The Last City

by Nina D'Aleo

  ‘Ring out to who?’

  ‘Eli,’ Copernicus said.

  Shawe snorted. ‘What are we calling that little insect for?’

  Copernicus’ back stiffened. Diega glared at Shawe and said, ‘We’re calling Eli because he’s brilliant. He might have information that will save your brother. But if you’d rather, we can wait for someone taller to come up with the answers.’

  Shawe held up his hands. ‘Keep your shirt on. I didn’t mean to offend your boyfriend.’

  Diega mumbled something that sounded like imbecile and turned back to putting the tech together.

  Silho swallowed as nausea swelled inside her throat. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to be sick in front of everyone. A soft hand closed around her arm and she felt herself propelled silently off the ground and carried away from the others. She opened her eyes to see Raine’s face above her.

  The spectral-breed carried her through a hallway made of glass into a second room with bunk beds built into the wall. She turned left into a large, open industrial bathroom, made for researchers returning from underwater treks to wash off their suits before getting undressed. The scent of bleach and other heavy chemicals still lingered in the stuffy air. Raine crossed the bathroom to the toilet cubicles and lowered Silho onto the cold tiles. The restraints clanked together as Silho doubled over, retching.

  Afterwards she tried to lean her head against the cubicle wall, but she jolted back, seeing a stranger’s face staring at her from the toilet piping. The face, filthy and haggard, registered shock, which deepened as Silho realised it was her own reflection. She turned away from the disturbing sight and saw Raine standing in front of one of the bathroom mirrors on the other side of the room. Instead of her own reflection, the image of the he-Wraith, Amateus, looked back at her. Inside the mirror he moved independently of Raine’s movement and spoke to her, though his voice was mute to Silho’s hearing. Raine replied in the language of the Skilsy Wraiths, which to Silho’s ears sounded like a collection of shhh and ssss sounds. Raine lifted her hands and touched them to the mirror. The two Wraiths, male and female of the same person, stared at each other with unmistakable adoration.

  Silho lowered her head, the sickness building again inside her. She focused on the bloodline marks showing through her ripped sleeves. The red of the flame and green of the dragon scales shimmered in the weak light. The colours brought faded memories to her mind of her father’s works of art. In her mind he stood in front of a blank canvas, his eyes already seeing the image that he would paint. This memory, like every other of her childhood, was shadowed with the darkness of his terrible death. She – that woman, that demon witch – had not just killed him, she’d murdered his name and everything good that he had been.

  Silho’s eyes burned with tears. How could there still be tears after she’d cried so much for so long? When would it stop? She slid down and rested her head on the tiles. The Wraith appeared at the cubicle door, watching Silho with sad, almost bewildered eyes.

  ‘Did you know my father?’ Silho whispered.

  ‘We knew of him,’ Raine answered.

  ‘Did you know the Skreaf were hunting him before they framed him?’

  The Wraith pressed her pale lips together. She searched for the right words before she spoke. ‘We are forbidden by our law to associate with those outside our kind, or to interfere in their matters. After your father’s death, Amateus and I made the choice to fight the Skreaf – regardless of the consequences.’ Her words faded in and out in Silho’s mind.

  ‘What consequences?’ she managed to ask.

  ‘Our people believe that everything happens as it is intended. To fight against fate is an insult to the gods. This merits the severest punishments. We can never return to our kind. We will never be separated into two bodies.’

  ‘You want that?’ Silho said.

  A complexity of emotions stirred the shapeless torment of the Wraith’s haunted eyes. They settled somewhere between desperate hope and utter despair.

  ‘We are always together, but always apart – until we are released.’

  Silho took in the words, processing the extent of the Wraith’s sacrifice.

  ‘Look in my pocket,’ she whispered.

  Raine crouched down beside her on the grimy bathroom floor. She reached into Silho’s jacket and drew out the oval compact mirror Eli had given her on her first day as a tracker. The Wraith stared into it and the red eyes of Amateus looked back at her. She stroked a finger over the mirror.

  ‘Keep it,’ Silho said.

  The door squeaked open and Diega entered the bathroom. She moved around the room, scouring the corners and behind the toilet doors. Raine rolled into the floor and vanished as the Fen turned their way.

  Diega spotted Silho and said, ‘There you are.’ She approached the cubicle. ‘What are you doing sneaking off like that?’

  Silho cringed as the sickness boiled again inside her. The anger faded from Diega’s eyes. She stood watching Silho for some time. When she finally spoke her voice was softer than usual. It sounded like beautiful, sorrowful music.

  ‘You know, when someone dies there are a lot of empty spaces – their room, their chair at the table. They are sacred places and you can’t fill them – ever.’

  Silho nodded. She knew all about empty places.

  Diega’s face contorted as though she was going to cry, but the tears didn’t come. Her voice hardened. ‘The witch has to pay – but only you can end her.’ She stepped closer to Silho. ‘You have to find out how, right now. No more lies and hiding. No more games. You have to get control. If I were you, there is nothing in the universe I wouldn’t do to get retribution. Do you understand? Here, get up. Now. Move.’ She grabbed Silho’s arm and tried to drag her to her feet. Silho gasped, struggling to find her balance.

  The commander appeared silently behind Diega. He took Silho out of Diega’s grasp and sat her down on a crate beside the toilets. He fixed his dark stare on the Fen. ‘Go monitor the system.’

  ‘I don’t want to monitor the system,’ Diega said. ‘We shouldn’t be hiding down here. We should be out there, hunting these hags, finding Jude.’

  ‘We will be, when the time is right,’ Copernicus said.

  ‘Which is when?’ she demanded.

  ‘When I say it is,’ Copernicus replied. He nodded to the bathroom door. ‘Go.’

  Diega’s angry eyes retorted, but she obeyed and left them alone.

  The commander turned to Silho. His eyes moved along her arms, studying her bloodline marks. He narrowed his stare.

  ‘Your pictures have changed – extended,’ he said, leaning in closer. ‘Did you notice?’

  Silho shook her head, but his words made her think of her fight with Bellum in Moris-Isles. After drawing power from the witch’s body-lights, she had coughed up sparks. That had never happened before. Her pictures had been tingling and itching ever since, but the sensations had faded into the more consuming pain of the drug withdrawals.

  ‘Bellum,’ Silho whispered. ‘I felt something change when we fought.’

  Copernicus thought for a moment then said, ‘The pictures may be related to the Skreaf – or to the skill you need to fight them. That must be your light-form vision.’

  ‘I can’t kill anyone with light-form,’ Silho said.

  ‘I know – you can only draw a small amount of strength, but maybe if you can gain better control over your mind you might be able to take more power before you ignite. Maybe enough to be lethal.’

  Dizziness forced Silho to lean back. Sharp images from the wall sliced through her thoughts. She saw a much younger Christy Shawe and Copernicus sitting in the bathroom smoking illegal Estle Thistle. Purple smoke curled above them and their laughter echoed around the empty room. More people walked into the vision: researchers in underwater suits washing off under the showerheads, a maintenance crew testing the glass walls, a couple kissing in secret. The picture grew increasingly crowded as memory-people from times long past app
eared. Silho heard the commander’s voice calling her from a distance.

  ‘Brabel, can you hear me? Say these words: Claude animus meus.’

  Her numb lips mumbled over the words and the visions and sounds suddenly vanished. Silho had a moment of feeling as though she was falling through a silent void. With the distraction of the mental interference gone, the nausea amplified. She bent over, trying to breathe slowly until the sickness lessened. As it did, Silho became aware that the commander was kneeling in front of the crate where she sat. He was holding her. Silho could see along the pattern of his viper bloodline marks. His colours pleased her eyes and the coolness of his touch soothed the perpetual heat of her skin. Silho looked up at his face, into his midnight black eyes, and saw in them a lifetime of experiences that others only had in their nightmares. He had gone into the darkest places and seen the worst atrocities created by the most demented minds. He had gone in to save, but had paid a personal cost. He had been touched by the evil. There was no way to avoid it. So he had become what she saw – the villainous hero, admired and hated, revered and feared, closely followed and widely avoided because no one could understand the way he thought, and that made people uncomfortable. But she understood. She saw he was dangerous, even disturbed, but that was what she found so magnetic. Everyone Silho had loved in her life had had that same look – Oren Harvey, Hammersmith, Ismail and Ev’r – and now she realised, so had her father.

  The commander watched her with caution and asked, ‘Has it worked?’

  Silho nodded, but then another vision flashed behind her eyes. ‘But it’s coming back.’ She hated hearing the panic in her voice.

  ‘Say the words again,’ the commander instructed. ‘In your mind.’

  Silho obeyed and the hallucination vanished.

  ‘What is it? What does it mean?’ she asked.

  Copernicus sat back, his eyes moving in thought. Finally he spoke. ‘It means close my mind. It’s an Illusionist enchant. They use it to centre themselves, to shut their thoughts away from outside influences and distractions – like other people’s voices, other sounds, their surroundings, even their own physical needs. Keep repeating it.’

  Silho silently spoke the words again with the same clearing effect.

  ‘How long will it last?’ she asked.

  ‘Illusionist magics aren’t just tricks – they’re a way of thought,’ Copernicus said the words carefully as though he wasn’t comfortable with them. ‘People without natural Illusionist skill need to practise the magics and build up strength with time. If you continue to repeat the words, they will become imprinted on your mind. They will create new pathways in your brain, the way exercise creates new muscles in your body. Eventually you won’t need to actively say the words. Think of it as if you’re building a wall around your mind – every time you say the words is one brick of the wall. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  Silho nodded, then asked, ‘You have . . . natural Illusionist skills?’

  Copernicus’ body tensed. The scars on his face stretched tight. Silho lowered her eyes and saw his fists were clenched, making the scars on the back of his hands stand out white.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s not my business,’ she said.

  After several moments of silence, the commander said, ‘I made these scars before I realised that just cutting the memory out of my skin couldn’t get rid of it from where it mattered the most.’ He lifted his hand, touching the side of his head. ‘You and I have something in common.’

  Silho saw a shift in the blackness of his eyes, a hint of feelings he usually kept hidden beneath cold control.

  ‘You remind me . . .’ Silho tried to tell him what she had been thinking earlier, but realised after she’d started to speak that it might not be such a good idea.

  ‘I remind you of what?’ the commander prompted.

  Silho thought fast and couldn’t come up with anything to say that didn’t sound bad – of my mother, of my father, of Ev’r Keets. ‘Of everyone I knew.’ She finally settled on that, though it still sounded strange, even to her.

  Copernicus narrowed his eyes, but then his expression relaxed and he nodded. Silho wondered what he’d made of her words, but didn’t want to ask and he didn’t explain.

  She heard a click as Copernicus unlocked her restraints and slid them over her gloved hands. Silho shivered.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked, the panic speaking again.

  ‘I am,’ Copernicus said. ‘Are you?’

  Silho considered the question. Most of her physical symptoms had passed except for the lingering nausea. When she repeated the enchant she was able to control both her need to access the walls and their voices calling to her, but as soon as she wasn’t thinking of the words the sensations returned, so her mind was in a constant state of struggle, like the ocean against the sand. She couldn’t imagine being able to sustain the control without her drugs, but according to Raine it was the only option if she was to have any chance against the Skreaf – to stop them from destroying their world. She was the only one who could. Exhaustion pressed heavily on her shoulders.

  ‘You’re tired,’ the commander said. He stood up. ‘Take power from me.’

  Silho looked up at him and it was a moment before she comprehended what he was saying. ‘No, no,’ she said as soon as she did. ‘I can’t. I’m alright.’

  ‘I’m not asking, Brabel. I need you regenerated. There’s no time for natural recovery.’

  ‘But what about you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fine. Do it – now,’ he insisted.

  Silho stood reluctantly. She swapped to light-form vision and saw the commander as a figure of brilliant lights, a fortress of strength. The only dimmer spots were around his mouth, but even they she wouldn’t have considered a weakness. She’d never seen anyone with lights like that. Obeying his order, she raised her hand and took as much of his strength as she could. It didn’t deplete him at all. She broke off and blinked back to normal sight, feeling renewed.

  ‘Better?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  The door handle rattled and Diega called from behind the locked door, ‘The hedge has halted.’

  The commander cursed softly. ‘Keep repeating the enchant. I’ll be back in a second.’ He crossed to the door and pulled it open. He glared at the wall as he left. Raine’s face appeared for a second in the place where he’d looked, then sank back into the plaster.

  Silho breathed in deeply and sat back down on the crate. She wrapped her arms around herself and lowered her head, repeating the words he’d taught her in her mind, pushing back the visions, building the wall against their force.

  Time slipped past silently until the sound of stomping footsteps roused her. Christy Shawe pushed into the bathroom. Without noticing her, he headed straight for the row of urinals and unzipped his pants. Silho shifted uncomfortably on her crate and decided to try to make a silent exit. She stood and crept for the door, but her boots caught on an exposed pipe. She tripped and fell hard on her hands and knees. A blaze of images shot through her mind and she screamed, unable to disconnect, unable to breathe. Big hands, rough and scarred, pulled her over onto her back and she stared up at Shawe’s face.

  ‘You right?’ he asked her.

  She managed a nod.

  ‘If you wanted to take a peek, love, all you needed to do was ask.’ The gangster king grinned.

  Copernicus and Diega burst into the room with their electrifiers drawn. They looked from Shawe holding up his pants with one hand to Silho lying on the ground, half underneath him.

  The commander’s eyes darkened. He armed his weapon and brought it up to Shawe’s chest.

  ‘She fell.’ The gangster stood and backed away from Silho. ‘I was helping her up.’

  Copernicus set his finger on the trigger.

  ‘Truthspoken!’ Shawe said. ‘You know me.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Copernicus replied, his voice as dark as his eyes.

  Shawe’s face flashed surprise then re
ddened. He held up a finger. ‘No – no way. You know the way that went down. She came to me!’

  Diega narrowed her eyes. ‘Who came to you?’

  ‘No one.’ Copernicus held his aim.

  ‘His girl,’ Shawe said. ‘And I wasn’t the only one. She was all over the place. He knows that.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Diega asked. ‘You cheated with his girlfriend?’

  ‘I didn’t know she was his girlfriend.’

  ‘You said you two were like brothers, but you didn’t know she was his girlfriend?’ Diega challenged him.

  ‘I was drunk!’ The red of Shawe’s face deepened. ‘And she was there. He sold me out for a woman!’

  ‘He sold you out for a woman?’ Diega said. ‘How about you betrayed him first – for the same woman. But it’s not your fault, right Shawe? You’re just the poor defenceless victim.’

  ‘Well, what about you,’ Shawe returned. ‘I can see how it is. You’re supposed to be with that Jude, but you really want this guy.’ He nodded to Copernicus. ‘You probably hope your boyfriend’s dead so you can move right on.’

  ‘You shut it!’ Diega yelled at him, her colours blazing the brightest Silho had seen them.

  ‘Bullseye.’ Shawe laughed at her.

  The gangster and Diega drew their weapons on each other at the same time, both taking aim, with Silho stuck between them. Raine stepped out of the wall and hissed a Cos enchant. The showerheads beside Shawe and Diega burst on, spraying them with water. Over their swearing, Silho heard the tech device they’d rigged up to run the hedge give out a series of beeps. The commander ducked in and dragged Silho up. He helped her out to the main chamber and went to check the hedge. Silho saw his face was rigidly controlled as always, despite what Shawe had said. The others followed, drenched, still cursing at each other and at Raine.

  ‘It’s finished,’ the commander told Diega. He disconnected his communicator and dialled into it.

  The line hooked and a voice, both tentative and hopeful, answered, ‘Hello?’

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