There is no need to speak aloud. Call me Utu. Wield me, and I will strike on your behalf. That is my purpose.
Hadrian pictured himself battering his enemies to death with a crowbar in his hands, and wasn't reassured.
“Right.” Kybele was heading back towards the diagram she had drawn in the surface of the intersection. The Galloi strode, tall and impossibly solid at her side, bald head gleaming. The Bes moved as one with them, keeping perfect formation with lithe, miniature movements; there were now so many of them that it was difficult to keep count. The sun had set behind the buildings, and the sky above was dark with thunderclouds. Hadrian hesitated, but the Bes pushed him along, keeping him firmly inside their ring by means of shoves, linked arms, or pokes with their staffs.
They stepped onto the diagram. He could feel the power of it in his feet and calves, as though the ground was hot. The Bes shepherded him with Kybele and the Galloi into the central circle. There the heat, the power, was strongest. Dry, baked air made Hadrian sneeze twice, and the sound of it fell flat and echoless into nothing. He straightened and looked around, seeing properly for the first time how diagram and intersection were in harmony. One was drawn on the other, but it couldn't exist without the other: two and three dimensions combined. Together they formed an elaborate pattern that interacted synergistically with the world around it. Flexing it.
Hadrian saw the landscape outside the circle as though through a heat-haze. The straight lines of buildings danced; the curves of curbs fluttered; nonfunctioning traffic lights shivered in their concrete boots. Through the illusion, he thought he saw a number of insubstantial, white-clad forms encircling them, leaping and waving their arms. He didn't know what they were, and was too afraid after Kybele's admonishments to ask. They didn't seem to be attacking, so he assumed that they weren't a danger. Maybe, he thought, they had always been there and only in the presence of such concentrated magic could their presence be known.
Kybele took her staff and, in the exact centre of the circle, raised the kinked end of it above her head. The mantle of clouds gathered above flashed white. Lightning had struck somewhere nearby; a long roll of thunder treacled over him, agitating the heat-shimmers. Kybele kissed the handle of the staff, then lowered it knob-first to the ground. It slid into the tarmac like a key. The ground shook.
Rain began to fall, lightly at first, but with increasing urgency as the ground outside the circle buckled and split in a thousand places. Blunt hands groped up through shattered road, seeking purchase. Hadrian watched in horror as wet, glistening bodies squirmed up from the earth like maggots. Grey, brown, and lime-white, one by one they clambered heavily to their feet, waving their fists and encircling the diagram. Hoarse voices, unused to the near-vacuum of the surface, bellowed. The noise of rent earth was like an avalanche to Hadrian's ears: painfully loud and filled with the threat of violence. He put his hands over his head in a vain attempt to keep it at bay as, with one uncanny movement, all the creatures turned inwards to glare at him and the others in their midst.
“Who calls us?” growled one, its face a series of vicious cracks on an ovoid boulder shot through with yellow.
“I do,” said Kybele, stepping forwards with her staff out of the ground and upraised before her, “and you will obey me.”
“Not without good reason,” the creature responded. A gnarled fist stabbed the air.
Roaring deafeningly, the creatures rushed inwards from all directions at once.
“Ye Creatures of Stone that walk the Earth, ye Creatures of the Air that steal the Mind and devour the Heart: what manner of World is this? What Hope is there for Mankind?”
THE BOOK OF TOWERS, FRAGMENT 30
The kaia turned out to be a tribe of skinny, childlike beings with pockmarked skin the colour of cooled lava and strange, oval-shaped eyes the same shade as their flesh. Seth was reminded of the aliens from the X-Files called Greys, except their heads were human-sized and instead of clothes they were adorned with brown, purple, and gold threads. They congregated in a circular building half-buried in the foundations of Abaddon. Strange structures crowded in on all sides; the only access was through a tunnel consisting of sudden turns and sharp edges. Seth had to shuffle sideways through most of it to avoid banging his head. With his broad shoulders and splayed legs, Seth couldn't imagine how Xol managed to pass unscathed. The dimane was the last one through the dimly lit passage.
The kaia watched silently as the four travellers eased themselves, one by one, into their presence. The entrance hall was shaped like a wide D, with a ceiling that hung dangerously low over the straight wall and rose uninterrupted several metres to meet the summit of the curving outer wall. There were no windows. A single door led deeper into the building; the kaia stood between Seth and that exit. They stood in no apparent order—twenty of them in a room big enough to hold fifty. They were silent unless addressed, and even then only one of them answered. That one was different every time, and sometimes changed in the middle of a sentence.
“You may address me as Spekoh,” said the tallest of those present.
“You know who I am,” Agatha said. “The others travel under my protection.”
“You bring them here at great peril to your life.”
“I do not do so lightly. Will you help us?”
“We cannot answer that until I know what you want,” said another of the kaia, looking at Seth with wide, depthless eyes.
“We want shelter, for the moment. Beyond that, it depends on what Barbelo tells us.”
“You ask much,” said a third kaia.
“Yes, Spekoh, but know this: if the Nail succeeds in its plan, none will be safe ever again.”
The kaia didn't respond in any visible way. Seth watched them in amazement, grasping the concept that the kaia were of one mind and that the voice of that mind jumped from vessel to vessel as the whim took it.
“You come here at a time of great turmoil,” Spekoh said through a new mouth. “Works of tremendous significance are in progress; the city is in thrall to the plan of which you speak. All are to obey or to be fed into the beast's maw.”
Agatha nodded. “From Bethel, Barbelo could see foul magic was afoot. We were attacked by egrigor seeking this one.” She indicated Seth, who resisted the urge to drop his eyes. The kaia's combined stare was daunting. “We escaped and await word of what to do next. We have come here to the eye of the storm—to you, knowing that you have no more love for the Nail than we do.”
“This is true. It cast us out of the realm long ages past, and the underworld was not to our taste. We are not welcome here. Sheol burns not upon us. We miss the Sisters’ flame.”
“You are missed also,” said Xol. “We would return your generosity with our own.”
“No one is so generous—” said one kaia.
“—as one who has nothing to give,” finished another.
“That is true,” said Agatha, “but we have him.”
Her finger pointed, and all eyes turned to Seth.
“Hold on,” he said uneasily. “I don't belong to you.”
“We know who this is,” said the tall kaia. “We know why the Nail seeks him.”
“He is the Nail's instrument,” added another.
“He travels willingly with us,” said Agatha, “and there is strength in him. He is as the tip of a sword: the hand that wields the sword is far from him and the weapon is useless without him. About him the fate of worlds turn. Who allies themselves with him may find favour cast upon them.”
“Or ruin.”
“Yes, or ruin. There are no guarantees.”
Seth bit his lip to stop himself from interrupting. He could see what Agatha was doing, even though he thought it dishonest. He had never considered using his role at the centre of the Cataclysm as a bargaining chip and wasn't comfortable with the thought that he had no value as an independent person. What would he do if he was called upon to honour a deal made on such grounds? He had no idea what that might require.
But if such bargai
ning helped him now, he supposed he could worry about the details later.
The kaia were silent, considering the proposal. He wondered if the components of the group mind were conferring, or if the mind was thinking the same way humans did but with its brain spread among many bodies. The kaia showed no signs of uncertainty, restlessness, or dissent; their expressions were uniformly blank. He felt as though he was standing in a room full of statues, all arranged to face him.
“We will aid you,” the kaia finally said. The one who spoke stood at the back of the room and was smaller than the others. Its smooth bald head cast a shadow across its face. “You cannot hide him forever. Your time here must be measured in days, not weeks; perhaps only hours. But whatever succour we can offer is yours.”
“Thank you, my friend,” said Agatha, bowing to express her gratitude. “A place to rest in safety is all we need. With luck, we will not trouble you long.”
The childlike forms turned as one to face her.
“We are not your friend,” said Spekoh, “but we are united. Our goals are one, for good or ill. We have waited an age to regain our former glory.”
Agatha's expression didn't change, but Seth thought he sensed a rivulet of uncertainty run through her.
“We'll know better where we stand when we hear from Barbelo,” she said, glancing at Synett as though hoping for reassurance.
The man shook his head. “‘Establish the counsel of your own heart,’” he said, “‘for no one is more faithful to you than it is.’”
“Come with us,” said a kaia near the internal doorway. “Our trust is granted with care, but is generous when given. We will help you find the answers you seek. In the meantime, you will be safe here from the enemy and its minions.”
That suited Seth down to the ground. After the egrigor and the fomore, he was looking forwards to laying low for a while. Without hesitation, he followed his companions through the crowd of their hosts and into the depths of their hidden domain.
The stone creatures vomited out of the ground like a landslide. Their mingled bellowing was a roar as loud as an earthquake. Seth fell back into the centre of the ring of Bes and bumped into the Galloi. In the face of such an onslaught, even that broad expanse of muscle was no comfort.
It's okay, he told himself, trying to ease the hammer-blow of adrenaline surging through his system. They were standing in the centre of the magic circle that Kybele had inscribed into the wet road surface, which surely afforded some protection, as long as they didn't step outside it. That didn't stop his heart beating rapidly in his chest, or his muscles tensing, ready to fight.
What would Seth do? he asked himself. What should I do?
I am here, whispered the staff into his mind. Its voice was as tight as a tendon. Utu is with you now.
He didn't have time to ponder what use to him a talking crowbar would be, for at that moment the flood of stone creatures converged on Kybele's circle and, without missing a step, crashed right over it.
The Bes leapt forwards to meet their attackers in every direction at once. Their screams were as high-pitched as razors scraping over glass; their lituus swung and fell with quicksilver fluidity, sending chunks of rock flying. Clouds of dust met the rain and fell instantly to mud; wet clods of soil splattered in every direction. A severed arm landed at Hadrian's feet, and he was sickened to see worms oozing out of the stump. Utu twitched in his grip as the limb clutched blindly at air. He kicked it away with a revolted gasp. No one noticed over the sound of the battle.
The Bes were small but strong, and there now seemed to be dozens of them, an army in miniature. They held back the tide longer than Hadrian thought possible, but it was inevitable that one of them would fall. The break, when it came, was to Hadrian's left, opposite Kybele. Her eyes sparked dangerously as one of her tiny minions collapsed under the weight of living stone and the defensive circle gave way. With a triumphant roar, a flood of creatures poured through the gap. The Galloi put himself before his mistress and tugged Hadrian behind him. The giant's massive staff swung with an unholy noise and smashed stone to pieces in a mighty swathe.
It wasn't enough. The creatures were too numerous, and the Galloi couldn't guard every quarter at once. Although his staff rang like a bell and seemed to blur under his massive hands, the flood spilled around him and converged on Kybele and Hadrian.
The air was full of the grunts and crashes of battle. Everywhere Hadrian looked he saw jagged fists and crystalline teeth, bashing and gnashing.
The moment he had been dreading had come. There was no longer time to think. He had to fight or die.
And perhaps, he thought, it wouldn't be a bad thing if he did die. Then all of Yod's plans would come to nothing…
A hand as rough as freshly broken stone clutched for his face. His body moved of its own accord, and Utu came up singing.
We fight!
Part of him watched as though from a distance, observing his actions with a feeling of startled impotence, unable to intervene and too horrified to cast judgement. The staff moved like liquid light, flowing in his hands as he brought it up to intercept the creature's lunge. Utu moved so fast it seemed to bend, curving back along its length until it resembled a scimitar. Although Hadrian knew it was as blunt as a stick, it sliced through the creature's forearm as easily as though the stone were butter. Sparks flew. The staff straightened, then curved again as he brought it around for another sweep. His feet scrabbled for purchase on the slick road surface. The creature tried to duck, but too slowly. The shining blade took off its head from ear to ear and knocked its body sideways to the ground.
“Jesus!” He staggered back from the twitching body, staring at it then at the staff in his hand. It was the same as it had ever been: perfectly straight with a small L-shaped kink at the business end.
I am Utu, it said with an edge of smugness. We fight now.
Hadrian barely had time to think as another of the creatures came forwards, forcing him into a defensive posture. The world narrowed down to the sweeping line that was his staff and its many points of intersection with hostile stone. His senses became attuned to its shining lethality. It had literally become one with him—threading its insidious silver up his hand and around his wrist—and this fact no longer bothered him. His mind was swept up in its song of survival as he slashed and hacked, slashed and hacked…
We fight now, they sang together. We fight!
“ENOUGH!”
The single word shocked him out of his battle fugue. Blinking, he stumbled away from the creature whose arm he had just sliced in half. He saw similar expressions of surprise on those around him as combatants parted, their concentration shattered by the power of that single word. It was so loud it hurt.
Bright lights flashed while a concussion of sound shook the ground beneath them and smashed brilliant windows in their hundreds. A strained silence fell upon the Earth. The background pattering of rain upon solid rock skulls gradually invaded their hearing.
“I didn't bring you here,” the voice went on, “to waste yourselves in pointless slaughter. Desist—or I will pack you back in the ground like so many corpses, and you can rot down there until Ragnarok!”
In a sound of tumbling gravel, the stone creatures backed away from Kybele. Hadrian did the same, gaping stupidly at her. Her anger was profoundly physical. It made the air around her shake in distress. Her hair sparked like a Van de Graaff generator. The rain boiled off her with a demonic hiss. Her eyes were unspeakable.
“You will obey me,” she ground out between thin lips, “or you will die. Which is it?”
One of the stone creatures stepped forwards. It alone radiated any vestige of the rage that had filled them during their advance. Its face was, if anything, slightly more fractured and its crude brows were locked in a permanent glower.
“The Gabal serve no human.”
“Are you blind? I'm not human. How else did you think I summoned you?”
“Humans are resourceful. They break the old rules.�
�
“Rules were made to be broken, but not this time. They're just coming back into play. Are you the Elah?”
“I am Elah-Gabal.”
“Some King of the Mountain you make if you don't know who I am. Submit or I'll break you down to gravel and sow you into the road.”
The creature hesitated, a look of amazement chipping some of the resentment off its bluff features. “Agdistis?”
“I take that name no longer,” she said. “I answer to Kybele now.”
The creature nodded, and reluctantly sank onto bended knee. “Mistress,” it said with head bowed, “I submit. We did not know you in this form. After Attis was lost—”
“Enough. I prefer obeisance to your pity.”
With a muddy splash, all the stone creatures followed their leader's example. Hadrian stared at them in amazement, wondering at the sudden capitulation. An army of such creatures could tear apart dozens of people, but they bowed to Kybele. Why hadn't she pulled this stunt minutes earlier, before the fight had begun?
She wants them riled, he realised. A promise to fight wouldn't be enough. Now their blood—or mud, or whatever fuelled them—would be pumping. They would be keen to reestablish their sense of self-worth by coming down on someone else, and hard.
And she had to earn their allegiance…
“There.” With a satisfied nod, Kybele turned to Hadrian. “The Gabal are the last of them. We're ready, now, for a bit of a scrap.”
“The last of who?”
“The duergar clans. We need an army to tackle our enemies, and the stout ones, my old allies, are just the ones for it. Bes haven't fought alongside Gabal for many thousands of years, but there will be plenty of opportunity for strange alliances before this is out.” She hefted her staff. “How about you? Have you and Utu got to know each other yet?”
“We've—met,” he said, unnerved by the violence they had enacted together now the battle was past.
“Good.”
“But—” He hesitated, unwilling to stand against her, no matter on how trivial a point. “We can't just go barging in on Lascowicz with an army ahead of us. He'll kill Ellie out of hand.”
The Crooked Letter: Books of the Cataclysm: One Page 20
