by Peter Oxley
Jones shrugged. “He said that the old gods hadn’t worked out, that it was time for others to rise up against politicians and the ruling elite. That they were preparing the way for the coming of Satan.”
Andras clicked a long finger in front of his face. “Are you sure that that was the exact name they used? Satan?”
Jones frowned and then nodded. “Definitely.”
“What’s going on? What is it?” I asked.
Andras paced a little while longer and then stopped, rubbing his head. “I am so very, very slow,” he muttered. Then, looking up as though he had made up his mind to confide some terrible secret, he said: “I told you that there were five runes that were once used to control all the realms, and that these runes were, many, many millennia ago, scattered across the various domains.”
“And the afterlife,” said Byron, patting the rune that he was still storing in his jacket.
“Exactly,” said Andras. “Well, the device that the Warlocks were using when you surprised them was intended to seek out the rune that was secreted in the Aether. And by the looks of the inscriptions on it, they were very close to finding it.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because the markings on those objects there,” he indicated the items we had stolen from the Warlocks, “are very similar to those required to seek out that object. I did not know what those runes looked like until I saw them for the first time: in the afterlife.”
“But you examined that before we went to Almadel,” Maxwell said. “How have you only just realised this now?”
“Because they very closely match those on the rune that we rescued from the afterlife,” said Andras, pointing at Byron.
“Then that means…?” asked Disraeli.
“That the Four Kings have more of the runes than we thought,” said Maxwell. “Which means that they could have used that power to help facilitate this infection.”
“But how did they manage that, assuming you’re right?” asked Pearce. “They were nowhere near us when we were in the afterlife.”
I looked pointedly at Gaap. “No, but one of them was,” I said. “That creature has been with us all along; could he have somehow communicated with them?”
Pearce started to drag the demon towards the door. “Get this creature out of here and locked up,” he shouted to a guard by the door.
“No,” said Andras “he’s too dangerous to be left unattended and away from me. I have a better idea.” He swung his fist at Gaap, catching him hard across his jaw and sending him slumping to the ground, once more knocked unconscious. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“Well, now that that has been dealt with, what does all this mean? asked Disraeli.
“It means that we have been dancing to the demons’ tunes. Again,” I spat, glaring at Andras.
Andras raised his eyebrows. “Don’t pull faces at me,” he said. “I have been duped just as much as the rest of you. In any case, it is not the Four Kings we need to worry about. The people Jones spoke with referred only to Satan. That implies only one person, and the one person who has meddled even more in human affairs than I have over the years: Belial, who also likes to call himself Satan, or the Anti-Christ.”
Disraeli frowned. “You mean the Devil? Like Lucifer?”
Andras shook his head. “Lucifer was on the side of light until he fell. No, Belial is pure… what you would term ‘evil.’ He always has been.”
Chapter Nineteen
We rode with General Gordon at the head of a vast column of men, horses and ordnance, by our reckoning the largest army to traverse across English soil since at least the Civil War. Our job now was to make sure that there remained a human civilisation to record this achievement for the history books.
We rode in silence, each one of us still replaying the contents of the conversation at Hughenden Manor in our heads, as well as the terrifying implications of what we had learnt.
“The Four Kings have always operated together, as a unit,” Andras had said. “Each of them brings a particular skill and set of powers to bear. Such a state of affairs was necessary while they were all evenly matched, while none of them possessed the runes that they needed to rule supreme. However, that is not to say that they have all just rested on their laurels and been content to let the status quo continue. I know that Belial in particular has been very active in certain worlds, yours being the main one.”
“What do you mean?” Disraeli had shifted around at the mention of this new threat.
“Ever since the dawn of man you have been obsessed with your gods, the mythical battles that supposedly maintained the balance between ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Many of your religions sought to delude you into believing that such a balance had been tipped in favour of what you call ‘good’.” He barked a short laugh at the stupidity of this. “The truth, as I have said so many times before, is a lot more complicated than this, but that is a discussion for another day. The fact remains that many of your mythologies, religions and stories do actually have their roots in reality.”
“I am struggling to see how this relates to our current situation,” Disraeli said.
“As Maxwell already realised,” continued Andras, “the tales of demons infecting this world were based on actual events involving myself, my kin and creatures from other realms dotted throughout the Aether. Some of these creatures were summoned temporarily to this world by sorcerers or the like, while some,” he gestured at Byron, “took refuge here because they had nowhere else to go. Others visited of their own accord, seeking to influence and manipulate events to their own advantage.”
“Such as Belial?” said Maxwell.
Andras nodded. “Exactly. When I was a citizen of Almadel I knew that he had plans, but I was never able to ascertain what they were. It was only when I ended up in this realm by happy accident that I realised he had been coming here for some time. It became apparent that Belial had already laid claim to your world, writing himself into your stories, your cultures and your cognitive and social development ever since you climbed down from the trees. One can only assume that everything that has happened here is a part of his grand plan.”
We had all stared at him, trying to comprehend just what the demon had told us. Every aspect of my being wanted to rebel against such a thought but I also knew from bitter experience just how capable the demons were of shaping our history and development; after all, Andras himself had managed to influence both mine and my brothers’ lives, killing our parents and sending us down the paths that led to us serving his purposes, not least of which was Maxwell creating the portals to the Aether.
Disraeli, on the other hand, was much more reluctant to accept such a thing. “I refuse to believe that the whole of humanity can have been played for such pawns,” he said. “It just cannot be possible.”
Andras shrugged. “I do not much care what you do or do not believe.” Ignoring our looks of horror at his insolence, Andras continued. “The fact of the matter is that Belial has had a plan for many millennia and I strongly suspect that it is now coming to a head. But it is not just Belial who has used us as pawns, is it Joshua?”
All our eyes turned to Joshua, who frowned up at us in confusion.
“It was not just a happy accident that we found ourselves in the afterlife, was it?” continued Andras. “Mama warned that there was a price in return for her helping us.”
“That’s right,” I said slowly. “We promised to help them overthrow the Four Kings. We still need to do that, don’t we?” A chilling thought tickled at my brain. “Or is all of this, what has happened to the sky, her way of getting her revenge on us for not helping them yet?”
“No, but you’re on the right lines,” said Andras, almost effecting the air of a schoolmaster as he paced the floor. “Mama is very much dead by now; no one would have been able to survive being the focus of that number of Wraiths. But the movement she was a part of, that lives on. And what would their revolution need in order to succeed?” He pointe
d a clawed finger at Pearce, clearly expecting an answer to the question he had posed.
“They would need to tip the balance in their favour,” Pearce said. “Orchestrate some form of distraction that would lure the Almadite army away from their home for long enough for the Slaves to rise up.”
Andras nodded. “Which is what we did. It turns out that Mama was much more devious than I gave her credit for.”
“You made a deal,” I said. “A deal that got us to the afterlife so that we could rescue Kate and also bring back Lexie. But you and Mama knew that the afterlife would demand their own price, a price that would tie up our world here in this Hell. And so all of this… is your fault?” I turned to Joshua. “You said when we were in Almadel that you had managed to also read Mama’s plans, before you disappeared to get the Juggernaut. You knew all about this as well, I take it?”
Joshua blinked back tears. “We had no choice. It was the only way. But we’ll be able to fix it; we always do.”
Maxwell let out a short laugh. “Your faith in my abilities is touching, although it might be misplaced. We surely have more to worry about than just what is happening to the sky and our people.”
“What do you mean?” asked Disraeli.
“Weighing up all of the evidence, it is obvious is it not?” Maxwell frowned at us and then ticked the points off on his fingers. “Firstly, this world has been infected by something from the afterlife, which has effectively paralysed large parts of the world’s population. Secondly, my scientific methods are now useless, irrelevant, meaning that the Fulcrum’s effects are stronger than ever before; magic is now as prevalent here on Earth as in other realms. Thirdly, the other realms around the Aether will no doubt have felt this shift happen, or at least those who are sensitive to such things.”
“Such as the Almadite Warlocks,” said Byron.
“Yes, exactly,” said Maxwell. “Fourthly, the Slaves on Almadel needed a distraction to lure the Almadite army from their world. Fifthly, Belial has been creating mischief behind the scenes here on Earth for thousands upon thousands of years. The fact that everything is coming to a head right now means…?”
“That we need to act, and act quickly,” said Andras. “Belial is coming, and I would wager that he is now much more powerful than I have ever given him credit for.”
From that moment, we wasted little time in moving out, although that act was not instantaneous, given the large amounts of people and equipment that needed transporting. My body was feeling the strain of the past days of activity and I took the opportunity to rest for a while.
I dreamed that I was adrift in a vast, milky sea. With a shock, I realised that this was something akin to the Aether, but I was not alone. A form flickered and flowed around me, always just out of my field of vision.
Abomination, hissed a voice as old as time itself. You will be unmade.
I knew that creature, I knew that voice. I had encountered it before, when Maxwell had used the Compound on me, and again when the Warlock had attacked me in that other realm. It was the voice and creature that had tried to tear me apart from the inside-out on both those occasions.
I woke with a shout and in a cold sweat, looking around to realise with relief that I was back in the real world and in one piece.
“You all right?” asked Kate.
“Yes, just a bad dream,” I replied shakily.
“Understandable, given the circumstances,” said Maxwell. “Ah, it looks like we are now ready to move out.”
Half a day later, we reigned in our horses as we approached the Fulcrum, taking in the scale of the vast army in front of us. “It appears that our friends have been busy,” said Pearce. “And they do not appear to be fussy as to their choice of comrades-in-arms.”
The group of soldiers that had captured us on our return to Earth had grown substantially, clearly bolstered by the likes of the Satanic forces Jones had encountered in London. They formed the core of a mess of discordant sounds, shapes and colours. Demons and humans—as well as those very much in between—seemed to be, for the most part, coexisting albeit not necessarily peacefully, for every so often altercations would break out in their ranks. One thing, though, was very clear: they were all united in a common purpose.
Staying concealed, we gathered our forces together and considered our next move.
“We should attack immediately,” said Andras. “We need to overwhelm them before any more arrive to bolster their numbers.”
General Gordon nodded. “For once I agree with the demon,” he said. “It would appear that they are gathering together all of the various creatures that have invaded our world. There is every chance that the longer we wait, the bigger their numbers will grow.”
“You are thinking of demons arriving through the portal?” asked Disraeli.
“Not just them,” said Andras. “I’m thinking also of the Soul-less.” He nodded at the scene before us. From our vantage point we could tell that more and more of those moribund anomalies were straggling towards the makeshift army around the portal from all points of the compass.
“So it is agreed,” said Disraeli. “We advance forthwith. Are you comfortable that we have the numbers?” he asked Gordon.
Gordon nodded. “Assuming no more are hiding anywhere, then we are relatively evenly matched for the time being. All the more reason to strike now.”
The order was shouted along the lines and the soldiers busied themselves in a frenzy of checking weapons and gathering themselves together. I made my way to the front of the lines and hefted my sword, testing its weight once again and looked up to see Byron’s eyes on me.
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more?” he asked.
I grunted. “Hopefully for the last time.”
Joshua and Lexie stood by Andras and Disraeli, receiving their own orders. “I don’t like it,” Byron said. “Lexie should not be so near the action. She is too much of an unknown factor.”
I nodded. “Did you hear Andras’ argument with him on that? I think that if we want to keep his cooperation then we’re going to have to put up with this for the time being at least.” Joshua’s reaction had been particularly vehement when Andras had suggested that Lexie remain at Hughenden rather than come with us. During their argument Lexie had remained mute with that same far-off look on her face that she had worn ever since we had found her. Eventually Andras had been forced to back down: after all, Joshua and his powers were central to our plans, and so he had us over a barrel.
“In any case,” I said, nodding back to the wagons where Maxwell waited with Disraeli, “Joshua is not the only unreasonably stubborn one amongst us.”
We both grinned as we remembered the battle of wills we had fought—and lost—with Maxwell. He refused to agree that he should keep as far away as possible from the battle, instead insisting on accompanying us to St Albans.
“Just because I am confined to this wheelchair,” he had snapped, “does not mean that I am completely worthless. There may come a point when you need me.”
It had been a minor victory of ours that he had agreed to remain at the command position with Disraeli and Gordon, rather than to join in the fight proper. He had eventually conceded that there were certain logistical problems with manoeuvring a wheelchair around a demonic battlefield of uncertain terrain.
As we watched, a commotion seemed to erupt from Maxwell’s wagons. He twisted in his chair to bark out orders, and then people started to run in every direction.
Byron and I burst into a run towards them, meeting Maxwell, Disraeli and the others halfway. We watched as a mist curled out from the nearest wagon, licking at the air with malicious intent.
“Oh,” said Maxwell.
“Max,” I said, frowning. “That looks suspiciously like your Compound.”
Disraeli shot him a sharp glare. “The substance that I ordered to be destroyed, you mean? On account of it being too dangerous and unstable? That Compound?”
“Well, yes,” Maxwell refused to m
eet our glares. “I did destroy it. Most of it. I just retained a small amount for scientific purposes.”
Any further discussion was cut off as the mist shifted and formed into something approximating a physical form, a vast head on top of a huge, undulating trunk of a body that pulsed with rage. It turned its head so that it was pointing straight at us and then, in an instant, it shot towards me and I felt myself being lifted into oblivion.
ABOMINATION! roared the voice from my nightmare, from the visions when I was attacked by the Warlock, from when I was near death the first time I had been touched by the Compound.
You are impure. You will be destroyed!
“Who are you? What are you?” I yelled into the maelstrom.
I am your doom. I am Almadel, the Purifier, the Unifier. I shall destroy you. You should never have been made. You should never have been exposed to the power of the rune!
I looked down at my sword. So that was it; this creature was outraged at how I had become part-demon thanks to the influence of this most powerful of artefacts, one of the fabled runes.
“Wait,” I said, a distant part of me marvelling at how measured I was being. “You are Almadel? You mean…?”
“I always wanted to meet you,” said Andras, appearing at my side. “The founder of my realm, the creator of all that my people grew to become.” He frowned up at the flowing mass that loomed over us before sniffing. “Have to admit, I always thought you’d be a bit bigger, a bit less… misty.”
You, my child, you stand with this impure thing?
“Look closer,” grinned Andras. “I am an impure thing myself. I am Andras, Sire of Var. One of the greatest of your children, and I willingly created this ‘abomination’!” He thrust out a hand and yelled an incantation, sending the mist spiralling away with a terrifying scream.
We landed hard on the ground. As I recovered my breath, I looked over to Andras. “Was that really…?”
“The very same,” he said, brushing dirt from his coat. “Never meet your heroes, that’s what I always say. He seemed like quite the tiresome bigot, don’t you think?”
