by Tom Lloyd
‘How is it I’ve not seen any part of the city explode then?’ Anatin yelled, gesturing wildly behind him.
‘Dunno,’ Kas said. ‘The city’s that way though.’
‘Eh?’ Anatin swung around then looked left and right before realising she was right and he’d been pointing at the open sea. ‘That don’t fucking matter right now. Explain how this has happened and what it means! Are they under attack? Dead? Has Toil just led a coup without telling me?’
A voice floated down from a walkway somewhere above. Lynx looked up to see the tall mage of tempest, Atieno, looking down at them. The stately black man didn’t look his best right now, leaning heavily on the wall with his long hair hanging over his face.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said, it is worse than that,’ Atieno replied.
‘Oh shit. How exactly?’ Anatin sniffed. ‘Other than Deern getting a hard-on right in front of me, that is? If I’m honest, that’s one of the things I’m really bloody pissed off about. The look on his face is gonna haunt me for weeks.’
‘How?’ Atieno echoed. ‘Do you remember that little thing we did below the Labyrinth of Jarrazir? The one that’s got all the mages and magic-hungry beasts everywhere all riled up?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, we made that worse.’
Chapter 23
Lynx watched Atieno descend the stairway. He looked more stiff and weary than usual, ignoring the babble of noise in the courtyard until he’d reached Anatin.
‘Define worse,’ the commander said at last, having spent the wait chewing his lip in thought.
‘Did any of you see it?’ Atieno asked, looked round at the marked Cards. They all shared Lynx’s blank expression so he nodded and eased himself down into a spare seat. ‘Very well, I will explain as best I can. We believe the Labyrinth served as some sort of, ah, tap is perhaps the best word. It limits the flow of magic into the world.’
‘So you opened this … tap, and let some more magic out into the world?’
‘Exactly. It came in a surge to begin with, but has calmed. However, we, Lastani, Sitain and I, are much more powerful than before. I believe we can access this source, or even that we are the holes in the dam.’
‘So what does that mean other than a golden age o’
magic?’
Atieno regarded the man severely. ‘Other? You believe so much magic worked well for the Duegar?’
‘Dunno. For the first few thousand years, maybe?’
‘Let us hope we’re that lucky. We have changed the face of Urden, that much I am certain of. The attack we faced on the canal might become more common as creatures that feed on magic are strengthened.’
‘So more golantha trying to eat my other hand?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Not so good then. How did we make it worse?’
Atieno shook his head and rubbed a calloused thumb against his temple. ‘This is a guess, you must understand. It is what I felt just now, but Lastani and Sitain may disagree.’
‘Noted – now fucking spit it out.’
Atieno took a long breath. ‘In the lower level, when Bade escaped us on that platform and we found something beneath, there were glyphs.’
‘The names o’ all the elementals, right?’
‘Not all, but yes, eight elementals. Perhaps it was not just a tap, but a lock. When Lastani did whatever she did, I felt her linked to my mind but also several other mages. Some I felt much more strongly than others.’
‘I felt some o’ the marked Cards more clearly than others,’ Lynx pointed out.
‘As did I, but the flow of magic was clear and connected to several other mages who I felt at least as strongly,’ Atieno replied brusquely. ‘I am not experienced in linked magic, as you might expect of a tempest mage, but to have several unknown mages stand out like beacons in the darkness … it cannot be coincidence.’
‘What sort of coincidence?’
‘The eight elementals corresponded to the magic of ice, night, stone, fire, lightning, earth, wind and light. However many elementals exist, I know there are water elementals so this wasn’t a list of all types.’
‘Oh shit, you think it was a key?’ Lynx groaned. ‘We only opened two out of eight so far and even that got mages and monsters riled up?’
Atieno nodded. ‘Today I sensed a stone mage, wind, fire and lightning link to us – sensed them as strongly as I could feel Sitain and Lastani.’
Lynx counted in his head as quickly as his renewed hangover would allow. ‘So six in total? We’ve just trebled what was unleashed in Jarrazir?’
‘No,’ Atieno said firmly. ‘I’d be feeling more god-like if that were the case, less like something a cat sicked up.’
‘Mebbe you would be if we were closer to Jarrazir and it’s just not hit you yet.’
The mage managed a weak smile at that. ‘Let us hope so.’
To keep the company busy and cheerful while Toil’s party returned, or at least griping about something he could control, Anatin announced a surprise weapons and kit check. The mercenaries went to attend to their equipment, and in some cases get dressed, with the usual level of obedience, but Lynx found himself pleased to have a task.
One difficulty of the mercenary life was the boredom. It wasn’t the worst part; that would be the bits involving running, screaming, getting shot at and holding guts in. However, for a man like Lynx boredom wasn’t great either. A task to focus on was always welcome, even if that job was trying to repair broken kit or cleaning his mage-gun.
One quick check from the walkway told Lynx that no one was rushing back. Indeed, the Prince of Sun was enjoying a cigar with a hat perched over his eyes. That meant Lynx had plenty of time and although he’d scrubbed the dust and dirt from his weapons, he went over the whole process again. The habits of the army life had carried on into his civilian wandering and these days he valued the routine. Though he wore light moccasins here, Lynx also polished his boots, fixed a shirt and got something unpleasantly sticky off his coat in time to be back downstairs, armed and ready for battle, before half of the rest.
For all that Lynx remained the focus of Anatin’s ire much of the time, it was doled out only lazily and without real malice. He knew the ageing commander could indeed be a monstrous bully when the mood took him, but here it was more habitual and part of the strange comradeship within the Cards. Either that or a sense of self-preservation kept the worst of his inclinations away from Lynx, whose history was a warning to all superior officers.
When it came to Lynx’s turn, Anatin only gave his mage-gun and cartridge case a cursory look. The man knew both would be kept to army standards and quickly moved on to the next, but before he was done with that one there came a shout across the courtyard.
‘Atieno!’
They all looked up to see Lastani hurrying forward, face pale and worried.
‘Did you feel it?’
‘More than I wished,’ Atieno confirmed. ‘What in the name of all that’s shattered did you do?’
‘I …’ Lastani faltered. ‘Perhaps we should—’
‘No!’ Anatin interjected loudly. ‘We’re all part of this, no playing at secrets here.’
She bowed her head in acceptance. ‘Very well. I was trying to activate a mechanism for Guildmaster Tanimbor.’
‘The same one we met and none of us thought worth trusting an inch?’
Lastani cast a dark look behind her. ‘You can blame Toil for the why. In any case, it required several mages to work in unison and more power than even I had appreciated. Tanimbor summoned all those nearby in his guild and I led the work.’
‘The short version where no mention of blame needs to be included,’ Toil interrupted, ‘is that a whole bunch of mages got linked together the way you three are. They’re all now sporting the most beautiful selection of willow-pattern tattoos. What in the deepest black it all means, we’re not so sure.’
‘There was something more,’ Lastani added, almost talking over Toil in
her haste. Lynx wasn’t sure, but it looked like the two had only recently called a truce on an argument over this.
‘More?’
‘The Labyrinth, the passageway to the stone tree,’ Atieno said.
Lastani nodded and took up the explanation as though they shared a mind, which to Lynx seemed worryingly possible right now. ‘The symbols above it, of elementals, must have been some form of lock or seal for the wellspring of magic there.’
Toil looked blank for a moment, her cheek twitching slightly as she processed this new information. ‘Oh hells,’ she whispered. ‘It wasn’t open all the way? Now more seals are breached?’
‘We don’t know how it works or what was intended, but only ice and night were marked there. Tempest was not. I could be wrong, but clearly we got the same impression during the linking. Sitain?’
The young woman wore a helpless look. ‘I … maybe? Can’t say I understood a whole lot of what happened there.’ She shuddered. ‘And I was distracted.’
‘Very well,’ Lastani said. ‘We must work on that assumption for the time being. If the guildmaster’s mages added four more types of magic then only two remain closed. I expect we will soon know the truth there.’
Toil was quiet for a long while, but for some reason Lynx found it all unaccountably funny. He clapped his hands together and gave a laugh traced with bitterness. The sound echoed around the courtyard and startled all those present.
‘Now we’ve got a game on our hands!’ he declared. ‘Any bets on what happens when it’s fully open?’
‘A second age of magic,’ Lastani said hollowly.
She looked far from happy about it, though from what Lynx had heard of their conversation with the Shard, Lastani was the most powerful mage in all of Urden at the start of this new golden age.
‘A new age of magic,’ Lynx echoed. ‘So more elementals, golantha and their kin, plus the Militant Orders thinking their time to rule has arrived? And we’re at the centre of it? Just as well I never expected to live forever, eh?’
‘This is what it takes for Lynx to cheer up?’ Anatin muttered before reaching for a jug of beer. ‘Fucking Hanese madmen.’
Lynx paused, feeling slightly light-headed, but one malicious spark of humour remained in him.
‘Don’t worry, boss. It’s not like things could get worse at this point.’
The yelling and throwing of stuff lasted quite a while.
In the deep darkness of underground, something stirred. Long antennae flickered with bioluminescent light, pale green and blue, first dim then growing stronger. It revealed curved lines and jagged points – shimmering, iridescent plates of chitin that moved with a powdery whisper. Long legs stretched and scraped at the rock walls surrounding it, delicately touching the carapaces of others. Those lay quiet at first, returning to wakefulness only slowly. The first – the largest of them – continued to test and probe, feeling the tiny vibrations that ran through the stone.
Feather-tipped antennae twitched, turning and trembling faintly as they sensed a disturbance. Soft, so soft it was hardly perceptible but there was something still, a change in the air that lay thick and heavy in the great tunnels.
Its legs were spears of oily blackness, mere suggestions in the pulsing glow that ran from its antennae under an armour-plated back to a bulbous hump of a tail. Its head moved, mandibles instinctively reaching out as though there was food within reach. Between the antennae and mandibles stretched ghostly threads of light that scooped at the air and withdrew. What it tasted there was enough to make the creature shift, to lift and turn its long segmented body.
That movement prompted more around it; a sharp indrawing of legs, a curling and tensing of rear segments in anticipation of violence. But the change reached them all, a breath of movement and a shudder of stone that told each creature it was not threat but opportunity in the air.
More greenish light billowed as they came to wakefulness, agitation and alarm flickering in that pattern of light. It settled quickly, replaced with a tremble of anticipation. Long-unused legs reached and stretched, blade-points catching in crevices before heaving their great bodies up. Dozens and dozens of legs flowed into movement.
The open, empty caverns around them began to echo with the sound of sharp tips scraping on stone – a whispering click-clack tread that ran for miles in the silent depths. Round-bellied, eyeless rodents scuttled for the narrow fissures of their breeding grounds, driven there by some urge in their blood passed down through the generations. Far below the sunlit lagoon there were lakes lit by the flowers of trailing vines and algae. There, ghostly islands of moss and slime became abandoned as white-shelled crustaceans climbed the walls and went into the vaulted ceiling.
Through higher caverns and long, broad tunnels, where the stink and heat of guano attracted every scuttling horror, there was a ripple of agitation. The change in the air was enough to trigger uncertainty and ancient instincts. Tysarn took to flight, the smallest rising in spiralling clouds and then the larger creatures too. Others pushed forward from their breeding caves, thick limbs and tattered wings driving them towards the safety of open sea.
The alarm spread further still, far beyond the deep caverns and the slow-waking beasts. A tremble that had nothing to do with the air itself, but the currents of magic that drifted through it. Settlements of Wisp clans, several miles inland, saw all work halt – every daily task abandoned as the tysarn took flight.
Hands moved in the darkness, urgent words were said without speaking and soon the ancient wise ones of the clans were consulted. The news proves shocking, terrifying, but it is believed without question and decisions cascade from them. Warrior mages are dispatched to their places, ready to spark rockfalls and seal off their settlements from the tunnels that lead into the very depths of the world.
Others, wise ones chosen to represent their people, set off on a higher path, making for the coast that none in living memory have ventured beyond. For something has changed, something impossible to ignore. Now they must risk the fear and chaos of humanity. The deepest black has once more become a hunting ground.
Chapter 24
‘Head outside, take a look at what’s going on.’
Toil’s words echoed in Lynx’s mind as he belted on his mage-pistol. The day’s heat was rising so he just wore a shirt and loose cotton trousers. It was coincidence that there were no company markings on him, but that was probably all for the best.
‘And what’ll be going on?’ Lynx had asked, recognising her tone.
She’d shrugged. ‘There are crews watching us. I want to see how closely.’
‘Sounds fun for me.’
‘I need someone I can trust,’ had been the reply. ‘Trust not to get pushed around – trust not to pick a fight. There are Vi No Le colours out there, which strikes me as a bad sign.’
‘So you want me by myself to see how much they try to push me around?’
‘Exactly. They’ll know not to push an armed Hanese too far, but one man alone doesn’t provoke anything.’
Up in their room, Lynx picked up his battered tricorn and inspected it. The hat was in poor condition, perhaps it was time to find something new.
‘Sun’s bloody hot here,’ he muttered. ‘Should be plenty of places.’
Armed with some directions from the lodging house’s whiskered proprietor, Lynx headed out into the heavy heat of the street. The pale stone of both buildings and roads meant he was sweating within moments, eyes squinting against the glare. A welcome breeze washed over him, swirling down to mingle the salt-stink of the sea and spices of the lagoon islands.
Less welcome were the faces watching from the shade of a trio of palm trees. Six men and women all with scarves pulled over their heads against the sun, hard eyes, and weapons slung from their belts. Each wore a sash, either around their waist or across their chest, white silk fluttering in the breeze. Despite the heat the Vi No Le crew had leather armour strapped to their arms, knees and elbows – not so much for fighting as c
lambering around the stone districts of Caldaire without stripping the skin.
Lynx checked his flank. The civilians of Auferno were going about their daily business, careful to ignore everything else. There was a second crew watching, wearing the green of Auferno and split into two groups. Two young men burned bronze by the sun stood on a rooftop with an older black woman. She had close-cropped hair, plain clothing and a crossbow resting on her shoulder. Her charges, by contrast, were shirtless; adorned with fetishes and tattoos.
Three more watched from the open front of an eatery, all heavy-built bruisers with hatchets and long staves, scarred by years of fighting.
This is going to be fun, Lynx thought as he saw a look pass between the crews. Setting off for the street he’d been directed to, his path took him past the seated group of Vi No Le Mastrunners. He had to fight the urge to walk with his hand on the butt of his pistol. As he came level with them, as expected, a stave flicked out to partially block his path. Any resident of the city would know to stop, any visitor would be startled enough to hesitate at least. Lynx stepped neatly around it.
The stave flicked up as he passed, the woman holding it leaning out to slap it painfully against the back of Lynx’s calves. Still he didn’t stop, taking some small measure of childish pleasure in the scuff of feet he heard behind him.
‘Hey you!’ yelled the woman in rough Hanese.
That alone almost made him stop, the surprise of hearing his native tongue, but despite a small stumble Lynx carried on. More footsteps came as he reached a narrowing of the street. A wooden stall was attached to the front of a low ground-floor apartment, painted fishes dancing in bright colours down each side to a deep stone trough. A variety of spiny-backed creatures waved antennae inside it, while to one side Lynx saw alarm in the eyes of a plump woman nursing a baby.
A hand descended on his shoulder and hauled back on him, attempting to spin Lynx around. He stepped into the movement and seized the hand as he went, twisting and pivoting to drag his assailant around. The woman was taller but lighter than Lynx and taken unawares. Lynx tossed her to the floor with a grunt, some part of him taking satisfaction in seeing a flash of pain on her face.
