Shadow (The Pendulum Trilogy)

by Elliott, Will

  She wanted to go and embrace him, seeing his tiredness and his fear. She even moved to do so. But the square gem turned in its eye socket, rippling the flesh around it with a faint sound of scraped bone. She caught a whiff of burned flesh from his cooling body and recoiled, with a stinging pang of guilt. She pretended to be adjusting her position on the bed. ‘Are you saying Father destroyed the Wall? By accident?’

  ‘What he did – among other things – was open the Entry Point to Otherworld. That vast, strange place. I think we’ve shut it off. But some Pilgrims came. The first in my long lifetime. How many made it through I’m unsure: at least two. It may be one of them who destroyed the Wall. They have such marvellous weaponry! If only my Engineers could mimic it. They have tried. Images and descriptions are not enough for them to work with.’ He sighed and stood to leave.

  ‘You’re going?’ she said.

  ‘I must.’

  Aziel fought back the urge to plead that he stay to talk a little longer. He, like Ghost, had not been to talk in a long while. He hobbled to the door, hesitated, then turned back. ‘Why is it, Aziel, that I come to speak with you?’

  She frowned, finding it a strange thing to be asked. A thought came completely unbidden: Because you like to be around things in cages. It gave her another pang of guilt. ‘You’re my friend,’ she said, and smiled at him.

  He nodded without reply and hobbled out of the room, careful as always his horns didn’t scrape the door frame. ‘I’ll see about your move to the lower floors,’ he said. ‘As soon as I’m sure it’s safe to move you.’

  Then he shut the door and twisted the key in its lock, sounds so familiar she hardly noticed.

  3

  Do you swear to me?

  It was a sad voice that tugged Aziel out of troubled sleep and dreams filled with distant screaming. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and discovered the screams were not of her nightmares – they were quite real. Footsteps rushed past outside her room. Yells, wails, a rattle of chains, a grinding like great stone teeth rubbing together. Something heavy and metallic scraped through the hall outside, right past her door. Whatever it was, it caused more screams at the corridor’s far end, until abrupt silence fell.

  A flickering glow appeared which showed blood seeping under the door. Aziel did not notice. Her father, Vous, stood in the room with her. He was a glowing outline, through which faint lights pulsed like blood, meeting within him in a hundred tiny splashes of sickly colour. One arm extended toward the ceiling. His head slumped forward on his chest.

  Aziel didn’t scream. She felt calm. It seemed that a deep sadness poured from her father and filled the room. It did not touch her heart, or share itself with her own sadness (much of which she was hardly aware of), but she felt it pouring off him as sure as the dimly glimmering light. She could not recall what he’d said. ‘Father?’

  The words came without his mouth moving: Many of them swear to me, on shore. Many of them do, ankle-deep in the lapping waves I disturb. Many do, waist-deep, neck-deep, as the waters go above their heads.

  ‘What do you want from me, Father? It’s late. And you’re not well.’

  Aziel. Daughter of mine. Changed daughter. I mourn. Evil is about me. My limbs thrash through it like a man drowning, disturbing the evil this way and that. But should I lie still there would be no difference. All others will be washed from where they stand, gawking and speaking my sweet name, eyes drinking down sight of me. Drowned they will be, as I gush through forests and fill valleys. Drowned in the cities where they have lived as shadows of shadows of shadows. Until the driest plains are drenched in me, waters never to recede, all shall drown, all shall drown. I take their bodies on my surface skin, calm and glassy. I collect their bodies on my churning surface skin.

  ‘Father, I don’t understand you. And I don’t think that’s really you. Not your body, certainly. It’s illusion, isn’t it? Like Arch sometimes does. Are you doing it on purpose, Father? To scare or punish me? Why must you always punish me? I never hurt you. And if I did I never meant to.’

  Vous’s head rose slowly to regard her. A smile spread across his face. His eyes widened and grew till they were far too large. His mouth opened into a fissure of swirling gloom. From deep in its depths, as though from a long distance, came a pained cry. Then he was gone, leaving nothing but the blood slowly trickling across the floor. The bedroom door swung slowly open without the click-clank of someone unlocking it. A body was slumped just outside the door.

  Aziel stood and quickly dressed, surprised to feel so calm and unafraid. She stepped into the hall. No brands had been lit but there were sweeping beams of light snaking over the walls. To the right where the hall curved around, Vous – rather, a ghostly simulacrum of him – stood with his back to her. At his feet were the remains of guards. Something had cut them in half.

  A high-pitched voice sang, Shadow, Shadow. Come back, Shadow.

  ‘Aziel, stay in your room!’ said Arch urgently. He stood leaning hard on his forked silver staff, the ends of his horns pouring out thick smoke.

  Vous turned about, on his face a look of amazing viciousness, teeth and eyes far larger than they should be. A hoarse, hissing breath rasped from him. Two big stone faces flung from him at speed down the hall, scraping the floor with the same heavy grinding noise she’d heard before. Their mouths snapped, clack, clickety-clack.

  Something unseen shoved her back in her bedroom an instant before she’d have been caught in the snapping jaws. The beast heads flew at Arch. He vanished and they smashed into the wall, gouging parts of it loose before falling into two crumbling piles of stone.

  On hands and knees Aziel peered around the corner of her bedroom doorway. Up the hall, the ghostly image of her father had one arm aloft, his head downcast again in grief, before the image flickered and went out like a blown candle. Screams and cries sounded from the lower floors as some terror wound its way down through the castle.

  Stay in your room, Arch had said. She should, she knew. But its door was so very rarely left open. And part of her understood something, though how she understood it she could not have said: her father had come to her not to kill or terrorise her. He’d come for help. And she believed there was only one way to help him.

  She took from her dresser a knife with gems embedded in the handle, and stepped out into the hall again. In each room she passed were the massacred remains of grey-robe servants and armoured guards. Some crawled wounded and dazed through the ruins. Some of the corpses moved spastically and chattered away like invisible playful hands jerked them around and played mockingly with their voices.

  In the big chamber before Vous’s private quarters she paused in the doorway. Ten or more simulacra of her father stood, each motionless, each a ghostly projection in an identical pose. One by one they came to life and launched into a strange dance. It was slow and graceful, all of them moving in a wide circle.

  A voice, not her father’s, said, THERE IS WORSE THAN PAIN.

  With a shriek in unison the mirror images dashed away, as though the voice had scared them off.

  Calmly, still calmly, she went to the door of her father’s chamber, which swung open for her. Within, twenty grey-robes stood with heads bowed, in rows of five, before her father’s throne. He was upon it, body writhing and convulsing, eyes rolled back in his head. His voice spoke and filled the room.

  I do this to you for no reason. I do this to you, gaining nothing from the deed. I am parting waters with my hands. I am drowning all of you within me. I am parting waters, pushing out the air. I am rushing waters, taking all things with me.

  A stone-coloured beastly head swept up from the floor, snapped its jaws shut on one of the motionless grey-robes, biting it in half. The others still didn’t move, even as more such stone beasts erupted in their midst, or descended from the ceiling. Aziel screamed and shielded her eyes for what seemed an age, though she did not shield her ears from stone jaws snapping through meat and bone.

  The grey-robes – four remained st
anding – turned as one to face her, expressions blank as metal masks. Still Vous writhed and thrashed on his throne, but she felt his awareness of her. Something invisible flew at her. She felt it come and flung herself sideways. It crashed into the wall behind her with a passing rush of hot air.

  ‘Aziel, get back to your room,’ gasped Arch, hobbling toward her.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Go now!’ Three ghostly forms of Vous, all naked, sprinted out of the hall, rushed at Arch with their too-long arms thrashing, horrible noises gargling and growling from their throats. Arch vanished from sight and reappeared further away. The Vous-things howled and loped after him until he’d led them up the hall away from her.

  Aziel dropped the knife and ran weeping back the way she’d come, back to her room. She wedged a chair under the door handle. THERE IS WORSE THAN DEATH, a voice said outside, before something smashed down hard enough to make the tower itself shiver.

  She barely heard the newly replaced glass of her window breaking. Only the orange burst from a lick of fire brought her attention to the thing lodged in the frame.

  She blinked, at first not believing her eyes. It had to be more of her father’s insanity at play. But it looked like a fat red drake. Coughing and spluttering, it crashed down on the floor, grunting at the impact. It stood very clumsily, stretched out its wings like it barely had any idea what they were for, then lowered its head to her, as though it wanted her to get on its back.

  In fact, she knew that was just what it wanted. ‘Did Arch send you?’ she said.

  The drake just looked at her.

  ‘Should … should I hop on? Where will we go?’

  It lowered its head further. She looked around at her belongings, wondering which, if any, she should bring. She may need food. Something warm to wear, certainly … she slung a cardigan about her shoulders and a scarf around her neck, and swept a few other bits and pieces into a carry-bag while the drake watched her. Awkwardly she took a seat on its back, where there was a dip like a saddle between the raised scales. Warmth poured out to her skin from the fire inside the creature.

  The drake refused to move until she’d taken a very firm hold on its neck. When she had, it stretched its clumsy wings, hopped up on the window sill after two failed attempts, uncurled its scaly tail across the floor and heaved a big sigh.

  ‘How long are we to be gone? We’re coming back, aren’t we? Once Arch cures Father?’

  By way of answer, the drake leaped out into the night sky.

  OUTCAST COUNTRY

  1

  It was not the sky which broke into pieces and thundered into the ground at World’s End, but the gaps high up in the breaking Wall gave that illusion, as the early morning light set in. Glass-thin slivers carried by the wind pattered harmlessly and settled in people’s hair. Fist-sized lumps of it and occasional huge sheets slammed down with lethal force, kicking up dust clouds which obscured the picture revealed of the new world, of Southern Levaal.

  The ground shivered under stoneflesh giants’ thundering feet as they marched back and forth, back and forth along the line where the Wall had stood. Something had changed in the great creatures as soon as there was no longer a shield between the two halves of Levaal. The giants no longer refused each other’s presence in their own little district; rather, they walked back and forth in unbending tilting steps, coming so close to one another their smooth, rounded, basalt-grey chests almost touched. A sound came at such moments, perhaps speech, but it was indistinguishable from the rumbling of their feet slamming on the shivering ground.

  And Eric heard meaning in the sounds, not translatable to human words and thoughts, conjuring in his mind the image of an avalanche being poured into a valley by enormous, careful hands, like a gardener funnelling water where it’s needed.

  That Eric understood the great creatures’ speech, via the peculiar gift all Pilgrims shared when crossing into Levaal, did not thrill him as it might have before. Something had changed inside him but he couldn’t tell what, nor what had provoked the change. He was exhausted and numb, but filled with a sense of riding the crest of an enormous, fast-moving wave, which was rising, rising, rising over the land and would do so for a good while yet, till it reached heights he could barely fathom and then crashed down, drowning him and everyone else. Drowning Siel and all these others nearby, who were in the wave just below him. All equally helpless, though none of them yet knew it …

  As the great sheets of Wall slipped free and smashed down to reveal the foreign sky through a curtain of dust, and after the illusory giant had vanished – all the work of Vous’s Arch Mage, some suggested – those two giants who had battled forgot their quarrel, turned about and marched away from each other, following the line until each came face to face with the next giant along. All along the east-west length of the breaking Wall, the stoneflesh giants did the same thing as its cracks raced out in miles-long webs.

  People gathered near the Great Dividing Road’s southernmost stretch. This was land not strictly claimed by any city, its villagers referred to in the two nearest cities with some disdain as Outcasts. They watched and waited, talking in half-amused murmurs about whatever idiot wizard had done all this. A group of them had begun campfires, as though their practical answer to the vast unknown events unfolding was to fill the air with the healthy familiar smell of smoke. They’d set several cauldrons boiling and now from each ladled out a rich-smelling broth. Siel – who had been watching the Wall come down with her hand in Eric’s – went to them to beg food. The woman she’d approached tiredly scooped broth in two bowls her children had just drained and licked clean.

  As Siel returned, a young mother nearby tried in vain to comfort two young children, who were determined not to be comforted. ‘Shh, shh. Shadow will come, Shadow will save us,’ she said.

  Eric had turned away but he turned back to them now. ‘What did you say?’

  She did not hear him for the children’s wailing and the rumble of a stoneflesh giant coming back into view from the east, seeming to move slowly but covering immense ground. Its closest neighbour appeared on the opposite horizon soon after.

  Siel pushed a warm bowl into Eric’s hand. Distracted, he dropped it across the ground. She hissed in annoyance and quickly ladled as much as she could of it back into the bowl.

  ‘Eat,’ she said, ‘dirt or not. They don’t like idiots here. Be more careful!’

  Siel’s words bounced neatly off his ears. ‘What did you say?’ he called to the mother.

  The mother glanced up at him, stood instinctively between her children and this stranger with a peculiar accent. ‘I said Shadow will save us. Old tales. What’s it to you?’

  ‘Shadow. Who do you mean?’

  ‘He rides a drake!’ one of the newly cheerful youngsters piped up eagerly. ‘A red drake. It’s true! It’s in stories.’

  ‘Eat!’ Siel ordered, pulling Eric away by the arm. ‘Do you need me to spoon it into your mouth too?’

  ‘Did you hear them? That woman said Shadow will save them.’ He began to say more but Siel made good on her offer and plunged the spoon into his mouth.

  2

  They watched the Wall’s collapse for some while, waiting with the locals for a picture to emerge in the foreign sky. It didn’t come and that sky stayed dark. Even when the lightstones brought about a cold day, there was to the south just a smoky red haze the eye did not penetrate deeply. Through it they caught glimpses of long shapes twisting. To Siel and Eric they looked like flying life forms, but with time the shapes seemed to melt into the redness around them. None crossed the boundary.

  The crumbling wall should have formed enormous mounds, piling up right where the giants marched. But within an hour of falling, each piece would melt away. Eric saw faint little trails like gas leaking from some of the closer fist-sized chunks. Some bound magic which had made the Wall or held it together was returning to the air.

  During the night, the clash of magic in the sky (which had put the f
olk magician Loup into a panic and sent him fleeing) had caused sparks and flashes far above them. Lashing webs fast as lightning whipped through the clouds, reddish colours blending with the earthier hues of magic that his eye had come to accept as natural. The new magic did not mix well, congealing into little pockets carried along in the wind, till they were flung out of sight.

  Then it all finished. The skies calmed. Or so it seemed.

  Curled up asleep, Siel looked entirely different from the warrior whom Eric felt (with some guilt and deflation) his survival now depended on. Her head was across his knee making it numb with pins and needles but he didn’t want to move it. The locals had found her a strange sight with her darker than usual skin, her bow, curved knife, and long braids like two more hanging weapons, her male companion apparently unarmed. Of course they didn’t know about his gun.

  More local people had come through the day to watch. All eyes were on the stoneflesh giants. No record or rumour of their present behaviour existed. It seemed to Eric the giants were patrolling. Had their task always been to wait for this day? Who or what had given them this task?

  Back in Earth (or Otherworld, whichever it should really be called) to ask such questions brought answers. Asking made sense, even if no answers came. Such questions as ‘From where comes day and night?’ Not in this place. Here, day and night just were. Was it the same with the stoneflesh giants?

  Siel woke, yawned. ‘Your turn. Sleep.’

  ‘I’m well, thanks for asking,’ he said.

  She ignored him and offered her thigh as a pillow. He lay back in the earthy scent of perfume she’d made from tree sap and berries, and was asleep in seconds despite the rumble of stoneflesh feet and the shivering ground.

  3

  Siel watched the foreign sky, stroking Eric’s hair, hardly aware that she did so. She watched the people who’d gathered around them, wondering why none of them fled. Perhaps they felt their doom was so certain there was no point in fear. It was a far cry from the panicked stampede as they’d fled Elvury, the city aflame and overrun by those demon beasts called Tormentors. She half expected to see a mass of the creatures pour across the boundary at any moment. If they did, she would not wait for a slow death at their hands. Her knife would do the job faster.