by Edward Cox
Hamir pulled a phial from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was filled with Clara’s blood, and he had almost forgotten he was carrying it since escaping from the Labyrinth. Thinking that Amilee wished to drink the blood, to let its magical restorative qualities reignite her thaumaturgy, Hamir made to pop the cork with a thumb. But Amilee laid her hand over his and stopped him.
The Skywatcher stared at the ghost of her aide, her tawny eyes welling with tears. Alexander bobbed his head at his master, his expression a mixture of sadness and relief.
‘Follow Alexander,’ Amilee told Hamir. ‘He’ll show you what the blood is for.’
Chapter Three
Higher Magic
When Sergeant Ennis came to, he was tied to a chair. Rope bound his wrists to the armrests and his ankles to the legs. More rope around his midriff secured his body to the back. And he had been gagged.
The last thing Ennis remembered was the Lazy House. He had gone there to find information on the Relic Guild agent Peppercorn Clara. He recalled being set up. He recalled being tricked, drugged and abducted by an ageing criminal and retired magic-user … Long Tommy.
He wished the grogginess would clear; willed his instincts to return. He tried to work the gag from his mouth and wriggle his arms free but to no avail. Where was his abductor?
Ennis’s prison appeared to be a storeroom, workshop and office all in one. There were no windows. Random items which amounted to not much more than bric-a-brac took up one side of the room, stored on shelves and piled on the floor. On the other side, next to a closed door, a workbench stood against the wall. Tools were scattered upon it, along with a big magnifying glass and a collection of strange-looking metal contraptions. Directly in front of Ennis was a battered old desk. Whatever was sitting on the desk was covered with a stained dustsheet.
Ennis reasoned he was being held at Long Tommy’s junk shop, the façade he kept in the eastern district behind which he hid his criminal activities.
The door opened and the man himself entered the room. Somewhere in his late sixties, dressed in a plain shirt, trousers and a worn woollen waistcoat, Tommy glared at Ennis with pale eyes. His grey, unshaved face and silver hair gave him an almost ghoulish appearance in the light of the wall-mounted glow lamp.
Tommy stared at Ennis from behind his desk, his eyebrows knitted angrily. He then produced a snub-nosed pistol from a drawer.
‘I’ve been asking around about you,’ he said, his voice full of disdain. ‘Nobody seems to know you. My police contacts have no idea what you’re up to these days. But I’ve got my suspicions.’ Tommy thumbed the pistol’s power stone. It whined and glowed. ‘You’re off the grid, Sergeant Ennis. No one knows you’re here. So I’m going to ask you some yes-no questions, and if I smell any horseshit I’ll start putting bullets in you. Understand?’
Serious …
Ennis nodded.
‘You’re working undercover, hunting for the agents of the Relic Guild, right?’
Again, Ennis nodded.
‘You’ve been told that the Relic Guild wants to ruin this town. That they worship the Retrospective and want to feed the denizens to the wild demons, or infect us with this magical virus they carry. Either way, I’m right, aren’t I?’
Another nod.
‘You believe our new Resident, this mysterious Hagi Tabet, is working day and night to keep her people safe?’
Ennis made to nod, but faltered.
‘Ah, there it is,’ said Tommy. ‘You’re beginning to suspect that nothing is as it appears, aren’t you, Sergeant?’
Ennis tensed as Tommy aimed the pistol at him.
Frightened …
‘Did you know that the heads of the Merchants’ Guild were summoned to the Nightshade and no one’s seen them since?’
Emphatically, Ennis shook his head.
‘Then did you know that the Resident sent her aide and that bloody animal – the Woodsman – into the criminal underworld to carve up a few of the bosses?’ Tommy practically growled the last question, angrier about the fate of his fellow criminals than anyone in the Merchants’ Guild.
Ennis implored with his eyes. He had no knowledge of these events.
‘Our Resident is dismembering this society,’ Tommy said, closing one eye and peering down the pistol’s sight at the police sergeant. ‘And I honestly can’t make up my mind whose side you’re on, Ennis.’
It was impossible to speak through the gag, though Ennis tried, straining against his bonds, willing his captor to not pull the trigger.
‘Damn it,’ Tommy whispered. He deactivated the power stone and placed the pistol on the table. ‘Your trouble is you’re too young to remember life before the Genii War. You don’t know what it means to be a magicker of the Relic Guild.’
Desperate …
Tommy stared into the distance for a moment before drawing a deep breath. ‘Sometimes the magic of the Labyrinth touches a denizen. It gives them a special gift but takes away their choices in life. It wipes out all those sticky obstacles like family and friends and makes damn sure that a magicker has no responsibilities other than duty to the Relic Guild. They make a promise. To protect the denizens of Labrys Town against horrors you’ve never seen in your life, Ennis, and the crimes of … people like me.’
Tommy’s eyes fixed on his captive. ‘The magic of the Labyrinth chooses well. It doesn’t make mistakes.’ He snorted a bitter laugh. ‘The Relic Guild disbanded years ago, decades – that’s what you believe. You who are too young to remember the old days, the good days, before Spiral ripped everything apart and the Thaumaturgists left us trapped behind hundred-foot walls. Ennis, the Relic Guild aren’t responsible for what’s going on in this town, but you can bet your faith in the Timewatcher that they came back because we needed them to.’
Dipping into the desk drawer again, Tommy produced an item wrapped in a handkerchief and placed it down beside his gun. He unwrapped the handkerchief, exposing a shard of grey metal in the rough shape of a diamond.
This metal was the reason why Ennis had gone to Long Tommy’s junk shop in the first place. The shard had come from the remnants of a destroyed contraption the Relic Guild had built in the cellar of a warehouse on the south side. A strange substance, light yet durable, soft and malleable yet strong. It had obviously held some magical property, and so Ennis had taken it to the old crook and magic-user for identification. Evidently, Tommy was none too pleased about what he had discovered.
‘Have you ever seen the Resident’s aide, Ennis – this … Lady Asajad?’
Ennis nodded.
‘I’ve been told she has scarring on her forehead. Is that true?’
When Ennis confirmed it, Tommy pulled away the dustsheet to reveal a small device sitting on the desk, simple but odd-looking. It was comprised of a square metal dish with four metal rods that rose from each corner to meet above the dish, giving the device the appearance of a pyramid’s skeleton. A powdery substance filled the dish, as white as talcum in the room’s dim light.
‘I haven’t needed one of these in years,’ Tommy said, staring at the contraption. ‘It’s an alchemist’s kit. In the old days, I used one to test the magical properties of the artefacts treasure hunters brought to me. Last night, I used it to test that.’ He pointed at the metal shard. Tommy sniffed. ‘If you want to know how powerful the magic held in a relic is, all you have to do is place the item onto a bed of iron filings.’ He pointed at the square dish. ‘The metal rods syphon a little of the magic, swirl it around a bit and then send it back down to the metal dish. The dish heats the iron filings and then releases the magic into them. Whatever the magic turns the filings into, that tells you how strong the magic is. And shall I tell you what your piece of metal turned them into?’
Tommy licked the end of his finger and dipped it into the powdery substance. When he lifted his finger to the light, it sparkled like jewel
s.
‘Glass dust,’ said Tommy. ‘I bet you don’t know what that means, do you?’
Ennis shook his head, struggling to swallow, his mind racing.
‘It means that what’s in that metal is as strong as magic gets.’ Tommy was angry; fearful, too. ‘I had one or two run-ins with the Relic Guild in the old days. And the last time they paid me a visit was because of … shit like this! That metal is holding higher magic, Ennis. It’s thaumaturgy—’
Tommy broke off, disturbed by a blue glow shining in through the door. He snatched up his pistol, primed the power stone and took aim.
‘Who’s there?’ he demanded.
‘Just a friend,’ replied the calm, gentle voice of a man.
To Ennis’s incredulity, a spectre drifted into the room, a ghost in the rough shape of a person made of blue light. Its centre was the colour of twilight, surrounded by an aura of bright sky-blue and tendrils of light that waved in the air like strips of cloth underwater.
‘Ah. Looks as though I’ve arrived just in time,’ the ghost said amiably.
The pistol shook in Tommy’s hands. He licked his lips nervously and gave Ennis a quick glance. Ennis, wide-eyed, shrugged at his captor, just as perplexed.
‘Now then,’ the ghost continued, ‘Tommy, if you would be so good as to remove Sergeant Ennis’s bonds, the three of us really need to talk. I’m afraid to say that something very bad is about to happen to Labrys Town.’
In a chamber somewhere within the maze-like structure of the Nightshade, Hagi Tabet hung on a web of tentacles. The leathery appendages had sprouted from her back and pierced the floor, walls and ceiling, dividing the room in two, holding the Resident of Labrys Town aloft. Tabet’s eyes were closed. In her bony hands she held a records device, of a kind – the profound creation that was Known Things.
Upon the smooth, black surface of Known Things, the language of the Thaumaturgists glowed with purple light. Two glass tubes extended from its diamond-shaped body. One had punctured Tabet’s temple, lancing her brain; the other went into her mouth and down her throat. Viscous fluid gurgled through both tubes.
Fabian Moor watched Tabet, waiting, flanked by the birdlike frame of Mo Asajad and hulking Viktor Gadreel. Moor shared the anticipation of his fellow Genii; the moment they had been waiting decades for had finally arrived. The air of impatience surrounding them was palpable.
Moor’s eyes shifted to the creature standing in the corner of the room.
The Woodsman.
The wild demon’s hands rested upon the wicked head of its huge woodcutter’s axe. Seven feet tall and menacing, its impressive muscles were covered by a host of ugly red gashes crudely stitched with thick twine. Dressed in a leather jerkin and a kilt studded with rusty spikes, its face was a dark triangle at the front of a long, pointed hood. Upon its feet were calf-length boots made from fresh human skin.
The Woodsman cut an imposing figure, yet he was just one of countless other demons inhabiting the Retrospective, all of whom would soon be raised as a single, unstoppable army. But in that moment, Moor was irritated by the Woodsman’s presence and stench.
Marshalling calm, Moor focused on Hagi Tabet and the diamond-shaped box in her hands.
Known Things. It felt churlish to refer to it as a mere records device. It had been designed by Iblisha Spiral: he who had been called First Lord of the Thaumaturgists until he rose against the Timewatcher and became Lord of the Genii. Known Things looked to be fashioned from obsidian, but its black, diamond-shaped shell had been crafted from unused time. Aside from the Timewatcher, only Spiral could manipulate the substance of time in this way.
To contain a personal slipstream, a secret timeline in which all of Spiral’s plots and plans were hidden – that was the purpose of Known Things. It had enabled Spiral and the Genii to slip the net, blind their Mother and fellow Thaumaturgists to the uprising until it was too late. But not even those great creatures of higher magic had understood just how deep Spiral’s plans went. Defeat in the Genii War had always been part of the strategy.
Tabet looked calm, at ease, as the fluid in the glass tubes fed her the information stored inside Known Things, including that which had recently been stolen from the mind of the changeling: the secret location of Oldest Place, the House in which the Timewatcher had imprisoned Lord Spiral.
Impatience getting the better of him, Moor clicked his fingers at the Woodsman. ‘You. Come here.’
Without hesitation, the Woodsman presented itself before the Genii, bowing its hooded head.
‘You will go into Labrys Town,’ Moor told it testily, ‘and you will gather food for the Resident. Now.’
The Woodsman straightened, hoisted its axe onto its shoulder and strode from the room. Its subservience only further agitated Moor.
‘Is something bothering you, Fabian?’ Asajad said in that coldly amused way of hers. ‘You sound a trifle vexed.’
Ignoring her comments, Moor addressed Gadreel. ‘You claim the agents of the Relic Guild are dead, yet there were only two magickers present at the Cathedral of Doubt and Wonder.’
‘The changeling and the blind illusionist,’ Gadreel confirmed. ‘The wild demons had their way with them.’
‘Then one of the magickers is still on the loose.’ Moor clenched his teeth as bad memories of an arrogant, surly, gun-wielding human surfaced. ‘His name is Samuel, and he is perhaps the most cunning and dangerous of them.’
Gadreel gave a dismissive grunt. ‘One human magicker is no threat to us.’
‘A long time ago, Viktor, I believed the same thing. I was wrong.’
‘Oh, Fabian, please get a grip on yourself,’ said Asajad. ‘Here we are on the cusp of victory and yet your thoughts idle on unimportant matters. This obsession you have with the Relic Guild is as pointless as it is tiresome, and I will listen to it no more!’
‘Lady Asajad—’ Moor growled, but he stopped as Hagi Tabet inhaled a breath.
She shook on her web, her eyes flitting in their sockets as though caught in a dream state. Blood dripped from the glass tube in her temple. Tabet’s cracked lips worked at the tube in her mouth and her words came as a sigh from all places at once.
‘I have it.’ Each word caused the symbols on Known Things to flare. ‘I know where Oldest Place is located.’
The razor edge of his irritation blunted by desire, Moor addressed Asajad and Gadreel. ‘Do it now,’ he ordered.
Without argument, his fellow Genii faced each other and began speaking the quick, breathy language of higher magic. Together, they conjured a portal. It began as a crack in the air from which spilled a shadowy luminescence. Asajad and Gadreel used their thaumaturgy to widen the crack into an oval of churning night six feet tall, swirling in the space between them. As they maintained the spell, Moor used his magic to turn the oval until it faced Tabet.
‘Give us the coordinates, Hagi,’ Moor demanded.
Tabet strained. One of her tentacles detached itself from the floor with a sound like a cork pulled from a wine bottle. It stretched towards the portal; the reptilian green-brown appendage snaked through the air, almost cautiously approaching the dark surface. Moor’s hand flashed out and caught the tentacle. With his other hand, he produced a scalpel and sliced off the end.
Tabet hissed from all places. The stump dripped a brownish sludge as Moor fed it into the portal. A deep drone filling the chamber announced that Tabet was channelling the information of Known Things through the magic of the Nightshade, and she seized control of the thaumaturgy set in motion by her fellow Genii.
Asajad, her hair black and straight as a fall of oil, her smooth, porcelain-pale face expressionless, moved away from the portal; Gadreel, his fat lips twisted into an uncustomary smile, did the same. Together, they stood alongside Moor.
How long had they been dreaming of this moment?
‘Now, Hagi,’ Moor whispered.
<
br /> The tentacle became rigid, as hard as iron, and stabbed into the black like a cable of energy. The droning rose in pitch as Tabet fed the portal with the coordinates of Oldest Place. Sparks and flashes of higher magic danced upon the portal’s surface. It crackled along the iron-hard tentacle to crawl over Tabet’s suspended naked body, and the symbols on Known Things blazed.
Tabet groaned and swayed on her web. When the dancing sparks of thaumaturgy subsided, her voice came from everywhere. ‘It is done,’ she said and fell limp, exhausted, but clearly pleased with her work.
Moor could feel Asajad’s and Gadreel’s gazes upon him, but he only had eyes for the gateway to Oldest Place.
‘Maintain the portal, Hagi.’ Moor’s tone had become breathless, excited. ‘It is time to bring Lord Spiral home.’
Chapter Four
Rogue Elements
The star of white light hovered in the air ahead of Namji, banishing the darkness as the group followed the spiralling stairs down into the bowels of Little Sibling. Footsteps whispered around the stairwell. Samuel felt the absence of his magic keenly and wished that Clara were present; the wolf’s heightened senses would have made a welcome ally in this place.
With one hand clutching the key in his pocket, the other holding his revolver, the old bounty hunter felt the weight of anxiety in his gut. He was inclined to trust that whoever controlled the avatar knew what they were doing – had to trust in that – but as usual there were no straight answers, no resolutions to the mysteries the Relic Guild had been dragging with them since escaping the Labyrinth. At least the key gave Samuel a little hope, a direction, a purpose, leading him to whatever secret was kept in the forgotten dungeons.
After a surprisingly long descent, the spiralling stairs ended in a cramped and damp corridor. Samuel stared into the gloom beyond Namji’s magical light. The way ahead felt so uncertain without his prescient awareness. Unknowable. Dangerous.
