Obsidian

by Alan Baxter

  Lily turned to Alex as he finished the last of the bread. ‘There are rumours and gossip rife throughout Obsidian. All kinds of stories are being told and people are unsettled. Some are scared, some are excited. I’ve never seen anything like this before.’

  ‘I don’t know if that’s a good thing,’ Alex said.

  ‘Trust me, it’s good. I’ve worked my whole life to build a strong resistance, always having to hide and tread lightly. I feel like finally something tangible is building. Something wonderful is coming, and ye’re to thank.’

  Alex smiled, but discomfort roiled his gut. How long before this whole situation exploded? ‘We have a few things to do, and I guess now we need to move faster than ever. Is this place safe?’

  Lily made a wry face. ‘As safe as it can be. I think it’ll be a while afore the Guard start searching places a second time.’

  ‘Okay. In that case, Claude and Rowan, you’ll have to do your thing here. I have to go back to the Tower. Lily, can you explain to Silhouette and Jarrod how they get to Oldtown?’

  ‘Oldtown? ’Tis a haunted place, and no safe. Why there?’

  ‘It’s a long story, but there are things there we need to know about.’

  Lily frowned, lifted a palm. ‘I can direct them there easily enough, but Ward One is a long way from here. It’ll take a long time to get there, especially at Austere pace.’

  ‘So be it, we don’t have much choice.’

  Alex turned to Silhouette, took her in his arms. He led her apart from the others. ‘I don’t like separating everyone. I particularly don’t like sending you off on your own.’

  ‘I’ll be all right. I’ll be with Jarrod anyway.’

  ‘Only at first, and then you have to get back here.’

  ‘I’ve been in plenty of sticky situations before and done okay, Iron Balls. I got by just fine before I met you. And let’s not forget who saved who’s arse recently.’

  Alex laughed, kissed her. ‘Please be careful, and come back to me.’

  ‘I will.’

  He became serious, nervous to ask, but unable not to. ‘Before you go, I have to ask …’

  She shook her head. ‘Me and Jarrod?’

  ‘Please don’t just say that it’s Kin stuff. What’s going on?’

  Silhouette took a deep breath. ‘He might be my brother.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s first generation Kin like me, and we think the Fey fucker who sired me may have been the same one who sired him. Half-brother, obviously, his mother was a Kiwi. A Maori from north of Auckland.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘It’s hard to explain, it’s a feeling. New to us both. And we can’t be sure. But if it’s true, it means a lot to us. First gen are rare enough as it is. But since losing my Clan, the thought that I might have family of a sort, however fucked up our heritage might be …’

  Alex put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I get it, really.’

  Silhouette put her hand over his, squeezed. ‘But we can’t be sure and it’s hard to find out. That’s what we’ve been discussing, trying to figure it all. But now this,’ she gestured around them, ‘has changed our focus.’

  Alex kissed her again. ‘Well, I know you’ll look after each other, at least until you part ways. You know, I would really like it if you went with …’

  She put a finger on his lips, silenced him. ‘I’m not leaving with him. Who knows if we’ll be able to get back?’

  ‘I could find the anchor stone myself.’ He tapped a forefinger against his chest. ‘With this, I think it’ll be pretty easy.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it. But we’re fast running out of time and the more information we have the better. Your plan is a good one. And I’m not fucking leaving you here, so shut up about it already.’

  Alex laughed softly. ‘Stubborn cow.’

  ‘Yep.’ She kissed him quickly, then paused, looked deep into his eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him again, long and passionate. ‘We need to keep moving. I have to go, huh?’

  Alex nodded, held her a moment longer. ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too.’

  They turned back to the others.

  ‘Finished your love-in?’ Claude asked.

  Alex shook his head. ‘Back the fuck up, Claude.’

  ‘Where’s my father?’

  The two men stared at each other, their mutual dislike plainly evident. Alex couldn’t really blame him, but wondered how long it would be until Claude lost his cool again. Would he need to put the angry fellow down at some point? Could he? He realised they had no real idea of the extent of Claude’s power. The tension thickened in the air.

  Silhouette stepped between them. ‘Ready?’ she asked Jarrod.

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

  She looked from Claude to Alex and back again. ‘Let this go. For now. Seriously.’

  Claude growled low in his throat, turned away.

  ‘Show us how to get to Oldtown?’ Silhouette asked Lily.

  While Lily, Silhouette and Jarrod talked quietly in one corner, Alex said to Claude, ‘You can do your thing with Rowan here? We have to work together, however much we don’t like it.’

  ‘I just need some space and time and quiet.’

  ‘Go next door,’ Duncan said. He pointed to a room on the opposite side of the small landing. ‘It’s Monty’s bedroom, he won’t mind.’

  Monty nodded with a smile. ‘That’s fine.’

  Claude turned to Rowan. ‘Come on then, let’s do this.’

  Rowan looked pained and reluctantly followed Claude. At the door, Claude stopped. ‘Can you really turn invisible?’

  Alex laughed, nodded. ‘Remember the way we showed you how to hide your shades, to appear like the lowen?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It’s like that, only … more so.’

  ‘Really?’

  Alex concentrated on his magic, the power coursing through him, amplified by the Darak. He built up his shields, made himself so tightly contained that no sensation of presence could escape, even a facsimile of someone mundane. On top of that he prevented even light from feeling his presence, let it pass right through. He knew the invisibility was complete by the gasps and wide eyes of the others in the room. Silhouette smiled in his direction. He let light in, popped back into view.

  Claude blew air from his nose, eyebrows raised. ‘Well, fuck me.’

  ‘It’s pretty useless if we all have to get anywhere,’ Alex said. ‘But to move around on my own, well, I can hide forever this way. The Kin here would never find me. Whether or not I can use that to get us all out remains to be seen.’

  ‘You’re strong,’ Claude said. ‘I think perhaps my father pushed the wrong guy this time, huh?’ His eyes were narrowed, suspicious. Anger still lurked there, barely contained, but a grudging respect seemed to sit alongside it.

  Alex hitched his shoulders and let them drop.

  Claude frowned and led Rowan across the hall.

  Silhouette and Jarrod came to Alex. Jarrod held out his hand, shook. ‘We’re ready to go,’ the big man said.

  ‘Good luck. And look out for each other.’

  ‘We will. We’ll meet you back here?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alex said. ‘If there are any problems, hopefully Lily and Duncan can keep us organised and arrange somewhere else for us to meet up.’

  ‘We still have plenty of options at the moment,’ Lily said. ‘We’ll stay vigilant.’

  Silhouette kissed Alex again, lingering, their embrace tight, an edge of desperation to it. Alex pushed aside the thought they might never see each other again. Jarrod and Silhouette pulled up their hoods and left.

  Alex looked across the hallway. Claude and Rowan sat on the floor in the other room, cross-legged, facing each other. Claude’s attention was tightly focused on Rowan. They all had their jobs to do.

  Alex shook Duncan’s hand, then Lily’s. ‘Thank you, for everything.’

  ‘It’s our pleasure,’ Duncan said, as enthusiasti
c as ever. ‘This is an exciting time.’

  Alex squeezed Monty’s shoulder. ‘And thank you, for your home.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘It’s time for me to go. I’ll come back here. If there are any problems …’

  ‘We’ll keep an eye on everything,’ Lily said. ‘If there are problems, we’ll move those two and make sure that ye, Silhouette and Jarrod know where to go. Don’t worry, there are plenty of us, and more all the time willing to help. Our strength is building. Lowen are preparing to open their homes if needed.’

  Alex narrowed his eyes, concerned for her. ‘Be careful of the Blessed. You never know who can turn in a situation like this.’

  ‘We’ll be okay.’

  ‘Good. And thanks again.’ He left the room and paused at the top of the stairs. ‘I’m going to take a long way around, while I’m able to move freely. See if I can learn a bit more about this place on my way. The others won’t be back for a while anyway.’

  Lily nodded, raised one hand in farewell. ‘Go carefully. We’ll be here whenever ye return, or someone will, to direct ye. Keep your eyes peeled and move slowly, invisible or otherwise.’ Her voice betrayed her disbelief even though she had witnessed his invisibility just moments before.

  ‘I will,’ Alex said and walked slowly down the stairs, slipping into his invisible shields as he went. He headed, unseen and unseeable, back out into the streets of Obsidian.

  The Autarch stood before Nicholas Haydon and Salay Armand, his face impassive. ‘Why should I keep you alive?’ he asked.

  Nicholas trembled, his stomach an empty mass of cold. ‘I’m sure we can be of some use to you.’ The fluttering voices in his mind rose and ebbed in strength, all the time cajoling him to hold it together. He knew he had a trump card, if he could only get out.

  The Autarch leaned forward, hands on his knees. ‘What are you hiding from me, worm?’

  Haydon shook his head, eyes wide. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. I just want to go home.’ He knew the Autarch could see through his lies.

  ‘Home?’ The big Kin straightened, laughed deeply. ‘You’ll never see your home again. Whether you survive or not in this one depends on what you tell me.’

  Armand turned to Haydon, his expression dark and furious. ‘Tell him everything you know! What are you keeping from us?’

  The Autarch looked from Haydon to Armand. ‘Deceiving you too, is he?’

  ‘He must be. He’s clearly not telling us something.’

  Nicholas trembled ever harder. Salay deserting him now as well? It was bad enough that Darius had run just three steps to a violent death, but now Salay’s allegiance waned too. ‘You doubt me, old friend?’

  Salay sneered. ‘I’m no friend of yours.’ He turned his back.

  The Autarch rumbled deep laughter again. ‘You pathetic humans. You can’t even stand together in this.’ He turned to Armand. ‘Do you think by denouncing him, you will stand some chance with me?’

  Salay ran his fingers through his long beard. ‘I am long past thinking I have a chance with anything. This fool led me into death, simple as that. Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?’

  ‘You want to die?’

  ‘No. But I don’t want to live like this.’

  The Autarch grabbed Armand by his upper arm, hauled him to his feet. The tall man cried out. Without a word the Autarch dragged the gibbering Hungarian from the cell and the door slammed shut. The lock thunked down.

  Haydon sat on his own in the dank, gloomy cell, utterly stunned. Darius was definitely dead, the man’s blood still covered him. Now Salay was surely as good as dead. Haydon himself could not have long left unless he came up with a plan. How much to tell? The voices hissed in his mind, convincing him that to say anything would result in his instant murder. But he had to do something to get out of this cell and find the place to perform the last ritual.

  16

  Edmund approached Oldtown, trepidatious. The streets of Ward One were dirty and strewn with rubbish and broken things. The few inhabitants on the very edges of the ward were nervous, tense, as they watched him go by. He did his best to ignore them. Only the dregs made their home anywhere near Ward One, the oldest sector of Obsidian, abandoned to ghosts and ghouls and people best forgotten. Edmund could never understand what drew a person to this despicable place. Obsidian was big enough for everyone and growing all the time, without the need to live here among the spirits of evil and dissent. Even the hierarchy said to avoid the area. Those who did come here often went missing, if the stories were to be believed. He hoped he wouldn’t become one of the lost.

  Ward One itself was not a big area, but it buffered the rest of Obsidian from Oldtown — the original place, as they were told in church, where everything began. Where the gods noticed the debauchery of the people, the savagery of life, killing and war, and decided to do something about it. They razed Oldtown and only those pure of heart survived and moved on. The Seven and the Priests were given the power to grow a new world and Obsidian swelled from the ashes of the sins of Oldtown and the good folk moved away. Only the ghosts of evil inhabited Ward One now.

  The gods smiled down and made Ascension real for those who lived by the new rules, empowering the hierarchy, led by the wisdom of the Seven, to see the people safely through this life. The hierarchy explained and enforced catechism, ensured breeding and piousness. For that they were rewarded with a small amount of Ascension here in Obsidian, their very bodies already partially Ascended. But that difference which seemed to set them apart so powerfully, even made them look different, was a curse as well. They were trapped forever here, the guardians of the way. They would always live in Obsidian, never fully Ascended, even as they spent endless, selfless lifetimes seeing the lowen safely risen. And it was a burden they were happy to bear for the greater benefit of the many.

  So the lowen were told in church, at least. It was all flawed in Edmund’s mind. Something had always told him there had to be more to the story. There had to be more to life itself. He had seen the pictures of Ascension, just like everyone else. He had witnessed the magical moving images of the utopian afterlife that awaited the pious, colours and landscapes that stunned the mind. He wanted to believe it was true, but couldn’t. His heart was blackened with doubt.

  He stared across the first grubby street of Ward One towards Oldtown, somewhere beyond the broken-down buildings. He had been this far before as a child. Who hadn’t? Everyone rose to the dares of their friends as they grew up, ventured to the very edges of the dead Ward. He had been braver than most, coming this far and sneaking a street or two beyond until panic gave flight to his feet and he ran as though the Hollow Lord himself were on his tail. Though he was not as brave as some who had ventured into Oldtown itself and lived to tell the tale. If they were to be believed.

  He moved forward, drew his nerve in with his breath as he walked the streets of Ward One, focused only on Oldtown which lay beyond. It was not far before the glassy, dark stuff of the world gave way to dusty, packed dirt, like that outside the walls. The normal buildings of Obsidian ended at the border between Ward One and Oldtown and the remains of strange constructions staggered across the ground — tumbled down wooden frames and boards, strange flat grey stone. Some of the buildings had stood against time better than others. Some had uncanny stone blocks in their lower parts, with striations of grey and brown, rounded corners, wedged and fixed together somehow. Edmund wondered how far it was from here to the Edge. And what, in between, he was looking for.

  A cajoling whisper tickled his mind, wheedling, drove him forward. He took a deep breath and crossed the disused street, stepped from the firm, black ground onto the confusing dirt of Oldtown. After a few more paces he stopped, looked around. No ghosts swooped down to accost him. Everything sat drenched in a heavy silence. He glanced back and a handful of dirty, wide-eyed faces ducked out of sight. Even the ruined people of Ward One thought him a fool. Unless they were already ghosts and even they were scared of Oldtown.


  Steeling himself, he walked on, eyes scanning left and right. His heart hammered, nervous bile stung his throat, as he wondered what he might find ahead.

  Rowan sat quite still, uncomfortable under the intrusive magic of Claude Darvill. The man had bitten and swallowed a pill of some kind and his dilated eyes and clenching jaw gave away the intensely narcotic nature of whatever he had taken. Fronds of arcane energy tickled over Rowan, probed into his mind and being like questing tentacles. Claude had said it might be an unpleasant experience, and he was right. The man’s method was old and twisted, but it was good. His technique deft, the power undeniable.

  But Rowan didn’t mind too much. For the first time since they had arrived in this bizarre place, he had a moment to be still. He felt as though he had been running sprints for days without a second to call his own. He was a naturally solitary person, happiest in his own company. This teamwork rubbed against his grain and he had known from the outset that it would end badly. But some good had come of it.

  The burden of the thing in his mind, the thing he had only been peripherally, subconsciously aware of, was gone. He had a clearer head now than he had in weeks. But it was more than that. Not only had that presence moved on, the thing they called a ridesprite, but everything else had gone too. He was certainly glad to be rid of the unwanted, uninvited passenger, but for the first time in his life, the shudders were still.

  Since childhood his mind had been besieged by notions and premonitions, strange and unexplainable visions and sensations. He had learned to collate them to some extent, to organise and even, sometimes, understand them. He had discovered Armour, been taught that they were shudders and how they occurred. He had been trained to use his unlikely skills and had further developed some level of control. But never, not for a single moment in his life, had those shudders ever been still. Silent. Absent.

  This place, whatever the hell it was, had a completely quiet aura. Even removed from everything as it was, Rowan thought he should have got occasional shudders, moments of resonance in the lives of the people here. Surely they had some experiences deep enough, powerful enough, to trigger some sensation in him. But there was nothing. Not the tiniest shiver. Maybe something about the magic that contained this place dampened the frequencies by which he usually sensed events.