‘Are you forgetting who came to me with the offer in the first place? Who brought me to Old Kolkata, who took me through Jadavpur?’
‘What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? What about Ba’al? What he told you, the hopes he has in you?’
‘Ba’al can go hang himself from his tower,’ Maya spat. ‘He plays it safe. He sends Zabrielle, a loyal meat shield. Just like you are, only for Adri Sen.’
‘I’ve sacrificed my arm for this mission!’ Gray screamed.
‘I’ve sacrificed more!’ Maya shouted for the first time. Her eyes flared and a burst of electricity ran through her gauntlets. ‘Do you think you were the only one suffering? Did you? I was there, chained, as your arm was getting cut! Do you know how that felt? Seeing you stumble with a spoon, knowing I had failed, knowing you would never be the same again? I never thought about this when I signed on, Gray—it seemed to be like a difficult walk at first, with magical bridges connecting our path to the Keeper—it was only when I saw the blood and your severed arm roasting on a fire that I understood what this path is! We’ve been underprepared, thrown to the wolves—Fayne, Zabrielle, both incompetent in the face of our enemies! I simply have the courage needed here, the courage to admit I was wrong!’
Gray stared at her, his eyes disbelieving. ‘You would sell out everyone’s trust for our lives?’
‘Yes I would,’ Maya said, calming down again. ‘Take a moment, little brother, take a moment. And think of who we are trying to save from the Apocalypse.’
‘People,’ Gray mumbled, humouring her. ‘Humanity. Our friends in New Kolkata.’
Maya laughed harshly. ‘The people who aren’t here right now? Humanity that doesn’t care? Our idiotic friends who are living out their scheduled existences in the famous walled city? They don’t care if we live or die. You, Gray, have been forgotten already. When the Apocalypse comes, I can assure you that our friends will be the first to bow.’
‘They don’t know any better. We didn’t know any better.’
‘Really, Gray? You have the gall to tell me that? We have had a traumatic childhood, brother, you and me. We’ve seen blood, attempts at murder, we’ve seen the man we call father try to kill our mother, try to kill our brother. We’ve had a grandmother blow tobacco smoke on our faces as children. We knew better than to mess with these forces. It took us time to forget the Lich. It took us therapy.’
Flashes. The doctors. The ward. The tall man from MYTH who would oversee. Being strapped down to a table. The dull, flat machine with meters, the one with the terrifying noise—Gray blinked the memories away.
‘You’ve overcome your initial denial,’ Maya continued, relentless now. ‘You’ve entered a new one. You do not want to run any more. Now you simply want to fight, even the wars that cannot be won.’
Gray’s posture broke. His shoulders slumped, his eyes were downcast. Slowly, with a trembling hand, he holstered his shotgun.
‘Ruins and darkness,’ Maya said bitterly. ‘All that remains of this world anyway. How can the Apocalypse make it any worse?’
‘Do it for me,’ Gray said, slowly. ‘Don’t hand Adri over.’
Maya took her chain off, the soul gem hanging. She looked at Gray. ‘I am doing it for you, you selfish fuck.’
Stunned, Gray did not know what to say. Hot tears emerged. Maya ignored him. ‘Z,’ she said. ‘Where do you stand?’
Zabrielle approached with light steps. ‘One will take it from you,’ she said, gesturing to the soul gem. ‘The Infernal will take it from my dead body.’
‘A martyr to your master,’ Maya said, looking at the locket. ‘Fine. For all your books and poems, you fall to your own kind.’
Zabrielle took the gem. ‘Ashthar esh en mahtuum,’ she told Maya.
Maya looked at her. ‘Last chance, Z.’
‘One has made one’s peace,’ Zabrielle said, moving away. The Infernal’s red eyes traced the progress of the gem.
For Gray it was all a void. The insult rang in his ears, something he could not get over—a rock solid situation had become fragmented, broken. Victor Sen was supposed to be the bad guy. Wasn’t he? Why were they listening to him? Why were they entertaining his offer? Was this really happening? The universe seemed to have shifted. What was impossible a few hours ago was now in motion.
‘Zabrielle,’ he called, looking at her with tear-streaked eyes.
‘Young one,’ she said, ‘I have given the Demon Commander my word. I can meet my end to honour it. You do not have to do this.’
‘You would be party to this madness?’
‘Your sister speaks true. This was never your fight.’
Maya turned to the Infernal. ‘Gray and I are leaving. We are out of this.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Gray said.
Maya looked at him. ‘You’re coming with me,’ she said, ‘whether you like it or not.’
‘My patience wears thin,’ Victor said.
Maya looked up at the Demon in irritation, and saw a figure standing on the tower behind it. ‘No,’ she whispered.
The figure leapt, a dark silhouette in the moon, a long chain wrapped around its torso, bug eyes glinting. It was on the Infernal’s back before anyone could react.
‘Fayne!’ Maya cried, but the assassin wasn’t listening. Two red daggers flashed; Fayne sunk them in a crevice between two scales on the Infernal’s back. The blue fire went out. A red blaze burned in the Infernal’s mouth.
‘Wait!’ Maya shouted, but it was too late; the Infernal was back. It roared and spun around, swinging Fayne with it. The assassin hung on to his daggers, implanted within the Demon’s body. Ghost swords started flying at the Infernal’s feet, keeping it off balance, not giving it a firm foothold. Gray’s shotgun was back out as well, firing.
Maya watched.
Fayne gained his grip again, planting his feet on the Demon’s spine. It swiped at its back angrily, trying to reach Fayne, but he dodged its flails and pushed at the daggers. The daggers, stuck in between its scales, acted as levers, and a large scale went flying, Fayne with it. The assassin crashed into a wall and dropped to the ground. He did not move.
The Infernal raised a hand at Gray. For a moment Gray thought it was asking him to stop, that it was weak, but then a scale lifted behind the hand, like a flap, and Gray saw the flame within. He ran then, ran in the courtyard with no cover. A fireball, a sphere launched, exploding in a fiery inferno behind him—Gray felt intense heat, felt the entire back of his body burn as the explosion threw him feet forward onto the hard ground.
The Infernal turned and launched more fireballs, this time aimed at Zabrielle. She sent ghosts swords, intercepting every one of them. Fire and sparks erupted in mid-air, again and again as her magical blades met the fireballs. Maya saw the scale Fayne had managed to remove, an exposed weakness.
The Demon was now walking towards Zabrielle, firing more rapidly. More flaps opened, a volley of fireballs streaking towards the Demon Mage. She was still sending swords to match each projectile, but the resulting explosions were getting closer. And it was over in seconds—a blast too near Zabrielle. Her body lay still, smoking.
Then the monster turned towards Maya.
She observed it carefully. There was no Victor Sen in there anymore. Their deal was off. The Infernal opened its claws, flame blossoming in its palms. It wanted to give Maya a more personal death.
Maya did not know how she did it. It seemed natural to her at the time—the deal was off and she needed to live. Maya leapt. The dragon, the purple dragon leapt with her, in its trail of light and matter—an enormous leap. Then she was holding one of the Infernal’s horns, swinging over its head, and on to its back. The beast reeled, grasping her leg with one of its burning hands. It was supposed to hurt, to burn.
But Maya was feeling cold, a chill freezing every vein, every bit of her conscious self. She was a sudden icy breeze in dying autumn; she was the coming of hard winter. She raised a hand to the sky, the gauntlet crackling to life. The purple dra
gon roared. The air around her fist hardened, solidifying in moments. A series of sharp cracks, a long spike of ice, silver white. Maya looked at it for another moment, the ice spear, something which hadn’t existed moments before, and then she plunged it into the exposed spot on the Infernal’s body, thrusting it all the way in.
Pain. The Demon knew pain. It roared and flung Maya by her leg across the courtyard. Maya felt the dragon leave as her sight darkened. The last thing she saw was a blurred visage of the Infernal limping towards her. The last thing she heard were several sharp, high pitched coos. Like owls.
10
Maya woke to harsh sunlight. Her hand went to her locket, looking for the soul gem, before she realised that Zabrielle had taken it the night before. She got up, slowly. Her body ached. She looked at her leg, where a part of the trousers had burned off. Her leg beneath was untouched. A strange feeling was upon her, one of having woken up from a long, dreamless sleep.
‘Ell tuhish nedra,’ Zabrielle’s voice spoke to her. The Demon was next to her, peering into her eyes.
‘What-what does that mean?’ Maya asked, blinking.
‘The darkness passes.’
‘Are you all right? I saw you take a hit.’ Maya looked around. She could see Fayne and Gray on the other side of the courtyard, sitting. There was no sign of the Infernal, or its body.
‘Where is it? The Infernal?’
‘Fire and shadow are natural enemies. The Infernal was weak, and they came for it.’
Maya had heard them. ‘Are you really all right?’
‘One is fine, Maya. Thank you for asking. One’s injuries were caused by fire. They heal fast.’
‘Are the others all right?’
‘Fayne’s injuries are grievous. Your brother is all right, just a little bruised.’
‘Good.’ Maya slowly got to her feet. ‘I need to talk to them.’ She looked at Zabrielle. ‘To you I have nothing to say, except that you could have done better last night.’ The anger flared within Maya for a mere second.
‘One has never been flawless,’ Zabrielle said quietly. ‘However, one will take greater care.’
Maya walked towards the other two, sitting, murmuring to each other. ‘Fayne,’ she called. Both Gray and Fayne turned. Maya looked at Fayne, and recoiled. There were innumerable blood cuts and bruises on the assassin’s body, which looked like it had been tortured for days. Some wounds still bled. The armour he wore was unscratched, but his arms were ribbons, the skin flayed. His trousers were torn and bloody. Around his neck was a dark red scar where the iron collar had held him. Fayne was in tatters, and even his turning towards her seemed slower to Maya.
‘Fatiya,’ he said with a nod. There was a tear on his mask as well; Maya could see a bearded jawline.
‘Where were you when we needed you?’ Maya asked. Gray muttered something and turned away.
‘It was difficult, sending you the dragonfly,’ Fayne said. ‘I regret I could not end the Demon all by myself.’
‘Gray lost an arm because you weren’t around,’ Maya said.
‘That is between Fayne and me,’ Gray said loudly, still facing the other way.
‘Can you still fight?’ Maya asked, unabashed.
‘Do you have doubts?’ Fayne asked back.
There was silence, a pause. Then Maya sighed, letting the anger go. ‘I’m sorry, Fayne. It hurts me to see you like this.’
Fayne’s body, taut until then, relaxed. ‘Kharaz. No matter. I will be fine. You handled yourself well last night.’
Maya turned around to look at Zabrielle. ‘I’m sorry, Z,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I spoke to you like that. I didn’t mean it.’
‘A passing cloud,’ Zabrielle replied. ‘Think nothing of it.’
Maya turned to Gray. ‘Gray, I know I was extremely harsh. I didn’t really know what I was doing. Let it go, please. I apologise.’
Gray was silent, still looking away. ‘You hurt deep,’ he said finally.
‘I don’t really know what overcame me.’
‘You were extremely mean.’
A surge of anger passed through Maya again. She had only said what needed to be said then, done what needed to be done. She didn’t need to apologise for hours. Gray was like a moody child, either way.
‘Take my apology or don’t,’ she said. ‘We can’t stay here all day.’
‘Weren’t you handing the soul gem over last night?’ Gray accused. ‘Where would you want to go now?’
‘Last night, I was trying to save our lives. The deal did not work out, end of matter.’
‘You’re back with us again, then?’
‘I guess so,’ Maya said slowly. ‘At least until the Keeper.’
They ate with little conversation after that, Gray ignoring Maya completely. Dusty and dirty, they set off from the ruins soon in the direction of Nemen Sui. Two days’ travel, roughly, nothing but their legs to carry them. They walked past sundown, and late into the night.
‘Is there no magic that can carry us?’ Maya, tired, asked Zabrielle.
‘Walk the hard walk, for not even horses know the charm of journey,’ Zabrielle replied.
‘Wise words, a tad impractical,’ Maya panted. ‘But seriously, Z? Is there something?’
‘Locomotion magic is tricky,’ Zabrielle said. ‘Faster movements, levitation, even gliding, is possible. But it would take an immense amount of energy from us, and if performed without caution, it’s enough to kill us.’
‘But that’s for your Demon kind, your magic is linked to your energy. What happens if I try?’
‘Your gauntlets explode, often taking your hands along. Yes,’ Zabrielle added, seeing Maya’s expression, ‘humans need to be careful too. You might survive the blast, but you will be rid of your weapons, perhaps in battle. This is why Demon mages are more feared—we can push our bodies to limits beyond that of mechanical gauntlets.’
‘Has there ever been flight?’ Maya asked.
‘People flying with magic? No, the only things that fly are the birds, the Angels, and the alabagi.’
‘The heart eaters! Have you ever seen an alabagus?’
‘One has read a lot of accounts, even physical descriptions. But one has never seen them. It seems they are quite solitary, and when they fly, they seem to prefer nights with the moon.’
‘Nights like this one, then.’ Maya looked up at the moon. ‘About last night—I was wondering how I did the magic I did.’
‘The school of desperation,’ Zabrielle said.
‘It was too big a leap, from a purple flame to a giant ice spear. I was unprepared. Somehow it just happened.’
‘It tends to happen,’ Zabrielle said. ‘Look, Maya. Magic is destructive. It will try and take control of you every time you let it. One knows what you’re doing—you’re giving in completely to the magic. Dangerous. You let magic control the magic, and things are not going to be nice.’
‘This way—it was recommended to me. How is it dangerous if it’s powerful?’
‘You summoned the ice spear from the coldest parts of your body, most likely your hands and feet, your toes, and from the winter winds.’
Maya’s hands and feet had been surprisingly warm all evening. She nodded.
‘Remember, Maya, that magic isn’t creating energy, it’s converting it. If that cold was not to be found in the winds, the magic would look elsewhere, expanding. It’s impossible to say when your gauntlets would have given way. Look, you know how to summon the forces of magic. Next time, try more precisely to control what you want. Control the transition of energy, control the weapon. It might seem convenient, the way magic itself does it for you, but others have regretted the path you walk. It is not late.’ Zabrielle paused. ‘It is all about control.’
‘How do you create your ghost blades?’
‘They are a specialisation, something one has chosen to master after extended consideration.’
‘Don’t mind me asking, but what is there to master about spectral swords that fly and sti
ng?’
Zabrielle laughed softly. ‘There are mages who fail to even balance the blade in mid-air. The blade also needs to be a true ghost—too transparent and it passes through enemies, too solid and it refuses to fly. Then there is the matter of summoning more than one. Once you have mastered that, and the art of letting it fly like a dart, like a bullet, then you may advance to wielding it like a real sword, only, you do it from afar. All the intricacies of swordplay enter then. It is a science, demanding years of practice.’
‘I see. But why ghost blades, of all things?’
‘One has a fondness for swords,’ Zabrielle said, ‘along with one’s books and one’s poems.’
Maya looked at the Demon in surprise. Zabrielle smiled back. ‘The sword and the pen be brothers, the pen flaying hearts as the sword flays skin,’ she recited. ‘Hold thee quill well, but also hold the sword. Let blood be thee ink and write history, let the brothers prevent all quarrel to come.’ She paused. ‘You must understand, Maya, that we Demons are like you, and yet we are not. There are perhaps hundreds of lines that separate us, yet thousands that unite.’
They stopped after a few hours, not to make camp, but for coffee.
‘Coffee?’ Gray asked, exhausted. ‘What I need is sleep.’
‘Victor will be hunting us,’ Maya said, equally worn out. ‘We cannot afford to sleep.’
‘You can make another deal with him when he catches up,’ Gray said.
Maya restrained her anger with difficulty. It was easy to retaliate, to say something hurtful. She was sick of Gray’s constant needling, of his whining. She preferred to stay silent.
A small fire was made. Water poured from their goatskin, then coffee powder from a tin. Fayne knelt and patiently mixed it with one of his daggers.
‘You would think there’d be a magical drink for fixing fatigue,’ Gray said. ‘Something fancy, not coffee.’
‘Of course there is,’ Zabrielle spoke up. ‘But one is unskilled in the ways of alchemy.’
‘What is it?’
‘The Sleepless. It is said the drink takes over two years to mature to the point of being used. One can drink it and feel as if one has arisen from a deep, refreshing sleep.’
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