by Edward Cox
Dressed in a priest’s cassock as dark as his eyes, the Genii had Angel by the hair and was holding her down on her knees.
‘I’ve been waiting for the Nephilim to try to send you home,’ Buyaal said dangerously. His free hand was balled into a fist, glowing with higher magic. ‘Lord Spiral cannot be stopped. Fabian Moor cannot be stopped. Your journey ends here, human.’
Angel whimpered.
Van Bam launched himself at the Genii.
Without thinking twice, he called upon every last shred of power that Gulduur Bellow had injected into his magic, channelled it into the green glass cane, and, with a shout of fury, he struck it down on Buyaal as though he wielded a mighty axe.
Buyaal raised an arm to block the blow. When the cane struck it, there was a discordant roar, a flash of blinding green light, and an explosion of energy punched Van Bam away. It sent him and the cane skidding and tumbling along the Giant’s Hand, and the illusionist hurtled headfirst into the Nothing of Far and Deep.
‘No!’ Buyaal shouted after him.
Drifting down the tunnel that formed the pathway back to the Great Labyrinth, Van Bam turned around to face the way he had come. The portal showed a clear view into House Mirage. Angel, still on her knees, her eyes wide in terror, reached out a hand towards her fellow magicker. Try as he might to utilise the power of any blood-magic that remained to him, Van Bam could not make his way back to her.
Lord Buyaal’s face was bestial with rage. ‘Your death will come soon enough, magicker!’ he screeched through the portal.
‘Van Bam!’ Angel shouted.
Buyaal silenced the healer by yanking back her head, and running the hand glowing with thaumaturgy across her throat.
There was blood as Angel’s torso fell to one side, so much blood. The portal began to darken, and the Genii lifted the healer’s head up by the hair like a trophy, taunting the illusionist with it. And then the portal turned to swirling blackness.
Van Bam tried to fight the tide, claw his way back, but he couldn’t deny the momentum that rushed him away from Mirage. With a sudden lurch, he reached the end of the tunnel, and was expelled to land in a bone-jarring heap onto the damp cobbles of an alleyway in the Great Labyrinth. The green glass cane rolled away from him. Silver Moon’s cold glare shone down on him from a star-filled sky.
Van Bam scrambled to his feet as the doorway on the alley wall slammed shut. He ran to it, but reeled away with his hands raised when the wooden door burst into blazing white fire. At the same moment, Van Bam cried out in pain, and the symbols of blood-magic flared with purple light upon his skin, shining through his clothes. When the light receded, the symbols and their power had gone … as had the door.
Only the black bricks of the wall greeted the illusionist’s eyes.
Van Bam staggered back, falling into a sitting position, staring at the wall. Just as he had promised, Gulduur Bellow had destroyed the doorway to House Mirage.
‘Angel,’ Van Bam whispered.
And he wept.
Chapter Twenty Two
Doubt and Wonder
I don’t much like what they’ve done with the place, Gideon said.
The blue glass chamber had delivered Van Bam and Clara to a lightless location. The illusionist’s inner vision couldn’t see any details of the environment. He whispered to his magic, and illuminated his cane. The pale green light pushed back the darkness enough to expose the even stone ground, and the huge silver-grey wolf standing beside Van Bam, her head level with his chest.
Clara looked relaxed enough, but the shades and hues of her mood were tense, alert. Her yellow eyes stared into the gloom.
Gideon said, She’s not sensing anything living, my idiot.
Behind the magickers, the primordial mists of the Nothing of Far and Deep churned within a doorframe set into a rock wall. The portal might have led back to the strange blue chamber; maybe to nowhere at all. Van Bam doubted it would lead back to the Museum of Aelfirian Heritage, to Samuel, Namji, Hillem and Glogelder. Why had the group been separated? Where were his friends now?
This place feels abandoned to me, Gideon said. And Clara agrees, my idiot.
Van Bam felt the same. The air was still, cold and dry. The smell of dust and age was rife with undisturbed years. But beyond his cane’s glow the lightless shroud remained, giving no clue about the place they had arrived at. Was this their final destination, or merely another stopping-off place?
Whispering to his magic again, Van Bam enlarged the circle of light radiating from his cane, uncovering a little more detail. He and Clara stood on a promontory to which a bridge was connected. Just the beginnings of the bridge were lit; it was narrow, only wide enough to walk single file. Beneath it was nothing but more darkness.
At least you’ve found a way forward, Gideon drawled. Such a shame we don’t have a miserable sharpshooter with prescient awareness watching our backs.
We have everything we need, Van Bam replied. ‘Stay behind me, Clara,’ he added aloud. ‘Let me know if you detect anything.’
The wolf snorted her acquiescence.
Holding the green glass cane like a torch, the illusionist led the way onto the bridge. But the magickers had taken no more than a few steps before a sudden brilliance shone down and illuminated their environment.
Behold, Gideon said, amused, The Cathedral of Doubt and Wonder.
A cavern of monumental size, the agents on the narrow bridge miniscule within it. High above, mighty stalactites hung from the ceiling like the inverted towers and steeples of a great city, each one shining with a violet thaumaturgic glare. The massive size of the cavern was dizzying, stretching further than Van Bam’s vision could see. The illusionist experienced a moment of vertigo as he realised the bridge arched over a yawning chasm that sunk into unknowable depths.
Interesting, Gideon purred. Our presence seems to have activated old magic, my idiot.
Indeed. But have we activated anything else? Van Bam replied, extinguishing the light of his cane. He looked back at the wolf; she was peering over the edge of the bridge, down into the endless dark. What can Clara feel, Gideon?
She can sense magic in the air, but still nothing living.
Van Bam’s inner sight could see beyond the end of the bridge, to where the narrow path broadened into another promontory on the other side of the chasm. Rubble seemed to be piled there. The cavern wall formed a vast backdrop, faceted, sharp, filling Van Bam’s vision with varying shades of grey. To normal eyes the bridge would have led to a dead end, but the illusionist could see the circle behind the pile of rubble: not another portal, but a hole in the wall.
Beneath the thaumaturgic light shed by the giant stalactites, Van Bam steadied the anxiety in his gut, and led the way across the narrow bridge at a slow and careful pace, his courage bolstered by the huge wolf stalking behind him.
My idiot, Gideon said, now that we know Lady Amilee is the avatar’s master, I have a question for you. When you returned from Mirage, all those years ago, whom did you tell about Gulduur Bellow?
Before he answered, Van Bam had to dispel from his mind an image that had haunted his nightmares for decades; the image of Buyaal holding Angel’s severed head like a trophy. I made my report to you, and then to Lady Amilee, he said sombrely.
Yes, but you didn’t tell me the story of the Sorrow of Future Reason. Not back then. I only know now because I can access your memories. And I can’t find a memory of you ever telling the Skywatcher, either.
Van Bam thought for a moment. It didn’t seem relevant at the time. I never told anyone about the Sorrow of Future Reason.
You never mentioned it to Marney?
No.
Then how did Amilee know to leave the symbol for the Nephilim’s House on the doorway in the museum? How did she know what it would mean to you?
It was a good question. Van Bam had wondered oc
casionally what had become of Gulduur Bellow. After all these years the illusionist had decided he must have died along with Angel during the battle against Lord Buyaal and the army of Mirage. But the symbol for the Sorrow of Future Reason, and the story behind it, he had almost entirely forgotten about until seeing it on that doorframe. Did the symbol’s appearance mean Bellow had survived? Had Lady Amilee met with the Nephilim who saved the Labyrinth from invasion? And had he told the Skywatcher what that symbol would mean to Van Bam?
I think you’re on the right lines, my idiot. But I suspect Amilee used the symbol for bigger reasons than as a lock on a doorway, or for gaining your trust.
I agree, Van Bam replied. Much of what Bellow told me is making sense now, yet … He looked up to the glowing stalactites, took in the vastness of the cavern. Why did Amilee use his memory to bring us to the Cathedral of Doubt and Wonder? What has the Nephilim to do with Known Things?
Even now, for every mystery we solve, another ten replace it. Gideon sighed. Perhaps we will finally gain proper answers at the end of this bridge.
As the illusionist and the wolf crested the rise, and began walking down the other side, Clara growled as they came upon old bones, lying in a long line on the bridge. The bones belonged to an incomplete skeleton; the skull and spine of a huge creature that had obviously settled there to die a very long time ago. Van Bam looked up at the stalactites. Or perhaps the creature had been felled by something bigger.
Stop fretting, my idiot. Clara’s adamant that you and she are the only living things here.
Finding little comfort in the dead Resident’s words, Van Bam frowned at the skeleton. The creature’s skull was three times the size of a man’s, the jaw elongated, and it blocked the path, leaving only a foot of bridge between it and an endless fall. Van Bam tapped his cane upon the bridge, whispered a word, and summoned his illusionist magic. With a flash of green and a glassy chime that tinkled around the cavern, he conjured a rush of energy that pushed the skull over the edge.
It fell into the chasm, the long spine slithering after it, whipping and rattling. The remnants of the skeleton disappeared into the depths, leaving behind motes in the air that sparkled beneath the thaumaturgic light.
The dust settled, and the Relic Guild agents resumed crossing.
I’ll tell you something else that’s bothering me about our patron Skywatcher, Gideon said. Do you remember my theory concerning the avatar’s master? I hypothesised that it might be the Nightshade?
I remember, Van Bam replied, focusing on the bridge, and trying not to think about the impossible depths beckoning just a few feet away on either side of him. But as you said, we now know the avatar’s master to be Lady Amilee.
Exactly. Which reopens the question of how I formed a connection with the wolf. Why does Clara hear my voice?
Van Bam had no answer. He risked a quick glance back at Clara, a large and sleek silver-grey predator shadowing his footsteps, and he pushed the question to the back of his mind. Reaching the end of the bridge, the magickers stepped onto the promontory.
The hole in the wall was neat and circular, leading to a place that was just as dark as the cavern had been. The rubble piled before it appeared at first to be the result of a minor rock fall. But on closer inspection, Van Bam deduced that the rubble was the broken ruins of a huge stone golem. One of its legs from the knee down still stood upon a foot; its boulder-sized head was intact, lying on the ground, its simple features facing up; but the rest of the golem had been smashed into chunks of rock.
A guardian, I suspect, Gideon said. But not anymore.
Van Bam motioned for Clara to follow him quietly. Climbing over the debris, the illusionist led the way through the hole in the cavern wall.
The presence of the magickers once again activated the old, dormant magic in the Cathedral of Doubt and Wonder. A domed ceiling, coated in a metallic substance, glowed into life with warm, golden light, illuminating a circular chamber, spacious, its floor and wall as smooth as if it had been scooped out of the rock.
I hope the significance of this place isn’t lost on you, my idiot, Gideon said, his voice barely above a whisper. Right here, in this chamber, is where Iblisha Spiral, Lord of the Genii, planned his uprising against the Timewatcher. And it would seem he left his favourite toy behind.
At the centre of the chamber stood a large stone table, thick and round. Most of its grand chairs, made from the same grey and black-veined stone, were upturned and broken, lying as more rubble on the floor. But standing upon the table was a glass tank, six feet high, three feet wide and deep. The glass was coated with the grime of age, but the tank’s occupant could be seen clearly enough.
Van Bam felt a tightening in his gut.
A ghoul of a man stood in the tank, withered, obviously dead. His limbs and body were wrapped in strips of black cloth, his skin was preserved, mummified, leathery, a sickly shade of grey-green to Van Bam’s mostly-colourless vision. A short length of glass tube protruded from his temple, sharp and jagged where it had snapped off. Even in death, the ghoul in the tank held in his thin and gnarled hands a black stone box shaped like a diamond.
‘Known Things,’ Van Bam said, a chill running through him.
There it is, said Gideon. Still clasped in the hands of its Voice. He snorted a bitter laugh. So this is what really became of Lord Baran Wolfe the Wanderer. Makes you wonder what other details are missing from the history books, doesn’t it, my idiot?
Clara growled. She stood closer to the table than Van Bam, staring at the creature called Voice of Known Things – who had once been a noble Skywatcher. The hues of the wolf ’s mood were mixed between fear and anger.
Gideon said, Clara wants me to tell you that she and I have seen this monstrosity in the tank, along with Known Things, once before. It was while I was searching Clara’s mind for the message Marney had planted there. It seems our empathic friend not only knew about Known Things, but she had also seen it and its Voice.
How? Van Bam replied. What else did you see, Gideon? Did Marney give Clara more information?
No. But Clara says that Marney’s presence was never more dormant than when she was experiencing the events at the Falls of Dust and Silver. Clara says it was as though Marney was hiding, as if she knew what was coming.
And now that Clara is standing before Known Things and its Voice?
There was a pause before Gideon answered. Marney’s presence is stirring. It’s like she’s reacting to the proximity of—
Look! Van Bam interrupted, pointing.
In the glass tank, upon the surface of Known Things, strange shapes and patterns began to glow with the purple light of higher magic: the language of the Thaumaturgists. The light pulsed gently, brightening to shine upon the black cloth wrapped around the corpse of the former Skywatcher, and then dimming – as though it breathed.
The wolf bared her teeth.
Gideon chuckled. Clara says that Known Things and Marney’s secrets are calling out to each other. I can feel it too.
Van Bam shook his head, his confusion outweighing his apprehension. How did Marney know, Gideon? When did she discover these secrets?
I rather think that’s beside the point. Hows and Whens are of little importance now. What matters is that Lady Amilee and her avatar have led us to Known Things, and what it wants, my idiot, is the location of Oldest Place. All Clara has to do is join with it, and then we will learn how to destroy Spiral and the Genii.
Van Bam looked around the chamber, at the golden glow of the domed ceiling, the broken stone chairs on the floor, and then back at the glowing symbols. Samuel recently told me that nothing was ever that easy for the Relic Guild, he said, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Easy? Gideon chuckled. You first have to convince a giant wolf to go anywhere near that device.
Van Bam turned his metallic eyes to Clara. She faced Voice of Known Things, her bod
y rigid with fear, reluctant to move any closer, glaring at the pulsing shapes and patterns upon the diamond-shaped box.
‘Clara—’
He stopped speaking as the wolf ’s yellow eyes flashed in his direction, and she showed him her teeth with a growl.
You can’t be surprised by her reaction, my idiot. All of us experienced what Lord Wolfe went through. We know how it feels to be connected to Known Things. Would you wish to go through that again?
Wait …
Clara’s growls weren’t directed at the illusionist; her eyes weren’t focused on him. The wolf was staring beyond Van Bam, and the hues of her body were confused, worried.
Oh no, said Gideon.
Van Bam spun around.
Near the chamber wall, a jagged line had appeared, like a crack in the air. Colours began snapping along the line, red and yellow to Van Bam’s magical vision, dancing like a host of tiny flames.
‘Back,’ Van Bam ordered.
There came a hollow noise like a low inhalation, sucking the air from the chamber. Clara whined, and Van Bam skipped out of the way, as the broken pieces of the stone chairs began moving across the smooth floor, rolling and sliding, knocking and clattering, as they were drawn up to fill the circular hole in the wall, barring the only way out.
No escape, Gideon whispered.
The tiny red and gold flames extinguished, and the rent in the air began to widen. Clara growled. The temperature dropped to a wintery chill. The distant tumult of violence reached Van Bam’s ears. A powerful stench filled his nostrils: age, corruption, hopelessness …
‘Clara, to me!’ the illusionist shouted.
The wolf was at his side in an instant. Summoning his magic again, Van Bam cast a defensive barrier that covered the magickers in a dome of transparent green energy. The rent had widened enough to form a large rectangle in the air, four feet wide and seven feet tall. Its surface was darker than shadows, and uneven, studded as though black ice protruded from liquid obsidian.
The doorway to the Retrospective, Van Bam said, panic rising inside him. How did it find us?
