There was a roar behind them as the beast came on, the distance between them much too small.
Its eyes blazed. An angry scorch mark cut across its skin, deadening two of its eyes and ripping the corner of its mouth. The shriek rattled in Kip’s chest.
Kip scrambled up the stairs as Blackmoor followed.
The magician moved his hands in a circle, forming a shield made of light. It looked like a glass lens filing the air, catching the starlight above. Its edges burned the wood that surrounded them.
The creature mounted the stairs and threw its weight against the shield, pushing Blackmoor back against the door and taking Kip with him, only the magic of the shield protecting them. The beast snapped at them, black salvia spattering the wall of magic between them.
“How do you open the door?” Blackmoor yelled.
The answer was another bit of fantasy. There was some half-baked idea in Kip’s mind, a detail he and Enos never fleshed out..
Another stupid romantic notion, he thought.
He leaned forward until his mouth was cupped by the brass horn on the door, and whispered a single word.
“Chickadee.”
It was the bird that Enos had picked in the marketplace. The chickadee, a symbol of ‘clarity and purity of soul.’ Where was it now? Still flying over rooftops?
A vibration moved through the metal. A massive bolt slid out of place and the two doors opened inward.
Blackmoor pushed his arms out and the glowing shield moved away. It flew outward, smashing into the creature’s face, knocking teeth from its jaws. They fell into the dark water like small stones. Its tentacles tried to grab the edge of the shield and were sliced open. It screamed again as black liquid spilled from its flesh and boiled in the water.
Kip and Blackmoor ran through the doors, leaving the horror behind. The heavy wood slammed shut, cutting off all sound and throwing them into darkness.
18
“What a creative mind you have, Master Kip,” the magician said in the darkness. “Let’s see what it’s really made of.”
A blue light filled the tower. It moved down from a great height, lighting the interior as it came. Wooden columns as thick as trees held the structure up, each one supporting a balcony. There were carvings in the wood written in a secret language. They made a web of symbols and words, one running into the next like a run-on sentence. Each balcony had a ladder and a row of bookshelves.
And the books.
In his lifetime Kip had spent hours cradling books, his fingers moving over the spine and the embossed print that told him what adventure awaited. He’d open the book gently, stretching the spine in fifty-page increments to break it in. He'd note the typeface and kerning and then put his face between the pages, taking in the smell of the pulp.
It would take him a thousand lifetimes to perform that ritual here.
Books filled every space. The blue light revealed them, floor by floor, until it reached the base of the tower. The floor was made of intricate circles of wood, different shades and finishes that formed the shape of a compass. Replacing North, South, East, and West, were unknown characters that looked almost musical. This might have been one of the poles of the world, everything else attracted to it.
The blue light of the tower illuminated the floor and the one thing that filled the space, a reading table and a single chair. All the information in the world offered to one person at a time.
The table was crowded with small towers of books, spines cracked and worn, pages yellowed. As Kip approached he saw a form filling the chair.
It was the shade of Enos.
His body was as grey and transparent as ever but his mood had changed. Gone was the passive lost Enos. He was smiling with some delight, one coming after the next, as he looked down at an open book on the table.
He turned his head and spoke, wordlessly, to someone out of sight.
He’s talking to me, Kip thought. I should be here with him, exploring every wonder in this tower. In some alternate universe, I’m there, right at his side.
He could almost see himself climbing the ladders, blowing dust off one new treasure after the next, stopping to discuss his findings with Enos. All the knowledge in the world passing into his mind, filling every corner of his brain like water filling a bottle.
Blackmoor spoke. “Come back, Kip. Come back and let’s finish what you started.”
Kip forced himself to look away from the table.
“What’s the second element?” the magician asked.
“Salt.”
Lord Blackmoor nodded and then closed his eyes. The ember-light returned, glowing through the flesh of his eyelids. His stretched his arms towards the floor, his hands locked in two fists.
There was a pause and Kip could feel energy gathering.
Blackmoor opened his fists and two streams of fire punched from his open hands. The floor lit up with an explosion of color then warped and cracked as the wooden boards peeled back like the petals of a flower opening.
Enos continued his reading, unaware of the blaze of light that cut through the floor mere feet from the reading table.
The circle deepened until it hit seawater. A spray of foam shot into the air angrily. A vortex of water spun wildly below them as a light grew from its center.
He looked down into the inner chambers of the Pale World, and perhaps beyond. Was this the material that held the world together, that held the universe together?
Colors swirled in the depths, colliding with one another as sparks of light shot through the column of water.
“Why did you bring me here?” Kip said.
“You brought us here,” Blackmoor said. “Should we go deeper? Let me help you along. Let’s see what we can uncover.”
The magician reached out again and touched his temple. There was an electric spark as a red ember jumped.
“Recall your Initiation Day.”
“Why?”
“Let’s see what will happen.”
Kip looked down into the glowing whirlpool and then closed his eyes. He focused on that moment in time, fighting back the forgetfulness of the Pale World and felt a pain in his head as he did. It moved in like a blade severing gray matter then slowly eased as visions came.
“Now open your eyes.”
Kip opened one eye slowly, as if he were peeking at something he shouldn’t have been.
Reality had blended with memory.
The hole in the floor was still there, water churning in an angry circle, but it was anchored to the floor of a great hall. He was in the interior of the Academy Tower. A massive structure of white granite that looked like ivory or bleached bone, a pristine and mysterious place.
Kip stood in the center of the floor. A circle of stairs surrounded him, making an amphitheater. The white marble under his feet was cut with thin ebony in a kaleidoscopic pattern.
The center of the tower was carved out, a giant column of open air that stretched to the top of the structure. Many rooms and chambers were built around it, each under an arched doorframe. They filled every floor.
A green light shone at the very top. It pulsed and moved slowly in the shadows above.
But here on the ground was the moment Kip had summoned.
His Initiation Day.
It was the moment he’d graduated from his apprenticeship to that of a full alchemist.
Robed figures filled the stairs around him, each watching with stoic duty. Kip had never been so intimidated, so sure that he would make a fool of himself. Had he tricked them all to reach this position? What kind of imposter was he?
“Unacceptable!”
A voice cut through the staid atmosphere. An old man rose weakly from his seat, using a cane as a prop.
“I didn’t give my life in service of the Great Houses of London to see a homosexual take up the mantle.”
There was a quick eruption in the hall, many voices shouting over one another.
Kip had hoped most would be coming to his defense, but th
e tangle of shouts seemed too aggressive, too rehearsed for that. He knew in that moment how much they hated him, how much they would do to stop him. His nerves collapsed. He was just a kid again, a kid who knew nothing, who didn’t belong.
Who was undeserving.
“Moral deviancy!” someone shouted.
“The corruption of a Great House!”
The first man who had spoken took off a shoe and threw it across the audience. It hit one of Kip’s few defenders square in the face.
They were actually fighting in the great hall of Academy Tower.
Every bit of anxiety bared down on him, ready to rob him of his voice, his nerves, every inch of himself. Then he saw a face in the crowd.
Enos.
He didn’t do much, just the slightest gesture, a single confident nod. It was enough. The claws that gripped him loosened, bit by bit, until he felt his chest rising as he took in air.
Lord Blackmoor was at his side.
“Look where you’ve brought us, Master Kip.”
“I didn’t. It’s a trick of the Pale World.”
Blackmoor tilted his head as if considering this.
“Who’s to say? You know tricks better than mine. Yet, it proves my thesis, Kip. Only magic matters in the coming century. Look at where we are, what you can manifest. Give up your tinkering and join me. Look what we could achieve.”
“I don’t know if this is magic.”
“What else could it be?”
Kip didn’t know but it unsettled his mind. He looked at the faces sneering at him. Their shouts were muted now, turned down to a background whisper.
All strangers but for those green eyes.
“How do I stop it?”
“Make an offering. What do you have to offer?”
Kip knew immediately. He had one relic left in his reliquary, Enos’s hair. He pulled it from his bag now, a tight bundle of black tied with a red string. It moved over his fingers, still so soft and alive. He brought it to his face and inhaled, smelling it for the last time.
Maybe this was another kind of initiation.
Kneeling, he took out the necessary tools from his bag. The copper plate, two drams of borax and one of antimony. He cupped the bundle of hair over the plate. His hands shook.
How can I let this go?
His mind pleaded with him. It tried to find another plan, anything to keep Enos in his clutches, even if it were something so small and dead.
I’ll never let go.
He let go.
The hair fell to the plate and disappeared into a green fire. An acrid smell filled his nose as smoke danced off the plate, obscuring the process.
He tilted the plate and knocked the contents into the whirlpool below. It took them greedily, ready to consume his offering. The column of water shifted between every shade of blue, pulsing in a quick cycle. Streams of water grabbed the mixture as the smell of burnt hair rose from the whirlpool.
When the water retreated, a single sphere of blue light remained.
Kip took the vial containing the essence of mercury from his pocket and held it out, the orange light whirling behind the glass. The two energies attracted one another like two poles of a magnet.
The blue orb danced to meet its counterpart, swirling around the lip of the glass before slipping into the vial. He corked it carefully and watched the two merge. It flared in his hand, again sending out its warmth.
Academy Tower faded as the overlay of the library returned. White marble turned into wood, purple light turned to blue. Kip was happy to escape the eyes of the crowd, to be free of their judgement. This was a safer place. Let him stay buried among these books.
“We manifest our world,” Blackmoor said. “Didn’t you say that at the dinner party? Shared subjective reality powers the world. This one is no different, it’s just more literal. A dream in our world must be coaxed to life with attention and work. It must be attended to for years so that it can grow.
“Here you can manifest your dreams and nightmares. You can bring this to life.” He gestured to the library above them. “Maybe the Pale World is the raw material Vorax said it was.”
Blackmoor returned his gaze to Kip. “Build the world you want to see. And when you’ve built it all, Kip, there’s only one thing left to create.”
Blackmoor’s eyes were sharp diamonds catching the light from the whirlpool. A smile spread across his face as he spoke two words.
“Dark House.”
Dark.
House.
Some lumbering thing shifted in Kip’s head. It was all black, a shadow that had hidden deep within his mind without detection. Memories he had never made came into focus, a stream of images.
A structure made of stars and the empty space between them. The heavens bent to form walls and vaulted ceilings. It was expansive but also contained.
The heart of it was a pure black, darker than any shade.
Kip went blind to everything else but the vision. He stumbled forward, grabbing the folds of Blackmoor’s jacket.
“Dark House,” he whispered.
“Yes,” Blackmoor said. “The place I’m trying to get to. Make it real, Kip. It’s hidden in our world, but you can make it real again.
“It’s where you got your power. Your sorrow brought it forth. You found your twin in that power, darkness finding darkness.”
Kip knew he was right. Enos’s death had torn a hole in his brain. Some thought had burrowed deep into his mind, like a maggot into soft meat. It found some depth where it could hide and grow and all manner of things had come from it.
The well that broke from the earth.
The dark tree limbs growing through Alchemy House.
A Shadow found him.
An underworld created from sorrow.
“Let it grow now, Kip, unrestrained.”
“What have you done, Blackmoor?”
“Only what was necessary. Magic and alchemy joined together in the end. You just needed my help. I put the trigger in your mind and you pulled it.”
Then came the bell; another deafening tolling. Kip looked up to see the night sky through the top of the tower. Crystal starlight whirled above. In another life, the smog of London choked out the stars and made one forget their place in the world. It was a dangerous thing to forget.
The vision hurried on. It was a feral animal unleashed in his mind. The floor heaved, answering the vision. Kip could feel every wave that rocked the tower, every beast that moved beneath the water, all of it flowing to one place:
Dark House.
“Rushing to the end,” a voice spoke.
Kip turned to the chair. Enos was gone, replaced by a black cloud. It came together layer by layer as it found its shape. Blue-orb eyes appeared in the deep back of the chair and moved forward as they settled into place.
Vorax smiled.
“What a pleasure to watch you. Are all humans filled with such doubts, such anxieties? Do you all cloud your purpose like this? Zigzagging when you should be moving in a straight line?”
Kip pushed away from Blackmoor, hating the feel of his touch, the texture of his clothing. He swooned, nearly falling to the floor, the visions still streaming into his head. Each layer was darker than the next. He was traveling through the cosmos slowly leaving each star behind, each source of light lost to blackness.
“Do you know I can see your heart beating? Yours is so healthy and vital. The old man’s weakens. I can see the straining of the tissue, the wearing down of the parts, all the little cracks that will speed his end.”
Blackmoor sneered.
“You have no right!”
Vorax turned to face him, his eyes moving like searchlights.
“You went looking, old man. You can’t complain when you catch a tiger on a tiger hunt. You wanted a peak behind the veil. You wanted power.” He pointed at Kip. “You tangled yourself with this human, this strange human who bent the world with his grief.”
He smiled again, sharp black teeth flashing.
/> “Do you think Dark House will provide the answers? Meet me there, magician, if you can.”
His body burst into a thousand pieces. Streaming blackness rose from the chair, spinning like a tornado, Kip and Blackmoor at the center of it. Books and papers caught in the wind as it moved upward. The blackness sped towards the hole at the top of the tower, obscuring the stars.
Vorax’s laughter was everywhere.
“Bring your potion to me, human boy. Bring your potion across the sea.”
The sneer was still on Blackmoor’s face as he turned to Kip.
“Time to end this absurd errand. Take your fucking Soul of All Things and choke on it. It’s the pursuit of a fantasist, a child. Dark House is the real seat of power, and to Dark House we will go.”
The sound of rushing water filled Kip’s ears.
The tower rocked back and forth, a buoy on the open sea. The churning of the waves reached a thunderous pitch and then something struck the side of the tower. The wall of the library turned to a twisted wreck, books exploded outward, followed by shards of wood and a flood of seawater.
Blackmoor had called The Frigatebird.
The prow pierced the wall like a harpoon finding the soft spot of its target. It was a deadly hit, sending shudders up the interior of the tower. Dust fell from above, mixing with stray papers that danced in the air.
The floor heaved and buckled as Kip lost his balance, nearly toppling into the chasm in the floor. He hit the table instead. It slid back, slamming into the chair where Vorax had been and cracking it in half.
The mast of the ship appeared, breaking through the weakened structure. Its sails torn to shreds, they flapped like broken wings.
All the while, Dark House danced in Kip’s head. Arches, doorways, towers, windows. All were black and alien. And the stars, so many stars, were woven into its structure. How could something be so clear and yet so unfocused? Fully understood and yet incomprehensible?
“Our ship awaits, Master Kip,” Blackmoor laughed as paper and dust swirled around him. He gestured to the crumbling walls of the tower. “All these books, all these stories, speed towards a climax. This is ours!”
Kip & Shadow Page 14