The man turned about, his head nearly beneath the whirlpool’s surface. He wore a robe of drab brown cloth. Slowly he raised one finger to his lips: ‘Shh.’
Eric did not understand at first why he was being hushed; but then the background murmur of the winds’ voices quietened. ‘Blain is a skilled illusionist,’ the man said ponderously. ‘But the best ones are themselves never seen. I have seen Blain many, many times. He has not yet seen me.’
‘You’re the strange wizard the villagers talked about. You’re the one who hid the tower and the village with spells. Aren’t you?’
‘Does it matter?’ said the magician, seemingly to himself.
‘You did that to Blain up there, didn’t you? You made his spell go out of control.’
‘It was not hard to do,’ the magician said slowly. ‘A little push. He will recover soon. It was necessary. But I heard the words Blain spoke to you, when you asked his counsel. Now you have run to me for more. Is this so?’
‘Yes.’
The man’s body rose out of the water. His robe did not look wet. ‘Blain’s words held some truth. You should get to what they call the castle. It could be reclaimed. You will probably fail. Take Aziel. Take the drake. He is your friend. He will go where you ask him.’
‘When? When should we do this?’
The man considered the question carefully, then said, ‘You are far too late. It is no matter. Go back now before the winds down here speak again. They will say things to drive your young mind mad. The waters delight in such things.’
The magician cocked his head, listening, then a look of pain shot across his face. ‘They come,’ he said, then the water swallowed him. Eric watched the swirling current for a moment, then ran back up the steps. On the lower floor Blain’s spell still wound out of control. A mass of broken illusions littered the floor.
There was the sound of screams from upstairs. Breaking glass. The whole tower seemed to shudder, as though in pain or fear. Loup pointed up the steps. ‘Get up there, Eric! You’re no use here, you can see the airs but never bothered to learn to use em!’
There wasn’t time to correct the record. A second scream; suddenly the air was filled with inhuman shrieks. Eric knew the sound well. He’d heard it as soon as he’d regained consciousness after falling through the door, from his old world into this one. He sprinted up the steps with the Glock in hand.
At the two front and two back windows, glass had been sprayed inward across the floor. Shaggy-bearded heads peered in, eyes wide and wild, each of them rasping babble, sniffing hard at the tower’s potent airs. Aziel was beneath a bed, screaming in fright, hands over her ears. Case the drake sat with her as though to shield her from any attack but he shivered in fear.
Siel loosed an arrow through a war mage’s chest. It fell back, was quickly replaced by another. Gorb rushed in a blur of movement, shoulder-barging three of them from a window, driving them into the night sky with broken bones. Out that window they could briefly see a sky filled with flying shapes circling the tower. The southern sky behind them was a backdrop of dim red.
Two war mages came through the western window. Gorb was there quickly as they crouched low and began to cast. He shoulder-slammed them into the wall. They fell limp, a horrible streak of gore on the wall behind them.
At the window Gorb had left another war mage peered its shaggy head inside. Eric spent a precious bullet to dispatch it. The noise of the shot brought all the creatures’ eyes to him.
‘Eric! Free me. I’ll fight for you!’ Kiown yelled, pulling at his bonds.
Eric hesitated, then ran to him. ‘I shoot you at the first sign—’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ said Kiown as his hands were freed. ‘My blade? Where?’
Eric pointed to the work bench. Kiown rushed for his confiscated sword. There was a thump as Gorb crushed two more of the creatures into the wall, then blurred across the room to crush another. The half-giant was growing tired, panting. A war mage leaped up on his shoulders and scratched at him with its clawed feet. Gorb swung it by the feet twice about his head then flung it onto the floor. It didn’t get up.
Eric fired another precious bullet. He had lost count how many were left. ‘Kiown, help us!’ But Kiown had rushed down the steps. Eric trained the gun on him for a moment, then cursed himself.
Too many of the creatures were now inside. A blast of heat rippled through the air at Siel. She threw herself down and out of the spell’s path.
‘Stop!’ Eric yelled. ‘I am Shadow!’ All rasping voices ceased their talk. The silence was complete but for Aziel’s whimpering and Gorb’s panting breath.
‘Enemies among us, Shadow,’ said a war mage, bowing. Its voice was deep as a machine’s.
‘Your word, Shadow?’ said another.
‘Leave this place!’ he said, overcoming his shock that it had worked. ‘Cease this attack.’
‘Enemies among us, Shadow,’ a war mage repeated, curled clawed fingers gesturing at Gorb and Siel. The windows filled with more of the creatures crawling inside, staring from wild bearded faces, their clawed feet scratching at the floor.
‘You must leave this place!’ Eric said in as commanding a voice as he could.
‘A servant,’ said dozens of rasping throats. Those at the window fell back into the night sky.
‘Leave this place!’ he yelled again. ‘Leave!’
‘A servant.’
‘Your word …’
The others climbed back through the windows till they’d all gone. Still they circled the tower, now and then one of the flock swooped closer and let loose its awful cry.
‘Why do they obey you?’ said Gorb, pulling a bandage over where the war mage claws had scratched him.
‘I can’t answer that,’ said Eric.
The tower creaked and seemed to moan with pain. There was a ringing sound like metal being struck. Siel nocked an arrow to her bow and rushed down the steps. He followed her.
No war mages had come to the lower floor, perhaps forsaking it for the upper one where the thick ribbon of potent magic was drawn. Blain’s spell was still in play. Loup conversed with several of the creatures near the staircase. Far Gaze, having seen the war mages outside, had begun shifting form to the wolf. He writhed on the floor making guttural sounds.
Kiown crept through the mist of Blain’s spell. Eric saw a sword raise then fall upon one of the twisting structures of black flowing metal. The tower groaned as though in pain. Kiown severed one of the winding arms.
‘Stop!’ Eric yelled at him.
Kiown ran for the window, cutting at several more of what Blain had called the tower’s ‘organs’. He leaped out the window, caught hold of the tree branch, and slid down fast.
With each chop of Kiown’s blade chunks of the tower’s exterior fell away. Dark fluid edged with fire sprayed through the air like blood from wounds. Then as though the tower itself coughed to clear its lungs, there was a rush of expelled air. Blain’s mist plumed out a window, causing a stir among the circling war mages. The creatures bearing Blain’s face hurtled through the sky; the whole illusion was expelled. The force of it knocked everyone else off their feet.
The wolf rose, shook itself, then bounded up the steps, but the fight was over.
5
Bald throughout this tumult had been tending to his guns, muttering and glaring about as though the noise of it all was quite a nuisance. Now he went to a window, set the barrel of one of his odd creations on the sill, aimed and pulled a little lever near the handle. Ssss-thunk! With a shriek, one of the flying war mages dropped from the sky. Bald grunted in satisfaction, set the gun down and replaced it with another. He pulled its trigger, nothing happened. The third gun fired successfully. A war mage shrieked in pain and surprise as it fell.
Eric ran to the Engineer. ‘Holy shit,’ he whispered, examining the sharpened rocks Bald had shaped for bullets. ‘You did it.’
Far Gaze in wolf form came to the window, put his paws upon the sill, sniffed the air and
howled in dismay. A chorus of shrieks went up from the circling war mages. Some wheeled closer. Eric yelled: ‘I am Shadow! Back! Leave this place!’
The wolf whined and immediately began to change back to his human form. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ said Siel.
Loup jogged over. ‘He’s smelled something. Changing back to tell us, so it must be serious. The air’s gone a bit funny or I’m no judge of it. The rest of you, stop firing those guns! Leave the war mages alone and they might go away.’
6
On the lower floor Stranger got slowly to her feet. For a minute or so she saw double, could not even remember what had knocked her out. She blinked until her vision righted itself, sifted through sludgy memories.
One of those strange instruments of flowing black metal was damaged. She went to it, moved suddenly by an impulse to tend it, as though it were a wounded creature found in the wild. She recognised this impulse to be caused by some magic, even as it touched her and used her for its purpose: the tower wished to be fixed. She did as it wished, washing the wound with water, holding the part broken off to the base until it stuck back on and began to mend itself.
Others of the moving structures had wounds too. Feeling a similar tenderness, she fixed them as best she could. A wave of warm pleasure rippled through her as the tower rewarded her for helping it. She felt invigorated.
But immediately she sensed something amiss in the airs. A thin trickle of red bled into the glimmering dark strands. Stranger rushed to the window, staring out and – there he was, a ripple of black movement in the sky. The sight was then obscured by the war mages circling the tower.
‘Dyan!’ she yelled. ‘My darling! Come! Take me away!’
Dyan must have heard her. He flew like a dark lightning bolt among the war mages circling the tower.
7
The dragon’s cry of challenge was a long whinnying note: a playful song-burst reverberating through the bodies of those watching at the tower’s windows. As Dyan flew among the war mages there was a flash of light, a rain of white sparks. Five of the creatures fell dead with bodies grotesquely bent as though huge strong hands had tried to tie them in knots. Others still in the air burst into flame, with agonised shrieks no different from their usual cries.
The dragon flew higher, drawing some of the flock away from the tower. Dyan sang a long low fluttering note that sent shivers through those watching. In response to it a group of the war mages attacked one another in a frenzy of heat and light. In twos and threes they fell dead to the ground, some of them landing in the moat’s waves where their bodies floated. Then the spell ended, and Dyan moved through them, graceful as a diver playing through the air. His scales glittered with playful colour. The surviving war mages – shed now of nearly half the number that began their pursuit – followed the dragon on their doomed chase as he took them further from the tower.
‘Better start being polite to Stranger,’ Eric remarked at the top-floor window.
Far Gaze stood, panting from the exertions of shifting form.
‘What did you smell?’ said Loup.
‘Death comes,’ said Far Gaze. ‘We have nowhere to flee from it.’
Loup tore himself with some effort from the window. For him, to see the dragon’s casting was an absolute joy. ‘What would we flee?’
‘Bad magic, bad airs come. The Pendulum has already swung back.’ Far Gaze hung his head. ‘We should have let the Strategist go and call back his men from the Wall. How could I have been expected to trust him?’
‘He’d not have had time,’ said Loup. He put a consoling hand on Far Gaze’s shoulder. ‘Why you care so much about castle troops I’ll not guess.’
‘We must get a message to Tauk the Strong. He rides this way.’
‘The airs won’t come that far in,’ said Loup, scratching his head.
‘I’ll go meet your Mayor,’ said Gorb. ‘How much time before the bad stuff gets here?’
‘No knowing,’ said Far Gaze, thumping the wall in frustration. ‘If you’re going, leave now.’
Meanwhile Aziel was clutching the drake’s neck in terror. Eric crouched beside her. Case nuzzled his arm with a wet snout. ‘You’ve probably seen enough of this place, haven’t you?’ he asked Aziel.
She looked at him like he was as dangerous as any dragon. ‘You’re not to touch me. They’ll know. Ghost can visit me any time, and he’ll tell—’
‘You’re safe on that score,’ he said. ‘Would you like to go home?’
‘Home?’ She looked at him searchingly, then around at the others. They were quickly getting a store of goods together for Gorb to take with him. ‘How?’ she whispered.
‘That’s up to our drake. What do you say, Case? May we ride you? Will you take us north, to the castle?’ The drake snorted and crawled before him with its neck lowered. ‘Aziel? Will you come?’
She hesitated. ‘You’ll protect me?’
‘I am your humble servant,’ he said with a bow.
‘It’s been so long since someone told me that.’
‘Is Shadow still within that charm?’
‘Yes,’ she said, touching the necklace embedded to her skin. Her voice went even quieter. ‘He – he doesn’t like being in here. He wanted to get in so badly, but I think it was tricking him. Now he wants to be free. I think I can let him go—’
‘Don’t!’ he said. ‘Keep him there. We’ll take him to the castle.’
‘Yes! Arch will know what to do with him!’
‘Hurry then, before the others see what we mean to do. Hop on.’ Aziel took a seat on Case’s back and Eric sat behind her. There was ample room for them.
‘It is inevitable that you will, at times on our journey, need to touch me,’ said Aziel primly. ‘When we go through strong wind or rapidly up or down, we will be tossed around a little. You may at such times grasp me here, and here.’ She demonstrated the permissible areas.
‘Go, Case,’ Eric said. ‘To the window, quickly.’
The drake did as he asked it, hobbling toward the north-facing window. Siel saw them first.
‘Where are you going?’ she said, jogging over. Case put his front feet up on the sill, poking his head out in the night air.
‘He must have been drunk, that first night,’ Aziel mused. ‘He was so clumsy. He’s much better at using his legs and wings now!’
‘Where are you going?’ Siel repeated.
Eric looked back at her. ‘Blain told us what we were to do. I’m going to do it. We’re going to the castle.’
‘And what in a dead god’s ashen blazes do you think you’re doing?’ cried Loup, aghast.
‘I guess you could say we’re off to see the wizard, Loup.’ Eric smiled sadly at Siel. ‘I’m not Shadow,’ he said. ‘But I’m sorry I look like him. Go, Case. Fly.’
‘Not without me, you don’t!’ Loup cried, clutching the drake’s tail. ‘Not without me!’
‘Loup, I know where I have to go.’
‘Aye, I won’t persuade you different. But you’ll be dead in half a day, the both of you, unless I mind you. You haven’t even packed supplies, you twit! What did you plan on eating? Rocks?’ Shouldering the pack he’d been preparing for Gorb, Loup clambered up onto Case’s back. There was only just enough room for him. The drake groaned at the new weight it was being asked to carry. ‘Don’t you complain, you silly winged mule!’ said Loup, slapping its rump. ‘You had an easy life the last few days, lazing and sleeping and eating. Time to fly. You’re Shadow’s drake, according to tales. Look the part, why don’t you? Fly!’
The drake fell out into the night sky, and all three riders screamed till it turned the fall into a dive. Case’s beating wings took them through buffeting gusts of cold wind.
‘Good boy!’ said Loup, patting Case’s rump. To Eric he said, ‘Now where the heck are we off to? And why?’
‘Well, I’ll tell you, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.’
8
First Captain Tauvene yelled, ‘Hold!’ until
his throat and lungs filled with what felt like dirt. He had no idea if the men held or ran for he could not see a thing. Braziers had been lit all along the line but now they showed nothing. The strange chemical stink was incredible, like nothing else he’d smelled. His lungs clenched to reject it. He no longer had enough air to yell at all. He was coughing and crawling forward, disobeying his own order. His life, his past, his dreams had all burned down and he was now trying to breathe the ash. Hatred for Blain and lust to kill the Strategist kept him crawling forward. Bodies bumped into him from all sides.
Then everything changed and he went to a place that was not quite sleep.
He did not know how long he’d lain there. All was quiet in the visionless fog but for the sound of things rolling and twitching in the dirt here and there. He did not understand it – he could not breathe, but he was not dead. Then with no warning he felt his body being pulled in several directions, but the feeling was good. He felt the bones of his feet breaking, his hands and arms breaking, but oh how good it felt. Yes! he thought. The other men’s moaning and screaming filtered through the murk like sounds below water. Redness filled his vision. Yes!
His body felt like it was held in infinitely strong hands, being kneaded and rolled between thick fingers. A sound came from his throat, at first Tauvene’s own familiar voice in a vibrating wail, ‘Ah-ah-ah-ah-ahhh,’ then something replaced it that was not a sound, but a new sense felt by a new organ. There were other senses too, not unlike touch, with which he felt the pulse and flow of time in the air. It was a current in one direction for the most part, but able to be moved against, and here and there possible to freeze or made so slow it was almost still. His bones kept breaking, stretching, breaking. His muscles clenched till they were tight and hard as stone.
When finally it ended he knew only that he had changed. He had become elegant, beautiful, glorious artwork.
That which had been First Captain Tauvene pulled itself upward. Things bumped against him in the rolling reddish fog with a clack-clack like wood striking wood. A rattle of thin needles shook about his head: his laughter, laughter made to release the intense pleasure of being, to boast of this incredible pleasure to all the world! I feel! I sense, I am! he said in the new language, and the same sentiment echoed all around in the sightless fog.
Shadow (The Pendulum Trilogy) Page 24
