by Alan Baxter
Gabriel cleared his throat politely. The snores continued. With a rueful smile, he headed off around the piles in the direction of the sound. Isiah waited as Gabriel disappeared behind shelves. After a moment he walked out from behind a different row of shelves on the other side of the room, a look of mild consternation on his face. He threw a quick shrug and half-smile at Isiah and walked off again. A moment later his voice sounded behind Isiah. ‘What the hell... this place is weird!’
Isiah turned. Gabriel stood with his hands on his hips, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Now that Isiah had turned around, the snoring seemed to be coming from in front of him, as if it had moved with him. He turned slowly through ninety degrees. The snoring remained before him all the time. ‘This is not a very coherent Realm,’ he remarked casually.
Gabriel laughed. ‘You don’t say? Oh well.’ He took a deep breath, then shouted. ‘Tir?’ He winced at the sound of his own yell in the dusty, snore-filled quiet. The snoring continued unabated.
Isiah chuckled. ‘Perhaps he has so few faithful left that he can only maintain a sleeping state now.’
‘Is that possible?’
‘Who knows? Anything is possible, but I still haven’t worked out any real rules in all the years that I’ve had to think about it.’
Gabriel looked thoughtful for a second. ‘Perhaps he has so few faithful left that he’s now nothing more than a disembodied snore.’
Isiah and the Archangel looked at each other for a few seconds, then burst into laughter.
‘This is how you treat your elders, is it?’ The voice was older and more frail than anything Isiah had ever heard, but there was the hint of a smile evident in the sound of the scolding, along with an echo of previous strength.
Gabriel and Isiah turned around. At the desk before them, slumped back in an old chair, sat the smallest, wispiest, most desiccated old creature Isiah had ever seen. He was an old man that had taken the concept of aging beyond any reasonable limit. He hadn’t been there a moment before, so some power was obviously still left to him.
‘Tir, I’m sorry.’ Gabriel looked genuinely embarrassed.
The old god chuckled, like bubbles rising slowly through tar. ‘Do not worry. I need to sleep a lot, but that’s the same for everything that ages. Even the rocks get old eventually. I haven’t seen you for a long time.’
‘I know, my apologies.’ Gabriel put a hand on Isiah’s shoulder. ‘This is my friend, Isiah.’
Tir nodded. ‘I know who he is. You have a unique job, boy.’
Isiah smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose I do.’
‘You’ve done little or nothing for me.’
‘I have to be honest, I didn’t know if you were even still around. Generally I tend to follow what the Balance decrees. I have little choice most of the time.’
The ancient god shifted in his seat, trying to get a little more upright. ‘You have more choice than you think. Don’t worry, boy, it’s not your fault. Everything has its time, and mine is nearly gone. If I vanish it will do little to upset the Balance.’
‘Everything has an effect, Tir. There is nothing any more or any less important than anything else.’
The old god smiled, showing a disturbing lack of teeth. The ones remaining were brown and cracked, like old wood left in the sun. ‘You’re very kind. Well, perhaps you will find the time to have a word with some of the few people left that do remember me. Put a thought in their minds to remember me a little more from time to time, perhaps tell their children about me?’
Isiah bowed his head. ‘I will. If the opportunity presents itself, I most certainly will.’
‘Yes. Well, thank you. And what did you want of me? I assume this is not a social visit.’
Gabriel stepped forward. ‘There’s a group of humans that are making waves in the mortal Realm. They seem to worship someone or something called Yath-vados. Does that mean anything to you?’
Tir drew a deep breath. ‘I grow weary very easily these days and don’t keep up the records nearly as much as I should. I try to remain the Oracle, you know. I try to keep the records and be wise in all things, but it becomes so hard when I am so tired all the time.’ As he spoke he raised one hand and held it hovering, palm down, above the desk before him. A large, leatherbound book emerged through the wooden surface. It looked like the book was melting in reverse, seeping up into existence. As it completed itself Tir dropped his hand to the cover and flipped the book open. He turned pages, scanning lines of curly, artistic script with one finger. ‘Yath-vados, you say? Yath-vados ...’
Eventually the old god sat back in his chair. ‘Nothing. I’m afraid that if this Yath-vados is a god then he’s either one that I’ve missed in my cataloguing or he’s new and I haven’t noticed him yet. I have been rather lax with my work recently, I’m afraid to say. I know it’s no excuse, but I’m old and, quite frankly, bloody sick of it all. So I get lazy sometimes.’
‘What do you mean by recently?’ asked Isiah.
‘Hmm? What?’
‘You said you’ve been rather lax with your work recently, so you may have missed a new god. What’s recently?’
‘In human terms?’
Isiah nodded. ‘A few years? Maybe more?’
Tir chuckled. ‘I have been old for a long time, boy. I would not be surprised if my records are out of date by a few hundred mortal years. It’s hard to know, to tell you the truth.’
Gabriel stepped forward again and squeezed the ancient deity gently on the shoulder. ‘Thank you, Tir. You’ve been very helpful.’
Tir laughed his thick laugh again. ‘My arse.’ He patted Gabriel’s hand on his shoulder.
As the coppery distortion of RealmShift shimmered away, Gabriel and Isiah stood back in the motel room. ‘That wasn’t very helpful, really, was it?’ asked Gabriel.
Isiah raised his hands, palms up. ‘Hey, it did tell me one thing.’ Gabriel raised an eyebrow. ‘If this Yath-vados, whatever he is, was an old deity of some kind then Tir would presumably have a record of him. So it would appear that Yath-vados is no more than a few hundred years old at most. That’s pretty young for a god of any kind.’
Gabriel nodded. ‘Well, that much is true. But does that really help you?’
‘Not really. I’m still no wiser as to what this ONC is up to. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. What I really want is to get this Sorcerer character out of the way. Whatever his band of merry men get up to is fairly irrelevant in the long run.’
‘But you’re a curious soul, Isiah. You want to know, don’t you?’
Isiah laughed. ‘Yes, I do.’ He sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Drink?’
Gabriel shook his head. ‘I’d better be getting back. Make sure that Michael and Uriel haven’t started something that they’re having trouble finishing. Besides, I enjoy a good fight as much as you do. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.’
Isiah shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about it. You were some help. Besides, it’s always good to see you.’
Gabriel reached out and shook Isiah’s hand. ‘It is. Take care, my friend.’
‘I will. You too.’
‘Cover your eyes.’
As the bright white flash faded Isiah laid back on the bed again. That little excursion had got him pretty much nowhere. All he could do was follow Filthy Frank and see if he could track down this Sorcerer. Perhaps he would learn more about the ONC along the way. And while it was the Sorcerer that he was after, he also felt the need to make sure there were no more people to take up where the Sorcerer left off. If this society was well established there could be others powerful enough to fill the Sorcerer’s shoes.
He didn’t need to sleep very often. His human needs, hunger, thirst, sleep, had all become rather inconsequential as the decades had slipped into centuries. However, just as he didn’t need to eat more than once in a while, yet still enjoyed the process, still savoured good food, so it was with sleep. He could go weeks without actually needing any, but he still enjoyed the peaceful rest of slumber. There were a
few hours yet before morning, so he may as well spend them enjoying a nap. For now, he had to bide his time.
5
The Sorcerer appeared frozen, still as a statue in his chair before the fireplace. His shivering chin and sibilant muttering all that prevented him from appearing as a macabre waxwork, truly twisted taxidermy. His words were mostly incomprehensible, strung together, a litany of frustrated sounds combined with whining obedience. Occasionally he nodded, short, sharp movements. He looked up, casting his eyes across the high ceilings as if an answer waited there to be found. He stood and walked around the chair, his hands working in front of his chest, kneading invisible dough. Abruptly he stopped, looked around. His gaze fell from the walls to the floor, then back up, staring somewhere between the top of the windows and the ceiling. Occasional words began to sound through his gibberish, ‘Hungry... too long... Jake.’
His face ran through a range of expressions, from confusion to a child-like joy then a wrinkled, wincing look as if he might cry. Then laughter bubbled from his lips like syrup. ‘Not long. Of course, not long.’
Jake drove carefully through the atrocious weather, wary of both natural hazards and the more mundane possibility of police patrols. He wondered what he was doing. On the one hand he served his Dominus and he had never had any reason to doubt that as a course of action. But something was different now. For years and years his Dominus had taught him his magic. Jake and Chris had been some of his earliest followers, at least as far as he was aware. Sometimes he wondered about the people that must have come before and where they might have gone. But right now he and Chris were two of only a handful of Optimates Cruor that were really at the highest level of the ONC, the Eighth Degree. There were six of them. There had been seven. They were privy to the innermost workings of the Order and the highest magics, but now something had shifted. They had always worshipped Cruor, the Blood. It gave them their power. Their magic. Now that worship was becoming something more, something with a deeper, more singular focus. And it had a name. A couple of years ago the Dominus had started to refer to the Blood as if it were an actual entity rather than a concept. A deity of magnitude. Instead of paying homage to a concept in their acts of anarchy and chaos, they now dedicated those acts to a god. Jake was both awed and terrified at the implications implied by that seemingly subtle difference.
And now this child, stolen moments after its birth, being raised by blood and magic. Dominus must plan to sacrifice this unholy child. Jake could think of no other course. But for what? He wondered if Chris thought about these things too. He would drop into the Gather, to chat. Their Dominus had a lot on his mind right now and it was up to his Optimates to ensure there were no problems. He would still fulfill his mission and get back to the Estate before midnight as he had promised.
The house in York was unremarkable. The Sorcerer had bought it as a base here many years ago, long before recruiting Braden and Colley. It was the headquarters of the ONC in England. There were several smaller branches around, but each country had an HQ and the British one was here in York, fairly central from any location around the country. It was a large house, the end of an old terrace. The windows all had heavy curtains that remained closed night and day. Chris had run this particular Gather for some time and had told Jake how the neighbours were always peeking out through their net curtains, disapproving stares and clicking tongues. Yet Chris was quite comfortable that there was no need for concern. Eccentric activity in England was almost expected. He was happy to be the conversational subject of this street, safe in the knowledge that the polite English people would never actually talk to him or confront him directly. They preferred to gossip. After all, if they did confront him and found nothing out of the ordinary they would be very disappointed. The irony was not lost on him apparently. Jake smiled as he knocked on the door.
The sound of footsteps, then a pause. Jake knew he was being observed through a concealed spy hole and flipped a loose salute towards it. Chris opened the door wide with a smile. ‘Hello, mate. What are you doing here?’
Jake stepped through and closed the door behind himself. ‘Thought I’d drop in and see how things were going. I’ve been sent to pick up some baby food.’
Chris laughed. ‘Nice. Where are you going for it?’
‘Dunno. I suppose I’ll head into town and check out a few pubs.’
‘You don‘t want anyone from here?’
‘No. I think our followers need to keep their numbers up. I suggested to Dominus about having the Gathers back up at the Estate again, but he was very much against it. I have to find someone completely random.’
Chris nodded. They wandered into the front room of the house, essentially a lounge. It had no television or other forms of modern entertainment, however. It was more like the old-fashioned English front rooms where guests would be greeted but residents would otherwise never enter. Chris sat down in an old wingback armchair. Jake sat opposite on the edge of a chaise lounge. ‘I wonder why?’ Chris asked.
‘Well, we only ever had a few Gathers there and Dominus seemed to change his mind about it almost as soon as we started. I think he prefers to keep any knowledge of the place to a minimum. Now that the child is there, he’s absolutely adamant about it.’ Jake looked concerned. ‘Do you think he’s all right?’ he asked.
Chris raised an eyebrow. ‘Dominus?’
Jake nodded. ‘He seems to be losing it from time to time. Have you noticed that? Talking to himself and stuff.’
‘I have noticed. We’re getting close to something massive, that much is obvious. This child is integral to it. He certainly seems to be in communication sometimes with... something. But he always regains control very quickly. I assume it’s Yath-vados.’ Chris shrugged, smiling.
Jake laughed. ‘I suppose so. But you’re right, he always rallies well. He talks about empowering Yath-vados so much these days. We’ve seen summonings of Yath-vados, even Frank has called on him on occasion. Do you think we’re really empowering a god?’
‘That’s what Dominus tells us and I’ve never had reason to doubt him. Have you noticed the amount of magic he’s expending lately? He’s constantly buzzing with it.’
Jake nodded. ‘I know. He’s working himself ragged with this thing. It’s a bit scary, really.’
Chris nodded, looked at his watch. ‘You know, Frank is supposed to be back any day now. If you’re concerned you could always talk to him. See what he thinks.’
Jake shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think I will. He’s always been a bit stand-offish to us.’
Chris laughed. ‘To everyone really.’
‘Yeah, especially since Samuel disappeared. He really thinks he’s top dog these days, huh?’
‘He does. I used to like the way Sam would fuck with him. Still, you and I are the ones here while he runs around the world on errands.’
Jake smiled, standing up. ‘Good point. Fuck him. He’s just been around a very long time. I guess Dominus feels a certain obligation to repay his loyalty.’
‘And he is quite powerful,’ Chris added, his face serious again. ‘He does have the ability to contact Yath-vados. That’s something Dominus has given him that he hasn’t given us.’
Jake nodded again. ‘Yep, true. But that’s his way. He never seems to give anyone everything and never gives everyone all the same things. Even you and I know different things. He’s a clever old bastard!’
Chris stood up too. ‘He is. And he hasn’t lead us wrong yet, so let’s just keep on doing as he asks. Crazy times are ahead. Imagine it, Jake. The more power we give to Yath-vados, the more He can guide and support us. Think about it!’
Jake headed back towards the front door. ‘It’s almost too much to consider. Good luck with the Gather tonight. Perhaps you’ll send some energy my way, help me complete a smooth mission?’
Chris pulled open the door. Two young men were approaching it. ‘Sure thing, Jake, we will.’ Chris turned to the newcomers. ‘Evening, gentlemen. Come on in.’
Jake stepped out and headed back to his car, casting a glance and a wave back over his shoulder as he went. Chris was right. Dominus always knew what he was doing. And this time he was doing something greater than ever. The possibilities were boundless. Intoxicating. Jake smiled.
Faith sat on the edge of a bed feeling quite sorry for herself. This was totally not how things were supposed to work out. The hostel she had found was only a few hundred metres from Central Station, so she had not walked far or panicked much. She had money for now. She could stay in a hostel, especially in a dorm room like this, for a fair while before her cash ran out. She could get a job and carry on as planned. But without Gabby to put her up, talk to, guide her, she felt lost. She had not come to the city to be lost and alone. She had come to improve her life. She had expected Gabby to be there for her, to help her. Introduce her to friends and acquaintances.
She looked around the sparse room. A couple of the beds were occupied by sleeping travellers that seemed oblivious to the movement and talk outside. Even this late there was still activity, quite a lot downstairs around the reception area. That was the city, presumably. Like the song said, it never sleeps. At least, not all at once. Faith felt so foolish now, falling flat on her face at the first hurdle. What an idiot to think that things would work out as she had planned. She was also a little hurt that Gabby had not told her that she was moving. It was obvious that Gabby was a lot more to Faith than Faith was to Gabby. If someone considered you a real friend they would tell you if they planned to move. Give you a new number, a new address. Gabby had just been humouring Faith in recent months. After all, she had claimed to not have a mobile phone and therefore no mobile number to give Faith. Bullshit! Everyone had a mobile phone these days, especially in the city. She just didn’t want Faith to know it.
