Shadow (The Pendulum Trilogy)

by Elliott, Will

  Strategist Blain’s angry, bearded face was curled as though sour tastes always filled his mouth. He pulled off a weathered cloak. The Strategist’s robe beneath bled with shifting colours, poured sickly light into the clearing. He hobbled to a slab by the altar and glanced around at all present, taking inventory of faces, an eye lingering on the First Captain.

  Tauvene was surely not a coward, Kiown thought. Nor was he as meek a man as he looked. The hypothetical tavern drunk assailing him would likely have had his neck’s burden relieved rather quickly. It was fear for his career, not his mortal flesh, that had made him turn ghost white. Until now, all their talk had been plausibly deniable; he was no conspirator yet. It had been, until this moment, not too late to flee safely back to his general and report all he’d heard and seen, or at least leave this business to others until winners emerged to side with. No more. Blain’s arrival had set his place in stone.

  Blain caught his breath. He was so much feebler and weaker out here away from the castle’s potent airs. ‘How many men can you get?’ he growled at Tauvene.

  Still reeling: ‘How many men …? The time frame, and … for what purpose?’

  Blain waved a hand impatiently and spoke to the Hunters. ‘For his benefit. Events are as follows. The war march has begun. The final march. The castle is finishing off the game while there’s confusion in the rebel cities. Wise enough I’d say, in normal times. They’ve ditched Elvury. Can’t be taken back. Tormentors have it. It’s theirs. Wasn’t supposed to be that way of course. Terrible miscalculation. We’ve culled some trouble from the forces, but also wasted good stock trying to purge the monsters from that city.’

  Kiown wondered what to make of the mix of they and we in Blain’s speech.

  ‘In what order are the cities to be conquered?’ said Thaun as Blain caught his breath again.

  ‘The east first, working down the map. Not enough horses to go around, as usual. War reaches Faifen by tonight, I judge. If they’ve the spine to fight that is, or else call it a massacre, not a war. But for us, for all of us, there’s a more important problem, and the fool has caused it all by himself.’ None present had heard a more damning vitriolic pronunciation of the word fool in all their lives.

  ‘What has he done?’ said Evelle, in a tone so at odds with the ditsy sex-kitten Tauvene had briefly come to know that he blanched and turned to her in amazement.

  ‘You know what he’s done,’ said Blain. ‘Destroyed the Wall of course. You just don’t know what it means. And nor does he!’ Blain laughed. ‘Few do. Does the word “pendulum” mean anything to you? I doubt it.’ Blain stared into the brightening sky, thinking. They waited. ‘Hall of Windows,’ he muttered after a while. ‘The Hall of Windows, he based it all on that, on what pretty things it showed him. Amazing! What a sense of adventure he has. All in the Project must have that, and a love of risk, to do what we have done.’ An uneasy look passed between the Hunters, though nothing rippled the serene surface of Envidis’s face. ‘And all this fear he cultivated in our Friend and Lord, this nonsense about “Shadow” … you!’ He pointed at Tauvene. ‘Tell me. Who or what is Shadow?’

  Tauvene began to speak, then didn’t. For the first time a smile broke out on Blain’s face. ‘Stop quailing, you little shit!’ he said, chuckling. ‘You’re implicated. Doomed, understand? It’s over for you. Be useful on your way to the grave. Who or what is Shadow?’

  ‘He is, as I understand it,’ Tauvene frowned, trying to remember, ‘a mythical figure, whom some credit with actual historical existence—’

  Blain laughed. ‘From the story books, eh? Just like the Invia. And the dragons. Those are real too. You.’ He pointed to Kiown. ‘What do you know of Shadow?’

  ‘Nothing, Strategist. This is the first I’ve heard of it, or him, or her.’

  ‘You?’ said Blain to Thaun.

  ‘Heard the name, Strategist. The context escapes me.’

  Blain chuckled. ‘Would it surprise you all to know that until recently there was no such thing as Shadow? He did not exist. Now he does. And it all sprang from his mind, his new power. Our Friend and Lord is very … nearly … there. Whether the other gods can do this kind of thing, I don’t know. Do you fathom what he’s done? Woven a new thing, not only into present reality, but made it part of the past. This time a month ago, two months, three, you’d not heard the name. You won’t believe me. You have memories, I’m sure, of hearing of Shadow. Of bedside stories, perhaps. Tavern tales. And the fool helped this happen. A forged letter from “Shadow” about the Wall coming down, given to our Friend and Lord. Feeding poisonous whispers to him, feeding a phobia, making it realer. It’s here now, it has happened.’

  ‘What has happened, Strategist?’ said Thaun.

  ‘There’s a loose force in the world, that’s what. Maybe enough to topple him, us, everything. And that’s without the Wall’s destruction to deal with on top of it all!’

  ‘Are we to eliminate this force?’ said Thaun quietly.

  ‘Try if you like!’ said Blain with another mirthless laugh. ‘No. Better we try to use it. We may need to, when the Pendulum swings higher and faster. We must study the new force, learn its ways. We must find it. Urgently. This Shadow. He is probably with the Pilgrims.’

  ‘The new war you spoke of?’ said Thaun.

  Blain laughed grimly and turned to Tauvene. ‘Have our First Captain’s nerves settled? How many men can you get to World’s End, soon as can be? I want a big number.’

  ‘For fighting duty? For siege duty? For …?’

  ‘Men! Men! Bodies, working bodies. Fool, dribbling jester of a man, we’ll send you simpering into this ravine and find a more useful idiot. How many?’

  ‘Five thousand, at the very most. It would be difficult. Very difficult, if you wish it done quietly and quickly.’ Blain made a noise of mock sympathy. ‘I can scoop some from the forces gathering for Tsith,’ said Tauvene. ‘Some from Pyren’s home guard. I can send for many of the roaming patrols. It would leave some homelands unguarded, which will be noticed.’

  ‘Five thousand? Not enough. Get more. Double that, at least.’

  ‘Where am I to get these troops? As you say, an invasion of Tsith and then all the rebel cities is practically begun, with some boots already on the road! But if this is your official order, I shall try,’ said Tauvene in the tone of one trying to hide his disbelief. ‘May I ask for what purpose the men are needed, Strategist? Precisely who is our foe?’

  Blain laughed again. ‘Your foe is whoever seeks to cross into Levaal South. No one’s to get anywhere near the border, where the Wall stood. Fan them out, cover as much territory as you can. Concentrate on the roads and plains where a group could charge. Arm your men with longbows; use bolt throwers. Set up staves, pits. Lay traps. Create a moat of death before the boundary. Make examples of any who try to cross it. Be cruel. Crueller than cruel.’

  Tauvene’s mouth hung open. ‘That is … absurd. Your pardon, Strategist. I mean only to be useful on my way to the grave. That is too much territory to cover with any hope of—’

  ‘I’ll find some reinforcements for you,’ said Blain as though the First Captain had not spoken a word. ‘They’ll be wearing the city colours of our enemies, if I succeed in my next task. That’s in doubt. I’m not known for a silver tongue. I’ve some sworn enemies to persuade to help us. Tell your men to expect them, nonetheless.’ Blain grunted in disgust, contemplating his task. ‘At least you’ll have a god or two on your side. No one, not a single man or beast, is to cross the boundary. Understand? Not a one. Forget about “why” for now. Your weak fool brain has load enough to carry.’

  ‘Such rhetorical flourish will surely aid you in persuading our enemies,’ said the First Captain, bristling to be insulted this way before Evelle.

  ‘Of what do you wish to persuade the rebel cities, Strategist?’ said Thaun.

  Blain grunted. ‘To preserve the world for a while. Until later, when we can stab their backs at a time of our choosing. All of whic
h they will know full well. But for now we need them. There’s little point winning a prize which has burned to ash. How absurd. We need them!’ Blain laughed again with what seemed real mirth. ‘Go,’ he snapped at Tauvene. ‘Assist him,’ he added to Envidis. No one was under any illusion what assist really meant. Least of all the First Captain.

  ‘And where is the rest of your entourage?’ said Blain to Thaun when they had left. He got slowly to his feet and drew his plain coat over the shifting colours of his Strategist’s robe.

  ‘They are back at the inn, Strategist.’

  ‘They still live?’

  ‘Most of them,’ said Evelle, smiling.

  ‘Well let’s go and see if they’re useful. Take me there. You!’ He pointed at Kiown. ‘You’re not here for your brains. Or your looks. Carry me.’

  MIGHTY WIZARD OF THE TOWER

  1

  While they walked Eric watched the ground before him. Some parts of the sky’s lightstone hung lower than others; some grew brighter than others. Right now, Siel’s shadow was faint. But Eric indeed had none at all. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said, wishing she could take her own advice. It worried her a great deal. ‘There must be an explanation for it.’

  ‘Like what, pray tell?’ he said.

  ‘Sometimes spells go wrong. Little effects linger in the air. You can step into something you don’t even see, and it’s almost like you’ve been cast on.’

  He scoffed. ‘Look, are you telling me some wizard out there tried to remove his own shadow and missed, but the spell kind of blew around on the breeze until I walked through it?’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s not common. There aren’t enough mages left for it to be common. Nor is the effect always what the wizard intended. We have been exposed to many strange events, magic effects at play in them. And yes, things are possible which are stranger than losing a shadow. People have died from loose effects. Or been changed for life. There is a famous story of a man who had amazing luck for the rest of his life.’

  ‘All I know is, every time I think I get used to this fucking place—’

  ‘I will listen to your complaint, Otherworld Prince. But it’s my turn next.’

  ‘Forget it.’

  In big loping strides Gorb led them down an incline until they found a path winding north-east through puffy green thickets and woodland. In it large star-shaped flowers slowly dripped clear sap like tear-drops. Birds made inquiring sounds from the trees. ‘Hey Gorb, can I have my weapon back?’ said Eric.

  ‘Nope,’ said Gorb, not turning around. ‘Not till I know I can trust you. Which may take a while.’

  Siel whispered, ‘He’s lying about the dolls. He didn’t make them.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I saw something as we left. A glimpse, I think it was recent past. A man being led through the village as though he were captive. I think it was an Engineer.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘People who make devices using magic.’

  ‘They’re mages?’

  ‘No. Rarer. No one teaches them their trade, they are born with it and can do nothing else useful. They sometimes come away from the cities to collect airs for their works. These people must have captured one. If the city he or she came from finds out, the people of this village are in deep trouble.’ Almost on cue there came a banging noise from back at the village. It was unmistakeably the Glock firing.

  ‘What was that?’ said Gorb, looking back with alarm.

  ‘Car backfiring,’ Eric muttered.

  ‘Give me a moment,’ said Siel, ducking off the road.

  2

  She was used to bathing and peeing in front of travelling companions, but like beds and baths, privacy was a luxury to grab with both hands when on offer. Now she slipped off the path and through trunks spaced like a natural avenue, went deeper in until the road could not be seen through the messy lattice of tree branches. She set down her bow and quill, crouched with her back to a tree trunk. There was hardly a sound but for the now mournful birdsong. The woods smelled clean and there were tracks from game all over the ground.

  What an idyllic life this must be, she thought, when bandits are the worst of the villagers’ problems. For how many generations have they not known hunger or war? She pictured life here in this greedy idyllic peace, and desire for simple wholeness and happiness pulled her strongly.

  There was that image again, once so horrible but now almost cherished: a girl afraid but calm in her hiding space in the wall hollow. Her parents had said, Stay here, we’ll return, hearing the men kick down their neighbours’ doors. The same men kicked down their door, took them outside, knelt them down in a long line with the others of that street. Calmly creeping out of the hiding space, over to the window, listening as a proclamation was read out, full of long words she mostly didn’t understand. They had aided enemies of their Friend and Lord. They had been ungrateful. They were dangerous. The hiss of a drawn blade. Cries of protest. Calm still, peeking through the curtain gap. A sight less comprehensible than the words in the proclamation as a man in castle grey walked down the line, swinging his blade.

  She had finished peeing when a shape loomed right beside her, jagging her back to the present. She gasped and fell sideways, pants still around her knees preventing a quick roll to her feet. She’d fallen away from her bow.

  Looking down at her was Eric. She felt a flare of hot anger for him, embarrassing her this way. ‘What are you doing?’ she snapped.

  Then she saw it wasn’t Eric. It was someone nearly identical to him, aside from his dark garments and long flowing hair. His outline was slightly blurred, its edges wavering. What seemed Eric’s face held eyes that were hollow unblinking things, small dark holes. He spoke in a voice like Eric’s but dead of expression: ‘Interesting. I’ll save you from something. Soon. It’s ahead on the axis. In the future. I can see it.’

  The stranger leaned forward over her until his body tilted at an angle defying gravity. ‘You have a name,’ he said. ‘And you’re alive. Are we the same, or different? I don’t understand.’

  Siel’s hand found her curved knife, while the other pulled up her pants. She rolled backward, was up on her feet, turned to run. But he was there right behind her now. ‘You’re afraid of me,’ he said as though this was interesting in an academic sense.

  Her knife flashed with a gleam of bright steel but it only cut air. He was on the other side of her now. ‘Fast,’ he said. ‘You’re fast. I can be, too. I can do whatever you can do. Even that … that little bit of magic you have, where you see things on the axis. And this! This is interesting.’ He had her bow and quiver in hand. The objects stood out in their solidity against his blurriness. He turned them at different angles, examining with childish curiosity. ‘You shoot well with this. I’ve seen you do it. I can too. Watch.’ He clumsily nocked an arrow in the string and pulled it back, holding the bow completely wrong.

  ‘Who are you?’ said Siel, her voice far more commanding than she felt.

  He turned his hole-dark eyes to her. ‘Who?’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t know. The question means I’m someone. Like you. Doesn’t it? It means I’m alive. Doesn’t it? Am I alive, like you are?’

  ‘You’ve followed us. Why?’

  ‘I went lots of places. There’s a lot to look at. I don’t understand much of it yet.’

  ‘Put my bow down.’

  ‘Sure, I can do that. Soon, all right? Watch this. That bird.’ It appeared he’d let loose the string by clumsy accident, but the arrow whizzed from the bow and quivered in the body of a small bird, which landed with a thump in the undergrowth. ‘It’s dead,’ said the stranger. It took Siel a moment to work out this was a question.

  ‘Yes. Dead,’ she replied, watching nervously to see if he’d nock another arrow. Instead he dropped both the quiver and bow and lay on the ground, peering so closely at the dead bird his nose touched it. ‘How does that work?’ he said. ‘Something’s alive, then it’s dead, and it can’t go back. You can�
��t put back the stuff you took out, or fix the part you broke, and make it move again. Why?’

  ‘Did you kill the dogs?’ she said.

  The hole-dark eyes peered up at her from Eric’s face. ‘I can take you far away, if you want me to. Fast. You like fast. To see other places. Have you seen them? Maybe you can explain things to me. I don’t know much yet. It’s all … strange. I want to understand it all. But there’s so much. And I don’t think I belong here, I don’t think I fit.’

  ‘Did you kill the dogs? Tell me. I know it was you.’

  A blink of the eyes later, the stranger was tilting at a perverse angle right before her, so that he leaned backward, looking up at her from near her knees. ‘That’s a bad question,’ he said.

  Her backward step was involuntary. ‘What is your name? Is it Eric?’

  ‘I have to go.’ The stranger righted his angle, stood with arms hanging awkwardly. His dark hole eyes peered into the distance, brow furrowing. ‘I’m him, sometimes. The fellow you travel with. I can feel him, like someone listening to me. I can … I can be you, if you want me to.’

  He stepped toward her. She lunged, her knife slashing a curve through the air. Again he was simply no longer in the space her knife sliced through. He was some distance behind her, body leaning sideways, face and dark pit eyes expressing nothing at all. Siel grabbed her bow and quiver and sprinted back toward the road. The messy green lattice broke as she ran through it and scraped at her.

  Eric lay by the roadside, one leg crossed over the other. He turned as she skidded to a halt and she recoiled from his eyes, expecting – and for a moment seeing – the empty pits she’d seen in a face like his just moments before.

  3

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he said.

  She looked behind her, saw nothing. ‘Where is the half-giant?’

  ‘What are you afraid of?’

  ‘Nothing! Where is he?’

  ‘He got tired of waiting for you. He gave me directions and went ahead to the tower.’ Eric stood up. ‘Let’s go get the gun. It’s back at the village.’