by Ian Whates
"Jayce, you take the rear, with Tom in between us." She drew one of her swords. "We'll stick close to the left side of the corridor, weapons in our right hands, fingers of the left brushing the wall all the while. That way we can be certain one of us won't go stumbling off in the dark and get separated. Listen out for the person in front or behind you, make sure you can always hear them. If at any point you can't, say something, and don't be afraid to answer."
They proceeded as Kat had described, Tom clutching his knife ferociously, having accepted he was never going to be a swordsman during the trek along the Thair. All the while he worried that he might trip on something in the dark, fall forward and stab Kat. Of even greater concern was the thought that behind him Jayce might do exactly the same and stab him.
They were tense moments, those spent in total darkness. Tom didn't need Kat's encouragement to listen out for the others. He strained at every step to hear his two companions, to draw comfort from any confirmation of their presence, and he suspected both of them were doing the same. Thankfully, the period was brief. A single light flickered erratically in the ceiling ahead, dispensing irregular pulses of illumination in a stop-start manner that strobed their world with twilight, allowing Tom to glimpse Kat's movements in broken jerks. As they drew nearer, the light grew starker, her presence sharper. She glanced back and grinned reassurance, though none of them spoke. Then they had passed beneath this isolated beacon of light and were walking forward again into greyness and shadow, until the dark swallowed them once more.
That flickering beacon proved to be a harbinger, however, and their return to total darkness was a brief one. More lights appeared ahead, this time neither isolated nor flickering. First a pair with little space between them, then a continuous line, restored once more as normal service resumed. They abandoned the wall and were able to walk confidently again. Tom saw clearly where the last lick of sooty blackness stained the wall and then stopped. All three of them had made it, they'd come through the pitch black corridors without attack from Rust Warrior, Demon or even rebel kids, though Tom had no idea how they would have coped if any such had materialised. He saw his own relief mirrored in the eyes and smiles of both his companions. Kat even chuckled.
Her good humour didn't last long. Their nervousness at walking blindly might have passed but the tension of their situation mounted at every turn. Kat's sword had been returned to its scabbard but her hand never seemed to be far from its hilt.
"Where are they?" she muttered.
Tom knew how she felt. The lack of recent opposition was growing almost sinister. Perhaps there were no more runaway kids, perhaps they'd passed through the main strength of the Rust Warriors, but where were the Demons? The very future of their race depended on Tom's failure, so why weren't the denizens of the Upper Heights – the core's avatars as the Prime Master had called them – flinging themselves against him in feather-winged droves?
It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea how many Demons there actually were. More than the few they'd seen to date, surely, but if the primary functions of this elusive race were to defend the city's roof – which hadn't come under attack in centuries, if ever – and to provide a physical manifestation for the core, would there need to be that many? Probably not. So if the Blade had accounted for a few and he'd seen to another – with a little help from the kayjele – these could very well represent significant losses. Perhaps that explained why no more attacks had come. Perhaps the Demons were saving themselves for one final effort at a time and place of their choosing.
"Your logic is sound," said the goddess, who now walked beside him again. "The specific number of each generation varies, but there are usually around a score and never more than three dozen. You're close to the core now and an attack will come, make no mistake. Stay focussed. Whatever happens, you must stay focussed." With that she vanished, as abruptly as she had appeared, to leave Tom staring at Kat.
"What?" she asked, noting his attention.
"Nothing."
"No, you saw something didn't you. I'm not letting you get away with 'nothing' again. What did you see?"
"The goddess," he said on impulse, tired of hiding the fact.
"Sorry? As in Thaiss herself?"
He nodded, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.
"You mean like a visitation, a religious vision or whatever?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Wow, that trip up the Thair really messed with your head, didn't it."
"Trust me, you don't know the half of it," he assured her.
The pounding in Tom's head, the lure of the core, grew to dominate his thoughts. They were right on top of it, he could sense it. The very last he anticipated was a dead end – the first they'd encountered. They were no longer in any of the residential areas – Tom felt certain they'd left those behind a while ago. The corridors had become bleaker, blander and more functional, as had the doorways, which were far fewer and, where present, were simple utilitarian oblongs, lacking any hint of adornment or personalisation. Even so, it came as something of a shock when the corridor simply ended in a blank wall.
"The core's ahead of us, just the other side of this wall," Tom muttered, unable to keep still. "I know it is."
Jayce had stepped forward and was feeling the surface of the wall, standing on tiptoes and reaching up to run his fingers along the ceiling join, as if hoping to find a gap that might indicate the presence of a door. It was obvious his search had been in vain even before he stepped back, pursed his lips and shook his head.
Kat had been staring at the wall intently, as if it might offer some clue under close scrutiny. Clearly it hadn't as she sighed and said, "We'll have to go back, then."
Tom shook his head. "It would take too long. We're here. Now."
"With just a solid brick wall to get through," Kat pointed out.
"Perhaps I can visualise the core enough to take us there," Tom said, almost to himself. He'd caught a vague glimpse from the Prime Master's mind but wouldn't really want to rely on that.
"Then why have we just traipsed halfway across the brecking city?" Kat exploded.
"Because I can't really visualise it." He was pacing in circles, the need to get past this wall gnawing at him.
"What happens if you try to visualise it but can't?"
"I've no idea," he admitted.
Kat shook her head. "It's a no go then. We can't take the risk."
Tom knew she was right. He didn't much fancy the idea of trying only to end up stuck in some limbo because he couldn't see the destination clearly enough, or worse still risk materialising halfway through a brick wall or whatever… but there had to be a way, he simply wasn't seeing it.
Jayce thumped the wall with the flat of his hand. "It's solid," he said. "This is going to take some knocking down if it comes to that."
"There must be something…" Tom stepped forward to run his hands across the barrier that was keeping him from his goal, almost as if he doubted Jayce's findings, though in truth he did so merely for want of anything better to do and to stop himself from pacing.
The moment his fingers touched the surface he felt a surge of energy, which seemed to run rapidly through his arm and ripple outward to encompass his entire body. Right then, he didn't need the goddess's guidance or the homing instinct the Prime Master had stimulated, he could feel the core burning in his mind. It was as if a switch had been flicked somewhere inside him. He, the core, and the wall, they were all connected by a stream of energy, which flowed constantly between them. They were a circuit, which had sat dormant and waiting, broken until his hand touched the wall and closed the loop, enabling the energy to flow.
"Tom!"
He barely heard Kat's exclamation and certainly didn't need it to tell him what was happening. He could feel the wall accept him, welcome him even. It was as if this inanimate barrier chose to step aside and usher him within. The wall melted from sight. He felt it fade beneath his fingertips, disappearing as it simply took itself e
lsewhere. As easily as that they were granted access to the core.
Tom hadn't known what to expect. The Prime Master had described the core's portal as a "platform", which meant nothing to him. In the event, it proved to be exactly as the name suggested: a large, flat section of disconnected flooring that stood proud of the main floor and seemed to hover in the air unsupported. Quite why it did so, other than as a statement of its import, was beyond Tom.
He barely noticed the platform however; it was the far wall, from which the dais projected, that demanded his attention.
"A bit of a let-down, if this is it," Kat said.
No it wasn't, not for Tom. He couldn't focus on that wall, couldn't decide quite what he was looking at. It was as if he were staring at two different walls, both existing in the same place at the same time, one overlaying the other, flip-flopping in and out of focus constantly. The first was a featureless blank, just another unremarkable wall, but the second was something else entirely. Tom was instantly reminded of a memory absorbed while he was in the immersion tank. He saw again in vivid detail the enormous column of core material being lowered into Thaiburley's heart. This was it. This was what he remembered from those newly acquired memories. Phasing in and out of focus, of existence, as if jostling for attention with the mundane wall it shared space with, was a section of that vibrant, swirling, impossibly bright energy. This time though, it was different. This wasn't someone else's memories – images in which he had no emotional investment – this was physically in front of him, in person. It had instant impact in a way that the planted memories could never convey. The core pulsed with vigour, seeming almost alive.
It reached out to him and Tom felt his body respond.
The core's energy touched every part of him simultaneously, seeming to stimulate every cell, evoking a sense of euphoria such as he'd never experienced before. Tom felt a shiver run up the back of his neck and his hair tingled, as if every strand was stretching upward to attention. He wanted to laugh, to sing, to share this exulted state with the world.
He grabbed Kat's hand, perhaps to dance with her, though afterwards he couldn't be certain. She instantly pulled away, snatching it out of his grip.
"Tom, what the breck are you doing?"
"Can't you see, can't you feel it?" How could she not?
"No, so you're going to have to tell us poor blind folk what's got into you. What are you seeing that we can't?"
"The light… the colours… the core!" and he was laughing now.
Suddenly he stopped as a sense of dread washed over him. "Oh no."
"What?"
He felt them coming – when he was this alive, this connected, how could he fail to? Streaks of individual sentient core energy zeroing in on his location, racing towards him like arrows loosed by a company of expert archers converging on the same bullseye.
The Demons. Tom might have anticipated their arrival but to Kat and Jayce it must have seemed as if Thaiburley's most elusive citizens materialised out of nowhere. One instant they were on the threshold of a vacant space, the next a host of winged, serenely smiling, achingly beautiful Adonises filled the room. No women among the lot of them, Tom noted in passing. How could anyone ever have believed in Demons' eggs when the Demons themselves were all male?
"Thaiss!" Kat exclaimed. "We had trouble enough dealing with just one of these breckers, what are we supposed to do about this lot?"
Good question, and there would be no kayjele to help them this time.
The assault began almost immediately. There was no attempt at violence, no physical threat from the assembled host at all; the demons were far too subtle for that. They played to their strengths.
It was impossible not to be impressed by such physical perfection, the aura of health, of vitality, of goodness that surrounded them. It was only natural to feel a sense of awe at these visions of angelic perfection; and love and devotion were little more than a few quick steps away from awe.
Why was he trying to destroy them, these wondrous, perfect beings, what was he thinking of? They had a right to live just as much as he did.
Tom, don't listen to them. The goddess, nagging him again, as she always seemed to be. Why wouldn't she leave him alone? Fight it Tom.
"Be gone, old woman," said the Demons. "You no longer hold dominion here."
Tom… But the image of the elderly woman distorted, flickered, and dissolved, like some victim of the Rust Warriors. The Rust Warriors! That memory stirred anger, hatred, and resistance. Tom wriggled free, just a little bit, free of the Demons' insidious influence; enough to remember, enough to question, enough for a seed of free will to take hold. From that seed, clear thinking spread, causing the Demon's hold on him to falter.
People had died. A lot of people. Directly or indirectly the Demons were responsible; they were in league with the Rust Warriors and the blood of Thaiburley stained their hands. Tom kept telling himself this, running through it again and again as if it were his litany for hiding. He was determined to fight them, to remain free of their will.
The Demons inevitably sensed his struggles and must have realised that he was slipping away from them, because they switched tactics. Tom felt the change but it took him a while to work out precisely what had changed, because it wasn't directed at him. The Demons were focusing their efforts on his friends.
"Tom…!" His name emerged from Kat's lips as a strangled gasp.
He looked to see her drawing one of her short swords and turning towards him, her movements jerked and stuttering in marked contrast to their usual fluid grace. It was as if she were a marionette being operated by some inex pert puppet master. Tom realised immediately what was happening.
"Fight them, Kat, fight them!"
"What… the breck… do you think I'm doing?"
Yet still the sword drew free of its scabbard. Nor was Kat the only tool the Demons were attempting to wield. Jayce, drilled for much of his life in discipline and the honour of duty, reacted to their manipulations somewhat differently. As Tom watched, he stood rigidly for a moment and then convulsed, collapsing to the floor to writhe and twitch. The internal conflict between what he knew he should do and what the Demons were compelling him to do evidently triggering a seizure of some kind.
Kat's sword was now clenched in both her white-knuckled hands, as she took a stiff-legged step towards him.
"For Thaiss's sake, Tom, kill me!" she urged.
"No!"
"If you don't… I'll kill… myself."
"No, Kat!" He watched horrified as the sword lifted in her shaking hands to point upwards and then, with agonising slowness, began to turn inwards towards its wielder. He saw this with only part of his awareness, however. The rest of him was elsewhere, skirting around the Demons, not joining with them, not plunging into that vast mass of their combined consciousness, just feeling around its edges, searching for a weakness. He sensed something surprising about them, a nebulous emotion that was wholly unexpected and which he was frantically trying to understand.
The Demons were afraid, which meant they must be vulnerable. If he could only work out what of, he might yet find a way of saving himself and Kat, of saving everybody.
"Trust me, Kat," he said. "Don't harm yourself, just concentrate on not harming me."
"Easy… for you… to say."
Sweat trickled down her face. The trembling blade continued to reverse, lowering by ponderous degree towards her shoulder.
It wasn't him. The Demons weren't afraid of his much vaunted talent… so what was it?
As if sensing his quest, a calm, almost musical voice spoke soothingly, "You can't beat us, Tom. Not this close to the core, the source of our strength. Nothing can touch us here, at the seat of our very being."
Was it just imagination that dressed his next thoughts in the voice of the goddess, or did some vestige of Thaiss still reside within him? Listen to their words, the voice seemed to whisper. The clue to defeating them is in their own words.
Tom thought frantically,
analysing the Demons' gloating pronouncement, taking individual words and considering their implications, discarding the irrelevancies and unspecifics, concentrating on the truly important ones. They quickly boiled down to just three: Demons, source, core. They were the essence of what was going on here. In the blink of an eye he expanded his thoughts in a manner that would have been impossible before his stay with Thaiss, to consider the relationship between those concepts, and as quickly as that he had it: what the Demons were trying so hard to distract him from; what they were afraid of.
In order to stop him, the Demons had congregated at the one place where they were at their most powerful, but it was also where they were most vulnerable: yes the core was the source of their strength, but that same core had been calling to them for more than a century, attempting to reclaim them. They were programmed to heed that call, their nature demanded they merge with the core when summoned, yet they had resisted that imperative throughout and continued to resist it even now. Every day since must have been a constant struggle for them, a fight not to succumb; and never would that call be stronger than it was here and now, at its very source.