by Alan Baxter
The man walked through the vestry, out a back door, ignoring an obsequious Priest asking what was wrong. He almost broke into a run as he crossed a courtyard and entered the Tower of the Autarch. Guards nodded recognition, waved him through. He banged on a heavy oak door and walked in without waiting for an answer.
Another man, in equally good health and colour, looked up from a desk, one eyebrow raised. ‘Help you, Gunnar?’
Gunnar scowled. ‘Mobilise the Guard. There’s been a breach.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t just sit there, Belkin, move! Ward Five, there’s been a breach.’
Belkin stood, opened a door behind him and yelled orders. He turned back to Gunnar. ‘A breach?’
Gunnar nodded, clearly both furious and terrified. ‘It’s definite, but it makes no sense.’
‘Not through the pathway?’
‘No.’
‘Kin?’
Gunnar shook his head, his eyes slightly wild. ‘No. Human. I’m going directly to the Autarch. Get them, or we’ll all suffer.’
The Accord walked the streets of Obsidian in awe. Haydon tried to reassure his fellows, but his own anxiety rose with every step. The chattering voice in his mind seemed more intent, clearer. As if something he had considered merely ghost thoughts of his own had suddenly gained autonomy inside his head. Twice they had pushed people away who tried to touch them, talk to them, while most of the thin, pale folk simply stared in fear or hurried away. ‘Just ignore everyone,’ Haydon advised again, as some in the scattered crowds watched them curiously.
‘Did they come from out?’ one voice whispered.
‘No one returns from going out!’ another hissed.
‘Look at the colours of them!’
‘Where are we?’ Salay demanded for the tenth time. ‘This is very, very wrong.’
‘We’ve been brought here for a reason.’
Darius turned on him. ‘Really, Nicholas? What the fuck do you actually know about any of this?’
‘Far less than I’d like, I grant you, but we said we’d see this through.’
Salay put a hand on his shoulder, halting them. ‘We also said we would walk if it got too dangerous. That option has clearly been removed.’
Nicholas nodded, patted his friend’s hand. ‘It has. But what can we do? We were dumped out there and this was the only way to go. We’ve been promised revelation at the nexus, remember? This is just another step along the way.’
‘“At the nexus lies death and danger”,’ Darius quoted.
‘“At the nexus lies revelation”,’ Nicholas finished. ‘We have to see what’s ahead, as there’s no way to go back. Have faith.’
‘In you?’ Salay’s voice held a level of anger Nicholas did not like at all.
‘In the magic. In a higher purpose. In yourself. Just don’t give up on me. We’re the Accord, remember?’
Salay grunted, turned away.
A small crowd had gathered, looking intently at the group. They wore worn clothes and worn faces, their skin pale and sallow, almost grey. One reached towards Nicholas, his fingers trembling, questing like blind snakes. ‘Golden people,’ he whispered. ‘Are ye hierarchy, testing us?’
Nicholas smiled at him, though his lips shivered with the effort. These denizens were wrong, reduced somehow. ‘Keep your hands to yourself, please,’ he said.
The man whipped his touch back like he had been burned. ‘Who are ye?’
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. ‘Golden people?’ he asked. ‘What do you mean?’
The man ran an index finger down his own cheek, pointed to Haydon. ‘Ya skin. Ye are golden, like the hierarchy. But not the hierarchy, maybe?’
A woman hurried forward, dragged at the man’s threadbare shirt. ‘Dale, come away.’
He pushed her off. ‘Leave me, Cal.’
‘But the Autarch Guard!’ Her voice was high, panicked.
‘Will want them. We’ve nothing to fear.’ His gaze dropped to the floor. ‘No more than usual, at any rate.’
‘The Autarch Guard?’ Nicholas asked. ‘Who or what are they?’
A collective gasp rippled through the small gathering. ‘Ye jest,’ the pale man said.
‘No, really. Who are they?’
‘Enforcers of catechism. Everyone obeys the Guard.’
Cal pulled at the man’s sleeve again. ‘Dale, please, come away.’
He looked at her, back to Nicholas, and nodded. ‘Aye, leave them for the Guard,’ he said, addressing the crowd at large. ‘They will bring trouble.’
The multitude fractured and moved away, disappeared into doorways with no doors. Faces glanced through windows without glass, ducked away.
‘Wait, please!’ Nicholas called out. ‘We just want to know where we are.’
No one answered him.
‘First you say not to talk to anyone,’ Darius said. ‘Now no one will talk to us. You’ve led us somewhere terrible, Haydon.’
Nicholas looked up and down the freshly deserted street. The Polish man was right — they were in a world of trouble. A drumming of running feet rattled off the buildings somewhere ahead of them. They turned to face a phalanx of a dozen men, dressed in armour not unlike that of a Roman centurion, leather scales over chain mail and heavy canvas shirts, but trousers beneath rather than skirts. The cloth was deep red, the leather aged and shiny brown. They wore short swords on their belts, undrawn, and circled the men.
‘Hello!’ Nicholas said, as cheerfully as he could manage. ‘Could you tell us where we are, please?’
One man, differentiated from the others by a silver star emblazoned on his chest armour, cocked his head to one side. ‘Where are you? You’re in your worst nightmare, you foolish man.’
9
Alex watched as several people scurried away, while others stood their ground. He put a hand up to stop his friends. ‘They seem scared of us.’
‘Rightly so,’ Jarrod rumbled. ‘They’re so weak, so fragile. They smell …’
‘Broken,’ Silhouette finished for him. The big man nodded.
‘Can you help us?’ Alex said, loud enough to carry along the street. More people ducked away. Others stood still, eyes narrow. ‘We just want some answers.’
A man appeared from a doorway to Alex’s left. ‘Ye’re no hierarchy, are ye?’
‘No. We’re not.’
‘But ye’re golden like they.’
‘Golden?’
The man pointed at Jarrod. ‘And him, he’s … dark.’
Jarrod barked a laugh. ‘I’m Maori, my friend.’
‘I’m Duncan.’
‘No, I’m Maori by birth. My name is Jarrod.’
‘Two names?’
‘What? No, I was born a Maori. That’s my race, my culture. New Zealand. That’s why my skin is dark.’
Duncan frowned, shook his head. ‘I don’t understand your words.’
‘Everything is Obsidian,’ Alex said, casting a warning glance at Jarrod. ‘Remember?’
Duncan nodded, smiled like he was addressing a child. ‘Aye, of course everything is Obsidian. And then there’s Ascension. That’s what we’re always told, no?’
‘Is it?’
Duncan’s face became deadly serious. ‘But it’s no true, is it.’ There wasn’t a question in his tone.
Alex felt himself on shaky ground. How much could he tell this man? How much would he understand? ‘It’s not?’
‘Ye’re no like us, no hierarchy. Have ye come down from Ascension?’
Alex knew the man was testing him. ‘Ascension?’
‘Hah!’ Duncan slapped his thigh, his face split in a grin. He turned to the people gathered in the street. ‘None of ye saw anything, aye?’
‘Your conspiracies will get us all killed!’ someone shouted. ‘This is an Autarch test, can ye no see that? We’ll all be in the pits afore bells for this.’
Duncan turned back to Alex. ‘Ignore them. Ye have to come with me, quickly.’ He turned back towards the doorway from where he ha
d emerged.
Alex made no move to follow. Silhouette stood beside him. ‘We need to make a decision here,’ she whispered. ‘I get the feeling we have to pick a side.’
‘I trust the populace over the authority every time,’ Claude said.
Duncan stood in his doorway, his eyes pleading. ‘Ye’re no with the hierarchy, right?’
Alex shook his head.
Duncan grinned. ‘Ye don’t know what the hierarchy is any more than ye know Ascension, do ye?’
‘No,’ Alex admitted.
‘Then ye really need my help. And please, we need ya help more than ye can possibly imagine. But the Autarch Guard will be on their way. We have to hide ye.’
The man’s strength of conviction gave Alex some measure of hope. ‘You can hide us?’
‘Oh, aye. We’ve been planning for something like this for many, many bells.’
‘We?’
‘I can’t say any more. Please, we have to go.’
Alex turned to the others. ‘Well?’
‘You’re the boss,’ Jarrod said.
‘Sure, but I like feedback.’
Claude stepped forward. ‘This place is all kinds of fucked-up weird. These people are scared and … sick, or something. That means someone is oppressing them. If they are oppressed, you can’t trust the authorities.’
‘But if the people are oppressed enough,’ Silhouette said, ‘they’d sell their mothers for a break. He could be dragging us in to sell us out.’
Alex bit his lip. They both had a point. But the crowd around them had accused Duncan of conspiracies. He had the fervour and energy of an activist. If they wanted Duncan to leave Alex and his friends alone, that was probably the best endorsement for Alex to trust him. ‘Okay, Duncan,’ he said. ‘Take us somewhere safe. Then I’m going to want to know everything you can tell me.’
Duncan nodded, turned into the doorway. ‘I’ll trade ye everything I know for everything ye know. I think I’ll be getting more from that deal.’ He disappeared inside.
Alex turned to his friends and shrugged. ‘Let’s go. I feel the need to get somewhere quiet and take stock. I think this is our best chance for now.’
They followed Duncan into a small room as muttering and gossip rippled through the crowd behind them. A wood fire burned in one corner, under a carved mantelpiece. The constant shiny blackness of the obsidian was broken by cushions and rugs, all old and worn. Charcoal drawings and carved icons adorned the walls and stood on shelves. A heavy metal pot, like a witch’s cauldron, hung on a frame by the fireplace. Beside it sat a large copper kettle.
‘Everything’s so medieval,’ Silhouette said as they trailed Duncan into another room.
They hurried up steps into a bedroom, the beds little more than straw-stuffed hessian pallets. Duncan clambered to a window ledge and looked furtively left and right. ‘No one’s looking. Quick. Be sure ye’re no seen.’
He jumped from the window, across a narrow gap into an adjoining building.
One by one they checked the narrow, dark alley between the dwellings and leapt across. Rowan baulked at the gap until Jarrod shoved him.
‘Keep up or die,’ Jarrod growled as he landed beside the small man.
Rowan sneered and jogged along behind.
Duncan led them up another flight of steps, out another window and onto a roof. They ran across several rooftops in the dense, crammed city, crouched low to avoid being seen. They passed open portals, glassless windows in taller buildings further away, as they went.
‘Someone is bound to spot us,’ Claude said.
Duncan grinned back over his shoulder. ‘We’re just getting away from all of they down in Ward Five, in case one does admit they saw ye. We’ll be well out of sight soon.’
He covered two more roofs before ducking into a window and running down three flights of stairs. They emerged into another dark alley. ‘Wait here,’ Duncan said, and ran to the end. A moment later he whistled, beckoned them.
Alex stepped up to take the lead. ‘Quiet and careful,’ he said.
Duncan scanned left and right as he gestured them into a doorway. Once all five were through he ducked in behind and pointed to a door at the back. He ran around, headed into the room before them.
Another frugal living area, lit only by the fireplace and guttering oil lamps. Two men and a woman sat open-mouthed on rickety chairs at a scored wooden table.
‘Told ye!’ Duncan said.
‘It can’t be,’ one man said. ‘They just appeared?’
‘Walked straight into Ward Five.’
‘From outside?’ The man clearly could not believe it.
Duncan nodded, laughing. ‘Aye. We have to get them underneath.’
The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Duncan, ye fool. Surely this is an Autarch test. We’ve attracted attention and this is his work. Those ridiculous clothes!’
Duncan wrung his hands together. ‘Please, Lily, I know ye’re in charge, but ye have to trust me. It’s not the hierarchy.’
‘If ye’re wrong, we’re all dead.’
‘I know.’
Lily stood, revealing herself to be several months’ pregnant, just like almost all the women they had seen so far. ‘Right, move them.’
The men stood with her, went to a tall dresser up against the wall. Carved wooden bowls and pewter cups lined its shelves. The three of them dragged it away, revealing a hole in the obsidian wall, chipped and cracked around the edges. The same plain brown earth as they had landed on outside lay beneath, disappearing into darkness.
‘Follow me,’ Duncan said. He took an oil lamp from a hook and squeezed through.
‘I don’t much like confined spaces.’ Claude’s voice was heavy with trepidation.
‘There’s not much space at first,’ Lily said, ‘but it opens out.’
Alex ducked into the hole. ‘What choice do we have right now?’ He held Silhouette’s hand and she followed, the others in a line behind. The passage was low and cramped, forcing them to shuffle almost doubled over. Duncan’s lamp bobbed ahead as the dresser scraped back into place.
They emerged into a large natural cave. A glow of orange light spread out before them as Duncan lit more lamps. Rock and earth made rough walls, moisture dripped unseen somewhere in the dark. Rugs and cushions were strewn about the place, a couple of tables and chairs.
Alex, Silhouette, Jarrod, Rowan and Claude stood close together in the centre of the cave. With Duncan and Lily beside them the space seemed slightly crowded.
‘It’s no much.’ Duncan’s face was apologetic. ‘But it’s safe.’
‘What is it?’ Alex asked.
‘The home of the resistance,’ Lily said. ‘And if ye’re really what Duncan suggests, Obsidian has just been turned upside down.’
The Accord sat in a glossy black cell and fumed. Haydon knew he had lost the trust of his fellows, but was compelled to maintain as much optimism as possible. This was something big, life-changing. He refused to believe it would end badly. And something, small and insubstantial, flitted about his mind, cajoling him to push on.
‘We’re dead men,’ Salay said. ‘We played the odds and lost.’
Darius looked from Salay to Haydon and nodded. ‘He’s right. And much as I want to blame you, I suppose we can’t.’
Nicholas forced a smile. ‘Nonsense, gentlemen. Misunderstanding, that’s all. Once the real authority of this place gets here we’ll sort it all out.’
‘And what are we supposed to tell them?’ Salay demanded.
‘We tell them that ancient magic led us here and we are looking for the nexus.’
‘And you think they’ll just let us go? Maybe even tell us where it is?’
‘Why not?’
Salay hissed through his clenched teeth and turned away, paced the small cell.
Darius and Nicholas exchanged another look. ‘We have to get out of here,’ Darius said, his bald head shiny with a nervous sheen of sweat.
Nicholas had no answer and the other men
fell silent. Footsteps sounded beyond the heavy oak door, the rattle of an iron key. The door opened and a man stood at the threshold, face like a thunderstorm. He was tall and massive, overfed and officious, wearing scarlet robes reminiscent of a Catholic bishop. He exuded an air of absolute confidence.
Nicholas swallowed, took a shuddering breath. ‘Hello there, I’m …’ he started, moving forward with his hand outstretched.
‘Silence!’ the large man boomed and palmed Haydon in the chest, sent him flying into the far wall with a crunch and an explosion of breath.
Haydon gasped and rolled onto his hands and knees, forcing air into stunned lungs, fighting the urge to vomit. Salay and Darius moved beside him, away from the big man. Another man stepped into the cell, his clothes a less ostentatious version of the other’s. ‘On your knees before the Autarch of Obsidian!’
Haydon sucked breath in, his vision swam. Salay and Darius dropped beside him, eyes downcast.
‘Who are you?’ the Autarch asked. His eyes were narrowed under heavy, dark brows. His hair hung in a long ponytail down his back, black and shiny with oil.
‘We are … the Accord,’ Haydon said between gasps.
‘And what, exactly, is that?’
‘We are three mages, in accord, sir. We seek the nexus.’
The Autarch crouched before Haydon, his eyes slits of suspicion. ‘Mages?’ A smile tugged at his lips. ‘You’re barely stage magicians. Your power, such as it is, means nothing here.’
Unsure what to say to that, Haydon simply nodded.
‘And what of this nexus?’ the Autarch asked. ‘Explain it to me.’
Haydon sat back on his heels, his breathing starting to settle. This was more familiar territory. ‘Seek the place where the power resides, the nexus of the mystery,’ he recited. ‘At the nexus lies death and danger. At the nexus lies revelation.’
‘And who told you that?’
‘It was revealed to us in a ritual of ancient magic, and we were led here.’
