The Crooked Letter: Books of the Cataclysm: One

by Sean Williams

  “Don't you know all this already?”

  “No.”

  Synett shook his head, dark skin catching the strange light of the kaia. “I don't believe it. They should've told you as soon as you arrived.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it affects you directly, Seth. It's where the Nail got the idea for this plan. Xol and his brother were perfect mirror twins, just like you and your brother, only no one knew what that meant then. There was no grand scheme to bring about the Cataclysm, to join the realms into one. It just happened by accident. Xol's brother died, and everything went to hell.

  “The Cataclysm happened in stages, each worse than the last. By the time anyone worked out what was going on, it was too late to turn it back. Xol did the brave thing and killed himself, but his brother had already gone to Sheol by that point. The Sisters made him a ghost. On Earth, it nearly triggered an ice age. Whole civilisations fell, including his. It took decades to sort out the mess. People wrote legends about it. Xol's brother was worshipped as a god by the Toltecs and the Aztecs, you know. Xol on the other hand was relegated to the underworld, which was pretty close to what actually happened to him in reality. The dimane took him in, eventually, but before that his life was pretty miserable.”

  “How do you know all this?” Seth asked, appalled anew by the scale of what Synett was describing. How could one single human death bring about such catastrophe?

  “I asked around, when I joined the resistance. They told me what they knew. The Nail saw what happened with Xol and his brother and decided to try again—only this time it would be ready. The surge of deaths had made it stronger, so it was in a better position to jockey for something like this. On top of that, it instituted a tradition of human sacrifice in Xol's old neighbours to make sure the plan stayed afloat. Then all it had to do was wait for another set of mirror twins to be born and put its plan in motion. It probably didn't expect to wait for so long but that ended up working in the Nail's favour. The last century brought it more fuel than all the previous thirteen centuries combined. No wonder it's grown cocky, it and its company of destroying angels.”

  Fourteen hundred years. Seth felt slightly dizzy. “It's been waiting for that long? I can't believe it.”

  Synett chuckled. “You ever get the feeling you were being watched?”

  “Everyone does.”

  “In your case, it was probably true. Yod has been looking for you and your brother for one hell of a long time.”

  Seth nodded dully, understanding why Xol had been reluctant to tell his story earlier. If his own actions resulted in such widespread death and destruction, he would be reluctant to talk about them too.

  “What changed?” he asked.

  “What changed what?”

  “You said that things might be permanently altered if the Cataclysm gets any more advanced. What changed in Xol's day?”

  “Well, it's hard to tell, exactly. Empires were dropping like flies around the seventh century; not just the Roman, but the Persian and northern Indian, too. Greek fire was first used in warfare at that time. Alexandria was destroyed. Christianity was on the rise; maybe there's a supernatural connection there. The notion of romantic love didn't come in until much later, but it could still be related. Sometimes it takes a while for things to become evident, or to be given a name—like perspective in painting. There are some who think that the destruction of the Aztecs at the hands of the Spanish triggered a fundamental shift in the way people thought. Xol's people influenced human evolution more than anyone ever realised, so the echoes of their deaths, nine hundred years later, resonated around the world.”

  Seth struggled to get his head around the notion that human consciousness could be so changeable. That the rules of the world around him could directly impact on his thoughts or emotions was hard to swallow.

  “Why shouldn't it be like that?” Synett asked him. “We're talking about the way the world works, and the way the world works inevitably affects those who live in it. Tipping half the world into a dark age was bound to have consequences on the way we see things, and on the way we create those who follow us. Our kids inherit everything whether they want to or not. The sins of the father, and all that.”

  Synett chuckled again, lower in his throat. “Sometimes I wonder, though. People are stupid and self-destructive; they have been forever. And nowhere do I see any sign of remorse. It's just the same sins, over and over. The same crimes: murder, theft, betrayal, adultery, suicide…”

  Something about Synett's tone made him think of Hadrian and Sweden, and the mess he had left behind. He pulled away, feeling that he was being laughed at. He realised then that the man's tone had subtly changed: Synett was speaking less like a Born Again murderer than a cynic like himself.

  Seth had dipped into Synett's mind. Who was to say the exchange hadn't been two-way?

  “‘He who commits adultery has no sense,’” the man said, his voice full of mockery. “‘He who does it destroys himself.’”

  Seth wrenched his hand out of Synett's strong grip, tearing the bandage off with it. His sense of connection to the man vanished in a flash.

  “That's not who I am!” he protested.

  Synett's broad grin held only amusement as he held up one unbound hand for inspection. The wounds weren't through his palms, as they were on many depictions of the crucified Christ or in stigmatised Saints. They were long, straight lines carved deep into the veins of his wrist and lower arm.

  “Unfinished business,” said the man.

  Seth turned away, revolted by the sight.

  A kaia entered the room. “Your companions call for you, Seth.”

  “Perfect timing,” he muttered. “I can't sit around here doing nothing all day.”

  Synett laughed as the kaia led him away, but the sound lacked even the slightest trace of humour.

  “Gods are not to be trusted. If they should ever return, our days of good fortune will be over.”

  THE BOOK OF TOWERS, FRAGMENT 71

  The car roared along a narrow underground tunnel like a bullet through a gun. With the top of the roof folded back—blending seamlessly into the grey bodywork as though it had never existed—the throbbing of its engine was so loud it made Hadrian feel slightly sick. He clutched the dash for dear life, and tried not to think about what might lie ahead. Kybele had driven them for kilometres along underground roadways, linking up with subways, basements, municipal garages, bunkers—anything the car could fit into. She never once stopped to consult a map. Her fingers tapped restlessly on the steering wheel and gearstick. Her eyes shone green from the dash. The headlights were bright in the confined spaces. Sometimes light reflected back at them off things that scuttled swiftly away into the darkness.

  Needs must when the devil drives, Kybele had told him earlier. All the cities have merged into one and the old maps are useless.

  But who was the devil? And where was he—or she—driving them? To Lascowicz's lair, he hoped, although there was no way he could tell.

  Lightning had split the sky into a jagged jigsaw earlier that night as Kybele and her army of stone creatures had filed down the entrance ramp of a parking lot two blocks away from the summoning point. The latter was spent, she'd explained; what potential lay in its geometry was expended in the effort of wakening the Gabal from their rest. If they were going to perform more magic, they'd have to find somewhere else to do it.

  “It's all about location,” she'd said. “Location and shape. They define utility. You so-called modern humans have always misunderstood that.”

  The parking lot had been cold and dank. For a while, snakelike trickles of water had preceded them down the curving ramps, but then they, too, fell behind. Hadrian was acutely conscious of the weight of the city above and the old, cold earth below.

  “Okay,” Kybele said, gathering the leader of the stone people, Elah-Gabal, together with the Galloi and Seth in the lowest level of the parking lot. “We separate here. Elah, follow the route I've given you
through the tunnels to where the others are gathering. You'll know them, and you'll work with them—even the hiisi, or I'll deal with both of you afterwards. The Bes will go with you to show you the way.”

  Elah-Gabal nodded solemnly. The large contingent of half-men didn't change expression.

  “There are forces awakening that haven't stirred for thousands of years,” she went on. “We can expect Feie at some point; ghul, too. We don't know exactly what else is coming, so be careful. This is just the beginning. What happens today will set the course of the future. I don't want any mistakes.”

  Another nod. If the newly obedient Elah resented her tone, it didn't show. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Go, then,” she said. “I'll contact you when I can. Keep an eye out for the birds.”

  The Gabal and the Bes turned and marched off into the distance, vanishing into the shadow of a tunnel mouth at the edges of the concrete chamber. Their crunching footsteps echoed for a while, then faded to silence.

  “There's going to be one giant catfight when they reach the surface,” Kybele said, her expression amused. “Whoever's trying to take charge won't be able to miss them, and won't let them go unchallenged. That'll give us an opportunity to get to where they're keeping Ellis.”

  Hadrian hefted his staff. “Just us?” he asked, remembering the eerie ghost-shapes inhabiting the bodies of Lascowicz and Bechard.

  “We're meeting Gurzil on the way. You'll like him.”

  Her edgy excitement was, in a way, worse than the thought of the energumen. There was a hunger to her that he didn't like. He hoped, not for the first time, that the ends justified the means.

  “Why exactly,” he asked, “will I like him?”

  “Because he used to be human,” she said. “Just like you.”

  “As in ‘human’ or ‘used to be’?”

  She had grinned wolfishly and didn't answer.

  Hadrian's stomach rumbled. The Galloi produced a bag full of chocolate bars and handed it to him. There was water in a half-empty bottle in the back. He felt drained, even after forcing himself to eat, and assumed that it was an aftereffect of the battle. When he closed his eyes, instead of bodies piled high in the cool-room he now saw stone faces smashing into shards under liquid silver light. Utu lay at his feet, its thin carvings dull. The silver threads connecting it to his hands had faded within minutes of him letting go. He absently rubbed where they'd been, unnerved by the speed and proficiency with which the magical weapon had obeyed his will. It had returned to looking like a blunt crowbar as soon as the fight was over, and remained that way now.

  The old laws are returning, Kybele had told him. Because of you.

  The idea of magic was seductive and wondrous, but it was disturbing, too. He had never felt at home in the old world—the world that told him he was half a person, the reflection of his brother—and in this new world he was defined by exactly the same parameters. He had been cut free from his brother, and the universe was literally rearranging itself to bring them back together. How could he possibly defy that?

  They came to a flat stretch of segmented concrete that looked more like a drain than a road. Kybele gunned the engine and sped the car along a gentle right-hand curve. Every twenty metres or so, a black niche swept by, carved out of the concrete walls for no obvious purpose. The openings didn't seem to hold doorways or tunnels leading elsewhere. Hadrian saw no pipes or switches in their depths. He was distantly reminded of stone shelves in Parisian catacombs, on which bones had been piled long ago. He imagined eyeless skulls staring back at him from the hearts of the alcoves, hidden in shadow…

  One wasn't empty. As the car swept by, red eyes blinked back at him, and something large and dark leapt out from its hiding place. Hadrian swiveled in his seat, catching a glimpse of a broad-shouldered beast with a low, forwards-hanging head and two blunt, curled horns. It landed on all fours in their wake, then stood up on its hind legs and roared.

  Kybele pulled the car around in a skid to face the creature. The sound it made was barely audible over the screeching of brakes. It roared again, and Hadrian winced at the sight of sharp teeth gleaming in its long, rectangular mouth. He reached belatedly for Utu. Then the headlights hit it full in the face, and it turned away with one arm over its eyes. Thick hide shone redly in the light. Its upper limbs were bony and taut with sinew. Instead of fingers it had a hoof that split into three segmented digits, each terminating in a wicked point. Its shoulders were as broad as a bull's, and its thighs were enormous. A chain mail smock swung and glittered with every movement.

  The car screeched to a halt. The smell of burning rubber was thick in the confined space. Kybele killed the engine, and waited.

  The creature straightened. Its face reappeared from behind its arm. Broad, moist nostrils flared. Its voice was gruff.

  “You're late.”

  “I came as quickly as I could,” Kybele replied. “Get in.”

  Hadrian realised then that this was the mysterious Gurzil they were taking with them to recover Ellis. “Human?” he whispered to Kybele as the massive creature came around the side of the car, hooves emitting a deep clop with every step.

  “Used to be,” she whispered back. “Remember?”

  “I'm not likely to forget now.”

  Gurzil opened the door behind Kybele and swung himself inside. He wasn't as tall as the Galloi but was at least as massive. The car creaked under his weight.

  “Phew. What have you been drinking? Ouzo?” Gurzil's cavernous nostrils flared at the smell of the Bes. Bovine, bloodshot eyes blinked at Hadrian. “This, I suppose, is the twin.”

  “I'm Hadrian,” he said before Kybele could answer, responding to the challenging tone with a question of his own. “Do you live down here?”

  “This is my labyrinth,” was the reply. “I am the Minotaur.”

  Kybele laughed mockingly. “You're not going to scare him, Gurzil, so save your energy. You've got bigger things ahead of you.”

  “Enerrrrrgumen,” the deep voice rumbled, almost drooling the words. “Swarrrrrm.”

  “But first, Gurzil, a woman to rescue.”

  “Is she a virgin?”

  “I don't know. Is she, Hadrian?”

  He ignored the question, irritated by their crass mockery. Kybele started the engine with a growl that barely covered Gurzil's bellow of laughter, and took them back the way they'd come. Hadrian reached into his pocket to clutch Seth's bone, and seemed to feel a faint, reassuring tingle in response.

  They'd travelled barely a minute when they encountered resistance. Rounding the wide bend of the passage, they found the way ahead full of translucent, glimmering figures. Instead of slowing, the car surged forwards. The figures exploded out of their path, boiling up the walls and onto the ceiling. They had high, domed foreheads and bulging, glassy eyes. Their forked tongues flickered in anger as the car swept by. Kybele reached under the dash and hit the switch to raise the roof.

  “Feie!” she shouted. “Following us, damn them!”

  Hadrian twisted to look in the side mirror. The creatures were as pale as starlight. Out of the blaze of the headlights, they seemed to glow with their own, horrid luminescence. Their limbs were slender but strong, and their fingers nimble. From within thin, hanging garments, they produced delicate slingshots and bows. Projectiles rattled on the roof as it rose into position. The side mirror smashed, and Hadrian jumped.

  “Let me at them!” Gurzil rumbled. “It's been long years since I picked fey flesh from my teeth!”

  “Not now,” Kybele told him, keeping the pedal firmly pressed to the floor. “You'll have time for that later. Worry about what they're doing here, first, before picking a fight.”

  “You think someone sent them?”

  “Of course. Why else would they be so deep underground? They never stray far from their precious moon without a good reason—or powerful coercion.” Kybele's expression was thoughtful. “Whoever they're siding with, it's clearly not us.”

  “The Wolf?”r />
  “Unprecedented, but far from impossible. Alas.”

  Hadrian thought of werewolves and moths seeking the light of the full moon. He didn't know what phase the moon was in, aboveground—if the moon even followed phases any more. With magnetic north shifting and all of nature's laws no longer reliable, it probably wasn't safe to take anything for granted.

  The car hurtled along at dangerous speed. They passed the junction at which they had joined the curving passage, but didn't take the turn. Although no slope was detectable beneath them, Hadrian received the distinct impression that they were spiralling slowly upwards to the surface. This was borne out by graffiti—a scattered tag or two at first, then a multicoloured stream—and an increase in the amount of detritus littering the way ahead. Kybele jerked the wheel to avoid rubbish and structural debris, sending Hadrian bouncing from side to side. Behind him, the two unlikely silhouettes of Gurzil and the Galloi rocked in time with his motions.

  She was eventually forced to slow their headlong pace. At one point the heavyweights in the back seat had to climb out to clear a wall of tangled tree roots that blocked the way. The Galloi used his lituus to carve through the gnarled plant matter while Gurzil simply ripped with his clawed hands. Great clods formed mounds behind them. Startled insects staggered out, waving feeble antennae at the bright light. Hadrian felt sorry for them, ripped violently out of their comfortable, familiar world as he had been. He hoped their tiny, primitive brains were better able to deal with the change than his was.

  A surging, sickening sensation swept through the kaia's refuge, as though a rising and falling deep-ocean swell had picked it up.

  “What's that?” Seth paused halfway up the spiral staircase and looked worriedly around. The walls and ceiling stood firm. It wasn't an earthquake, then, but something far stranger. He staggered down a step. Although the floor didn't move beneath him, he had trouble keeping his balance. “Have we been found? Are we under attack?”