by Alan Baxter
Alex knew he looked crestfallen, though he tried to remain calm. ‘Fair enough. Oh well, thanks anyway.’
‘That’s not to say someone couldn’t formulate a theory. There must be people with knowledge that skirts the boundaries of your predicament.’
‘You know, well, everyone, right?’ Silhouette asked. ‘Someone out there must have an idea.’
Meera shrugged. ‘We know many people, we’re in touch with many traditions. Bonding with a power stone is something I’ve never heard of before. The fact that it’s a part of the actual heart of a Fey Lord is astounding. So many complicating factors. But, in essence, all you need are two things: to remove the stone from Alex and destroy it. The first may be easier than the second, as it is indestructible, you say?’
‘By all accounts, yes,’ Alex said. ‘The Eld were able to section off part of the anchor stone, the Lord’s heart, with massive magics. That’s what created the Darak from the main organ. And banishing Uthentia split the Darak into three pieces. Twice that happened. So it can be separated from itself, but the pieces can’t be destroyed. At least, that’s what I understand. But if the Darak could be removed from me, maybe it could be cast into the Void along with the Lord’s heart. We know it’s out of reach of the Fey that way, at least.’ Despite everything, Alex ached at the thought of losing the Darak, the thing that had given him such power. He couldn’t help wondering if perhaps there was a way to keep it, but knew that was a ridiculous desire.
Meera pursed her lips, sat in thought again. The van was quiet as the others waited, politely silent. Eventually Meera looked up. ‘Let me talk with our scholars. I’ll see if there’s anything or anyone they can suggest. I don’t know if there will be.’
‘I understand.’ Alex leaned forward, put a hand on Meera’s thin shoulder. The corded muscle beneath his palm was steel hard. ‘Thank you.’
Meera smiled, patted his hand. ‘You do get yourself into scrapes, don’t you, Alex Caine.’
‘I guess so.’
‘I’ll contact you when I can.’
‘Okay.’
Meera stood, stepped slightly aside to be further from the others. ‘Nice to meet you all.’ With another smile, she dipped her head, magesign flooded the space and she was gone.
Emma Parker hurried forward and closely inspected the floor where Meera had been. ‘Well, bugger me!’ Her own magesign pulsed forth as she tried to sense the Umbra Mage’s magic. ‘Seriously, bugger me.’
‘They’re good people,’ Alex said. ‘They helped me before.’
Emma stood, sniffed. ‘Well, let’s hope they can again. Come on, we’d better move along. That burst of magic will be like a yell right into Claude Darvill’s ear.’
Alex nodded, started the van and pulled out onto the busy road. They continued their arbitrary journey north. He passed a sign that read York 14 Miles and sighed. He was a rat in a maze, running around like a fool. How long until the experiment reached its inevitable, fatal end?
‘That’s Curly organised!’ Hood sat back in his tall leather chair, clearly pleased with himself.
‘Curly?’ Claude asked, wincing as he replaced the dressing on his injured shoulder.
‘Yep. Top bloke. In charge of a mercenary army I’ve used a few times. He’s got dozens of men under his command. Amoral and ruthless, they’ll do anything for the right price.’
Darvill raised an eyebrow, and even that hurt. ‘Anything?’
Hood smiled, linked his fingers behind his head. ‘Yes. Anything. There was a situation in Scotland not too long ago and I really tested their resolve and loyalty. They passed with flying colours.’
‘And why are you calling him now, Dad? I’m not sure what you’re planning here.’
‘Power is available to the man with money, son. I’ve always told you that. I’ve let you go off getting all the arcane skills and having all the adventures, but real supremacy in this world is not magic or amulets or special drug-fuelled divinations. Currency is the ultimate authority. Wealth is the god-maker.’
‘Right. I’m well aware of your personal philosophy. But I’m still a long way from seeing your point.’
Hood laughed, rocked back in his chair, heels slamming onto the corner of his desk. ‘We need henchmen, Claude!’
‘Henchmen?’
‘Are we not the villains of the piece? I’m sick of running around trying to catch what we want. We need to act smart. I have this newfound power at my command, which I will use, don’t doubt that. But it’s not the ultimate authority. My philosophy, as you call it, remains unchanged. Real strength lies in the ability to buy what you need. Firstly, I have bought, once again, Curly and his crew. Now we have dozens of highly trained and perfectly ruthless military personnel at our disposal.’
‘Good for us. Are we getting anywhere nearer to the point?’
‘I want Alex Caine’s fucking guts around my neck like jewellery. I have the army now, which means I can start to implement a plan. We need a place, a well-populated place, and we need to arrange something Mr Caine can’t resist. You told me how affected he was by the deaths around Obsidian, yes?’
Claude sat forward, elbows on his knees. He was more tired than he had ever been, but he was becoming interested in Hood’s ramblings. Was it possible his father had started thinking more clearly than ever? ‘Yes, that’s right. Before I was pushed out by Armour, after they’d finished debriefing me, I talked to their doctors. Caine was showing significant signs of post-traumatic stress, apparently.’
Hood nodded vigorously, grinning. ‘Excellent! Come on then, we have a lot to organise.’
21
Alex drove the motorhome into a marked bay and parked. There was something fundamentally depressing about a campsite in the north of England at any time of year, but especially in the winter, the air still frigid. Even with clear skies and ocean views, it felt like somewhere caravans went to die. At least it hadn’t snowed yet.
Some people sat in front of their vans or mobilehomes, wrapped up defiantly in winter coats. The ubiquitous striped deck chairs housing a scattering of tourists, mostly of retirement age or older, but the place was largely deserted. Some offered waves as Alex had driven slowly through to their assigned spot. Others offered narrow eyes and unspoken warnings of a distinct lack of patience for young people and loud music.
Or perhaps he was just projecting. Why anyone would try to holiday like this at one of the coldest times of year was utterly beyond him. But there was something distinctly British about it.
Jarrod hooked up an extension cord to the power outlet so they could have electricity while Alex strolled away to stretch his legs, have a moment alone. A cold wind blew in across the North Sea. It brought with it the scent of brine and seaweed, an almost nostalgic smell, some genetic memory. Alex stared out over the iron-grey water churning across the pebble beach below. A cliff path led right by the campsite, irregular wooden staircases leading down the hundred metres or so to the water’s edge. Some people braved the conditions to fish at the shoreline, grinning at their own bold stupidity. A handful of kids played with the stones. Some built castles where the pebbles gave way to a gritty, multi-hued sand. Such simple lives. No idea of the magic that permeated the world, of the monsters that stalked the night.
‘Car’ll be here in ten minutes. Take me to York.’ Emma Parker came to stand beside him.
Alex nodded, tired of talking. Tired of thinking, running, fighting. He had never given up a fight in his life, but this one seemed like it would never end.
‘I’ll find out what I can for you there, I promise.’ Emma reached up to pat his shoulder.
‘Thanks.’
‘With us and your Umbra thingummy pals on the case we’ll come up with something.’
Alex laughed, a derisive noise. ‘Come up with a way to defeat an indestructible man and a queen of the Fey? Sure.’
‘Don’t be so defeatist, Alex. You beat Hood before, you escaped the Lady. It’s far from over.’
‘Why don’t
they just take over?’ Alex asked.
‘Who?’
‘The Fey. They have so much fucking strength. Even taking into account the thin days and their reduced power then, they could rule this realm, no? Why are they so restrained, secretive?’
Emma chuckled softly. ‘Don’t underestimate us human warriors, Alex. And the Kin, for that matter. The Fey know their greatest power lies in shadows. They hide and roam on the thin days when they can play havoc on a subtle scale. If they made themselves too obvious, a paradigm shift would happen in this plane. Imagine if suddenly everyone knew the Fey were real, knew the magics in the world. The arcane among the humans and Kin could rally and start to fight in the open. Magic would become everyday and those without talent would learn it or serve those who had it. We would bring war to the Fey every thin day and they would lose their edge of fear and free rein. And our realm would lose its attraction for them anyway. They revel in corrupting our supposed order, our mundane world. There’s been a kind of truce in effect for centuries. Fey power is reduced and we accept any collateral damage. You’d be amazed how much of Armour’s time is taken up heading off incursions on thin days and protecting people who have no idea they’re even under threat.’
‘Does it really work like that?’
Emma swept her arm, taking in the campsite and the beach, perhaps all of England. ‘Look around you. Life goes on. We’ve got things relatively contained. Of course, this is why the Fey want free rein in our realm again. If every day were thin, if their influence never waned, they would most certainly stride across this world and live for the chaos they would cause, our order be damned. And there’s very little we could do against them then, I suspect. The full might of Fey against the arcane among humanity and Kin. Who knows what other races and creatures might ally with us? Or with them. But it would be messy. It would be apocalypse.’
Alex rubbed at his chest. ‘And that’s what they want from me. I’m the instrument of their apocalypse.’
‘Maybe. But only if they get you. They’ve been infinitely patient, waiting for their time to come around again. And then you show up and in the space of a few months you’ve fucked them right up. Their anchor stone is gone forever, the Lord’s heart. All that’s left is that collection of shards in you, and you’ve even made that vulnerable. Do you realise what an achievement all that is?’
Alex laughed, shook his head. ‘I certainly didn’t mean for it to happen that way. I had no idea …’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m all that stands between the Fey and their apocalypse. If we can’t do this …’
‘I’ll be first in line to kill you.’
Alex looked sharply down at Emma Parker’s kindly face. Her eyes were hard as flint. ‘Really?’
She nodded, no hint of a smile touching her lips. ‘I like you, Alex, and I will fight with you and do all I can to get the best result here. But Armour Command is unanimous and I endorse their view. If it looks like we can’t win, you have to die. And that stone with you.’
Alex swallowed against the rush of adrenaline at her words. ‘That’s … actually quite reassuring.’
‘I know you have all kinds of conflicts and feelings, Alex. Of course you do. But I have the benefit of pragmatism. I don’t love you like Silhouette does. I will kill you as soon as look at you, should the need arise.’
Alex nodded slowly. ‘And I would let you.’
Emma reached an arm around his back, gave him a squeeze. The top of her head only reached his shoulder and she pressed it against his arm. ‘Attaboy. You deserve to know the truth and I know you get it.’
They stood for a few moments, Alex enjoying the warmth of Parker’s hug. She suddenly disengaged herself. ‘Anyway, enough of that old bollocks. For now, we’re still fighting. York is only an hour that way, straight down the A64. I’m going to the Armour HQ there to collect anything they’ve got for me, get a handle on proceedings. You lot stay here, don’t move too far apart. I know it’s restrictive, but it’s the hand we’ve been dealt, so we play it.’
‘How long can we stay?’ Alex asked. ‘Everyone is really tired.’
‘I know. Before I go I’ll rebuild the shields and they should keep you covered for a few hours. I suggest you all rest. I’ll be back before midnight, so get some sleep between now and then. We’ll move on after that. Use the power here to cook up a proper feed. There’s a mini-mart thing over there, so you should be able to get all you need. Stay together!’
‘We will.’
Tyres crunched gravel. They turned to see a black Land Rover with darkened windows pull up to the camper van.
‘Ah, my ride.’ Emma trotted over and hopped into the passenger seat. She leaned out before closing the door. ‘You lot, eat, sleep, stay together!’
As the Land Rover drove away, Silhouette came and wrapped her arms around Alex. ‘What were you two talking about?’
‘Emma was just reassuring me that we’re going to keep fighting. We’re not going to let the Lady win. That sort of thing. You know what she’s like.’
Silhouette looked up at him, suspicion in her eyes. ‘That’s all?’
‘Yeah, what else?’
She shrugged. They held each other and watched the ocean for a time before Alex’s stomach refused to be ignored any longer.
‘Let’s cook up a feed,’ he said and led her back to Jarrod and Jean. Together they wandered towards the campsite shop in search of sustenance.
Alex dreamed of a fight he could never win. Hood leered and laughed in his nightmares, beating on Alex with brutal efficiency. Nothing Alex did in defence worked, no strike he threw landed. His limbs felt heavy and sluggish, his breath constricted in his throat.
Hood held him down, pounding again and again. Pain cracked through Alex’s skull, but consciousness stayed with him. Hood laughed and looked across Alex’s broken form.
Hello there, he’s all ready for you.
The Lady leaned over, upside down to his view, her face a rictus of woody fury, eyes burning amber. You lost the Lord’s heart! she hissed, and slammed sharp fingers into Alex’s face.
He cried out, tried to swat her hands away, but Hood sat on his chest, used his knees to trap Alex’s arms tight to his ribs. Alex squirmed and thrashed as Hood shifted his weight back, tore off Alex’s shirt.
The Lady reached in, her long, stutter-moving fingers scratching at Alex’s chest. White-hot agony lanced through every millimetre of his nerves, his body alive with fire, as she plucked out each shard of the Darak.
We found a way, she said, laughter rippling through her words.
The Lady and Hood spun away from him as he staggered to his feet. She juggled the three shards of the Darak as calliope music played far too fast from somewhere, a cacophony of idiocy. Hood pranced by, tumbling and back-flipping, laughing as he caught the shards and juggled them too.
The pieces became crows that flapped furiously forward, wings battering Alex’s face. He tried to shoo them away, but his arms were still stuck to his sides. He looked down to see the skin of his ribs merged seamlessly with the flesh of his forearms. He screamed. His hands melted into his hips, his legs bonded together. He fell face-first to a hard, black obsidian ground, writhing useless as a maggot, his body a lump of swollen, pasty flesh.
Cracks appeared and wan blue light flickered at the edges. Icy nothingness came through the fissures as the Void yawned for him, sucked him away from everything he knew.
He howled as pain and loss and grief and guilt flooded his senses.
‘Alex!’
He gasped, sat up, cracked his head against something hard, slumped back down.
‘Alex, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re dreaming.’
Silhouette.
Alex dragged breath into his lungs, opened his eyes. He lay next to Silhouette in the cramped bed above the front seats of the motorhome. Pale light from a small lamp glowed below him. At the other end of the camper Jarrod and Jean, propped on their elbows beside each other on the bed w
here the small table turned over, looked concerned.
‘You okay?’ Jean asked.
Alex nodded. ‘Sorry, guys.’
Silhouette stroked his hair. ‘It’s okay. If anyone doesn’t need to apologise for nightmares, it’s you.’
‘It’s after eleven o’clock,’ Jean said quietly. Alex noted she was still terrified, nervousness in every syllable. The poor woman still thought herself the odd one out in the team. ‘Should we get up?’ she asked. ‘We’ve slept for five hours.’
‘Did you sleep?’ Alex asked.
Jean smiled, abashed. ‘Well, not really. On and off, maybe an hour or two.’
‘Jarrod?’
The big Maori laughed. ‘Like a log. I’ve been at this game a long time, learned to crash whenever I get the chance. It’s a useful skill.’
Alex swung his legs off the bed, dropped to the camper floor. ‘You’re right, Jean, Emma will be back soon. We should get ready.’
Silhouette dropped down behind him, silent as a cat. She put her arms around his chest, hugged him. ‘You okay?’
‘I will be.’
Alex, can you hear me?
He jumped, momentarily reliving the dream before he recognised Meera in his mind. ‘Just a minute, guys.’ He tapped his head by way of explanation. I can hear you.
Are you okay?
It seemed like a lot of people were asking him that lately and he was pretty fucking far from okay. I’m fine, thanks. You got anything?
Not anything much, I’m afraid. But since we first came into contact with you, some of our people have been closely researching the whole Fey, Uthentia, Eld and Darak history. There’s a man there in England who is something of an expert historian on the subject. He claims to have fairly extensive knowledge of the Eld and their magic.
Alex felt a brief surge of hope, but it died quickly. Will that help me?
Anything you learn is good, Alex. Knowledge is power. If you can understand something of the Eld’s history or magic, it might help you figure out a plan.
Is he one of yours, this guy?
Meera chuckled, a strange sound that rang inside his head. No, but he’s worked with us before apparently. He’s … eccentric. Very old. But he’s agreed to chat with you. I warn you, he’ll only trade his knowledge for yours. You’ll need to share your story with him in great detail, but he’ll hopefully share some stuff back. That’s how he works.
