Ascendance

by John Birmingham

  Instead, he now understood that he had not met the queen in the receiving chamber of some minor palace or royal residence that first time. He’d only met part of her.

  The queen was a huge, seething blob of evil protoplasm, a mound of hell jelly writhing with tentacles and mouths, shot through with veins of daemon ichor as wide as streams in flood. As horrific as was her corporeal form, her psychic presence was worse. She annihilated sentience. If she chose to she could take him up into herself without even bothering to extend a single, snaking tentacle to pull him into her maw. Or one of the many, fang-rimmed maws which drooled and chewed across the seething expanse of that giant blob monster.

  So, thank fuck, she didn’t do that.

  Nor did she repeat her trick of playing with him like a glove puppet. Instead She of the Horde merely asked Lord Guyuk to report.

  *

  The lord commander was grateful to be allowed the privilege of standing in Her Majesty’s presence. Long eons had he risen through the ranks of her loyal Grymm and long eons were bad for the knees. He carefully hid any discomfort, of course, along with any relief.

  Relief he felt in great measure though, thanks to Compt’n ur Threshrend, who seemed to have curbed his natural rambunctiousness at exactly the right moment. Or perhaps She of the Horde had curbed it for him. Guyuk was no more immune to the majesty of the Low Queen than anyone. Just being in her presence was an overpowering experience. How much more crippling would it be for an empath like Compt’n?

  ‘I would hear tell of this human city we have lately invested, Lord Guyuk.’

  She did not refer to them as calflings, or cattle, the lord commander noted.

  ‘I understand that having taken it, we are now to withdraw?’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty.’ Guyuk bowed deeply. ‘The other sects have attempted to bring battle to the human host and to invest their cities as demanded by the dictate of the war scrolls. They have been, each and every one of them, destroyed in the attempt.’

  ‘This pleases me, of course, my lord commander. I am always gladdened to see the lesser sects reduced. And yet, we have bested them and bested the human foe they proved themselves unworthy of, and still we withdraw? Do you shy from the human champion. Or his apprentice – this female with the long blade?’

  ‘The champion is not at issue, my liege. Not the Dave nor his acolyte. We are confident we have found a way to contain any threat posed by them. And we have a scheme in claw which may yet bring him here, before you, in chains. But the pro-consul advises your Majesty that when the sun rises the human forces will almost certainly attack the city with all of the destructive magick and ferocity we saw them lay upon the Djinn, and which we know they have also levied upon the other sects throughout the lands Above.’

  The queen was silent for a moment, and Guyuk was aware of Compt’n ur Threshrend suddenly shivering beside him. Or at least shivering and moaning with more violence than he had been a few moments earlier.

  ‘So I see. Your pro-consul does indeed believe so. And knowing his soul as my own I commend your plan. We shall endure the mockery of the lesser sects while they impale themselves upon the human defences. But attend to me, Lord Commander,’ the queen said, her voice now sounding as though it emanated from somewhere much deeper inside his head. ‘I would not want to be embarrassed in this. The mocking taunts of the usurper queens I suffer for as long I understand there to be some prospect of deliverance. But that prospect should not be long in coming.’

  ‘Of course not, your Majesty,’ Guyuk hurried to reply. ‘The Superiorae is of the opinion that all serious human resistance can be negated within a turning of the moon.’

  ‘Really? Despite their champions and their mastery of profane magicks?’

  She fell quiet again, and again Guyuk was aware of the Threshrend shuddering and even spasming beside him. He sounded as though he were choking, or about to vomit up some undigested meal. The uncomfortable interlude went on much longer this time, and when it was done, the empath collapsed.

  ‘I understand, Lord Guyuk,’ the Low Queen said at last. ‘You have obtained for the Horde a most remarkable advantage in your little adept. Keep him close. The souls he has taken up are weapons of a keener edge than any blade in our royal armoury. It would behove a prudent lord commander to secure even more such advantages.’

  ‘Plans are in train, your Majesty,’ Guyuk assured her.

  ‘The Dave and his court?’ she said. ‘Compt’n ur Threshrend does not think so highly of them as one would imagine, given the travails they caused us.’

  ‘Indeed, your Majesty. But on this matter, one of the souls lately taken up by my pro-consul counted himself a fierce rival of the Dave. I feel that enmity has survived to colour the judgment of Compt’n ur Threshrend.’

  The pro-consul in question seemed to have passed out in a puddle of his own pastes and waste waters. Guyuk wondered at the trial he had endured under the all-seeing gaze of Her Majesty. It was known that She could look so deeply into you, taking everything she found, that when She was done you were left as an empty gourd. He hoped that was not true of the Threshrend. He had use of him yet.

  ‘I understand that, Lord Commander Guyuk. I have spoken with the Superiorae of this. I know him better than he knows himself, and while I am possessed of confidence in the schemes you have plotted with his connivance, I counsel wariness. This champion, and his new acolyte: my Scolari are disturbed by them. The scrolls offer no guidance, and little commentary. They gave no warning that we might encounter more than one nemesis of the Dave’s ilk. Now, on closer reading, the Consilium fear more human champions are yet to reveal themselves. The Superiorae will not knowingly mislead you in this matter, but that is not to say he knows enough to mislead you. Trust his word, Lord Commander, but trust your judgment. I do, for now.’

  Guyuk shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. An audience in Her actual presence was not unlike bearing up under the heaviest Drakon-scale armour. It sapped the strength and eventually the will.

  ‘Of course, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘Have you any reason to doubt the Superiorae’s schemes?’

  He was aware of a shift in the giant, translucent mass of the Low Queen. When she moved it occasioned a great slithering and sucking, and even a few instances of grinding, cracking noises as rocks shifted under her bulk.

  ‘It is a bold scheme, and I approve of it. As fearsome as these technological magicks of the humans undoubtedly are, Compt’n ur Threshrend believes the . . .’

  She paused.

  ‘. . . the civilisation, the great collection of all human sects which gives rise to them, lacks resilience. Unlike the Sectum Inferiorae we do not fight their weapons and armour, my Lord. We assail their civilisation.’

  She fell into quiet, as though contemplating what she had just said.

  ‘The pro-consul is wise to advise this, I feel. It is a truth he holds close.’

  ‘The pro-consul has thought much on this, your Majesty. I have detailed plans if you would have them of me.’

  ‘No,’ She said. ‘That will not be necessary. I have already had them of young Threshy.’

  *

  For a terrifying second he was adrift and alone in the endless void. For an even more terrifying second he was not one soul in the dark, but many, all of them screaming and raking at each other. Then Threshy fully woke up on a thick, soft wulfin-hide rug and found Guyuk looking down on him. Looking almost concerned.

  ‘Are you recovered, Superiorae?’

  Threshy groaned weakly.

  ‘Oh, man, I’m about a thousand fucking miles from recovered. We got anyone to eat? Or drink.’

  To his surprise Guyuk passed him a tankard of bloodwine. Not hot and freshly decanted, but warm enough to be pleasant. His head swam as he necked it down, and he burped when he was done.

  ‘Thanks, G. At the palace . . . did I . . .?’

  He honestly had no memory of the visit. In previous lives he’d known a few nights like that. Not as a mere n
estling thresh, naturally. But Trevor Candly and one of the SEALs had known of partying to the point of obliterating blankness. Not that he’d done much partying at the palace.

  ‘You did not disgrace yourself, or me, Superiorae.’

  ‘Phew,’ said Threshy, exaggeratedly wiping non-existent sweat from his brow.

  ‘So, Her Maj? We cool?’

  ‘We are indeed,’ said Guyuk. ‘You do not recall the audience?’

  Threshy pushed himself up off the rug, already feeling about a thousand percent better, and wondering if the G-Man might have a little more of that bloodwine lying around.

  ‘Oh I remember the walk over there,’ he said. ‘And the tour of Castle Wolfenstein. Everything gets hazy after that. But those Praetorian cocksuckers didn’t throw us on the rocks. So we must have done good, eh?’

  Guyuk bristled but made an obvious effort to chill himself out.

  ‘The Praetorian Grymm are the finest warriors the Clan –’

  ‘Yeah yeah, the finest, the most badass, the least likely to suck a dick. I got it. But they freak me out, man.’

  As he came fully to his senses he realised they were not in Guyuk’s private chambers, but in some other bitchin’ crib.

  ‘Whoa, G-Man. Who pimped out this contemporary domicile? It’s fucking phat, dude.’

  The cavern roof soared to a height at least three times his own, which was why old Guyuk was able to perch on a comfy sitting rock without having to bend his head. But the sitting rock, the wulfin-hide rug, and a long stone feasting bench with a single cold meat platter were just a few of the touches. Threshy scrunched up his suppurating, wart-filled face in something approximating a human frown.

  ‘Is that . . . Oh my fucking god. It is! You got me an Xbox! And a TV!’

  His excitement peaked and dipped very quickly when he realised there was nowhere to plug them in. And no electricity down here, even if some well-meaning Sliveen scout had ripped a socket out of somebody’s lounge-room wall on the orders of the lord commander to procure the magick artifacts for his favourite pro-consul.

  ‘Well it’s the thought I guess,’ Threshy said, his disappointment getting the better of him until he saw the pile of tablets and phones on a plinth in the corner.

  ‘Whoa! These won’t need power. Just yet.’

  He hurried over and plucked a big-ass Samsung from the pile. His fore-claws were not well suited to using the device. Not at all, in fact. But it gave him an idea.

  ‘It was an oversight,’ Guyuk said, ‘not preparing quarters for you, Superiorae. You should have had your own when you were raised above the common Horde. The Master Scolari further suggested we provide you with this plunder. You have spoken frequently of this Box of X and the Scolari are most interested in the amulets of power all of the humans, high and low, seem to wield.’

  ‘So these are all mine now? That’s cool. Uh, we’ll need to wash the blood off the screens. And maybe we could get a generator or something, to hook up the Box of X?’

  He smirked.

  Guyuk meant well.

  ‘But you know what I could really use, G-Man? If I’m gonna actually use these things.’

  ‘Broadband?’

  ‘Well, yeah. Totes. But I could really use an intern. You know. A slave or two.’

  He clacked his talons together, showing how poorly fashioned they were for controlling human artifacts.

  ‘Interns will be captured,’ Guyuk promised. ‘But now we must discuss the greater plan. Our advance forces invest the village of the champion and we must deploy in good order to engage him should he step into the lure.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, the greater plan. I’m all over that like a cheap Chinese suit. But remember how we were talking about interns. You know who’s a really cool intern. Polly ur Farr’l.’

  24

  ‘Hey!’

  Emmeline jumped as the papers she had been about to hand to Heath disappeared.

  ‘What the hell?’ the navy captain exclaimed.

  ‘Sorry,’ Dave said. ‘But I gotta go.’

  ‘At ease,’ barked Colonel Gries over the small uproar which followed, with everyone talking over and across each other.

  ‘What the hell is going on, Dave?’ Emmeline asked. ‘Did you just magic away my file?’

  ‘No,’ Dave answered. ‘Karen’s got it.’

  The Russian spy showed no shame as she held the papers aloft for Heath and Ashbury. Igor eased one hand toward his sidearm but remained seated at the table. Chief Allen looked like a spectator at a tennis match, his head snapping back and forth as he followed the ball between the players.

  ‘This is unacceptable,’ Heath said darkly. ‘Return the classified documents, Colonel Varatchevsky. And don’t do that again. Not unless you’d prefer to deal with Agent Trinder.’

  She smiled.

  ‘I apologise, Captain Heath. No harm meant.’

  Emmeline looked ready to start listing all the ways Karen had put herself in harm’s way, but Dave jumped in.

  ‘Look, we don’t have time for this.’ He pointed at the red list on the whiteboard. ‘Camden Harbor, Maine. Mean anything to you?’

  Both the SEAL and the scientist frowned at the board.

  ‘It’s a small coastal village,’ said Emmeline. ‘A tourist town in New England, I think. Maybe some fishing too. Why?’

  ‘My family,’ Dave said. ‘My boys,’ he clarified. He was forever clarifying Annie out of what he considered to be his family. ‘They’re up there. So, what? You didn’t know that?’

  The scepticism leaching out of his voice could have burned a hole in the hardwood floor.

  ‘No,’ said Emmeline.

  ‘No,’ Heath added. ‘That was . . .’ He paused. ‘That was Compton’s responsibility.’

  ‘Fuck,’ Dave spat. ‘Why? Aren’t you doing his job now?’

  He was glaring at Emmeline.

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ She laughed. Not a real laugh. Just a short, sharp bark. ‘Have you been paying attention? We’ve been a little busy, Hooper. The background check on you was an administrative detail. And Compton, God rest his nit-picking soul, was all about the administrivia. Not Michael or me. Compton. The location of the post office box you neglect to mail your alimony to every month really wasn’t our concern.’

  ‘Maybe it should have been,’ Dave suggested acerbically.

  ‘And maybe you should have paid your fucking alimony,’ said Emmeline, the colour in her cheeks rising fiercely.

  Fuck that. Dave’s stomach turned over and burned with the bitter acid of resentment. He paid most of his alimony. When he could afford to. He threw a despairing glance at Karen. She seemed to be the only person in the room who’d clued into how serious this was. Gries’s men and women were obviously aware of the confrontation, but doing their best to ignore it and get on with their work.

  ‘Okay. So Compton ran a standard background check on Hooper,’ Karen said, throwing her hands up like a cop walking into a fight over a parking spot. ‘Trinder probably ran a deeper one. And your lawyer, the hobbit . . .’

  ‘Boylan,’ Dave said.

  ‘Yes, he would have too. Millions of people will have been running checks on you, Hooper. There’s no reason for you to presume malign intent because it was Compton. Or because Heath and Ashbury left that to him. It was his job.’

  Dave felt his head beginning to swell like a hot air balloon. He’d been looking to Karen to support him, but this was a piss-poor excuse for support.

  ‘But it’s Compton,’ he protested. ‘He hated me before he turned into a fucking daemon, and now he knows where my kids are. That’s why Camden’s on that list, Karen. He knows where they live.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she conceded, then seemed to consider it. ‘Probably.’

  ‘Dave,’ said Emmeline, her voice changed, dragging his attention back onto her. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. We should have known. I should have known and . . .’

  She was blushing now, but not with anger. Dave waved away her self
-reproach, a triumph for Grown-up Dave over Asshole Dave.

  ‘I’m sorry, Em,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Wasn’t your fault. Let’s blame Compton. I’m good with that.’

  The military personnel were grim-faced: Heath thin-lipped, Zach looking a little ill. Even Igor appeared concerned at some level. He wasn’t braced, ready to drop into a shooter’s stance anymore, but he was frowning mightily.

  ‘Still, I gotta go,’ Dave said again. ‘I gotta get up there. You know that, right?’

  He was talking to Heath and Emmeline, not certain which of them was the boss now. Karen watched the SEAL, looking into the man’s eyes, her own mind unreadable. But she was reading him, for sure.

  Dave wished he could borrow that ability from her, the way she seemed able to steal his warp facility from him. But that was a one-way street. He could only guess at what Heath and Emmeline were thinking. He couldn’t know, unlike her.

  ‘I don’t need you here for this,’ Heath said at last, twirling a hand to take in the Armoury.

  ‘But we’ll need to know where you are and what you’re doing,’ Emmeline added. ‘We need to know we can call on you if we have to.’

  Dave almost said, ‘You sound like my wife’, but wisely kept that thought to himself.

  ‘I got a phone,’ he offered instead, remembering the new iPhones he and Karen had secured from the store at Central. He fumbled it out of a pocket, almost dropping it. ‘It’s not bent,’ he said to Karen.

  Heath shook his head.

  ‘You can’t rely on the cell networks. Chief Gaddis?’

  Igor pulled the Iridium phone out and tossed it to Dave who caught it with ease. ‘Know how to work that?’

  ‘Used them in my job from time to time,’ Dave said.

  ‘We have a batch of pre-set numbers in there – one of them will be my phone,’ Zach said.

  ‘How are you going to get up there?’ Emmeline asked.

  Before he could answer, Karen had spoken over him.