Shadow (The Pendulum Trilogy)

by Elliott, Will

  The candles on their stands flashed to life, casting orange light through the chamber. Such simple magic it could almost be taken as a jest. The Arch limped in, stepping over remains. Large piles of pebbles lay in the mess. They scattered from his boot.

  Vous did not stir as he came near. What would be the safest approach, tone of voice? ‘My Friend and Lord. It has been a hard night. How may I aid you?’

  ‘It’s over,’ said Vous quietly.

  ‘May I ask what, Friend and Lord?’

  ‘The evening.’

  ‘Yes, Friend and Lord, morning has come. Perhaps you also mean the evening’s irregularities. Is it your wish to discuss them?’

  Vous rolled onto his side, convulsed, hissed, lay still.

  The Arch Mage gestured at the bodies about the chamber. ‘Friend and Lord, the last time you performed this … kind of ritual, the Entry Point opened. Do you recall it? The slaughtered peasants. Had you similar intentions, this time?’

  ‘Intentions,’ said Vous mockingly.

  Movement caught the Arch’s eye and he very nearly fled, only to see it was Ghost flitting across the wall’s tall mirror. ‘I had assumed, Friend and Lord, there was some point to the recent destruction. Surely not simply the relief of boredom? Friend and Lord, with your leave I shall speak bluntly. Great power gathers itself about you. Immense power. Any of the gods, if they wished, could slay us all. In their wisdom they let us live. You will soon join them, Friend and Lord. You shall have their status. Do you share their vision for humanity? Or have you different wishes? I ask only that I may better assist you.’

  For a long while there was no answer. Vous was still as a carving. ‘Do you think … magicians never fall for magic tricks?’ he said at last.

  ‘Friend and Lord?’

  ‘Do the Windows show only plain truth? Only ever bald plain truth, Avridis?’

  The Arch Mage baulked to hear the name his parents had given him, jagging him unpleasantly for an instant into the distant past, where he was nothing, no one, reviled and cursed and spat upon. Cast out of the magic schools for exploring his taste for forbidden arts. Held up as a thing of mockery, an example made for others. Memories so ancient it was startling to now and then recall them, and feel their usually impotent sting.

  He said, ‘I’m sure the Hall of Windows keeps many secrets, Friend and Lord, even from me.’

  ‘Even … from … you.’ Vous’s gaze bored into him. His lip curled. ‘Secrets! Yes, Avridis. And lies. Lies. I learned much, tonight. I am so very tired.’

  ‘Shall I send for your meal?’

  ‘There is no one to make it.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘She’s gone.’ Vous shut his eyes. ‘In no sense ever will she return to me.’

  ‘May I ask who, Friend and Lord?’

  Vous’s inert body draped like a pale sheet across the throne. The Arch waited then turned and limped away, his forked staff picking its way through corpses.

  She’s gone.

  Ruin was all about him. The halls and floors had been torn up by that curious effect, those monstrous stone creations which crumbled to loose pebbles when the life went out of them. The damage dealt to walls and floor had begun to ‘heal’ as though it were organic flesh instead of stone, jade, ivory and marble.

  He had not brought the keys to Aziel’s room with him, but would not cast just to open a door. She did not respond to his call. With some effort he ripped the handle free.

  She was not there.

  Dismayed, he rested a moment on her chair, wondering who he could get to search through the lower floors, when there again was Ghost. Its faces flitted across the shards of broken window on the floor. Tiredly the Arch raised a palm, cast a smaller version of the spell he’d used to trap the Invia in the halls last month. A web of force sprang up among the glass shards and drew them, scraping, till they were together. Sick heat flushed through him. His horns belched smoke and stink.

  ‘We don’t speak to you,’ said Ghost’s tremulous voice. ‘You aren’t trusted.’

  As always his words must be cautious to this detestable thing. ‘I shall never ask you to trust me. I would be more worried if you did. It is well your loyalty is for our Friend and Lord, and him only. Where is Aziel?’

  ‘A drake came and took her.’

  ‘Nonsense.’

  ‘The marks on the window sill. On the floor to our left. Evidence!’ The faces shook and grimaced in their jagged glass prisons. ‘Release us!’

  He broke the spell when he saw what Ghost referred to. Quick as a heartbeat, Ghost was gone.

  On the floor was a thin red drake scale, broken off as the creature had barged in.

  Avridis got to his feet and quite uselessly went to the window. The vast realm in all its emptiness swallowed his searching gaze. Horror and rage ripped through him.

  2

  Aziel was secure enough in the drake’s ridges and lumps, which formed a natural saddle, even a strange kind of chair. The drake’s warmth felt like his belly was full of hot coals. But the creature was terribly slow to respond to instructions.

  ‘Horrible thing, put me down! Do you want me to soil my dress? I need to go.’ To talk of such things (even to an animal) would normally have made her feel little better than an animal herself.

  The cold air, funnelled by the drake’s labouring wings, tossed her hair violently in all directions. The drake had more or less stuck to the Great Dividing Road, with detours to either side as though it were searching for something. They’d flown over an army marching south, over mountain ranges, fields, villages, farms. And over things she’d never heard of at all, like those big blue domes. How huge it all was, the outside world! How peculiar, the way it went about its business without a word or instruction from her.

  She’d learned the futility of slapping the drake’s scaly skin when a break was needed. Kicking its sides had once made it belch flame. But it certainly didn’t enjoy being whined at. ‘Why did you take me from my room?’ she asked in the tone it found most objectionable, leaning forward and pouring the words right into its ear. ‘Did I ever ask to be taken away?’ (Well yes, but not by a drake, certainly.) ‘Where do you mean to take me? Did Arch arrange it, or did you come to steal me by yourself? That’s what you did, you stole me! Set me down or take me back!’

  The whining at last broke through the drake’s patience. She heard it sigh like a grumpy old man then it began its descent. ‘Oh no you don’t,’ she said. ‘Not in the bushes again, I’m not a beast like you are. Take me over there to that building by the Road. I’ll go inside for once.’

  The drake made an anxious noise but it obeyed, setting her down behind the tallest building of a small roadside town, the only one for miles. She got off him and swayed, dizzy to be on her feet again.

  Loud brash voices boomed and roared from the building, along with the smell of ale. A tavern or inn – she’d heard of these. They were necessary to keep soldiers happy. From the sky she’d assumed this was a subject’s house, that a meal and facilities would be eagerly offered to their Friend and Lord’s daughter. But that ale smelled awful. She changed her mind and went behind the building instead. ‘Don’t you watch me!’ she told the drake.

  But the drake suddenly had little interest in her. It sniffed the air and its ears perked up, eyes widening.

  When Aziel had finished, she saw the creature’s tail slithering around the building’s corner as it made its move. A chorus of amazed and frightened shouts sprang up. She ran along the alley to the inn’s front. Near a row of outside tables a group of men stood, their backs against the wall and their mouths agog. The drake had its front paws up on a table and the tip of its snout in their beer jug. A few greedy sucks and the jug was drained.

  ‘Stop that!’ Aziel ordered it.

  The men were so amazed at seeing the rare monster they didn’t notice her. ‘Catch it,’ one of them suggested.

  ‘Is it tame?’ said another.

  ‘No saddle on it. And it’s not a youn
g one. Must have escaped!’

  ‘They don’t wear saddles, fool, tame or not.’

  ‘Never knew these things drank ale.’

  ‘Your shout, drake!’

  The drake’s snout didn’t fit into the cups and mugs. It knocked them to the ground and lapped up the spilled ale with appalling eagerness, not concerned for the dirt and pebbles the ale fizzed into. Aziel ran to it and hopped on its back. ‘Fly!’ she ordered, nervous suddenly about these strange men who’d not so much as bowed in deference to her. ‘What are you staring at?’ she yelled at them. ‘Go inside!’

  ‘Is this pet yours, girly?’ someone asked her drunkenly. ‘Where’d you find him?’

  Aziel blanched, amazed to find these people so animated, much less impetuous enough to call her ‘girly’. Arch had told her most people were like the grey-robes, docile and obedient, or mindless and violent. ‘Go inside!’ she repeated; it was all she could think to say.

  The drake kept licking at the damp puddles of spilled ale. Aziel toppled from its back as it examined the next table over, her dress hiking up around her thighs. Her face went almost as red as the drake’s scales. A crowd began to trickle out of the inn, gawking at the creature. ‘Haven’t you seen a drake before?’ Aziel snapped, getting to her feet. She leaped onto the drake’s back again. ‘Go, fly!’ she said, trying with little effect to wrench its head away from another toppled jug.

  ‘You be careful, girly, these reds breathe flame, they say.’

  The drake made a loud growling sound which made the onlookers cringe in fear of a blast of fire, some of them cowering back inside the inn. When they understood the creature had belched they laughed.

  The drake gazed at the crowd of men with surprise, as if it had only just noticed them now that all the ale had all been drunk. It took a few steps away from them, back onto the road, steps a touch unsteadier than usual. Then a voice sounded from one of the upper windows, bellowing in tones of disbelief: ‘That’s Aziel!’

  Startled, she looked up and saw the savage face of Strategist Blain staring down, mouth wide in astonishment. He turned and snapped an order at someone in the room behind him.

  Twice the drake had drunkenly tried to take off, to much laughter from those watching it. It took a last look back at the crowd, then froze as a tall red-headed man pushed violently through the onlookers and drew a sword.

  Immediately the drake shook Aziel off its back and charged, knocking the man over, battering him with its wings and head. The redhead dropped his weapon and wedged a forearm in the drake’s mouth. His punches glanced off its hard leathery hide as the pair rolled about in the dirt. The crowd scattered.

  Another man leaned out Blain’s window. He held a long pipe to his lips and blew through it a thin dart.

  The drake yelped and jumped off his victim, belched again, then scuttled back to Aziel. She climbed on its back. Its skyward lunge this time succeeded. As they lurched higher she looked back over her shoulder to see the redhead getting to his feet, blood seeping from his forehead and arm. ‘Why did you attack that man?’ she said. ‘It’s almost as though you knew him.’

  Blain’s shocked face was still at the upstairs window watching her go, his mouth still wide open.

  3

  Thaun smiled down at Kiown, feeling the young one would benefit from his embarrassment. But they would have to move, and soon. This was too memorable a tale; drakes were very rare, and there were some rebel infantry drinking down there at the tables.

  Blain’s order had been poor reflex – ‘kill the drake, get the girl’. He would not be pleased at Kiown’s failure. He would be pleased to learn that the dart in the drake’s rump would lead them directly to the doorstep of whoever had managed to kidnap their Friend and Lord’s daughter with a trained pet.

  Thaun took from his travel bag what looked like a thin wooden card with a metal point, slowly spinning till it settled on a direction. It pointed at the dart now lodged in the drake’s rump, the tip of which should by now have wormed its way inside the creature’s body, all but irretrievable. It was the second time he’d used this Engineer-built device, named a ‘chaser’ by its creator, carried with him in two decades’ service. He hoped it still worked.

  THE TOWER

  1

  The sound of lapping waves was stronger within the tower than it had been when Eric and Siel were waist-deep in the water of its moat. Its interior was the colours of earth, browns, greens and stone-grey, gently lit from a hidden source. A small, shallow, sparkling pool lay in the middle of the floor, giving no hint of its purpose. The large floor space was interspersed with tall statue-things, vaguely tree-like in shape, made of black metal which flowed like the liquid in a lava lamp. Their ‘branches’ twisted and spun slowly round in a way that made the eye grapple uncomfortably with what it saw. Down one side of the room were half-a-dozen such things, of wildly varying design. The slow movement of their limbs was mesmerising. ‘Don’t touch them,’ Siel cautioned as Eric went for a closer look.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘I don’t know. Do not stare at them too long either.’

  Loup’s muttering and cursing about the broken window carried down to them through a winding set of steps. The steps also led down to that dark space beneath where a whirlpool quietly spun and burbled, winding out of sight into the water’s depths.

  Loup stumbled down, shirtless and barefoot despite the air’s chill. The grey wires peppering his chest, and the hairs on his head, stood crazily on end, as did his beard and eyebrows. As though the three of them had been involved in a long discussion, he said, ‘Nay, lad, not at all, no clue why they left here in such a hurry. But leave they did, and it’s our home for now.’

  ‘Who left?’

  ‘Mages.’ Loup cackled. ‘Aye, they had most of us off their scent, making out they’d all been killed. But I wondered! Had to be some still about from the old schools. Hiding somewhere. Good airs here! Strong!’ He gazed around with slightly crazed eyes. ‘Small little place by their standards, this is, not much chop. Built it in a hurry. Bet there’s others like it too, here and there. Off in the far east where no one goes, I’ll bet.’ He sighed. ‘That ugly magic of the Arch and his pets, that’s all fast on-the-spot stuff. The old mages could do that kind of thing, but they didn’t like to. Now why would an artist go round lighting fires, is what they’d say. S’why it caught em off guard you see, that sad night when the Arch sent out his war mages to slay em all. They liked slow casting, slow, lasting, thoughtful spells. Not just bang, pop, kill something. Spells’d take a day or longer, ones you could only cast one part at a time.’ Loup wiped a tear from his eye and sniffed. ‘Works of humans actually rate worth a damn, the slower kinds of magic we do. Could earn respect of higher beings. As for this tower, well hey! For them, the old wizards, this place is a rush job. Ah, those old snotty mages who thought they were so clever they could tell the world what to do. Well, here’s news: they were clever.’

  Siel said in tones of disbelief: ‘Mages from the defeated schools have been here, hiding all along, while we gave our lives to avenge them?’

  Loup snorted. ‘Who else built it? I didn’t! Thought he’d killed em all, that foul Arch Mage bastard! Thought he’d got rid of em. But this old place was hiding, oh aye. He’ll be nervous when he hears of it! He’ll think that in the long years hiding, they learned up on lighting fires and killing! And maybe he’ll find he’s not the best at it any more. We’ll see. Question is, where’d they go? And when? My hunch is, not long back at all! Days, maybe.’ Loup bounded to Eric and clutched his arm. ‘But as for you, lad. Who’s the new one?’

  ‘The giant?’

  ‘Not him! The one who looks like you, been following you about?’ Siel turned away. ‘Ah, she knows. She’s seen him, I can tell. What about you, lad? I know a little of him already, but I want to know what you know, or what you guess about it.’

  ‘I’m not sure. But I had a strange dream last night … You were there! I heard you speaking.’
>
  ‘You heard me?’ said Loup. His creased old face bunched with worry. ‘I never saw you or said a word to you.’ He paced for a minute or so, muttering. ‘Never mind that, though. More of that black scale; you got it handy? Then I’ll be able to keep an eye out for him. Not easy to steer him around, you mark me. Dangerous! I found some red and green up there in the attic, but not as much kick in them. Black’s what we – Now wait, that’s something! Where’s your shadow, lad?’

  ‘What would you have us do, Loup, now that you’ve let word slip to the locals that we have the Pilgrim here?’ said Siel to change the subject.

  ‘Do? Wait here,’ said Loup, crouching down at Eric’s feet and examining the floor. ‘Safe as anywhere else. Safer! And don’t ask me to cast a damn thing till this gunk clears out of the air, if it ever does. I’ll not risk it just to make your bread taste better.’

  ‘Wait here for what?’

  ‘You and your questions! All of you people, all the time, explain explain explain, with your fool brains getting in the way of things, and your fool plan this, plan that, not trusting the mages who lead you by the nose out of your silly messes—’

  ‘Listen old man,’ Siel screamed. ‘I have a temper too. I woke this morning to a knife at my throat, after months on the road stepping through death, death, death, everywhere I look, present, past and future, death death death! I’ve not been paid, I’ve not been thanked, I’ve not had a day to relax and live without death kicking down the door again and dragging me out in the cold. And if you want to know about that demon in the woods—’ She had taken strides toward him, not without a hint of menace, when something tripped her up and sent her sprawling heavily to her feet.

  Loup rushed to her and said in the tenderest tones, ‘Aw, easy, lass, easy now. Are you hurt?’ He examined the shoulder she’d landed on, pressing in his gnarled old fingers. Siel was too baffled to answer, trying to work out what on the flat space of floor she could possibly have tripped on. ‘This old house doesn’t much care for you, lass,’ said Loup gently. ‘Might’ve been breaking the window, might be it don’t like happenstance. Better keep your voice low till it learns to trust you. Aye I know, you’ve journeyed long, me with you. It’s a hard life you’ve had, but it’s made you tough as a stoneflesh. Rest up here awhile, lass, easy now.’ Siel wiped a tear from her face and manoeuvred herself away (unsuccessfully) from Loup’s hug. ‘Come here, Eric lad, join in. Show her all the world ain’t mean as a war mage!’