The City of Night Neverending

by Steven Lochran

  At this, the glove had begun whipping around faster and faster. The wind had shrieked, the cold had sharpened, and an unseen force swept through to strike Salt. Lurching backward, he’d managed to right himself before being jolted again by another invisible blow. Joss and Drake both stepped forward hesitantly, unsure if they should intervene.

  ‘Don’t break the circle!’ Salt had warned them, just as a final rush of force knocked him off his feet. The wind died all at once. Edgar’s glove fell to the ground. And Salt sat straight back up with insight flashing in his eyes.

  ‘Wherever your friend is, it’s a place rife with mystical energies. Something powerful resides there.’ His shiver was slight but telling. ‘Something dark …’

  ‘Can you take us there?’ Joss asked, prompting Salt to stare out across the tundra. Clouds had pushed in to cloak the moon, the darkness swallowing the horizon.

  ‘We’ll set out for the Bay of Crossing at dawn, past the glaciers. It’s about a day’s travel, dependent on the weather.’ Salt picked himself up off the frozen ground. ‘With some luck, Bhashvirak will be in a charitable mood.’

  Distressed that they’d be losing yet another day since Edgar’s abduction, Joss had asked who Bhashvirak was. If they could make the trip without him, then surely it would be better to set off as soon as possible. But Salt would not be drawn on the subject. He had simply told them to rest, and that any questions they had would be answered soon enough. Now the sun had risen and peaked and was starting its gradual descent, and still they hiked on through the bleak chill of the tundra, none the wiser.

  Though with every step the glaciers grew closer. More than that, it felt as if they grew larger. Their crystal blue peaks would be beautiful if not for how daunting they were. Joss could hardly imagine trying to climb them. They were as jagged as the Spires of Ai, and they looked to be weeping ice under the afternoon sun. It would be impossible to scale them without any equipment at hand, even with Salt’s skills in the occult. Would they have to? The prospect weighed heavy on Joss. Opening his mouth to give voice to his concerns, he caught sight of something set in the foot of the frozen mountains.

  ‘There,’ said Salt, pointing at a circular, ironbound hatch. The metalwork was wrought with the same style of runes that mapped Salt’s skin, leading in a circle towards a lock twice the size of Joss’s head.

  Drawing closer, Joss found that what he’d taken to be a hatch was, in fact, more like a bank vault, tall enough for a mammoth to walk through comfortably, even with his twin brother balancing on his back. Though whether the door was meant to keep the world out, or whatever was inside locked within, Joss didn’t dare to guess.

  ‘A moment, if you will,’ Salt now said, lowering himself to sit cross-legged in the snow, his driftwood staff lying across his lap. With eyes closed, he began to chant. And with every word, the runes glowed, dimly at first, then more intensely, until they beamed so brilliantly they blinded Joss and his brethren. They were forced to look away as the vault door unlocked itself and swung open.

  His chanting at an end, Salt stood. ‘Shall we?’ he said, and together the group entered the vault.

  A perfectly rounded tunnel lay within, carved white from the ice and veined with thick swathes of watery blue. It reached deep into the mountain, bending this way and that, but remained level throughout. It offered an easy path through the glaciers, for which Joss was silently but profoundly grateful. After the challenges of traversing the tundra, this felt as easy as bounding through a sunny field on a summer’s day.

  ‘A pathway built by my ancestors, impenetrable to unaccompanied mortals,’ explained Salt, his voice soft and melodious in the serene space. Though Joss hadn’t known him all that long, this unsolicited information seemed highly out of character. But then Salt coupled it with a warning. ‘Grave consequences would follow for any who spoke indiscreetly of its nature or location.’

  The tunnel wound on like a serpent’s belly, its walls growing ever darker. What had originally been as clear and brilliant as crystal was now as black and rippled as slate. Even the air felt different, the cold having taken on a ghostly chill. It prickled Joss’s flesh and gripped his heart tight, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

  In this funereal darkness, his mind wandered. They had been travelling for days now, chasing dragon tails and phantom footprints in their quest for Edgar and, no matter the assurances that Salt made, Joss felt no closer to finding his friend. There was every chance he was already dead. How could Joss possibly live with himself if that was true? The thought ate at him, as did the cold and the all-consuming darkness.

  But then, mercifully, the tunnel began to lighten again. Before long they came to a second vault door, which Salt again opened, and together they stepped out into the dazzling light of day and onto the stony shore that waited there for them.

  The bay was small, shaped like a sickle, and surrounded by the impervious glacial ranges. A rocky reef guarded the only outlet into the limitless expanse of the ocean beyond, in front of which sat a stone platform. Joss could just make out the footbridge that stretched from the bay’s distant curving shoreline to connect to the platform. Though there were no waves, the water still churned so restlessly it looked to be a living thing, dark and wild.

  ‘There’s nobody here,’ Joss said, searching for a hut, a cave, a bolthole, anything. But the entire area looked to be long abandoned.

  ‘Why should there be? We’ve not made our invitation yet,’ Salt replied, walking down to the water’s edge. An immense landing had been set there, same as the stone platform that obstructed the outlet. It was covered in mounds of dry seaweed and inscribed with all manner of sigils – some fae, others more feral in style.

  Bending to one knee, Salt bowed his head and began muttering under his breath. By now, Joss, Drake and Hero had become accustomed to this sight, though what purpose it served this time was a mystery. Who was this Bhashvirak whom Salt had spoken of? Where was he? And what help could he possibly offer in tracking down Edgar?

  ‘Be honest,’ Joss addressed Drake in a hushed tone. ‘Do you have any clue what’s going on here?’

  ‘Not a one,’ Drake admitted. ‘But I’ve learned to trust Salt, no matter how cryptic he may be at times.’

  ‘At times?’ Hero asked. ‘He treats evasiveness like a competitive sport.’

  ‘And you should know,’ Joss said, quickly receiving a thump to the shoulder. ‘Ow.’

  ‘Even so,’ Drake said while Joss nursed his injury, ‘if anyone can find Edgar and the other hostages, it’s Salt.’

  ‘If you’re all quite done …’ Salt interjected, having turned from the stone landing to stand before them. ‘The entreaty is made and time is now of the essence. Bhashvirak and his kind have no taste for patience.’

  Salt hurried them along the curve of the shore towards the bridge, a creaky old thing that was as spiky and knotted as a spinal cord. It swayed with worrying abandon, forcing Joss to watch his every step as the group edged its way out across the water. The gaps between the boards seemed to widen beneath him, demanding that he drop something precious through their cracks and lose it forever. Keeping a tight hold of the Champion’s Blade, he continued with the others towards the great granite disc of the platform.

  Treacherous as the bridge was, the platform was doubly so, slick with moss and studded with the same sigils as the landing had been. Salt leapt onto it with the confidence of a captain taking to his ship, while Joss, Drake and Hero stepped nervously across, their boots skidding around of their own accord.

  Here, stuck between the shore and the open water, it would take only one wave to reach up and pull them away, never to be seen again. If Joss had been uncertain before, he was utterly mystified now. This Bhashvirak had to be a submersible captain or something similar, though Joss was damned if he could see how incantations performed on a rocky landing could have any hope of contacting him. And there was simply too much at stake to remain silent about it.

  ‘Where exactly is
this friend of yours?’ Joss asked Salt, who had moved to the edge of the platform to search the horizon. There was a swift rush of motion out in the depths.

  ‘I wouldn’t call him a friend,’ was all Salt said, not taking his eyes from the shadow that glided beneath the surface of the water. The closer it came, the larger it seemed to grow. As it approached the platform, a small part of its being broke through the churning water, making Joss and his brethren gasp in shock.

  ‘That’s not – is it?’ said Drake, his half-asked question going unanswered. After all, there was no mistaking what was growing nearer by the second. It was a fin, curved and serrated and tall enough to block out the sky, only hinting at the scope of the creature to which it was attached. Picking up speed, it looked as if it was preparing to ram them all, before it quickly dived away and disappeared from sight.

  Water lapped at the edge of the platform. The Bladebound, each of them braced for impact, looked at each other in confusion and alarm. And then, in an explosion of white water, the creature revealed itself.

  Jagged teeth. Depthless eyes. A mouth big enough to swallow them all whole, and a form that lay somewhere between monster and god. Joss had heard tell of megalodons, but tales were one thing. The reality was something else entirely.

  And then, in a primal voice that entered the listener’s mind without any need for sound, the creature spoke.

  ‘I AM ARRIVED!’ the monstrous shark declared, falling back into the water to fix them with its fearsome gaze. ‘WHO BECKONS MIGHTY BHASHVIRAK?’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A SCRATCHING AT THE EDGE OF SANITY

  EVERY word pierced Joss’s brain. They beat on his eardrums and set his teeth to grinding. There was a pressure in his skull like a dam on the verge of bursting. It felt as if blood would come spurting from his nose at any moment.

  ‘Joss! What’s wrong?’ Drake said, taking hold of Joss’s shoulders to keep him from crumpling.

  ‘That voice! Can’t you hear that voice?!’ Joss clamped his hands around his head while the mark on his chest burned as painfully as it had when the wisp first struck him.

  ‘What do you mean? What voice?’ Drake asked, splitting Salt’s attention between Joss and the massive megalodon before them.

  ‘You can hear him, boy? Yes?’ Salt hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Then be still and silent and let me handle this.’

  ‘Mighty Bhashvirak!’ Salt said, turning back to the creature. He knelt down and bowed his head even lower than he had on the shore. ‘We have come because we have no other recourse. Innocent lives are threatened and we need your help to save them.’

  ‘WHAT CARES MIGHTY BHASHVIRAK FOR MORTAL LIVES?’ the creature demanded. Having made its dramatic entrance, it had now slid back beneath the waves and was circling the stone platform, leaving only its fin and part of its upper back exposed. In doing so, it revealed a curious device that looked to be somehow fused with its flesh: a bubble of hand-blown glass, caged in oxidised copper and large enough to accommodate a group of passengers. Joss gaped in astonishment. Surely this wasn’t what Salt had in mind.

  ‘Our two races once lived in harmony,’ Salt continued. ‘Together we hunted and we prospered. My mother would sing songs that told of the glories we accomplished when we worked as one. I see you still carry a lifechamber on your back …’

  ‘A RELIC!’ Bhashvirak growled, and Joss’s head threatened to burst. ‘A FORGOTTEN THING!’

  ‘And yet you came when called. Mighty Bhashvirak’s memory is more stone than sand, I say. But what of his oaths? From what are they made?’

  ‘A PLEDGE TO YOUR ANCESTORS IS NOT A PLEDGE TO YOU, SELKIE!’ the megalodon countered as he circled the platform. ‘WHAT OFFERING DO YOU MAKE?’

  Salt hesitated. ‘I can offer only the opportunity to perform a just act. An act of mercy.’

  ‘HA!’ Bhashvirak boomed, cold and unfeeling.

  ‘An act of courage, then!’

  The megalodon grew silent at that, his fin disappearing beneath the water. Desperation taking hold, Joss stepped to the edge of the platform. Though he did not know exactly what to say, he knew enough about a great beast’s pride to hazard a guess.

  ‘Mighty Bhashvirak, my name is Josiah Sarif!’ he shouted, doing his best to sound as formal and servile as he could. ‘Once my family hailed from Daheed! And as the last survivor of my people, I’ve come to warn you! The legend of your race has grown dim in the mortal world. People have forgotten your grandeur. There are even those who seek to snatch your glory for themselves!’

  ‘HERESY!’ Bhashvirak snapped, his fin slicing back up out of the water’s depths.

  ‘Joss – have you gone mad?’ Hero asked in a hushed voice while Salt stared at him aghast. ‘You’re hurling insults at a shark the size of a siege engine.’

  ‘Trust me, I know what I’m doing,’ Joss whispered in reply, adding silently to himself, I think.

  Turning back, he called out to the great shark. ‘They call themselves pyrates! And they control the high seas with submersible vessels that they’ve crafted in mockery of your kind!’

  ‘BLASPHEMY!’ Bhashvirak’s tail lashed out to smack the water’s surface, sending a powerful wave rippling towards the shore. The pain in Joss’s head was so intense it felt as if he’d chomped down on an iron dagger. Fighting through the agony, he pressed his argument to the great shark. The bait had been taken. All he needed to do was reel in the hook.

  ‘If the great megalodons still ruled the seas, these pyrates would never have tried anything so brazen! But for too long you’ve shied away from the world, so now they seek to reign over the ocean unchallenged and unafraid. To prove their dominance, they stole away with our friend and our fellow mortals. They consider themselves invincible –’

  ‘MIGHTY BHASHVIRAK WILL PROVE OTHERWISE!’

  ‘So you’ll help us then?’ Joss asked.

  ‘IF IT IS MIGHTY BHASHVIRAK’S AID YOU REQUIRE, MORTAL BOY, THEN HAVE IT YOU SHALL!’

  The quiet admiration on Salt’s face was enough to tip off Drake and Hero as to what had just happened. They both looked at Joss with amazement.

  ‘WHERE HIDE THESE CRAVENLY CREATURES?’

  ‘Salt can lead us there,’ Joss said, venturing one last request. ‘Should you allow us to ride in your lifechamber …’

  ‘The boy is right,’ said Salt, before a moment of loaded silence as the megalodon considered the deal.

  ‘VERY WELL,’ it finally replied, the agony of its soundless voice finally easing for Joss. ‘BUT QUICKLY, LEST MIGHTY BHASHVIRAK’S FAVOUR RUN RED!’

  Moving quickly, the prentices took their leaps of faith one by one onto the back of the enormous creature as it circled the platform, first Drake and then Hero. That left only Joss. Pushing away the pain that still clouded his mind, he ran for the edge of the platform. Jumped.

  ‘Gotcha!’ Drake said as he grabbed hold of Joss’s arm. Hero was already at the lifechamber’s hatch, wrenching it open with one quick yank.

  ‘This is going to be a nightmare of a ride,’ she said, eyeing the wooden handholds and leather straps within the glass bubble, before climbing inside. ‘And I’ve ridden through a hailstorm on the back of a pterosaur who was suffering from vertigo.’

  ‘Well, that’s reassuring,’ Joss muttered as he followed her, and received another whack to the arm. ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Salt! Are you coming?’ Drake called out to the platform, where their guide was slipping off his boots.

  ‘To lead you, I can’t be confined to the lifechamber,’ he said, and turned away to shed himself of the rest of his clothing. The shifting of his flesh then began, as natural as the flowing of water: his legs fusing together to form his tail, his hands sprouting into clawed flippers, his skin bristling with fur, the curve of his neck growing gills.

  When he turned back, he was a creature of the sea, and he took to it now with the ease of drawing breath. The water accepted him without a splash, ripples forming only when he re-emerged to cock his head at t
he mortals gathered on the megalodon’s back.

  ‘Follow …’ he snarled, and dived away again. Joss, Drake and Hero had precious little time to secure the glass lifechamber before Bhashvirak plunged down into the dark waters to trail him.

  As the water cascaded against the glass, the three prentices each settled into place. Crude though the set-up was, Joss found himself grateful for the wooden handholds scattered throughout the chamber. Lying on his belly to grip them, he was kept from violently bumping and rolling as Bhashvirak swam with the power of a jet-cycle through a clear sky.

  Water rushed by them, foam and bubbles fizzing off the surface of the glass. Beneath them was the flesh of the gargantuan creature that bore them, pure muscle sheathed in skin as smooth as marble. Every shake of Bhashvirak’s tail was like an earthquake in its power.

  ‘How did you do that back there?’ Drake asked. His face looked pale green, and Joss couldn’t tell if it was from seasickness or a trick of the light. ‘Speak to the shark, I mean. Is that some sort of Daheedi trait?’

  ‘Can you talk to other animals too?’ asked Hero, just as intrigued.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Joss said, rubbing at his chest. The wisp scar had eased to a dull ache, twinging beneath his shirt as he told the others what had happened aboard the Behemoth, as well as the advice that Qorza had given him. ‘She wasn’t sure how long it would last, but she said that the wisp’s touch would draw the supernatural like blood in shark-infested waters. All I can think is that’s why I could hear Bhashvirak, because of the wisp. Not that I have any real idea how this magic muck works.’

  ‘Blood in the water, huh?’ Hero said, adjusting her grip on the handholds. ‘That’s even less comforting than the fact that there’s no commode in here …’