Relics--The Edge

by Tim Lebbon

  She had to take the fight to him.

  Gathering up the relics into a small pile, she felt how sad and cold they were, and how lonely and forgotten their previous owners. Scattered around the Earth, murdered and left in shallow graves, these Kin were long since vanished into the past.

  Sammi would ensure that Mallian, the cause of their murder at the hands of the Kin-killer Gregor, would remember all their names one last time.

  “Come back,” she whispered, and she sent the words towards their targets as hard as she could. “You have to come back. I need you.”

  She sat in the darkness, face turned up to the sky instead of down at the ground, and let the cool rain wash over her skin.

  * * *

  Angela heard the call and ran. It left a stain in her mind, like old pencil marks on her brain that would take a while to rub away. It was not a nice feeling, but it was Sammi, so she heeded the words.

  A Sammi she no longer knew.

  * * *

  “We have to run,” Vince said. He leaned against the wall of the tunnel, swaying as the wooziness left him. Sammi’s urgent words echoed in his mind. She was calling him back, and he had to know why. “The fastest way up and out, Dastion. Now!”

  Dastion nodded and led the way.

  * * *

  “I have to go back to the world and do it there,” Sammi said. “If I even can. I’ll have one shot, and it’ll be a weak attempt, but if I can take him by surprise it might work.”

  “Mallian’s already murdered,” Vince said. “A cop. He let the other one go, and the whole thing’s recorded on their body-cams. Ascent’s begun, whether we like it or not.”

  “But he’s still waiting,” Angela said. “Gathering his forces.”

  Sammi looked around at the small group and wondered what they could do. She realised that their willingness to try against much greater odds was their finest weapon, but she was also terrified that it could only end in death and defeat.

  “I wish I thought I could do it now,” she said. “I’m useless. Useless!”

  “No!” Angela said. “This is all of us, not just you. We work together and it’ll happen. Vince?”

  “Yeah,” Vince said. He was covered in dirt and dust and Sammi couldn’t read his expression, but the doubt was evident in his voice. “The army is on its way.”

  “And that’s when it’ll get out of control,” Angela said. “Mallian will set Grace against the army, and the whole world will see what she, and he, can do. We have to stop them before that happens. Before this all goes too far.”

  “So let’s come up with a plan,” Vince said. He moved closer to Angela and Sammi saw them holding hands, and in that small expression of love she found hope.

  28

  Angela insisted that this time, she and Vince remain together. He didn’t disagree. They both realised how unlikely it was that their plan would work. They were probably going to die, and after everything they had been through, they didn’t want to die alone.

  They split into two groups. Vince, Angela, Sammi and Dastion went down into the mines, descending towards the crack in the world that emerged up on the hillside above the remains of Longford. Sammi carried the relics with her, wrapped securely in her jacket. She moved silently through the darkness, unfazed and unamazed. Her focus was internal, she let them guide her but took little part in the journey herself.

  Vince walked at the rear of their group, carrying a torch and turning around every minute or two. He was jumpy and nervous, certain they were being followed, but he embraced those nerves, that level of alertness, and readied himself for the confrontation to come.

  They had all armed themselves. Dastion carried a heavy metal pike that he used for mining, something that Vince was not sure he would have the strength to even pick up, let alone wield in anger. The dwarf carried it as though it was a wooden stick. Angela had fashioned spears for herself and Vince out of lengths of wood. Sammi carried the relics and had refused a weapon of any kind. If this all worked out, she would be their weapon.

  What Angela had said up on the surface had been a lie. This really was all about Sammi.

  Shashahanna had recruited another Kin from the Fold, a cat woman called Fellian. They would slink through the main portal and perform their own distraction. Fellian said there were more Kin from the Fold who might join them, but Vince couldn’t be certain whether any of the others would help. Perhaps some of them had already tried escaping through the portal, either joining Mallian or, if they refused, being put down. There was no time to wait because the clock kept ticking. Vince hoped they could do what Shashahanna claimed. This whole day was built on hope.

  As they passed by the deep, dark crevasse down in the mines, Sammi stopped and stared downwards.

  “What is it?” Angela asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Something not of our world, and not of the Fold. I think Grace would know.”

  “I don’t want to know,” Vince said. “Let’s move on. We’re almost there.”

  They reached the deep place, and Angela paused and stared at the expanse of nothingness ahead of them. Sammi seemed unperturbed.

  “I’ve been through,” Vince said to Angela, pulling her close so that their heads touched. “It’s fine. It’s safe.”

  “I’m worried about what happens on the other side,” she said. “We could just stay here, build a cabin, live naked in the woods.”

  “Just the two of us,” he said, nodding. “I’ll grow my beard even longer and be Grizzly Adams.”

  “I always liked you with a bit of stubble.”

  “That dude had a hedgerow, not stubble.”

  “You talking about me?” Dastion said. He glanced over his shoulder smiling.

  “You, it suits,” Angela said.

  The four of them stood in silence for a moment, gathering themselves for what was to come. Angela reached for Sammi’s hand and took it, but Vince saw that Sammi did not seem to notice. Her hand lay limp in Angela’s, like a landed fish. She stared into the darkness ahead as if she could see beyond, and her eyes were wide, tears streaking her face. If she could see, what she witnessed was only bad.

  Vince kept hold of Angela’s other hand and led them through.

  * * *

  In the darkness, it was easy to imagine that nothing was wrong. The bushes and trees around them were still, and other than the rustling of small night creatures, the valley slope was silent. Any curious sightseers would have gone home, away from the rain and the darkness.

  Downhill, the expanse of grey silt caught the starlight like a scar on the world.

  “Maybe you should stay here, hidden away,” Angela said to Sammi.

  “I need to come. The closer I am, the more chance this will work. I think I’m almost ready now. I think I can do it, but we need to get close.”

  “We stick together,” Vince said. “Angela, we don’t want to leave her under a bush. There are things out here that have come to join Mallian, and one of them might find her.”

  “Strength in numbers,” Dastion said, wielding his heavy pike and slamming it into the ground. It entered with a heavy thud. Sparks flew. The dwarf’s strength was humbling, and Vince felt a moment of hope.

  “Okay,” Angela said. “Let’s move down the hillside and wait.”

  They edged through the trees, with Sammi taking the lead. She said she could feel ahead of and around them, probe outward for other Kin.

  Vince wished he had a way of staying in touch with Bone. The older man might have been mad, but he also now seemed to have the same end in mind as Vince and the others. His connection with the Kin was strange and Vince had yet to fully understand it. He hoped that he would soon.

  They reached the line between lush ground and the exposed reservoir bed. Down the hillside and beyond the remains of Longford was the river, and it was this that they had come to watch.

  “Shashahanna should have reached it by now,” Angela whispered.

  “If she hasn’t been caught,”
Dastion said.

  “And if Fellian is what she claims,” Vince said. “She might come through and then side with Mallian. Dastion?”

  “You’re asking me?” the dwarf asked. Even in a whisper his voice was like a rumble through the ground. “I know her as well as you. As well as any of them who were in the Fold. I spent most of my time underground, you know that.”

  Vince nodded. “You okay, Sammi?”

  “I’m good.” She hardly sounded like Sammi anymore. Her voice was older, heavy with trouble and devoid of a teenager’s lightness.

  “There!” Angela said. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Vince held up his hand, and a moment later they heard a percussive, deep hiss. Down at the river a silvery spray of water still hung in the air, spreading and falling softly just as another column rose up further along the course. It pounded into the night air, illuminated by moonlight and expanding as the second boom sounded across the valley. Another column rose, then another, sounding like mines exploding in a regulated pattern along the river.

  “Nice, Shashahanna!” Vince said.

  “They’ll be going for her now,” Angela said.

  “Some of them. Others will be more on guard. We do our bit now, and Mallian will put his plans on hold until he finds out what’s happening.” And then he’ll stomp us into the ground, Vince thought. The pain from his broken arm was a reminder of what was to come. Next time, Mallian would crush his head, or his chest, or small bits of him one after another.

  “Tell us as soon as you’re ready, Sammi,” he said.

  “I will.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I’ll tell you, Vince!” For the first time in a while she sounded like the old Sammi. Vince wasn’t sure if he was pleased or not. The old Sammi deserved to live past all this, but it was the new Sammi who might save them all.

  “Let’s go,” he said. Wielding his sharpened spear in one hand, he led the way from the soft grass onto the damp, dusty silt. It was like stepping from one world into another.

  * * *

  The impacts from the river continued as they advanced towards Longford. Vince thought he could hear shouts from that direction, but none of them paused to listen. As they reached the first hump of a ruined building, Dastion dashed ahead and swung his pike from across his shoulder.

  Before Vince knew what was happening Dastion was leaping back from a hissing, spitting thing, pike held across his chest. It advanced quickly, feet silent against the soil, a sleek humanoid shape, its snake’s head filled with countless sharp teeth that gleamed pale in the moonlight.

  Dastion danced left and jabbed with the pike, but the Kin was faster. It jigged to the right, dashed past Dastion, and came for Vince.

  “Down!” he heard, and he fell to his knees with his spear held out before him, ready to impale the charging beast. He heard a swish above his head, and Angela’s spear slashed across the creature’s chest.

  It cried out, a surprisingly human sound, and fell back with a scaly hand pressed to its wound.

  Vince felt sorry for it, and he was about to engage it with a plea to surrender when Dastion’s pike slammed through its neck from behind. The dwarf heaved and twisted, and the figure’s head snapped to one side. It was dead before he shook it loose from his weapon.

  No one spoke. They’d known what was coming, but the sudden killing still struck them all hard. Vince glanced at Dastion, and the dwarf averted his eyes. Vince was glad he saw no glory there, no gloating. Killing should never feel good.

  They went on, Dastion first, Vince and Angela behind with Sammi between them. She walked quickly with the relics bundled up against her chest, and Vince wondered what she was thinking. She’d said nothing about the slaughtered Kin. He hoped she would be ready soon. If not, this would all be for nothing.

  Another shape darted towards them from the shadows and Dastion lashed out. He missed and went spinning, and the shape faded and then reformed closer to them, a shimmer in the darkness, a shadow in shadows.

  Angela cried out, jerked to the side, and slapped at her head. Vince went towards her and felt something stinging against his own scalp, like a raking of invisible claws.

  Sammi whispered words he could not hear and the assault ended as suddenly as it had begun. He and Angela went close and checked each other, hands bloodied from their wounds. Her head was cut beneath her hairline, his left ear was scraped and tattered.

  Dastion came at them with his pike raised, but Sammi held out her hand.

  “It’s sleeping,” she said. “Not for long, but I found its dreams and called it down.”

  “What is it?” Angela asked.

  “Wisp,” Sammi said, and Vince immediately thought of Ahara. None of them had seen the wisp since the Fold had formed and closed two years before, and they were still unsure whether it had been for or against Mallian even then. Now, perhaps this was Ahara showing its true allegiance.

  “It welcomes the dreams,” Sammi said. “It’s confused.”

  “It’s not the only one,” Vince said. “You can do this to any of them?”

  “The ones whose dreams I see, I think so,” Sammi said, frowning. “But don’t rely on me, Vince. Not yet. I’ve got more important things to work on, and I’m almost there.”

  From lower in the valley, down by the river, they heard a long, high howl of pain. It sent a cool shiver down Vince’s spine.

  “We’re close,” Angela whispered. They were nearing the last place they’d seen Mallian, where the three infected Kin had been released from the old cooler room. Vince gripped his wooden spear and realised how ineffective it would be. Blood trickled down his face, and his broken arm pulsed with pain.

  “Look over—” Dastion said, and a shape burst from cover and came at them. Growling. Snorting. It was Francine the werewolf, gassed and buried underwater for forty years, poisoned by humans, a perfect manifestation of unbridled rage.

  Dastion dropped and rolled, his pike swinging up and around, but Francine avoided it and fell on him, straddling his wide chest and raising her front paws ready to tear him into shreds. The moon reflected in her mad, blazing yellow eyes. Foam speckled her jaws.

  Just as she was about to drop down and claw Dastion’s face from his skull, Fer bounded from cover and leapt at her. The shapeshifter was still in the guise of a wolf, and perhaps seeing something that might have been her kind gave Francine a moment’s pause.

  Fer powered into Francine closing its jaws around her throat, clasping and biting hard as they both fell away from the dwarf.

  Vince grabbed Dastion’s hand and helped him up, then stalked after the fighting Kin. Fer rolled and writhed, never loosening its grip on Francine’s throat even as the werewolf raked its sides with her claws. Dark bloody lines opened in its hide. Fer only bit harder.

  Francine slowed, limbs still lashing out, but heavier now, less strength behind the impacts. A dark flower of blood bloomed around the shapes, splashing the air, staining the ground. The moment Fer eased back to gain a better grip, the werewolf shoved with her shrivelled legs and caught Fer in the chest. The shapeshifter fell back and struck the ground hard.

  Vince darted in with his spear, jabbing it towards the werewolf. Its point pierced the creature’s left shoulder and she turned on him, bloody mouth yawning wide, eyes wild and flaming.

  A hand closed around his arm and pulled him back, just as Francine leapt at him. He stumbled away and fell, dragged along the ground, kicking with his heels to gain purchase, and Fer fell on the werewolf’s back and pushed her into the soil.

  The beasts rolled and tangled, hissing and gnashing and growling, and then Fer was on top and pressing down with its mouth around Francine’s throat once again. The shapeshifter shook its head, and this time when the werewolf’s movements began to slow, Vince thought it was for real. Fer growled and pushed down, twisting its head left and right, and the werewolf shivered one last time.

  Fer pulled back and away, panting hard. Its eyes were wide. Blood coated its mou
th, face and neck. It stretched, crackling and snapping, twisting as it transformed into a humanoid form once again.

  “Are you—” Angela asked, stepping forward, but Sammi grabbed her arm and held her back.

  “It’s not right,” she said. “Fer’s infected now, too. If we wait too long—”

  Fer went from seeming to be in pain to grinning, and then growling as it crouched down onto all fours, hairs sprouting from its smooth skin, face deforming from human to bear-like. Its mouth foamed, and in its eyes Vince saw the same madness he’d witnessed in the infected Kin. They went from dark to a soft burning yellow as the fires of infection were stoked deep within. It shivered and shook, muscles squirming beneath its skin as they shifted from form to form. More hairs sprouted through its skin, and then dropped out. A thick scale-like growth smoothed across its neck and fell away again. Its limbs lengthened and grew thick, then shortened again, strong and sleek.

  As Fer lowered its head and took a couple of shambling steps forward, Vince knew what it was asking of him.

  He pressed the point of his spear to the back of the Kin’s neck, ready to jam it through into its spine. His heart hammered in his ears, matching the creature’s heartbeat. He tensed. Blinked. He wasn’t sure he could—

  The spear jarred down, piercing the shapeshifter’s hide and protruding from its throat. It gurgled and twisted, started thrashing, and then blood gushed from the wound where the makeshift weapon had struck an artery.

  Shocked, hands still gripping the wood, Vince looked around.

  Angela stood behind him with both hands folded and pressed flat against the spear’s upper end. She was close enough for him to smell her breath, warm and fast. The smell, the feel, gave him a sudden and jarring flashback to lying in bed one Sunday morning in their maisonette in London, both just woken from their own dreams and looking forward to the day before them, not talking and not needing to.

  “We can’t hesitate,” she said, and he blinked to bring himself back to the terrible present.

  “I know.”