by Edward Cox
The way was easy enough, though no sign of a well-worn path presented itself. The further Samuel walked, the more he realised that something was missing from the Icicle Forest. It wasn’t just the strange trees and eerie silence, the lack of scent and breeze. There was a distinct absence of life. This place had once been a secret Genii stronghold, created by Spiral during the war. Odd that a creation of the most powerful Thaumaturgist who had ever existed should feel so dead and empty. But there it was. The very chill in the air felt somehow hollow, as though the House’s heart had been ripped out.
But something was here.
A missing and important piece to a seemingly endless puzzle, the Genii had said. Her message lingered in Samuel’s thoughts. Van Bam and Clara, wherever they were; Samuel and the Aelfir; the denizens of Labrys Town … everybody faced annihilation unless this rogue element was found.
Namji called out directions, steering the group gradually to the right and onwards down the steady slope. Every now and then, as he guided Namji through the tall and crooked trees, Hillem paused to break the brittle veneer of ice covering one of the trunks. None were wood, and Hillem wondered aloud about the function of the trees, and why there was so much snow on the ground, yet none falling from the heavy snow clouds above.
‘Does it matter?’ Glogelder bemoaned. ‘Still won’t tell us why we’re here – or bring back the feeling in my feet.’
The cold grew ever more bitter as they trudged on.
Samuel recalled the time he met the treasure hunter who had come to the Icicle Forest to find the terracotta jar containing Fabian Moor’s essence – at least, he had met what remained of the man. Llewellyn was his name, and he had described this House as evil. Something in the Icicle Forest had mauled Llewellyn, broken him. Only magic had sustained his life, and if the Relic Guild hadn’t put him out of his misery, not even that would have kept him alive for much longer.
Yet the Icicle Forest did not stir Samuel’s magic enough to give him that dull, sickly feeling in his gut that warned of danger at the end of the path he was on. Samuel hoped – prayed – that it meant whatever power had made this House evil had perished during the last four decades.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, the group reached the clearing Namji’s spell had seen. It wasn’t the empty space she had supposed. Where the trees stopped, a series of standing stones began. Craggy, ovular and slate-grey, too many to count. Apparently placed at random in the snow, they were of varying sizes, the smallest reaching to Samuel’s waist, the biggest taller than Glogelder. If Namji was right and this clearing formed a ring within the forest, then Samuel guessed the standing stones must fill it entirely.
Glogelder walked up to one and rapped his knuckles against it. It sounded as solid and stony as it looked. ‘What are these things?’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Namji. ‘What’s down there?’
Hillem described the area.
‘Funny,’ Namji continued, ‘I can’t see any stones from the sky.’
‘What about the centre of the forest?’ Samuel asked.
‘The walls are too high and close together. We’ll have to get nearer to see inside.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I’ll tell you what’s strange, though. The sky isn’t really a sky. It’s thick, almost solid – no clouds. And it’s moving. Like … like the Nothing of Far and Deep.’
That made sense, Samuel decided. The Nothing of Far and Deep was where Spiral had supposedly hidden all his secret strongholds. Perhaps the Icicle Forest was akin to a giant bubble inflated inside its primordial mists. But why was it dark grey instead of white?
Hillem, however, looked confused by Namji’s revelation and gestured to the ground. ‘If there are no clouds in the sky, then where did the snow come from?’
Glogelder made an exasperated noise. ‘You really pick your moments to think about the stupidest things. Who cares!’ Clearly agitated, the big Aelf had a dangerous look in his eye. ‘I don’t like this place being so quiet – so let’s keep moving, shall we?’
With Hillem still guiding Namji the group set off again, weaving between the standing stones, snow crunching beneath their feet. The forest began again on the other side of the clearing, where the strange trees grew more dense and close, and a wide, darkened path burrowed through them like a tunnel. But they hadn’t cleared the standing stones before Samuel’s prescient awareness flared as a bad feeling in his gut.
‘Wait,’ he said, raising a hand. The group halted behind him. ‘Namji, can you see anything moving towards us?’
‘No. Why?’
Samuel’s magic grew a little warmer. ‘I think we’re being watched. And by nothing good.’
Instantly alert, Glogelder raised his spell sphere launcher and scanned the area. With a pistol in each hand, Hillem stepped away from Namji. The three men formed a triangle around her, looking out through the standing stones, searching for anything lurking there.
‘Are you sure you can’t see anything?’ Samuel demanded.
‘No,’ Namji replied. ‘There’s nothing, I— Oh!’ She staggered, holding her head. Blood trickled from one nostril and her eyes gained focus as she wiped it away. ‘My spell,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Something severed my connection to it.’
High above, Namji’s magical bird dispersed as a puff of black smoke against the grey. As Samuel’s magic began to gather heat, Glogelder said to Hillem, ‘There’s your snow.’
Flakes were falling from the Nothing of Far and Deep. Thick, glinting red and blue, they came fluttering into the clearing and onto the forest. A breeze picked up, bringing with it the acrid stench of magic. Eerily, the snowflakes avoided contact with the group, almost falling in flocks that spiralled down to settle on the standing stones. The end of Samuel’s rifle managed to snag a single flake. It clung to the barrel for a moment, sparkling, before stretching like a long line of mucus and dropping to the ground.
In but a few moments, each standing stone had a pile of glimmering snow upon it.
‘It’s moving,’ Glogelder announced.
He was talking about the standing stone closest to him. It was shaking, rocking from side to side, making a low groaning sound. With a hard snap, a crack appeared in its side, and then more of the stones began to shake and groan.
‘They’re not stones,’ Samuel announced, his voice coming from that cold and distant place where his magic ruled his instincts and intuition.
The others looked at him.
‘They’re cocoons—’
A fist punched out of one of the stones, sending shattered pieces flying into the snowstorm. Samuel’s prescient awareness went berserk.
‘Run!’
‘Do we dare look?’ said Mo Asajad.
Silence.
In the Nightshade, the Genii stared at the wall where the portal into the Retrospective had been. A sense of unease crawled over Moor’s skin, blemishing his elation that Lord Spiral, after all these long years, was finally, blessedly free. His rebirth had caused such a violent and unexpected cataclysm. The madness with which it had exploded … Did they indeed dare look into the Retrospective again?
‘What happened, Fabian?’ Asajad’s usual cold, mocking demeanour had disappeared. She spoke with anger. She spoke with fear. ‘What did we witness?’
‘Lord Spiral’s reanimation, of course,’ Gadreel answered.
No, no, no, Moor thought as he and Asajad looked at their hulking comrade. That was no simple rebirth.
‘It was reanimation,’ Gadreel affirmed joyously, not a shred of doubt in his tone.
‘It was more than that, Viktor,’ said Asajad. ‘Had the portal not been closed, Lord Spiral would have devoured us all.’ Concern and confusion lay heavy on her face. ‘Is there something you are not telling us, Fabian?’
‘No.’
‘You are sure? You always were deeper in his confidence than the rest of us.�
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It was true. Iblisha Spiral had trusted Fabian Moor above all other Genii, and there were many things Moor knew that his comrades did not. But had he been naïve to believe that he knew everything of his master’s plans?
‘Please, Fabian,’ Asajad said. ‘Tell me I am paranoid.’
‘What did you expect?’ Gadreel said angrily, as though Moor and Asajad were deliberately trying to ruin his moment of triumph. ‘You remember the power of Lord Spiral, yes? You comprehend that he has spent the last forty years incarcerated in a House where the Timewatcher’s retribution tortured him perpetually? And yet you didn’t expect his rebirth to carry such rage and power?’ His one eye looked disgustedly at them. ‘Perhaps the long game has left you both paranoid.’
Moor and Asajad shared a lingering look.
‘There are secrets.’ Hagi Tabet’s voice came from all places at once.
Hanging on her web of leathery tentacles, the black diamond of Known Things in her bony hands, Tabet looked down on her comrades, her eyes watery and unfocused.
‘There are things we do not know,’ Tabet said. The thaumaturgic symbols on Known Things glowed purple with each word. ‘I have been reading the memories of the changeling. The Relic Guild has received help from Lady Amilee.’
‘Amilee?’ said Asajad.
Gadreel looked at Moor. ‘What is this?’
‘Impossible,’ Moor whispered. ‘The Thaumaturgists followed the Timewatcher to Mother Earth after the war. They are … gone!’
‘Amilee remained,’ Tabet said. ‘In this I am not mistaken.’ A tear rolled down her cheek. ‘From the shadows, she has been steering the Relic Guild.’
Moor’s worry deepened. ‘Did she know that we planned to free Lord Spiral?’
Fluid gurgled along the glass tubes connecting Known Things to Tabet’s mouth and temple. ‘I believe so.’
Moor hissed out a breath.
‘It does not matter,’ Gadreel announced with supreme confidence. ‘Whatever plots and plans the Skywatcher made to stop us, she has failed. Our Lord is returned to us!’
Asajad ignored him. ‘Hagi,’ she snapped, ‘where is Amilee now?’
‘The changeling did not know. But there is more …’ Tabet’s eyes flitted from side to side, scanning information from the box in her hands. ‘I have found a secret place inside Known Things, and what it contains frightens me—’
Tabet choked off, as if the words had been stolen from her throat. The room was filled with the stench of age, hopelessness and death.
Tabet gasped from everywhere. ‘Oh my … he is here!’
The portal to the Retrospective opened.
It began as a dark line on the wall, splitting the repetitive pattern of tiny mazes. The line widened to the size of a doorway, through which the House of dead time could be seen.
The sky undulated with toxic clouds, alive with lightning. The scorched and barren landscape stretched into the distance; and there, standing in uniform rows, were millions of wild demons. A menagerie of the grotesque, they flanked a narrow stretch of blackened ground. Waiting, disciplined, the demons didn’t move or make a sound.
A roar of thunder came from above and a cloud burst open with a shower of lightning bolts. A figure fell from the sky, a man gliding on wings of silver. He landed gracefully on the stretch of ground between the ranks of demons. His wings folded upon his back and he strode towards the Nightshade.
Tabet whimpered. Gadreel stood proudly. Moor and Asajad stepped back.
Naked from the waist up, the man wore a long black skirt that reached to the ground. It swirled with each step, revealing bare feet. His torso was muscular. His head was shaved smooth but his beard was thick, as dark as his skirt. And as he neared the portal, Moor could see the triumphant expression revealing long white teeth. Power radiated from him, the highest of magic.
The Genii dropped to their knees.
Lord Iblisha Spiral entered the Nightshade.
‘My Genii. My friends.’ His voice could command universes, his presence too vast for even the grandest halls. ‘Arise.’
His heart hammering, Moor stood. Asajad and Gadreel flanked him. Tabet seemed frozen on her web.
‘All these years.’ Spiral’s eyes leaked power in violet vapour. ‘All those plans within plans.’ He looked at each of them in turn. ‘Lord Gadreel. Lady Asajad. Lady Tabet. Fabian. It is a blessing to see you again.’
‘Welcome home, my lord,’ Gadreel said, bowing.
‘Home?’
A strange smile touched Spiral’s lips, which disappeared when he regarded Hagi Tabet. He appeared to find shame in Tabet’s withered, naked form, disappointment in the web of tentacles. The light of his eyes flared angrily when he saw Known Things in her hands. But when he spoke, his voice betrayed nothing but benevolence.
‘Lady Tabet. Yours is the greatest sacrifice, I think. Look at what you did to yourself to bring me home.’
‘It was an honour, my lord.’
‘And I will not forget that.’
As Spiral moved towards Tabet, Moor frowned. There was something about the Lord of the Genii that didn’t look quite … solid. Spiral placed his hands over Tabet’s almost lovingly, and his touch made her gasp.
‘Thank you,’ Spiral whispered, and he wrenched Known Things from her grasp.
The tubes shattered, leaving a jagged shard in Tabet’s temple. Sobbing, she spat out pieces of broken glass, dribbling blood down her body. Moor spared a glance at Asajad and Gadreel. Gadreel clearly revelled in his lord’s return; Asajad’s countenance remained concerned. Tabet began swinging on her web, her sobs building momentum towards a scream.
‘Sleep, Hagi,’ Spiral said, and with a light burst of thaumaturgy he rendered Tabet unconscious.
Holding Known Things at arm’s length, Spiral began whispering the language of the Thaumaturgists. The symbols decorating Known Things pulsed with light to each word. And then they began to move. Losing form, the symbols merged into two pools of purple radiance that flowed from the box, over Spiral’s hands and slithered up his arms to slide across his chest and abdomen. Spiral threw his head back as though shocked. The Genii backed away as Spiral’s wings fanned and rose above him like scythes. Finally, the purple light formed into words of higher magic, setting like tattoos as black as obsidian.
‘Freedom,’ Spiral growled, and he crushed Known Things to a cloud of dust as fine as smoke.
Moor resisted the urge to shy away as his Lord’s power swelled, threatening to break down the walls.
The dust settled. Spiral folded his wings, his beautiful face cruel and determined, as he glared at his Genii.
‘Now it begins.’
‘Keep moving!’ Samuel shouted above the howling wind.
Glogelder launched a spell sphere. It exploded with fiery magic, roaring like a savage orange furnace, shedding black, choking smoke. Yet the blast did little to impede the monsters. Through the blizzard of glittering snow they came as a horde, chasing the Relic Guild down the track that cut through the trees and led to the centre of the Icicle Forest.
The cocoons in the clearing had hatched demons the likes of which Samuel had never seen before. Humanoid, quick and powerful, their bodies and limbs glowed with violet light fractured by a network of dark veins. Their heads were featureless black ovoids bearing swirls of purple for faces. They died easily enough; each time Samuel’s rifle shot a crystal-hard dart of ice, a demon shattered into a thousand iridescent pieces which spiralled up through the snowstorm towards the sky; but Samuel’s prescient awareness told him that a never-ending line of these creatures was chasing them. It told him to run, and to keep running.
As the old bounty hunter followed the directions of his magic, Hillem turned and fired his pistols. He was hardly a marksman, but the horde was so densely packed together it was difficult for him to miss. Eerily, the glowing demons had no
voices, and the only sound to join the howling wind was the stomping, rushing noise of a stampede. And it was gaining on the group.
With clenched teeth, Namji aimed back with her crossbow as she ran, shooting a bolt at the ground behind the group. A dome of vicious vacuum magic ballooned, droning in the wind. It devoured and crushed any demon who passed through it, sucked in any that tried to go over or round it, shredding each of them into fountains of light, buying the Relic Guild enough time to get ahead in the chase.
While Samuel, Namji and Hillem sped on, Glogelder sent two more spell spheres arcing high over the dome of vacuum magic. They detonated with the roar of magical fire.
Samuel took consolation from the fact that his magic banished the weight of his advancing years, filling his muscles and joints with the energy of youth, and he pumped his legs as hard as he could. Either side of the track, the forest was too dense, the trees growing too close together for the demons to overtake and head the group off. Samuel’s magic told him their only chance was to reach the centre of the Icicle Forest.
One of the great walls that Namji had seen from the air loomed at the end of the track. Fifty feet high at least, it looked to be a single piece of smooth, grey stone; and mercifully there was an arched opening cut into its base. Before long, Samuel reached the wall, sped through the archway and entered the House’s centre.
Boxed in by four walls, surrounded by level, snow-covered ground, was a formation of red rock. It resembled a miniature mountain, its colour a stark contrast to the whiteness. Samuel could see no paths or cave mouths that might lead into the mountain, but his magic urged him towards it.
‘Come on!’ Samuel shouted, but a cry from Hillem stopped him in his tracks.
‘Glogelder!’
The big Aelf was still on the forest track. With Namji’s vacuum magic depleted, the horde of demons once again thundered behind him, a mass of violet power, quickly catching him up. Glogelder shrugged the duffel bag from his back and let it fall to the ground. Namji made to use her crossbow, but with a prick from his magic Samuel stopped her. Glogelder turned, fired his spell sphere launcher at the duffel bag and then continued to run with a shout of warning.
