by Edward Cox
Half the guards followed their captain as he made his way back across the bridge; the remaining half waited for the entourage to pass before bringing up the rear.
The bridge was easily wide enough to walk three abreast. Van Bam followed the ambassador, with Angel on his right. She seemed highly amused that Namji had decided to stay close to the illusionist’s left.
‘I can’t wait for you to see my home,’ Namji said, staring ahead at the open gates. ‘Mirage is a beautiful House.’
She linked her arm in Van Bam’s, and then looked behind to share a childish giggle with one of the entourage.
Angel leant into the illusionist. ‘When we get home,’ she whispered into his ear, ‘I’m telling Marney.’
‘Shut up,’ he whispered back.
‘You must understand that not even Gideon knows the details of our mission,’ Denton said. ‘We are working in secret for Lady Amilee alone. It is vital that you never tell anyone about where we have been and what we have done. And that includes Van Bam, Marney … Marney? Are you listening to me?’
Marney supposed she was, in a vague sort of way, but Denton’s words could not cut through the awe she was feeling for her surroundings.
She had read about forests; she had heard the other agents talk about them, and had seen artistic representations. But no book, no words, no painting could ever do justice to the world that now filled her sight.
The Trees of the Many Queen, this House was called. Marney and Denton stood side-by-side with their backs to the portal – a wooden doorway framed by two trees – that had delivered them there from the Great Labyrinth. She stared down a bare dirt road that cut through the forest. The air was humid, and the breeze that sighed and whispered through the dense and verdant leaves was damp against Marney’s face. The earthy scents that filled her nostrils were somehow clean and wholesome. The buzzing of insects and the occasional flapping of wings were the sounds of freedom.
Marney’s breath caught as a distant tapping echoed through the forest, a fast knocking on wood, almost like drilling. It stopped and then started again, repeating several times before the echoes faded away.
‘What was that?’ she asked in wonder.
A bird called a woodpecker, Denton’s voice said in her mind. Now, sorry to interrupt your daydreams, but can I ask if you’ve been paying attention to me?
Marney frowned at him.
Denton, tall and overweight, pushing eighty and nearly always with a cheery expression on his ruddy face, was now giving his protégée a reproachful look.
Usually favouring crumpled three-piece suits, the old empath was dressed in heavy fatigues, a jumper that struggled to confine his generous paunch, and a travelling cloak of green wool that covered the rucksack on his back. He carried no weapons – unlike Marney, who wore a baldric of twelve slim, silver throwing daggers beneath her cloak – and his footwear was a sturdy and sensible pair of hiking boots. However, his headwear gave him a slightly ridiculous look: a floppy, wide-brimmed hat that had seen better days, but one that Denton refused to be seen without.
Well? his voice urged in Marney’s head.
Oh! Right. Marney shook herself and spoke aloud. ‘Yes, Denton, I was listening. No one knows what we’re doing. Say nothing about the mission, not even to Gideon.’
‘Or Van Bam,’ Denton stressed knowingly.
‘Okay. I get it.’
‘I hope so, Marney, because the House we’re travelling to is … well, a little fabled, to say the least.’
Denton impressed an emotion upon Marney then, a light sense of anxiety that was enough to lessen her awe of the Trees of the Many Queen.
She swallowed. ‘The Library of Glass and Mirrors,’ she whispered.
‘Exactly,’ Denton said. ‘And I hope that you appreciate just what a perilous place it is, Marney.’
She did. The Library of Glass and Mirrors was indeed a fabled House, a myth, a fairy tale, or so most humans and Aelfir would claim. The legends said its librarians kept the records of what was, what is, and what would be. The complete histories of the past, present and future – how could such a library exist?
Yet it did – somewhere out there, its dangerous doorway hidden among the Houses of the Aelfir. The Thaumaturgists knew it was real, had always known, but they feared the Library of Glass and Mirrors and the impossible histories it kept. The Thaumaturgists encouraged the myths and disbelief in its existence. Yet now Lady Amilee had sent the two empaths on a secret mission to find the Library. But to reach it, Marney and Denton first had to cross many Houses, many of which were embroiled in the war against Spiral and the Genii.
‘Ah, here comes our liaison,’ Denton said, and he pointed into the trees to Marney’s left.
Marney struggled to see her at first. She began as a shadow of movement that emerged from the treeline, and only then did Marney realise that the stranger’s cloak must have been charmed to blend in with the colours of the forest. The stranger carried a quiver of arrows on her back and an unstrung bow in her hand. She stopped on the dirt road and pulled back her hood, revealing unruly brown hair and a grubby Aelfirian face with large, keen eyes.
‘Greetings,’ Denton called. Remember, Marney, say nothing of our mission, he added mentally.
The Aelf approached them. Her clothes matched the design of her cloak, and there was a curved dagger tucked into her belt. Instinctively, Marney reached out with her empathic magic, reading the Aelf ’s persona. What returned were the emotions of a trustworthy woman, stern yet kind, but nobody’s fool.
‘And greetings to you,’ she said. Her voice was gruff, it seemed to belong in a forest. She appeared to size up Marney, and then Denton. ‘Can I be of assistance?’
Denton smiled. ‘We’re looking to procure passage through your wonderful House. Perhaps you’ve been expecting us?’
‘Perhaps I have. Do you carry proper permission for this passage, sir?’
‘Indeed I do.’ Denton pulled out a black leather wallet, which he flipped open to show the Aelf a square plate of a strange grey metal that seemed both solid and liquid.
The Aelf stared at the plate for a moment, and then reached out to press a finger against it. Immediately, the strange metal began to change, bubbling and sinking into grooves that quickly depicted the shape of a diamond set within a circle – the sigil of Lady Amilee the Skywatcher.
With a satisfied nod, the Aelf gestured to the treeline on both sides of the dirt road. Marney heard undergrowth rustling and twigs snapping, and she caught the shadowy movements of the Aelfir who had just been ordered to withdraw from the human visitors. But she had sensed no emotions, detected no other presences in the vicinity. How many arrows had there been aimed at the empaths?
‘It’s wise to remain cautious at such times,’ the Aelf said, giving Marney a relaxed smile. ‘Welcome to the Trees of the Many Queen. I’m to be your guide. I’ve been ordered to lead you to your next destination.’
‘That is gracious of you,’ said Denton, sliding the wallet back into a leg-pocket of his fatigues.
‘My pleasure.’ The Aelf raised a hand as Marney made to introduce herself. ‘Forgive me, miss – best not speak of names. I’ve been told to ask nothing of you or your plans.’ She nodded meaningfully at each empath in turn. ‘Now, there’s a fair way to go, and nightfall’s not far off. We should be leaving.’
Without further word, she turned and led the empaths from the dirt road and into the forest.
Nightfall? Marney thought to Denton. It was morning when we left the Labyrinth.
Denton smiled at her as they entered the trees. Time doesn’t run evenly through the Houses, Marney. I’d have thought your books would’ve taught you that.
Marney smiled back at him. Well, a wise old man once told me there’s a big difference between knowing a thing and experiencing it.
Ah! Denton’s chuckle was light in her hea
d. That must’ve been a very wise old man indeed.
Conversation was limited as the group headed deeper into the forest, the Aelfirian guide speaking least of all. Leading the way, she kept the pace of their progress slow for Denton, who grumbled now and then about his old legs and aching joints.
Marney opened herself to her surroundings, dropped her emotive defences, and allowed the sights and sensations to wash over her. She chuckled to herself as she waved away curious insects, and savoured the texture of the bark beneath her hand, and the smell of dirt and moss that stained her skin. Sturdy roots weaved in and out of the forest floor like dead tentacles. Above, through the thick green canopy that whispered in the damp breeze, sunlight winked between gaps in grey clouds. The Trees of the Many Queen was a good House, a peaceful forest, and it seemed far from the troubles that might be waiting ahead for Marney and her mentor.
The terracotta jar that had contained the essence of Fabian Moor had been found in a mysterious House called the Icicle Forest. Van Bam and Angel were on a mission to Mirage, to investigate an Aelf called Ursa, the one responsible for transporting the jar to the Labyrinth and reanimating Moor’s essence. Marney and Denton’s mission was to learn more about the Icicle Forest.
Even Lady Amilee had no information about that place. It was thought to be a Genii stronghold, a secret House hiding in the Nothing of Far and Deep, where Spiral plotted and planned against the Timewatcher. If the location of the Icicle Forest was to be revealed, if any information on this enigmatic House existed, then Lady Amilee believed it would be found at the Library of Glass and Mirrors.
The task ahead of Marney suddenly seemed so daunting that the beauty of her location became as dull as the sky.
After an hour of walking, the humidity broke and the temperature dropped. A fine drizzle misted the air and collected on leaves, dripping down on the travellers. After another hour, the light began to dim and the drizzle turned to hard rain. When Denton asked for a rest, the Aelf led the empaths to a log shelter with one exposed side, standing beside a forest stream. A ring of stones had been laid with dry wood on the shelter floor, and the Aelf set it ablaze with tinder and flint. She then took a black iron kettle from a hook on the wall, filled it with water from the stream, and hung it over the flames to boil.
The Aelf left the empaths alone, saying that she needed to scout the area. Marney suspected that in truth, she just didn’t want to overhear anything they might discuss of their mission. Alone and soaked to the skin, the empaths sipped green tea and feasted on hard oatcakes.
‘I’m really not cut out for this kind of lark, anymore,’ Denton grumbled as he rubbed his knees. ‘Not sure that I ever really was, to be honest.’
Marney said nothing and stared into the flames.
‘I wonder how the others are getting on,’ Denton said after a while. ‘I’ve been thinking about them. You?’
Marney looked at him. ‘Hmm?’
‘The others,’ Denton said. ‘I wonder if Samuel and the twins have located Fabian Moor yet.’ He lowered his eyes at her. ‘I wonder how things are going in Mirage?’
Marney smiled sheepishly. ‘Yes, all right, I was thinking about Van Bam.’
Denton squinted at her. ‘What’s that you’ve got?’
It was a small, open tin that Marney held in her hands. She had taken it from her backpack, and it was filled with light brown crystals that carried an aroma not out of place in the forest.
‘Bath salts,’ she told her mentor in a quiet voice.
Denton chuckled. ‘You brought bath salts with you? On a trip like this?’
‘Yes – no – I mean, I wanted to bring them because …’ She felt too embarrassed to finish the sentence.
‘Ah,’ said Denton. ‘They were a gift from Van Bam?’
‘I know it’s stupid, Denton, but I’m comforted by the smell. It reminds me of him.’
‘Nonsense – I think it’s very sweet,’ Denton replied. ‘What do they smell of?’
‘Sandalwood.’
‘Your favourite scent, if I’m not mistaken.’
Marney lifted the open tin to her face and sniffed. ‘I can’t quite explain it, but the smell of sandalwood reminds me of good things – nothing specific, it’s just … like smelling happy memories. Does that make sense?’
‘Perfectly,’ Denton said with a smile. ‘Smells very often become associated with memories. And emotions. Perhaps most especially for empaths.’
Marney nodded. ‘I like to think that one day someone might smell sandalwood and remember me.’
‘And I’m sure they will.’
Marney closed the tin and returned it to her backpack. ‘It seems strange, don’t you think? I mean – that we have to keep secrets from the others, that we can’t tell them about this mission? We’re fighting on the same side in this war.’
Denton paused before picking up his wooden cup and draining it of tea. He poured himself another, and then set it aside to cool.
‘I have something for you,’ he said. ‘Nothing as charming as Van Bam’s gift, I’m afraid.’ He undid the straps of his rucksack, dipped his hand inside, and produced a fat envelope. ‘This must be kept safe,’ he said, holding it out to Marney. His eyes were intense, ensuring that he had her full attention.
Marney couldn’t explain why, but she was reluctant to take the envelope, and kept her hands in her lap. She could see that the wax seal had been stamped without a symbol.
‘There are often good reasons for secrets.’ Denton’s expression was sympathetic but firm. ‘We are heading into the war, and it would be ignorant for us to believe that our lives are not under threat, yes?’
Marney nodded.
‘There are certain aspects to what we are doing that I cannot tell you about,’ Denton continued. ‘However, this envelope contains every detail of our mission. But there is only one occasion on which you must open it. Do you understand what I am saying?’
Marney looked away, unable to hold her mentor’s gaze, not wanting to hear where she very much understood this conversation was leading.
‘If I should be killed—’
Marney recoiled from his words.
‘Listen to me, Marney,’ Denton said sternly. ‘If I should be killed, it will fall to you to complete this mission. In this envelope you will find coded instructions on how to find the Library of Glass and Mirrors, and what to do once you get there.’ He jabbed the envelope toward her more forcefully. ‘You are an agent of the Relic Guild, and I need to know you will do what is necessary, no matter what.’
‘Of course I will,’ Marney said, more angrily than she meant to.
‘Then take the bloody envelope, Marney.’ Denton was almost pleading. ‘If it comes to it, you decipher the instructions, memorise them, destroy the evidence, and report everything that you discover only to Lady Amilee.’
Marney sealed up her emotions. To any other person she would have disappeared from perception. It was an act of self-preservation, a desperate bid to stop herself admitting that what she feared more than this mission was to be alone. She was terrified of the day when Denton was no longer around and she would have to face the world without his tutelage and guidance.
Without meeting his eyes, she took the envelope.
Denton sent her a wave of hopeful and affectionate emotions. ‘This is only a backup plan, Marney. I sincerely pray to the Timewatcher that you’ll never have to open that envelope.’
She looked at him and saw his eyes had become distant.
‘Trust me,’ he whispered. ‘Not all Houses are Aelfirian, and there is a reason those Houses are not connected to the Labyrinth. There are places out there that you really don’t want to know about.’
She frowned and made to stuff the envelope into her rucksack.
‘No,’ Denton said. ‘Put it on your person – safe and close.’
Marney slipped
the envelope into a leg-pocket on her travelling fatigues, and buttoned it up tight. She patted the pocket and gave Denton a nod to affirm that she understood her instructions.
‘Always be mindful that you have it, Marney,’ Denton said seriously. ‘It’s said that anything that can be known is known by the librarians at the Library of Glass and Mirrors. You don’t need me to tell you how much the information in that envelope would be worth to the wrong type of people.’
‘You can trust me,’ Marney said, and sent her mentor a wave of emotion, letting him feel her sincerity.
‘That’s my girl.’ Denton smiled. ‘Here, have more tea.’
He poured green tea into Marney’s wooden cup, and then picked up his own.
Glad the conversation was over, Marney looked out of the shelter into the rain beating down onto the forest.
‘It’s hard to imagine there’s a war going on,’ she said. ‘This is such a beautiful House. So peaceful.’
‘Ah, but don’t be fooled by its beauty, Marney,’ said Denton. ‘The Trees of the Many Queen is not a House you want to cross. There is old, powerful magic here. The souls of the dead do not journey on to Mother Earth, you see – they stay and nourish the trees, keep this forest strong and young.’ He sipped his tea and winked at Marney. ‘The Genii’s armies would have no easy time fighting the spirits of this House, no matter what weaponry and monstrous technologies they brought with them.’
‘I hate the idea of the war coming here,’ she said, watching the rain. ‘I can’t believe Spiral could find anything he needs in this forest.’
‘Don’t be quick to assume such things,’ said the Aelfirian guide.
Startled, Marney looked around to see her standing in the opening of the shelter, no more than four feet away, carrying an armful of firewood. How had she moved that silently? Marney hadn’t detected the approach of her emotions.
‘We’ve got one thing Spiral wants,’ the Aelf continued, ‘and that’s a doorway leading straight to you and your House. The Great Labyrinth is high treasure to the Genii Lord.’
That was indisputable, Marney decided. If Spiral gained control of the Labyrinth, his cruel fist could punch out at all the Houses that still opposed him. Before the war with Spiral, the Labyrinth had been the one realm that was connected to every Aelfirian House via doorways leading to portals that cut through the Nothing of Far and Deep. But the Houses that had fallen to Spiral had had their doorways removed, severing their connection to the Nothing of Far and Deep, and the Timewatcher ensured that no creature of higher magic could use the doorways that remained. However, that did not prevent the army of Aelfir who followed Spiral from using them. Gaining control of a doorway to the Great Labyrinth was high treasure indeed.
