World's End (The Pendulum Trilogy)

by Will Elliott

  ‘Can you feel it?’ she said, beaming. ‘Father’s not here any more. He’s gone.’

  ‘Good.’

  She laughed. ‘No, it’s bad. Very bad. Arch is very afraid of Father. He has to watch Father all the time, like a man trying to control a fire. But not any more. Arch will be free to fight us, if he wants to.’

  ‘You’ve said many times that he loves you.’

  She shrugged, again laughing. ‘Monsters love things in a different way from people, Eric. If they love people, they love them like pets or possessions. Anyway, I never knew much about Arch, how he really was inside. Or Father for that matter. They all lied to me a lot. I learned things, up there.’ She glanced skywards. ‘All this knowledge just poured into my mind while you were gone. It was amazing. Even if Arch did love me, that will change very fast when we tell him to leave. It might be dangerous for us. The dragons can’t help us in there. I had thought those two Invia would stay around to help.’

  ‘Did they ever tell you why dragons can’t go inside the castle?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But the dragons gave me an amulet that can summon Hauf as our only defence? Hauf is a dragon. No help! I don’t get it, Aziel. Why can’t the Invia come in to help us, if the dragons really want you and me to kick the Arch out? I seem to remember Case saying Invia could go inside there no problem.’

  ‘Maybe they can. Maybe they will. The dragons chose us to lead, that’s what’s important. Arch is a powerful man, but he is only a man. If he defies the dragons, one way or another he will regret it. Whether we punish him or someone else does. But you can’t rule if you don’t have at least a little courage, Eric.’

  She took a distasteful look around at the bodies strewn on the lawns and bounded up the white steps. Eric followed her inside after one last look at the lawns Case had slept on after his first night in Levaal. The old wino seemed to have spilled a nightmare across the grass which no one had troubled to clean up.

  Inside, stairways and halls twisted through great domed rooms in all directions like veins through a body. It was now empty of the bustle of staff, but for a few lone tapping echoes from deeper in the maze of hallways, their makers ever out of sight. All was lit by a white glow which seemed to come from the walls and floors, not unlike the sheen of lightstone. Even at these lower levels the air was thicker with colour to Eric’s mage eyes than nearly any other place he’d seen. Vous’s likeness adorned each wall in carvings, statues and paintings. Here and there were holograms of flickering light depicting him in motion. It was reminiscent of groundman light art, though far less beautiful.

  It looked as though hordes of busy workers had quickly fled. One or two confused people roamed on the far side of vast warehouses. They wore castle grey but there was no one left to steer their controlled minds. Filling those warehouses were heaped mounds of grain, meat on hooks and racks, and stacked crates of produce. ‘Won’t this food rot here?’ Eric said.

  She shrugged. ‘Most of it gets preserved. It will be looted soon unless we find someone to protect it.’

  ‘Preserved, how?’

  ‘Spells, of course. Usually the stoneshaper mages do it. People can be taught how to do it too but only the ones who can see magic. We will have to find or teach new people, right after we find guards and an army. The early part of our reign will be filled with quite dull matters, Eric.’

  ‘Christ, look at all this food. I heard there are cities starving.’

  She shrugged. ‘There are.’

  ‘Then why is all this food kept here?’

  She lectured as if to a simpleton who should already know these things. ‘The best stuff is for the troops and Loyalist villages. If you don’t keep them well fed they turn on you, or try to. There are lots of Loyalist villages nearby; everyone wants to live in them. You have to reward the loyal ones, or at least make a promise that you will. The cities were mostly conquered, so their people aren’t very loyal. That’s a difficulty. Sometimes they rebel and riot. You have to control their food supply until they behave. Sometimes their water too. Hungry people make poor rebel armies, Eric. So of course they are kept a little hungry. Some places, like Hane and Kopyn, they simply never behave no matter what their mayor does. So they don’t get to eat much. And sometimes the Strategists send diseases through their populations so they have more to worry about than rebelling.’

  ‘Well, that’s all changing, Aziel. If I’m in charge here—’

  ‘You and me both, don’t forget. There’s no point being angry with me. I didn’t arrange this.’ She gestured at the stacked warehouse they walked past. He recognised the huge iron containers he’d seen back in the underground highways, which had been bound for the castle. This shipment had been half unloaded before the workers had fled. Barrows lay strewn, spilling grain across the floor. Following his gaze, Aziel said, ‘I only explained how Arch and the Strategists do it. They devise a system for each city, with little changes here or there to suit its people. Then it all takes care of itself. Every now and then, they experiment with one city or another to see what happens. It’s rather like a game to them, managing it all. They once kept Seffen’s food almost completely cut off for a year, just to see what would happen. The people survived, somehow. Most joined the military just so they could eat. But they weren’t very loyal, so they were sent to die in campaigns. If you wish to run things differently, I don’t mind.’

  ‘Isn’t that what you want too, Aziel?’

  ‘I don’t see the need to be as cruel as the Strategists were. But we are ahead of ourselves. First, we have to tell the Arch that he’s leaving. Let’s start finding a way up. Some stairways are hidden from the lower staff. Where the walls have a streak of lighter colour, there’s usually a hidden stairway. Ah, at last! Here.’

  She pointed to a patch of bare wall. Sure enough, after a moment a winding stairway appeared as if his gaze had conjured it. They made their long ascent up many turns of the steps till both of them were panting. Aziel grew more familiar with the surrounds the higher they went. She also grew more excited as they neared the high halls where her throne awaited her. Eric trailed behind her, confused by a dozen different fears and doubts. A wave of unreality had struck him: how could he of all people have ended up any kind of lord?

  But then, had he not played computer games where one built and maintained an empire? Would the reality of it be so very different?

  When at last they came to the uppermost level, the Arch waited for them at the end of a hallway, leaning heavily on the forked staff he clutched. ‘Aziel, it is wonderful to see you.’ He bowed low, horns scraping the floor.

  19

  INVITATION TO DEPART

  The Arch Mage turned to Eric. ‘Anfen is gone.’ He said it like the statement held some meaning Eric would take straight away – as if it decided something final. Perhaps, you have come for me, but it is futile.

  The Arch surely could no longer be called human. Eric looked at the creature’s half-melted face, his head burdened by thick horns. It was hard to believe, though he saw it plainly: here was an architect of pain and misery on a worldly scale. A starver of cities, creator of wars, enslaver and torturer of innumerable people, and all of it no more to him than moves in a game.

  Beside the Arch, seven grey-robed servants waited. About them was the faintest hint of sullenness, even nervousness. The Arch said, ‘Do you hear me, Pilgrim? Anfen your warrior is gone. Someone led him away. I know not who she was, but I doubt he will return alive. I trust your plans did not require him? I thank you for returning Aziel to me unharmed. It has been a troubling time for me, waiting. A test I have passed.’ He turned to Aziel. ‘Much has happened, many profound things. Aziel, would you leave the Pilgrim and me alone for a moment, to discuss these events?’

  ‘No, Arch,’ said Aziel.

  He looked surprised. ‘Are you sure, Aziel? By what means did he sway your mind? Is it the charm he possesses? Perhaps it is the charm you wear. It appears to be very powerful. Why not set it briefly aside
, Aziel, and see if your thoughts become clearer?’

  ‘The dragons sent us, Arch.’

  He hobbled a few steps closer. ‘It’s clear to me you sincerely believe that. Which dragons?’

  ‘Which dragons do you think?’ said Aziel, laughing. ‘The ones in the sky.’

  ‘Those are not the only dragons in existence. But you should know that’s not possible, Aziel. As I told you long ago, the dragons do not deal with us. They accept that this world is ours. It is as their Parent decreed, in what we call the “natural laws”. The dragons are not permitted to interfere in matters of men.’

  She laughed again, her voice so queenly that Eric was taken aback. ‘It’s all changed, Arch. I won’t tell you all the things I learned. You do not need to know. The castle is ours now. Eric’s and mine. You have to leave. You may have an hour to collect your things.’

  Confusion was plain on the Arch Mage’s ruined face as he peered at each of them in turn. He said, ‘I will humour you for a moment. There are just two of you here, with no army, no guardians at all and no weaponry. Only those charms, which seem too complex for you to wield on your own. And you are ready to take the controls of the world in your hands at this most dire time, without any guidance?

  ‘My life has been very long, Aziel. I have much yet to teach you. About power. Magical power, political power. There is a great deal to learn. Here, for instance, is a useful way to deal with rebellious underlings, and enemies.’ He raised the forked staff, pointing it at one of the grey robes behind him. The elderly man’s face contorted. His body trembled then collapsed into a liquid pile, the colours of his flesh and garments swimming through the puddle like reflections on silvery water. A flush of blood-red oozed in. The man’s face stretched out, mouthing silent cries.

  The other grey robes stirred, uncomfortable, but held their positions. ‘He is quite conscious,’ the Arch said, leaning back to touch the puddle’s edge with his staff. ‘Feeling every moment of it. I doubt a man has ever been in more pain. I could draw it out longer than any Tormentor’s kill. Place him in a room somewhere, forget about him for a hundred years. Make it known you do this sort of deed and what enemy would raise his blade to you?’

  ‘Stop it now,’ said Aziel.

  ‘I show you this to prove my worth,’ said Avridis. He lowered his forked staff to the floor. The puddle exploded into red water, splashing either side of the hallway’s walls, over the other grey robes’ clothes. With revulsion Eric wiped off the drops that hit his shins and shoes.

  Avridis said, ‘I have much more knowledge you may find useful. Are you truly determined, Aziel, that this squeamish man,’ he gestured with the staff at Eric, ‘is he who shall sit beside you? One never wants a surgeon afraid of blood. Nor rulers, I assure you. He is of no great importance back in his own world. Nor truly in this one.’

  Eric drew the Glock. The gem in the Arch’s eye socket twisted about and gleamed red. ‘That weapon can’t harm me,’ he said. ‘You have little ammunition left. Spare your shots. Better yet, keep me as your weapon. I am far more dangerous, and the world already knows it. Aziel, why not set aside that charm for just a moment? Let me examine it, to ensure it is safe for you to wear. They often have many more effects than one notices at first.’

  ‘Did you know, Arch, that the Invia could sometimes hear me crying out from the skies?’ said Aziel. Eric glanced at her sidelong, saw she was shivering with anger.

  ‘You are the daughter of a god, Aziel. Not merely a lord’s daughter. Your upbringing could never have been conventional.’

  ‘All those years, you kept me here. All my life, you tried to change me, change what I am inside. Sending people to be killed next to my room, so I would hear it, so I’d think I’d caused it. So I wouldn’t care about people dying any more.’

  ‘Be calm, Aziel. That was your father’s doing. Yes, I let it happen. I could not have stopped it. But there was purpose in it. To create a gemstone there must be pressure. To create magic, one must burn oneself.’

  ‘I never had a say in that purpose.’

  ‘How many people do, Aziel?’ He took a hobbling step towards the window, to the spread of green land divided by the Road. ‘They are but slaves and subjects out there. How many decided to be? Even the dragons do not choose their fate, or they would not be imprisoned. And yet now you do decide, Aziel. Here in the castle you were prepared for the unpleasant business of ruling. Have you truly thought it through? Every decision you make shall result in someone’s death, directly or otherwise.

  ‘Rule is far from easy, Aziel. Those of the realm shall see only your power, luxuries and faults. You will be insulted, resented, stolen from, threatened. Some shall raise armies of the disaffected to march against you. You shall be called a monster when you suppress them – indeed you must briefly become a monster to suppress them. These things will happen no matter how well you rule. There will be so very few you can trust. There are people for whom to slay a lord means far more than the most comfortable ordinary life.’ He gestured out the window. ‘All that shall be yours, yes. But you may not roam freely through it. You will be the most comfortable prisoner in all the land, but indeed a prisoner you shall be, and the most confined one of all. A prisoner in a dungeon has but an armspan for his flesh, but his mind is free. Never your mind: ever burdened, it will be, by the troubles of the realm. To empathise, to feel those troubles as your subjects do, is impossible. It is too much weight to carry. A day of it would make any lord insane. It is why your father wished to relieve you of your care – for your own sanity.

  ‘And that is not all. Like Vous, ever will you wonder who among your servants lurks the halls, a knife hidden in his clothes. Some shall hide the knife for years, edging ever closer to your back with the most loyal deeds and words until you trust them completely. When you first discover such a traitor, how will you trust anyone else afterwards? That fear alone helped destroy Vous’s once brilliant mind.

  ‘Brilliant he was, Aziel, long before you knew him. In his rule I shielded him from many perils. I kept the cities from stealing his place – yes, you would be shocked to know how badly the mayors lusted to be made into gods! They shall march against you, especially now that Vous’s change succeeded. I kept the magic schools from interfering. I suppressed the half-giants, the folk magicians, the cultists. I conquered every threat. I brought down the Wall, unveiled a new land of treasures and powers for us to claim, if we are bold enough. And I gave Vous godhood, eternal life, unimagined power. I still have this knowledge. I can make you both gods. No one has been offered greater gifts than this. Offered now, freely.

  ‘Much was learned about god-making. The process will be faster this time. Certain of the rituals we used aren’t needed at all. Sacrifice speeds things along. It is best not to be … squeamish. Worship by the citizens made no difference, to my surprise – we spent much time and effort on that. It is politically useful, but not needed for ascension. We should construct your godhoods in secret.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a god,’ Eric said wearily.

  ‘Nor I,’ said Aziel.

  Avridis looked from one to the other. He seemed too surprised by their reactions to speak.

  Eric said, ‘I have just one question for you. I want you to explain something to me, something about power.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Why is it there are men who cannot enjoy a feast on their own table without hungry people outside their window, to make their food taste better?’

  ‘None of the Strategists ever asked that question.’ The Arch Mage pondered. ‘I suppose power must be exercised to be felt. You will discover this, no matter how sentimental you feel now. Without now and then lifting a weight, how would one know one’s arm had strength?’

  A wave of shame and depression washed over Eric. He did not know what he’d expected; perhaps that his question would have put the Arch in such a bind he’d physically collapse. He’d not expected a calm, unhesitating answer. Much less an honest one. ‘You’re leav
ing the castle,’ Eric told him. ‘Go now.’

  ‘I did not answer to your satisfaction? Aziel, have you nothing to say?’

  ‘Leave, Arch.’ She touched the necklace – how plain its metal looked. ‘Don’t try to hurt us. The charm will kill you if you try.’

  The Arch looked from one to the other, genuinely surprised. He said, ‘I doubt the charm protects you both.’

  The moment the Arch began to raise his forked staff, Eric fired the gun. Aziel jumped and cried out at the noise. It was not clear whether his shot had missed – surely it hadn’t, but the Arch did not react. The grey robes moved forwards, suddenly joined by half a dozen pouring into the hall from adjoining rooms. They flocked about Eric and Aziel, blocking their view of the Arch, shuffling an advance that pushed them both back into the wall. The first one of them to touch Aziel reeled back, hands blackened, withered, the flesh melting away. The man’s face expressed little, his mouth opening to emit a flat sound: ‘Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahhh …’

  Eric shoved another of them away, jumping up to aim for a clean shot at the Arch. There were too many bodies between them. Passively the grey robes pressed in, mindless people of all ages, their eyes imploring. Behind them the Arch spoke in the same reasonable-sounding voice, as if Eric’s shot at him had been mere quibbling over a detail in his employment.

  ‘Get out of the way or I’ll shoot,’ Eric told the grey robes bearing in.

  ‘They’re mind-controlled,’ said Aziel. Two more had touched her. Their arms had been partly burned away by Vyin’s charm but still they pressed in. ‘They’re not really alive. Kill them.’

  ‘I’m not going to kill them. Move. All of you, out of the way. I’m trying to free you.’

  The Arch’s voice droned calmly on. ‘Aziel, you must reconsider your choice of partner. He is unable even to stomach the death of those already dead. Meek lords slay more innocents than any tyrant. A meek lord fills his realm with tyrants, Aziel.’ Hands closed on Eric’s wrists, pinned his arms. The gun clattered to the ground.