by Jen Williams
‘When you say turn Krete into a giant trap, what do you mean?’ asked Sebastian. ‘There are a lot of people in this city, Frith.’
‘I know. First, we need to reverse the barriers on the walls keeping the gods out.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ cried Selsye. Next to her, Xinian’s face was grim.
‘No. You must listen. We get them all in here, and once they are within the city walls, I will activate the Edenier trap within the Citadel, and as it once tore the Edenier from living beings, it will tear them from the skies. They will be powerless against it. They will be dragged into the chambers designed to hold them, and contained there by Joah’s web of spells. It is important that they cannot leave again when they realise what is happening. That is why we must reverse the barriers, to keep them in. Do you see?’
‘If you say you can make such a thing, then it is worth taking the chance.’ Xinian looked up at them all. ‘We cannot go on fighting this war for ever. It will end us all. But if your trap targets Edenier, then will it not drag all the mages into the Citadel as well? Or at least make us powerless? You would end the gods, but you would end us as well.’
Frith sat back. ‘Yes, that is a problem.’
‘A problem?’ cried Selsye. ‘It’s a bit more than a problem, it’s a disaster!’
‘But there may be a way around it!’ Joah’s voice was tight with excitement. ‘We can paint a target on their backs. Lord Frith, do you remember what I was working on when we first met at Lan-Hellis?’
Frith frowned. ‘A way of applying words directly to skin. You were developing a method of sinking a word directly into the flesh so that mages would not need to rely on silk strips or tattoos.’
‘Could we not use that?’ asked Joah. ‘The right words, something that marks the gods as the true targets of your device. Once marked, your Edenier trap will work only on them, leaving the mages alone.’
Frith sat up. ‘Yes. It’s possible. With the right words. But we would have to mark the gods directly, which would mean getting close enough to apply your skins.’
‘Leave that to me and Feveroot,’ said Wydrin. ‘I’ve been up close and personal with a god before. Perhaps not as close and personal as Sebastian, but still.’ She grinned at the look Sebastian gave her.
‘This is madness,’ said Selsye. She took another gulp of brandy. ‘But it seems that madness is our only path now. Ye gods.’
‘Reversing the barriers on the city walls,’ said Frith. ‘Can you do it?’
‘We will have to avoid being seen,’ said Xinian. ‘But it is certainly something we can do.’
‘Then it is our job to get Frith and Joah inside the Citadel,’ said Sebastian. He smiled faintly. ‘Just like old times.’
‘It won’t be easy,’ said Selsye. ‘The Citadel is riddled with Reis’s people now.’ She scowled. ‘They’ve taken down the bloody roof.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Wydrin. She drank down the last of the brandy and grinned around at them all. Despite everything, they had a plan. It was a ridiculous plan and they would likely all be killed, but they weren’t going down without a fight. ‘If it was easy, it wouldn’t be any fun, would it?’
85
It was dusk by the time Xinian and Selsye made their way to the nearest portion of the city wall. To reverse the barriers they would need to visit the ward stations to the north, east, west and south. The Eastern station was the closest. Xinian pulled her hood closer, keeping her eyes down while Selsye watched the mages that passed them.
‘Any thoughts on how we’re going to do this?’ asked Selsye.
‘I could go in there and shout at them,’ said Xinian. ‘Put the fear of the gods into them, make out that Reis has sent new orders.’ She paused. ‘I’m good at shouting.’
‘Xin, we have to at least try to be discreet. If they realise at any point that the barriers have been meddled with, they’ll just change them straight back.’ They walked hurriedly down narrow streets. To Xinian’s eyes everyone looked outrageously unconcerned, as though this were just a normal day, and for a brief moment she felt a searing anger towards them – why should she and her lover be putting themselves at risk? But this was exactly what they were fighting for – the right to live without the threat of the gods hanging over them. ‘Perhaps we’re thinking about this the wrong way,’ said Selsye. ‘The barriers are generated from the beacons, right? So we could reverse the magic on the beacons. Or, we could change the walls themselves. Yes, I think that would work.’
‘What are you talking about?’ The walls loomed in front of them now. Xinian could see the pale blue lights of the beacons, quiet for the moment, and the shadowed shapes of the guards patrolling the top of the wall. The sky beyond them was a brilliant indigo.
‘The walls, Xinian. We could craft the walls themselves.’ Selsye turned towards her, and she caught a glance of her smile, half hidden by the hood. ‘The mage word for “Reverse” should do it. The magic that thrums through the walls and creates the barriers would be reversed. Do you see?’
‘Right, fine, if you say so. And how do we do that?’
‘Let’s go out the gate. I’ll burn the word into the wall outside the ward station.’
‘There are people on the walls, Selsye. They’ll see you.’
‘That’s where you come in, my love.’
Minutes later, Xinian stood in the deepest shadows at the edge of the gate. There was a small market here, looking to sell food and other wares to travellers arriving at Krete. Such places tended to stay open late, and bright white lamps were being lit over the collection of stalls and crates. Amongst them was a cart piled high with watermelons, and next to it a wooden butt full of drinking water – one of the most popular purchases after a trip across the Creos desert was a skin of water for a parched throat.
She glanced behind her to see the slim form of Selsye moving out into the desert night.
‘I am Commander Battleborn,’ muttered Xinian. ‘I commanded armies, slaughtered demons.’ She sighed abruptly, and lifted her hand, turning it towards the water butt. A brief gesture, and the wooden barrel burst open, spraying water everywhere. There was a chorus of cries as those nearby were soaked, and a bellow of outrage from the man selling the water. Another gesture, and the growing pool of water frosted over in seconds, becoming a wide patch of ice.
‘I used to have a dignified job.’
Xinian formed another word in her mind, and the cart holding the watermelons tipped violently to one side, spilling its load onto the icy ground. Within seconds the small market was full of skidding, bouncing fruit, being chased by skidding, shouting men and women. Those coming in and out of the gate stopped to watch, and a general murmur of laughter grew in the small space. Xinian stepped partially out of the shadows and looked up towards the wall – the guards were leaning out over the battlement, watching the action avidly. A few minutes later, when the last of the melons were still being chased across the street, Selsye reappeared at the gate, taking Xinian’s hand in the dark.
‘There are vines growing on the walls out there, so I burned the word underneath them. Fiddly, but less noticeable.’ Selsye paused, taking in the scene in front of them. ‘A good distraction, my love.’ She stood on her toes and stole a quick kiss. ‘Only three more to go!’
‘Oh, great,’ said Xinian.
‘I am here to remove some of the magical artefacts. Archmage Reis has requested them.’
They stood on the outer steps of the Citadel, just beyond the black iron gate. As night approached the mages gradually dismantling the stronghold had left, leaving behind a handful of guards. Wydrin had suggested killing those that were left, as she had the first time they had come here, but Joah had stiffened slightly and claimed that as he was, as yet, not implicated in Xinian’s treason, he would be able to talk their way in. Sebastian thought it had a reasonable chance of succeeding – there was something inherently trustworthy in the young mage’s face – but he stood ready anyway, a borrowed longsword across h
is back. If they were refused entry, it would be the work of moments to cut them down. He did not relish the thought, but if it was necessary, he would do it. Distantly, he was aware of the bright silvery minds of several small lizards crawling through the newly constructed gardens nearby. He touched their minds lightly, and he felt their curious regard. It was a comfort.
‘Why are there so many of you?’ asked the guard. ‘And why do you come at night? We weren’t told about this.’ He was peering past Joah with a vaguely perplexed expression. Before they’d left Xinian’s hideout, Selsye had bound their arms with the silk strips the mages traditionally wore in an attempt to disguise them, but it had to be said, Wydrin still made the world’s least likely mage. Cover her in as much silk as you wanted, the eyes were still drawn to the well-used dagger at her hip, and Sebastian had yet to see a mage wearing so much boiled leather.
‘The artefacts have particular properties at night,’ said Joah dismissively. ‘And there are a lot of them to carry. Will you really keep me waiting out here all night? I have important work to do!’
The guard looked as though he might argue further, but in the end he stood to one side and they passed into the grounds of the Citadel proper. Sebastian shivered despite the warmth of the night. In his memories this place had been a broken, dusty ruin, the statues and carvings worn with the passing of a thousand years, but in this time it was an imposing structure, obviously crafted to reflect the grandeur of the mages. The statues showed mages doing battle with monsters, alongside scenes from mythology that he vaguely recognised. They had intended this to be not only the prison of the gods, but also a monument to their victory. All would look upon the Citadel and see the mastery of the mages wrought in stone. Sebastian smiled bitterly. It had not worked out that way, in the end.
Joah led them in towards a pile of red stone, near black in the growing darkness, and beyond it to a set of steps leading down into a confusion of shadows and rock. The large drum-shaped building that they had once entered, a thousand years in the future, had been partially built and then torn down again, leaving the top level of the Citadel open to the air.
‘The men and women taking it apart must question Reis’s orders,’ said Frith quietly as they headed down the steps. ‘They must see that it is madness to disable your only weapon.’
‘You underestimate the influence of Reis,’ said Joah. He lifted his hand and summoned a small ball of light as they headed down into the dark. The workers had extinguished the lamps as they left – Frith lit them again as they passed. ‘He is our greatest mage. There are factions working against him who have been against the Citadel since the start. His sudden change of heart has them confused and on the back foot. At the moment, no one speaks against him because they are not sure what his plan is. Ah, here we are – this is where the artefacts are stored.’
Joah had led them into a low hall filled with crates and boxes and other half-identified shapes in the poor light. Frith looked around.
‘And how far is the prison chamber from here?’
‘Down several more sets of steps. It sits underneath the rest of the Citadel.’
Frith pulled a hand through his hair. He looked distracted. ‘We will gather what is needed from here, and then build the device in the final chamber. You will explain the artefacts to me, and then you will need to start making the skins. Wydrin, Sebastian, now we are in here, you will have to keep everyone else out. Can you do that?’
Sebastian glanced at Wydrin, who shrugged extravagantly.
‘I imagine we can keep them off your backs, my lord,’ said Sebastian. ‘It seems we’re back to being your muscle. How long will you need?’
‘As long as you can give me,’ he said. ‘We will be working through the night.’
‘All hands on deck,’ said Wydrin. She stepped up to Frith and kissed him firmly on the mouth. The young lord pulled her close, almost seeming to gain strength from her. Sebastian had to smile at Joah’s startled look. Wydrin let go of Frith with obvious regret, and then punched Sebastian lightly on the arm. ‘Come on, Seb, let’s go and show off our muscles to any guards that might still be lurking.’
‘What do you think?’
Sebastian peered around the column to look at the two guards stationed on the far side of the gardens. They were standing with their heads together, the posture of men who aren’t entirely sure what’s going on, and looking to hash it out between them. The dark desert night hung above them like a shroud, while the lights of Krete burned all the brighter. He turned back to Wydrin and sighed.
‘I think that they are already questioning whether we should be here, and it will be a short while before they send a message to their superiors. You and Frith are hardly inconspicuous. Reis will know whom they describe.’
Wydrin tapped the dagger at her waist. ‘So will we be cutting a few throats under the moonlight?’
Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her, and she laughed. ‘Yeah, I don’t really have the appetite for killing idiots. These are just people caught up in a war between bastards with power. It’s funny how when gods are involved, it’s the normal people who end up dead, whether that’s on a battlefield somewhere, or just minding their own business doing their jobs.’ She thought of the heat she’d felt on her face before she’d dropped into the sea at Raistinia; the dust of a thousand dead bodies on the streets of Temerayne. ‘And we’ll never be free of them either, because the Eye of Euriale apparently keeps vomiting them up. Your friend might not be the only lost god wandering Ede, now that the Spinner is gone.’ She glanced up at Sebastian. ‘What do you think happened to Oster?’
‘He’s alive,’ said Sebastian softly. His eyes were still on the guards. ‘I can feel that. Y’Gria promised him a family and a history, but when he disagreed with her, she locked him away. He feels lost without that connection, without the knowledge the Spinner was supposed to give to him. I think he’s probably having to make some difficult decisions at the moment.’ Wydrin put her hand on his arm, and he looked down at her, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. ‘I’ve come to realise that I can’t be responsible for everyone.’
‘You can still be responsible for me, if you like,’ she said, squeezing his arm. ‘You know, when we’ve been in the tavern all night and I can’t see straight.’
He snorted. ‘What are we going to do about these poor souls, then?’
‘There are some big rooms back there, with some sturdy doors. I vote that we give them all an early night and stash them away as best we can.’ She paused. ‘If the gods come before we’re ready, inside the Citadel might be the safest place to be.’
Sebastian nodded. ‘We’ll circuit the grounds while Frith works. If anyone else turns up, they can join their brother guards.’
‘Right then.’ Not entirely sure why she needed to do it, Wydrin slipped her arm through Sebastian’s and gave him a slightly awkward sideways hug. ‘I’m glad you’re back with us, Seb. Stay safe, brother.’
‘Don’t I always, little sister?’ He kissed the top of her head, and she slipped away into the darkness.
86
Frith paced the room, trying to take in everything at once. He could feel Joah’s eyes on him, watching and waiting to hear what to do next. It was strange to be here with a Joah that was so young, so unsure. It was almost possible to feel sorry for him. They had lit all the torches in the room, and warm orange light flickered and danced over a multitude of strange objects.
‘You know what all these things are, yes?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Joah stepped forward. ‘I helped Mistress Selsye to catalogue everything we should need.’
‘Tell me what these things are.’ Frith gestured to a low table scattered with pieces of what looked like twisted metal.
‘The remnants of the Armour of Ogren,’ said Joah at once. ‘Crafted hundreds of years ago and said to be indestructible, it finally failed its wearer during the volcano eruption of—’
‘And this?’ Frith pointed at a large yellow clay bo
wl, painted with swirling blue patterns. In the very centre was a red stain.
‘The blood chalice of the Zevrast,’ said Joah evenly. ‘It is said that any potion crafted in the chalice doubles its potency.’
‘What of these?’ Frith pulled back the blanket covering a crate. Inside it was a bundle of brightly shining knives.
‘Morrigan’s Regret,’ said Joah. ‘A cut with one of these blades grants a vision of the future, but the wound never stops bleeding.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Frith faintly. His mind was spinning with knowledge. Everything in this room was familiar, because he had once shared Joah’s memories so deeply – and as Joah named them, their purpose and potential came back to him. The version of the Rivener he wished to build grew in his mind by the moment, called into existence as each magical artefact revealed itself. There was Joah’s knowledge, yes, but there was also the warring magics inside him – the echo of Edenier, the shadow of the Eye of Euriale. It was similar to how he had felt on the banks of the muddy pond, and his desperation to find Wydrin had guided his hands. There was more than memories at work here – he could see how it would all fit together, and it was dizzying. He took a slow breath and turned back to Joah. The young mage was watching him with wide eyes.
‘I know what we need to do. Come, gather up what I tell you to and show me where the prison chamber is. We don’t have much time.’
When they had grabbed what they could, Joah led him to a door at the far side of the chamber where a set of stairs curled down into the dark. On his way out of the artefact room, Frith paused, his eyes caught by the imposing form of Tia’mast’s skull, or at least the remaining piece of it; a decaying remnant of something that once stood outside time, but no longer. Looking at it as it glowed an eerie green under the torches, Frith felt the germ of an idea blossom at the back of his mind, and then Joah was next to him, half hidden under the pile of boxes in his arms.
