The Cathedral of Known Things

by Edward Cox

  Another golem stepped through, holding its pistol directly in front of it. Samuel drew his empty revolver and held the barrel to the golem’s temple. Without a bullet to propel, the burst of thaumaturgy still punched a hole straight through the creature’s head, and it crumbled to the floor. A second golem appeared, tripped over the ruins of the first and stumbled into the room.

  Samuel’s rifle spat a bullet into its face.

  Wasting no time, not bothering to wait for the twins, Samuel darted through the hole in the wall into the apartment where the darkness congregated. He shot three more armed golems before they could fire, and smashed the head off a fourth with the butt of his rifle.

  As Samuel quickly ejected the rifle’s empty magazine and slapped a fresh one into place, he was vaguely aware of the twins entering the room he had just left. He heard Macy telling Bryant to check the other apartment through the hole on the right side wall before she stepped up beside Samuel. Her breath caught as she saw her fellow agent was now aiming his rifle at Fabian Moor.

  The Genii sat cross-legged upon the floor, deep in a trance which the noise of fighting had not disturbed. Through the lenses of the goggles, he appeared to Samuel in perfect colour. His eyes were closed and face expressionless; his smooth, pale skin was only blemished by a patch of scarring upon his forehead. His long hair, white and straight, flowed over the shoulders of his black priest’s cassock.

  Samuel had wondered a hundred times what this creature of higher magic might look like. Never had he imagined that he would be facing someone so human-looking.

  With his hands resting palm up upon his knees, Moor sat before a head-sized sphere of glass that floated two feet off the floor. The flow of swarming shadow-insects converged at the bottom of the sphere, where they were absorbed into the glass to fill it, thick and roiling. On the outside, the sphere was covered in a mesh of metal; and held by the mesh, at regular intervals, were a host of power stones, each as small as a little finger nail.

  ‘Samuel,’ Macy hissed, panicking. ‘What are you waiting for? Just shoot the bastard!’

  Fabian Moor’s eyes snapped open. He gritted his teeth, and by the use of thaumaturgy propelled himself to his feet in a heartbeat.

  Samuel squeezed the trigger. The power stone flashed and the rifle spat a thumb-sized metal slug. But the Genii had surrounded himself with a magical barrier. It melted the bullet to drops of molten lead that slapped to the floor, hissing and steaming. Samuel shot again but with the same results. His face grim, Fabian Moor raised a hand toward the agents of the Relic Guild. Macy bellowed and made to rush him.

  She had taken no more than two steps when the window to the right exploded with a shower of shattered glass and broken framework. Samuel covered his face with an arm as the purple ghost of a giant spider crashed into the room.

  ‘No!’ Fabian Moor screeched.

  Through the magically enhanced goggles, Samuel watched the automaton spider speed toward the Genii. Moor’s hand glowed with thaumaturgy, but it was already too late. Before he could release whatever power he had summoned, the spider was upon him.

  A dazzling blaze of energy filled the room as the spider cut through Moor’s defensive barrier, burning so bright and magical through the lenses of the goggles that Samuel had to rip them from his face. He heard Macy swearing. When the slashes and streaks of thaumaturgy had cleared from his vision, Samuel saw that the spider had become visible.

  The giant spider construct, with the head of a golem perched upon its melon-sized body, had coiled four of its long, thin legs around Fabian Moor’s body, trapping his arms and squeezing his legs together in a cocoon of thaumaturgic metal. The tip of one leg had smoothed and flattened, moulding to the Genii’s face, covering his mouth. Moor just had time to glare at Samuel, eyes full of hatred, before the automaton spider fizzed and became invisible once again, along with its captive. Glass shards cracked and jumped on the floor, plasterwork broke, as the spider clambered out of the window on its four remaining legs, spiriting the Genii away to his prison in the southern district.

  Samuel dropped the goggles and shared a look of silent incredulity with Macy.

  Incredulity turned to worry as the power stones surrounding the sphere of glass began to shine with bright, violet light. A sharp hissing filled the air, and the swarm of shadows fled the room as though being chased back to the places where sunlight could not reach. Abruptly, the hissing stopped. The power stones lost their light and became inert, clear crystals. The glass sphere dropped onto the threadbare carpet with a soft thump, nestling among the stony ruins of golems. No longer filled with oily blackness, it now contained an inert substance that looked much like murky water.

  ‘Is … that it?’ Macy said. ‘We succeeded?’

  Samuel suspected her expression of dubious astonishment only mirrored his own. ‘We’d better get this thing back to Hamir,’ he said, indicating the glass sphere.

  Macy nodded uncertainly. She bent down, paused, and then tentatively picked it up. ‘Bryant!’ she shouted, studying the sphere. ‘We got him!’

  When Bryant replied, his voice was full of anguish. ‘Macy, Samuel.’ A pause. ‘You’d better come here.’

  With Macy carrying the sphere under one arm, the two agents rushed from the room, crossed the apartment where broken golems littered the carpet, and went through the hole in the wall to join Bryant.

  They found him on his knees, tears in his eyes, leaning over a figure on the floor who was shaking and moaning. Bryant looked back at his sister and Samuel.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said.

  Samuel holstered his rifle, pushed Bryant out of the way, and crouched down beside the Relic Guild agent called Gene.

  The frail apothecary was naked, stripped of clothes and dignity, and secured to the floor by chains connected to a metal brace around his neck. Gene’s jaundiced eyes found Samuel’s and he grabbed his hand.

  ‘S-Samuel,’ he said from between chattering teeth. ‘I-I’m sorry. I tried to fight him … b-but he was too p-powerful.’

  ‘It’s all right, Gene,’ Samuel said. ‘You—’

  ‘No, you don’t … understand.’ Gene was weeping now. ‘I-I gave you up, S-Samuel. All of you. Moor knows … Moor knows who every a-agent of the Relic Guild is—’

  Gene groaned in pain, and Samuel tightened his grip on his hand.

  ‘Gene, listen to me. Did you tell Moor how to enter the Nightshade?’

  ‘Don’t … Don’t know …’

  The apothecary’s skin was slimy, but not from sweat. His whole body was coated with a sticky excretion that emitted a sterile pungency. There was a bite wound on his neck, and it was obvious that Gene was using his magic, generating all manner of antidotes from the chemicals and minerals in his body, in a desperate attempt to fight the effects of Fabian Moor’s virus – a fight he was losing.

  ‘There’s no cure,’ Gene hissed, anger fuelling his normally gentle voice. ‘I-I don’t want to become a golem, Samuel. B-But I can’t help myself. Please … stop me. I-I already want to kill you.’

  A new tone was lacing Gene’s weak voice now, like a distant scream. Black veins were trying to criss-cross his skin; they emerged and faded as they fought with Gene’s chemical magic. Samuel’s prescient awareness issued a warning: it was time to put distance between him and the apothecary.

  As Gene began thrashing on the floor, choking and coughing, Samuel dropped his hand, and took several quick steps backwards. Macy and Bryant remained behind him. Samuel drew his rifle, but he couldn’t bring himself to prime the power stone, to do what he knew was necessary.

  Gene stopped thrashing and glared with yellow eyes filled with animal rage. He clenched long teeth set in receding gums. ‘Do it, you bastard!’ His words came as shrieks. ‘Don’t be a coward!’

  Black veins began spreading over his skin.

  Samuel thumbed the power sto
ne and took aim. ‘I’m so sorry, Gene,’ he whispered.

  The apothecary screamed, straining against his chains as he tried to rise, to attack, to feed on the blood of his fellow agents.

  Samuel’s rifle spat and the bullet burst Gene’s head.

  The fleeting moment of stillness was shattered when Bryant shouted with fury and punched a hole in the wall. Macy laid a hand on the barrel of Samuel’s rifle, gently coaxing him to lower it. He was vaguely aware of her telling him he had done only what had to be done.

  Zero tolerance.

  ‘You’d better report to Gideon,’ he heard himself tell the twins in an empty, cold voice.

  ‘What about the infected locked in the stairwell?’ Macy said. ‘We can’t leave them here.’

  ‘I’ll deal with them,’ Samuel replied. He couldn’t take his eyes off the corpse of the old apothecary. ‘I’ll meet you back at the Nightshade.’

  The twins were silent and didn’t move.

  ‘I don’t need your help to clear the stairwell,’ Samuel said. There was no argument in his voice, no willingness to debate the matter; it was a simple statement. ‘Just go.’

  One of the twins, probably Macy, patted him on the shoulder, and they left without a further word.

  Samuel didn’t know how long he stood staring at Gene’s body before he set fire to the dry and decaying homeless shelter, but by the time he stood outside, watching the building burn, the morning sun had passed its zenith in the sky and was descending into the afternoon.

  Chapter Four

  House of the Aelfir

  Although this was the first time Samuel had seen Clara as the wolf, he had witnessed once before how powerful the changeling was. What now seemed a lifetime ago, Samuel had found the remains of a man Clara had killed. The man had been slaughtered, practically torn into bloody chunks. His limbs had been pulled from their sockets. His head had been ripped from his neck and left as a crushed pulp beside his savaged torso. Samuel remembered wondering at the time what size of monster could inflict such wanton carnage. And now the answer was before him.

  Timewatcher have mercy, he thought. Clara was huge!

  As the Relic Guild drifted along the circular tunnel that burrowed into the Nothing of Far and Deep, travelling to whatever destination resided on the other side, Samuel kept to the rear of the group, maintaining a very calculated and watchful distance between himself and the wolf. Clara stood next to Van Bam. Her head was at chest level to the illusionist, and she was easily big enough to carry him on her back. Her body was sleek and muscular beneath a thick, silvery pelt. Strong, sturdy legs ended with meaty paws, tipped with sharp, black nails.

  The wolf looked back at Samuel, mouth open and tongue lolling as she panted. Samuel could see the very long and very sharp teeth set in a jaw big and powerful enough to crush a man’s head. He resisted the urge to keep the coarse but reassuring feel of his rifle in his hands.

  Van Bam casually reached out to scratch Clara behind the ear. The wolf looked at the illusionist, and they stared at each other for what seemed a suspiciously long time.

  Samuel narrowed his eyes.

  Van Bam had been willing to trust Clara from the very beginning. He kept complete faith that she would not pose a threat when she changed into the wolf, even though, by her own admission, Clara had never been in control of her magic. Samuel remained sceptical. His prescient awareness hadn’t completely died away since entering the Nothing of Far and Deep; it radiated a low magical warmth in the pit of his stomach, uneasy like a nagging doubt. He couldn’t be certain whether his magic was keeping him on his toes due to the unknown location he was heading towards, or because of the wolf.

  Samuel’s gut, the instincts of an old and seasoned bounty hunter, trusted Clara – for the most part. But he couldn’t help wondering what she would have done had the wild demons not attacked the Relic Guild. In the moments after Clara’s metamorphosis into the wolf, Samuel’s magic had told him that the fury in her yellow eyes represented an overwhelming desire to fight that bordered on frenzy. If the Retrospective hadn’t trapped the Relic Guild, if it hadn’t opened its doorway and released its bloodthirsty monsters, would Clara have sated her rage upon her fellow agents?

  The one remaining bullet in the rifle felt like insurance to Samuel.

  A burst of light assaulted Samuel’s vision. Beyond the tunnel’s wispy, cloud-like wall, streaks of blue and red lightning crackled through the thick white of the Nothing of Far and Deep, as if the agents travelled through a gigantic storm cloud charged with monumental energy. It was an impressive sight, a revitalising sight, and one Samuel hadn’t seen for many years.

  A long time ago, before the Genii War, the Relic Guild had been a much stronger force. Throughout the centuries, every agent who had ever served the clandestine organisation had been born a magicker, touched by a gift. Magickers were the only humans permitted to use magic, but only if they served the Resident; only if they used their gifts to protect Labrys Town. That was the promise all Relic Guild agents had to make: to defend the denizens against sinister and mysterious forces.

  A major part of the Relic Guild’s duties had been to retrieve the magical relics and artefacts that treasure hunters liked to steal from the Houses of the Aelfir to sell on the black market. This very often meant that the agents had to travel to the Aelfirian realms – magical places filled with wonder and beauty. Long ago now, Samuel had relished those trips, considered them the best part of his duties. But then Spiral had tried to take control of the Labyrinth and conquer the Houses of the Aelfir.

  Spiral and his hordes might have lost the Genii War, but at its conclusion, it was the Timewatcher who gave up on the denizens of Labrys Town. She severed all pathways that cut through the Nothing of Far and Deep and linked the Labyrinth to the Aelfirian Houses, abandoning one million humans, and leaving Labrys Town as a forbidden zone. No one got in and no one got out. During the forty years since the war’s end, Samuel had often dreamed of escaping the Labyrinth and seeing the magical realms of the Aelfir again. But never once had he dreamed that he would have to flee as an outcast from the town he had promised to protect.

  As he watched lightning crackle through the Nothing of Far and Deep, Samuel couldn’t help but feel relieved to discover that at least one of the old pathways still existed; that for the first time in forty years he was travelling to an Aelfirian House – wherever that might be. Despite everything he had been through, despite the troubles behind him and the uncertainty ahead of him, a sense of liberation lifted the old bounty hunter’s spirits.

  ‘Samuel,’ Van Bam called back. ‘Our journey is almost over.’

  Ahead of the illusionist and the wolf, the pathway came to an end at the black circle of a portal. It was only the size of Samuel’s fist, but was growing larger, and he could see it devouring the wispy substance of the tunnel wall as it swirled.

  The mystery House residing on the other side of the portal had been sending food and supplies to the denizens of Labrys Town for the past four decades. If not for those deliveries of essential goods, the denizens would have starved to death years ago. However, that did not necessarily mean that the Relic Guild was now heading toward friends; that did not mean the Relic Guild would be believed. It was no certain thing that the Aelfir on the other side of this tunnel would jump at the chance to help two humans and a wolf contact those powerful enough to end the reign of the Genii.

  At that moment, Samuel felt he would settle for just a hot shower and a change of clothes. The journey to this point had included a trek through the sewers beneath Labrys Town which had left Samuel caked in dried waste and smelling foul.

  The portal grew larger, drew closer. Out of instinct, Samuel reached over his shoulder to slide his rifle from its holster. As if sensing this action, Van Bam looked back and shook his head.

  ‘In all probability, we are about to enter a scenario that will be tense at bes
t,’ he said, the strange acoustics in the wispy tunnel bringing his quiet voice close to Samuel’s ears. ‘Please, do not aggravate the situation further.’

  Samuel scoffed. ‘I really don’t think my rifle is more threatening than a wolf the size of a pony – do you, Van Bam?’

  Clara snorted.

  A wry smile appeared on Van Bam’s face. ‘Nevertheless – no weapons.’

  Samuel dropped his empty hand to his side, and Van Bam faced the swirling black circle again.

  Samuel tried and failed to decide if he was moving towards the portal or if it was speeding towards him. It was a surreal sensation he had experienced a hundred times before when travelling these tunnels in his younger days. They rushed to meet each other nonetheless, and he felt a thrill as Van Bam and Clara disappeared into glassy darkness. Samuel held his breath the instant before the portal engulfed him too.

  For a moment he felt choked, and then there was solid ground beneath his feet and light in his eyes.

  He stumbled, feeling slightly nauseated, and took a moment to adjust to the transition of jumping from one realm to another.

  Clara growled.

  The portal had delivered the group into a warehouse of enormous size. Row upon row of violet glow spheres hung from the high ceiling on thick chains. The air was cold but cleaner than the air Samuel was used to. Directly ahead, a wide and clear section of stone floor stretched away like a valley between two long lines of platforms stacked high with packing crates, sacks and metal storage containers. The platforms were numerous, far more than Samuel had time to count before movement on the far side of the warehouse caught his eye.

  The last of a sizeable group of people were fleeing the area. They scurried out of the warehouse, through the wide and high opening of its huge door. Clara made to chase after them, but Van Bam told her to stay put.