by Edward Cox
Grinning broadly, he leant into Van Bam. ‘This should be good,’ he whispered.
The hush endured in the hall. Buyaal closed his eyes and gave a single, piercing whistle.
With dusty eruptions, three coppions jumped from the sand beneath Buyaal’s feet and scurried up his body. More gasps came from the audience. One of the hand-sized scorpion-spiders sat upon Buyaal’s head, while the other two perched on his shoulders. Their stings were raised above their bodies, but they did not strike their master, and seemed quite tame and content. Buyaal opened his eyes and grinned.
A few of the audience member attempted to begin a round of applause, but the cloaked man’s voice sliced through the air. ‘Silence.’
Buyaal dropped his arms to his sides and once again closed his eyes. He paused a moment, allowing expectation to rise, and then issued three short whistles. The coppions began crawling over his body, spinning their webs.
Van Bam sat forward and narrowed his eyes. The creatures moved with preternatural speed, scurrying over their master’s form, leaving behind thin lines of glistening thread, wrapping Buyaal in a cocoon. The guests watched, awed and silent.
The coppions moved so fast, extruded so much web, that Van Bam grew suspicious. Discreetly, he took his green glass cane under the low table, flicked it gently with his finger, and whispered to his magic. He searched for a concealing charm, illusionist magic that was fooling the audience. But he detected nothing – no spells, no illusions.
The coppions had become blurs of movement as they spun their webs faster and faster. Buyaal’s face, his Aelfirian features calm, his large eyes closed, disappeared beneath a glistening white covering. His legs were bound together, his arms wrapped to his sides. In less than a few minutes, Buyaal was hidden in a shroud of thick web that glittered in the light like frosted glass.
With their work done, the coppions jumped back down to the sand and disappeared into their burrows, leaving Buyaal looking much like an ancient mummified corpse.
A long moment passed. The banquet guests began exchanging looks and whispers. A few nervous chuckles filtered through the hall. Ebril’s grin split his beard. The illusionist caught Angel’s eye, and she pulled a perplexed face.
The hooded man, who had remained still throughout the performance, now raised his head. The hall gasped as his hand flashed out. Inside the tank, Buyaal’s cocooned figure burst into quick fire. The flames made short work of the web, incinerating it entirely in a matter of seconds, to leave behind … nothing. Buyaal, Master of the Desert, had disappeared completely.
A few members of the audience rose to their feet, faces stunned, murmuring in consternation.
The cloaked man threw back his hood, revealing his face. Master Buyaal grinned mischievously for his audience. ‘You were warned that I cannot be trusted!’
More guests stood up. The applause was thunderous. Buyaal took his bow.
Like the other members of the High Governor’s table, Van Bam remained seated, looking from Buyaal to the empty tank and back again. The illusionist knew that this trick would be impossible for anyone but a magic-user. Yet …
Once again Van Bam tapped his glass cane and whispered to his magic. Once again he detected no spells or illusionism around Buyaal and his show.
Ambassador Ebril, clapping his hands, grinned at Van Bam knowingly. ‘If you ever do discover how this trick was done,’ he said, ‘please be sure to explain it to me.’
When the wail of the siren died away, an eerie hush descended over the battlefield.
Along with Lieutenant Morren, Marney and Denton hid behind a thick metal blast shield. Behind them, smoke as thick as fog obscured the city’s edge; before them, the Timewatcher’s army manned cannons and lined up along the defensive wall with their rifles. Each soldier was alert, ready, waiting to resume fighting. On the opposite side of the raging river, a column of unnatural darkness had twisted up into the grey sky above Spiral’s army. And in the silence, the clouds broke, and heavy rain began falling upon the scorched and battered landscape of the Union of Twins.
‘We’ve been fighting this battle for nearly a year,’ Morren told the empaths as he watched the sky. He had explained earlier how the twin city had fallen when the Genii seized control of the portals on the other side of the river. ‘But we reached a stalemate after only a few weeks of hostilities. We’ve been fighting to maintain it ever since.’
‘Really?’ said Denton, raindrops tapping upon his crumpled hat. ‘There’s no chance of victory?’
‘I wouldn’t say that, but it’s complicated,’ Morren replied. ‘What the Genii really want is control of our portals, especially the doorway that leads to the Great Labyrinth. Fortunately, that doorway is on this side of the river, in the city. The enemy won’t try to cross the river because they know that if our defeat ever seemed likely, we’d destroy the only way they have to access the Labyrinth before they could land. Instead, they continue trying to bombard us into surrender.’
Morren faced the magickers and gave them a wry smile. ‘I like to think we’re the guardians of the Labyrinth.’
Marney was once again struck by how young the Aelf was, and she wondered if officer fatalities incurred in the war had fast-tracked him into the position of lieutenant.
‘What about the Thaumaturgist?’ Marney asked. ‘Surely he could turn the battle in your favour?’
Morren shook his head. ‘Lord Habriel and the enemy’s Genii spend most of their time cancelling each other out. They only really help to preserve the impasse—’
The young Aelfirian officer looked at the sky, as worried voices rose among the soldiers. On the opposite side of the river, a figure had levitated into the air and was hovering before the column of darkness that spiralled towards the sky. Marney’s gut tightened. The figure was dressed in a black cassock, with long hair flapping in the wind, and the empath knew that if she got close enough, she would see a scar on the figure’s forehead where the tattoo of a black diamond had once been.
‘But then again,’ Morren added, ‘the Thaumaturgist and the Genii sometimes like to go toe-to-toe. Get ready.’
A few orders were barked, echoing across the rain-soaked stillness. All along the defensive wall, soldiers looked up at the Genii floating in the sky. Gunners adjusted the aims of the long cannon barrels. Behind the Genii, the spiralling energy began to thicken and spark.
‘When the fighting distracts attention,’ Morren said seriously, ‘that’s when I’ll lead you to the portal to Ghost Mist Veldt.’
‘You don’t have to come with us,’ Denton replied. ‘Just give us directions, and we’ll take it from there.’
‘We’re very good at concealing ourselves,’ Marney added. ‘The snipers won’t see us.’
‘I’m sure that’s true, but you still can’t do this on your own,’ Morren said, looking back at the empaths with a frown. ‘The portals are protected by energy barriers.’ He showed them a pendant hanging from a chain around his neck: a simple metal rectangle inlaid with a small crystal. ‘Only captain Eddine and his officers can use these keys. You can’t deactivate the barriers without me.’ He looked up, blinking against the rain. ‘Here we go.’
A second figure levitated into the air almost directly above Marney. Lord Habriel the Thaumaturgist hovered and faced his enemy, serene and beautiful in the standoff, unconcerned by the weather.
Marney held her breath.
In the sky across the river, the Genii threw her arms forward. Behind her, the column shattered and sped towards the Timewatcher’s army.
As it had during the earlier attack on the breach in the defensive wall, the higher magic came as a flock of shadow shards. But this time the flock stretched in a wide arc, multiplying, spreading as it came onwards, until it was surely wide enough to encompass every soldier in the Timewatcher’s army.
Marney felt an emotional charge in the air, a wave of loathing that
preceded the Genii’s magic, stronger than the fear and trepidation of the soldiers standing their ground. The feeling grew fiercer as the flock came, and Marney quelled her panic.
I can feel it too, Marney, Denton’s voice said in her mind. Have courage.
High above, Lord Habriel waited until the flock of hate-filled shadows began crossing the river, and then he retaliated.
The Thaumaturgist’s voice whispered across the battlefield. With quick sighs and fleeting hisses, he chanted in a language beyond Marney’s comprehension, but it was filled with such compassion, such affection and hope. Marney shivered as Habriel’s voice reached a crescendo and he showed the palms of his hands to the oncoming flock.
All along the defensive wall, soldiers jumped back as the thaumaturgy imbued into the hard-packed dirt and stonework rose up like a curtain of liquid air that folded back to cover the Timewatcher’s army in a monumental, shimmering dome, crackling with sparks of higher magic. The flock of shadow shards hit the barrier with sharp pings like bullets rebounding off metal. The Genii’s spell began to change. Though several of the shards clung to Habriel’s barrier like bats, most were instantly repelled, but all of them began shining with a pearlescent gleam.
Still travelling as a huge flock, the multi-hued shards of light raced back to the enemy’s side of the river. The emotion they left in their wake filled Marney with more than mere affection.
‘Is that what it is?’ Marney wondered aloud. ‘The Genii attacks with hate, and Habriel fights back with, what – love?’
‘I suppose it’s along those lines,’ Denton replied. ‘But I don’t think it’s quite that simple, Marney.’
‘No, it really isn’t,’ Morren said. ‘The Genii’s spell is designed to turn the Aelfir against the Timewatcher. That’s how she subjugated the people of our twin city.’
Marney remembered the words of the Aelfirian guide back in the Trees of the Many Queen, and her fear of subjugation.
‘Lord Habriel is trying to win the enemy back,’ Morren continued, ‘to remind them that they never chose to support Spiral. The trouble is, the magic doesn’t always work.’
‘Doesn’t work?’ said Denton. ‘I can’t say I recall many stories concerning thaumaturgic spells with flaws.’
‘Well, you haven’t seen what I have.’ The lieutenant shivered, and his voice became filled with bitterness. ‘Whenever the Genii’s magic manages to get through the defences, it has different effects on people. I’ve seen soldiers turn on their comrades. I’ve seen friends commit suicide. Some simply die or have their minds wiped. Others aren’t affected at all. That spell is unpredictable and dangerous, and the battle between Habriel and the Genii is as pointless as the rest of the fighting in the Union of Twins.’
Across the river, the Genii had raised her own wall of liquid air to protect her troops. When Habriel’s magic hit it, the colourful flock reverted to dark shards of a shattered shadow, and then raced back towards the Timewatcher’s army, once again radiating hatred.
‘I’ve seen this dance more times than I care to remember,’ Morren said sadly. ‘It could be hours before the spell dissipates. And after that, no one will see Lord Habriel or the Genii for days.’
‘Shouldn’t we be moving?’ said Denton.
Morren raised a hand. ‘Not yet.’
As Habriel once again took the Genii’s rage and inverted it to compassion, Marney began to find the whole display of higher magic somehow childish. A new series of orders arose among the troops, and Marney flinched as the Timewatcher’s army unleashed their arsenal at the Genii. Almost simultaneously, the enemy fired at Lord Habriel.
The air was filled with the roar of thunder, the lightning of power stones, and streaks of thaumaturgy as deadly projectiles sped towards their targets. But every missile, every bullet stopped before getting close, exploding in the air, rendered useless, the debris falling from the sky with the rain to be lost in the raging river, as ineffectual against higher magic as throwing leaves to break a window.
‘It’s a waste of ammo, but we can’t stop trying,’ Morren shouted above the tumult. His face was stern but emoted hopelessness. ‘If your magic can hide our movements,’ he added, ‘now’s the time to use it. Let’s go.’
As the battle between Thaumaturgist and Genii persisted in stalemate, the futile bombardment continued. Lieutenant Morren led Marney and Denton away from the metal blast shield and across the open ground towards the broken edge of the city, away from the river. Marney summoned her empathic magic, creating a cloak of concealment around her that would hide her presence from any enemy watchers or snipers whose attention wasn’t attracted to the aerial display. Denton did the same, and extended his magic to also conceal Morren.
Marney’s pack felt heavy as the group travelled as fast as they could. The scorched ground was churned and rain-slicked and thickly muddied, dotted with impact craters. Denton struggled most, gripping Marney’s arm as she helped him to keep pace with Lieutenant Morren, trying not to slip over in the mud herself. Marney prayed that no stray missile exploded nearby, or stray bullet hit her in the back.
Smoke from the burning city drifted across the open ground like a light mist. The group made progress in silence, Denton breathing hard. Marney flinched with every boom of a great gun or flash of thaumaturgy. When Morren finally drew them to a halt, he took off the chain around his neck and held the metal pendant in his hand.
‘Over there,’ he said, pointing to the shape of a portal archway in the smoke. He led the empaths to it.
‘As soon as I drop the barrier the portal will activate,’ the Aelf said as they got closer. ‘Don’t hang around. Just leave.’ He paused with his thumb hovering over the crystal set into the pendant. ‘Whatever it is you’re doing, I wish you luck.’
‘And the same to you, Lieutenant,’ Denton replied.
‘Thank you,’ said Marney.
With a nod, Morren pressed the crystal. There was a low buzz of energy, and the barrier surrounding the portal revealed itself as a dome of translucent blue that momentarily illuminated the smoke with a ghostly effect before deactivating. When the light disappeared, the glassy portal began to swirl within the archway, and the Aelf ushered the empaths towards it. As soon as they were close enough, Morren reactivated the barrier.
Marney turned to see him with a hand raised in farewell. She just had time to realise that with the magical barrier separating them, the Aelf was no longer concealed by Denton’s empathy, before Morren’s chest exploded with a spray of blood and bone.
He dropped to his knees and fell face down in the mud. The sniper’s bullet had torn a ragged, crimson hole in the back of his uniform’s jacket.
Marney was shouting Morren’s name as Denton took her by the hand and dragged her into the portal.
The guest apartment in the High Governor’s house carried the kind of grandeur that Van Bam usually associated with the western district of Labrys Town. The floor of the spacious lounge area had been laid with tiles of cream and red-veined marble. The sandstone walls were decorated with intricate carvings, many of which were inlaid with coloured glass or precious metals. Glow lamps sat in sconces fixed to four pillars in each corner of the room. They were designed to give the illusion of naked flames when they were activated.
Two bedrooms were adjoined to the lounge area, both large enough to be an apartment in its own right. Each room had a set of thick wicker doors leading to a balcony that overlooked the fountains and foliage of the garden plaza at the centre of the High Governor’s house.
Everything about the guest apartment spoke of wealth and taste, including a pull cord of white rope which would summon a servant to attend to the needs of houseguests. Angel had already taken full advantage of the rope to procure herself a large jug of berry wine. She was enjoying her second goblet while lounging on the pillows before a low table at the centre of room. Across from the healer, Van Bam sat deep in
thought, his wine untouched.
‘So,’ said Angel. ‘What’s your opinion about tonight?’
A cool breeze of desert air blew in from the open balcony doors and stroked his face. The banquet had concluded more than an hour before, and Van Bam was still trying to make sense of things.
‘I am undecided,’ the illusionist admitted. ‘How did he do it, Angel?’
Angel paused with her goblet an inch from her lips. ‘Do what?’
Van Bam shook his head again. ‘For the life of me, I cannot fathom how he did it without magic.’
‘Are you still thinking about Buyaal’s show?’ Angel rolled her eyes and took a sip of wine.
‘He has to be a magic-user, Angel, but I detected nothing.’
‘So?’
Van Bam frowned at her. ‘It does not bother you?’
‘Not especially. I just enjoyed it for what it was – a bit of entertainment.’
‘You are not in the least bit curious?’
‘Look, Van Bam, I once saw a street performer levitate two feet off the ground without the use of magic. To this day, I don’t know how he did it. But unlike you, I don’t need the answers to everything. I enjoy a little mystery now and then.’
‘Well, it bothers me,’ Van Bam said moodily. ‘How did Buyaal do it?’
‘I don’t know, and I don’t care.’ Angel sighed, and she sipped her wine again. ‘Now, switch that big brain of yours over to the important matters. Tell me what you think of this Hermit story.’
Letting go of the riddle of Buyaal and his performance, Van Bam considered for a moment. ‘Well, High Governor Obanai and Ambassador Ebril are entirely convinced that the Hermit is a servant of Spiral, and that Ursa was working for him.’
