knowledge, Van Bam. That’s the realm of the Thaumaturgists. For all we know, it’s Fabian Moor who’s controlling this thing, playing games with us.’

  Van Bam’s irritation finally boiled over, and he clenched his teeth. ‘You were not so keen to distrust the avatar when it employed you to kill an innocent girl, Samuel!’

  The older man reacted as if struck. Van Bam saw angry colours flare in his face, but before Samuel could reply the Resident took a step closer to him, ignoring the distant sound of Gideon’s chuckles.

  ‘What did the avatar offer you?’ he demanded. ‘I have to know, Samuel.’

  The old bounty hunter’s anger evaporated. His shades became regretful hues and he seemed to shrink, as though feeling the weight of his age.

  He shifted his gaze back to the street below, and when he spoke, shame had returned to his voice.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about Denton,’ he said.

  Van Bam balked at the swerve in topic. The statement was so unexpected that he couldn’t prevent a laugh of surprise escaping his lips. ‘Strange – I have been thinking of Denton myself.’

  ‘We could really use his help right now, could
n’t we?’

  The unfamiliar hue of guilt now swirling in Samuel’s body perturbed Van Bam. He said nothing as his old friend looked up at the sky and continued.

  ‘When I joined the Relic Guild – before your arrival – Denton took me on my first trip to an Aelfirian House. The Aelfheim Archipelago – do you know of it?’

  ‘I … yes, though I never got the chance to visit it myself.’

  ‘They have a sub-House there called Sunflower. It’s a farming community.’

  Van Bam nodded. ‘So I have been told.’

  ‘They keep livestock, you know – all kinds of different animals, running free and wild. There are greenhouses too, as big as the Nightshade, growing all manner of plants and food that we never see in Labrys Town anymore.’

  Van Bam furrowed his brow. ‘Samuel, perhaps you could tell me where this is leading?’

  The old bounty hunter’s voice became wistful. ‘Over the years, I suppose I fell in love with the idea of returning to Sunflower. I still dream of it, sometimes – of being a farmer, keeping livestock, harvesting crops, walking among the trees in a forest.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Forests, Van Bam! Can you remember those?’

  Van Bam felt a sad sense of realisation. ‘Am I to understand that the avatar offered you escape from the Labyrinth?’

  Samuel’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the guardrail tightly. ‘The bounty was passage. Passage to any House of the Aelfir I chose. All I had to do was kill Clara and I’d be free. It didn’t even occur to me to refuse.’

  Inside Van Bam’s head, he could feel Gideon relishing the moment.

  ‘Samuel, you are not a naive man,’ the Resident said, scorn entering his voice. ‘Did you honestly believe the avatar could give you this reward? Such a bounty was a lie, a means to ensure your involvement—’

  ‘I know that now,’ Samuel snapped, and he glared. ‘But for the first time in years I remembered what real hope felt like. It made me desperate.’

  ‘I can sympathise, Samuel, but—’