Book of Transformations

by Mark Charan Newton

  ‘Is that why Urtica killed himself?’ Caley wondered out loud. ‘He’s got nothing any more. No soldiers, no city, nothing.’

  ‘What with the Cavesiders taking over much of Villjamur, he must have choked on how quickly things imploded.’

  ‘Coward’s way out, if you ask me,’ someone muttered.

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure that was all . . .’ Seemingly distracted, Shalev walked over to the window, allowing bright flashes to brighten her face momentarily.

  Was that really lightning? Caley wondered.

  ‘I have never seen such power,’ Shalev breathed. Bolts of purple light shot upwards, and flared across the rooftops. ‘This force is immense. What is that?’

  The others gathered around the vast window and stared out at the scene. As the snow rattled against the glass, the city trembled. Now they’d stopped still, Caley could feel the ground vibrating beneath his feet.

  ‘Is it a storm?’ Arta offered.

  ‘No,’ Shalev said. ‘No, I recognize that light. To the eye of a cultist, that is the energy of the ancients being used – as I would use it through relics.’

  ‘Maybe a bunch of cultists then,’ Caley said.

  ‘No, little brother,’ Shalev said. ‘Not on such a scale. I’ve seen the clouds turn on Ysla with only a fraction of the power of this being used.’

  They watched in horror as distant buildings collapsed and bridges buckled.

  ‘Our brothers and sisters are out there,’ Arta gasped. Caley turned to Shalev. While the anarchists were in control and there was something of a plan, he could go with the flow, happy to help in whatever way he could manage. All of a sudden came the realization that there were people under those falling buildings – his fellow Cavesiders.

  ‘We’ve got to do something,’ Caley pleaded, and Shalev looked down at him, surprised at his sudden raw emotion.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I will see what I can do.’

  *

  Lan carried Fulcrom over her shoulder, from the depths of Balmacara and back up the way they came, until her body throbbed with so much with pain that Tane had to take over. The four of them progressed through dark ornate halls, the light of dawn showing through tall, arched windows. Momentarily they paused outside one of the Jorsalir prayer rooms, where Lan found a copper canister of holy water. As Vuldon and Tane stood guard, she mopped the blood from Fulcrom’s face, and checked for any further serious injuries. Admittedly, once he was cleaned up a little, she didn’t feel as bad. The stub of his tail was wrapped in cloth and that, too, would heal. He said nothing as she saw to his wounds – but his gaze was full of gratitude.

  When they headed outside, Vuldon announced to guards that an Inquisition officer had been injured in combat, that there was a situation developing. Unbelievably they headed inside looking as though they meant business with their swords drawn, their shields raised, and heads down.

  They’ll believe anything in such uncertain times.

  The snow had abated, the wind had ceased, but sounds still travelled from afar: great rumblings, structures falling, screaming from the levels below.

  ‘Where now?’ Tane asked.

  ‘First,’ Fulcrom said, ‘let me see if I can walk on my own.’

  ‘It’ll be quicker if we carry you,’ Vuldon said.

  ‘Let me try to walk,’ Fulcrom said. Tane lowered him to his feet, and Lan came around to offer her support under one arm. ‘My legs are aching like bastards,’ Fulcrom said. ‘I need to walk it off though, and to figure out my balance now I’ve no tail.’

  The pain on his face eventually faded, as he either got used to it, or could control his reactions. The sky was the colour of wine, with flashes of lighter and darker purple denoting truly odd cloud formations.

  Vuldon and Tane marched over to the viewing platform, and Lan then steered the hobbling Fulcrom towards them. The panorama revealed a city that on one side was still cluttered with glorious architecture, and on the other a void where bridges and tall buildings and slate rooftops should have been.

  Half of Villjamur had collapsed. They were lost for words. More and more stone toppled over amidst flashes of purple light.

  ‘That’s the mad cultist,’ Vuldon said.

  ‘We should have attempted to stop him,’ Tane muttered.

  ‘I doubt we’d have been much use,’ Vuldon replied. ‘We’d have been buried under there if we tried.’

  ‘Look,’ Lan said, pointing out the Astronomer’s Glass Tower, which, almost out of sight, was still standing in the half of the city that had not been wrecked.

  A column of white light extended upwards, into the clouds, turning them into a textured whirlpool, and creating vast and weird streaks that extended for miles above the city.

  ‘Has the priest succeeded in whatever it was he was trying to do?’ Vuldon muttered.

  ‘Can we make our way there safely?’ Lan asked aloud.

  Tane peered directly down, then across, assessing the potential for route. ‘Well, there appears to be absolutely no fighting anywhere near us. Perhaps that chap who’s ruined half of Villjamur has taken everyone with him.’

  ‘That’s a staggering death toll,’ Vuldon declared. Even he seemed shocked by the violence.

  ‘Ulryk,’ Fulcrom said. In the light of the day, he looked much better. ‘The priest is onto something we can barely understand. Given that this city is crippled, he’s the only one with a future mapped out.’

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Every minute brought more casualties and collapsed structures, until there seemed nothing left in their path that could possibly prevent them. Was Dartun yet satisfied?

  Numb and broken, the remnants of the Order of the Equinox were marched in front of Dartun, through narrow streets, passing places that had not yet been wrecked by his savagery. Verain didn’t care any more. She just wanted it to end.

  Her legs ached, and she had no energy left, but somehow she found herself trudging ever upwards. Each of them slipped at least twice on the ice, falling face-first or flat on their backs. Images from the otherworld flashed into her mind randomly, though she didn’t understand why, and she looked across at the members of her order not knowing who any of them were. Was such forgetfulness generated from her exhaustion? In the distance she could hear the movements of people, of skirmishes in the shadows, but she didn’t have the energy to wonder what they were.

  Like the undead creatures that Dartun had once bred with technology, she shambled without purpose.

  Level after level, street by street, they eventually reached the platform before – What was this? – before Balmacara, a vast residence. Bodies littered the stone platform, their shadows cast long by the sun.

  ‘Yes,’ Dartun said. ‘Yes, this will do nicely.’

  ‘For what?’ someone said. She didn’t know who spoke, nor did she recognize the voice.

  Dartun began to hunch and mutter something, not to himself, to someone else – but there was no one else but the members of the Equinox present. Suddenly he ran to one of the others and grabbed the man’s throat: the cultist seemed too exhausted to struggle against Dartun’s grip, pawing meekly at his wrist.

  Dartun pressed his fingers into the man’s neck, stilling him, and he peeled back the man’s skin, ripping it from his head. Something weirdly ornate was in its place – a metallic object the shape of a head, with purple lighting webbing intricately along the surface. Dartun continued ripping the skin from the man’s torso – clumps of flesh flopped uselessly to the ground, with a black liquid – not blood – pooling by his feet. Dartun did the same to all of them in turn, ripping them open one by one and discarding their skin and flesh in a thoroughly businesslike manner.

  He arranged these metallic forms in a circle, like a primitive henge, and occasionally light flickered between them.

  Finally, he came to Verain. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream, even though she knew what was coming.

  ‘So is this all we were to you?’ she breathed. ‘Some fucked
up containers for these . . . whatever they are?’

  Dartun seemed to recognize something within her eyes then, a connection to his former self; but it was quickly gone, replaced by the cold, calm gaze he’d had since returning through the gates: ‘You were once something, Verain, but we all have a greater purpose in life.’

  ‘You sold your soul in that otherworld. I don’t know what you did, but just finish it now.’

  ‘I did love you,’ Dartun said. ‘I hope you realize. You would have been killed there anyway. I saved all of you – I gave each of you life, for just a little longer.’

  Verain grunted her disapproval. ‘Love – and what would you know about that?’

  ‘I understand,’ Dartun continued, ‘that love quite often involves a little sacrifice.’

  The last things she saw: his advancing form, his hands raised to her face, her head tipping back and blissful, blissful relief . . .

  *

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ Vuldon demanded. The Knights paused at the foot of the Astronomer’s Glass Tower, and stared back up towards Balmacara.

  A thick column of purple light, as wide as the Imperial residence itself, extended up towards the sky and drove thunderously into the cloud base. A vortex formed, spiralling slowly, whipping up debris and loose stone, whirling it upwards, crackling into the sky.

  There came the sound of something ripping – a tearing through the fabric of the world. A form seemed to present itself just the other side of the lowest clouds – a dark bruise in the sky. The tip of it came into view.

  ‘You are shitting me,’ Vuldon gasped.

  The darkness eclipsed the sky, bringing a shadow over the entirety of Villjamur.

  A dark rock face, which stretched beyond the city limits, lowered itself slowly, and soon it came so close it clipped the top fortifications on the Imperial residence. Then it was clear this was something more: not so much a floating island, but a discernible city of sorts, with weirdly proportioned structures and baroque architecture.

  *

  Caley was the first one to break free from the column of light, his arms and legs windmilling as he careened down the streets of the city. He thumped into the angle of a wall and, stunned, he looked back to see if the others had made it – they hadn’t. Their bodies were floating clockwise, caught in the vortex suction of the light.

  Caley was helpless. His brothers and sisters were destined to die, and all he could do was watch – and, yes, Shalev was in there too. He was all that was left from the mission to kill Urtica. He alone possessed the story.

  Caley would tell no one of Shalev’s breakdown and savagery in Balmacara. The Emperor was dead, that was all that mattered – and only he was present. He would tell all who listened how Shalev killed Urtica. He would make sure her name went down in legend.

  Swallowing back emotion, he turned once again and charged through the streets.

  A few people looked on idiotically and he screamed for them to get away. Many of them listened, a few were too numbed by the sight and he ploughed into them, knocking them sideways.

  Soldiers paused from combat with Cavesiders as, in unison, the remaining populace craned their necks to watch the immense structure lower itself over Villjamur.

  *

  Lan scrambled up to the top of the Astronomer’s Glass Tower, breathless as she crested the lip of the roof. She peered about and saw Ulryk hunched in the middle – no, that isn’t him. This wasn’t right. Ulryk wasn’t wearing a dark-blue cloak with a hood, nor did he stoop as badly as this figure.

  ‘Hello?’ Lan offered, but the figure remained with its back to her. She approached and could see the books on the floor by the stranger’s feet. Where was Ulryk then?

  When she was just a few feet away, she paused – the figure reeked of some industrial odour. Its movements were minute and eccentric. The thing turned its head and she gasped. It reared up in front of her, several feet tall, with a face that was half bone and half metal, and two human eyes regarding her.

  ‘Who are you?’ Lan asked. ‘Did Ulryk – did he summon you?’

  The figure cocked its head as if remembering how to speak. ‘I am . . . Frater Mercury.’ His voice was unnaturally soft and gentle, which surprised her. She was entranced by his gaze and stepped closer. Beneath his hood, the left side of his face was a silver plate, with tiny gemstones set inside, and the other half wasn’t quite bare skull, but the skin was adhering so tightly it might well have been.

  ‘Where’s Ulryk?’

  Frater Mercury grimaced at her words and indicated the books on the floor.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Lan replied. Then, ‘He spoke of you like you were a god – are you one?’

  ‘There is no god,’ Frater Mercury replied. ‘There is only what I constructed.’ The immense floating structure in the sky lowered itself, Frater Mercury held up his hand. ‘We must flee before this – ’ he said a word she didn’t understand ‘ – fills the city with abominations.’

  ‘I was told to take Ulryk down, where a group of us are evacuating the city.’

  ‘I need time to prepare. This was not meant to happen with such speed.’ His weird hybrid face fiercely regarded the presence in the sky. Spires crumbled and objects – creatures – flapped and arced down in ragged patterns of slow flight.

  ‘OK, we’ll get you out.’ If this was some saviour of the world, Lan wasn’t terribly impressed. She bent down to collect Ulryk’s books and slipped them in the discarded satchel. ‘Can you climb down?’

  Frater Mercury gave something that was close to a laugh. He stepped towards her, touched her shoulder, and—

  —they appeared on the ground by the base of the tower.

  ‘Fuck did you come from?’ Vuldon said. Fulcrom slowly turned, a look of astonishment on his face, and Lan moved to his side. She explained who the newcomer was, and that Ulryk had vanished. Tane padded around sniffing at Frater Mercury, while Vuldon stepped closer to him. No one quite knew what to make of the figure. Even Lan expected something more impressive, after all, she had gone to all that trouble to help Ulryk get The Book of Transformations to summon this supposed saviour.

  Nearby houses collapsed. Screaming increased tenfold. Columns of light began drifting down from the sky structure, bringing with them more of the malformed creatures.

  ‘We should go,’ Frater Mercury declared.

  ‘No,’ Vuldon said.

  ‘Come on,’ Tane stressed. ‘We need to clear out of here before the city is destroyed.’

  ‘I have been made to help people survive,’ Vuldon replied calmly. ‘While there are people that need helping, I just can’t go anywhere.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Lan replied, and Fulcrom gave her a look of despair. ‘What? He is. I know we said we’d escape, but how could you honestly go with all of this on your conscience?’

  ‘This is rubbish,’ Tane declared.

  ‘And I’d just hold you up,’ Fulcrom said.

  ‘Tell you what – Fulcrom, you get this friend of Ulryk’s out of the city.’

  ‘OK,’ the rumel said. ‘Ulryk thought he had powers that would help . . . so I guess we’ll see if that holds true. But, Lan, are you sure this is right?’

  Lan nodded. It was difficult to explain to anyone, how being a Knight had given her a purpose in life she had never felt before.

  ‘There’s a hamlet a half a mile towards the coast,’ Vuldon said. ‘Villreet. We’ll meet up there when we make it out.’ He gave precise directions to the others, but Fulcrom knew the route well.

  Lan ran up to Fulcrom and she kissed his lips softly, before their foreheads touched and she closed her eyes. Eventually she pulled away and handed him the satchel with Ulryk’s books.

  Lan watched Fulcrom leave with Frater Mercury, who marched with an awkward, mechanical gait. Tane lingered there for a moment, then he said, ‘They’ll need looking after too’, and went after them.

  ‘Selfish fuckwit,’ Vuldon said, but Lan was glad he was by their side.

&n
bsp; *

  Vuldon and Lan saved lives at random. There was no strategy, no plan of action other than to help with a mass evacuation. There were tunnels at hand, and well-known routes, and Vuldon and Lan tried to steer as many citizens out of the city before these passageways all collapsed.

  People were running in all directions. Dust clouds from wrecked buildings drifted downwind, adding to the confusion. Orders were barked out, and occasionally soldiers attempted to establish some kind of order. People were aghast as they watched bridges fall from the sky. Debris clattered and caught the wind.

  Someone had the ingenuity to be ringing bells by the entrance to escape tunnels, guiding citizens through the dust.

  ‘Where are the children?’ Lan asked. ‘I’ve only seen adults up here.’

  ‘They’re hopefully already down below,’ Vuldon said. ‘If my plan worked and the priest was right.’

  *

  Caley suddenly wanted to be a kid again. He wanted to be near his family, listening to stories or being cuddled by his aunt or whatever – anything other than being out here, in this chaos. The anarchist networks were probably shattered – or, at least, he couldn’t find anyone he knew.

  He stopped still, as the panic flourished, and the thing in the sky started dismantling Villjamur. He came across one of the old information boards, where an old copy of MythMaker was still nailed up, and he looked at the comforting pictures, never quite knowing the full story. Suddenly another kid ran up to him, a very young blonde-haired girl. ‘Hey, that’s not the latest – other kids are saying there’s more nailed to the tavern round the corner, and it’s something everyone has to see urgently, but I’m . . . too scared to go there on my own. My folks . . . I don’t know where they are.’

  Caley was about to make a comment about how posh she sounded, when something exploded nearby. It was shortly followed by the presence of a hideous-looking half-beast, half-human form, with two horns. People began screaming as it lashed out at them.