The Red Winter

by Henry H. Neff

“Everybody’s scared of him,” said Mina matter-of-factly. “Half the scholars protest whenever Ember crosses Old College to visit the Sanctuary. I keep telling them the crops will fail if he doesn’t but—”

  “Mina,” said Max, embracing her again. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “David told me how he gave the giant a name and you gave him peace. That was very kind of you. And capturing Prusias! You ended the war!”

  “I guess so,” said Max, smiling at her. The girl’s joy and enthusiasm were contagious. “I need to take a page from your book and see the good in all of this.”

  “You do,” she declared firmly. “I know you’re sad, Max. I know you’ve suffered loss. But you’ve done a great thing, too.”

  “Thank you, Mina.”

  “You’ve done much, but we need more,” said Bram pointedly.

  Mina rolled her eyes. “Uncle ’Lias, Max has just come home. He’s just—”

  “There is no time for reunions or sentimentality,” cut in Bram sharply. “Every minute, the danger grows. Did we not see him together?”

  Mina sighed and gave a reluctant nod.

  “See who?” asked Max.

  “Astaroth,” said Mina, frowning and pulling Max along to a particularly complex inscription in the floor. “Through there.”

  Max gazed at the cryptic lines and inscriptions in the swirling green malachite. “What’s through there?”

  “Nether,” said Bram. “This inscription can be used to open a door to that spirit world. Astaroth is somewhere behind this door, Hound. Ever since you and David weakened him on Walpurgisnacht, he has been recovering his strength and watching this world from Nether. He has also been trying to communicate with another universe.”

  “We don’t know that for certain,” said Mina stubbornly.

  “Come, child,” said Bram. “You yourself noticed the peculiarities above Ymir.”

  “It did look thin,” the girl admitted.

  Max was utterly mystified. He looked to each of them. “What are you talking about? Who is Astaroth communicating with? What other universe?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Mina. “I’ll let Uncle ’Lias explain.”

  “Astaroth’s universe,” said Bram. “My investigations suggest that long ago Astaroth entered our world from another universe—a dying universe ruled by ‘Starving Gods’ whom he served and fled. This would confirm what I have always believed, that he is an Outsider who has spent millennia masquerading as a demon.”

  Max nodded. Although the idea of a dying universe and Starving Gods was new, Bram had previously shared his theory that Astaroth was not a true demon or even native to this world. But Mina’s statement remained a mystery. “So what was Mina talking about? What’s ‘thin’?”

  “The boundaries between worlds,” Bram explained. “There have always been times or places where these barriers grow thin and even permeable. Spirits visit the earth more freely at certain times of day or days of the year, such as the solstice or equinox. But there are also locations—dimensional crossroads—where crossings are easier and occur more frequently.”

  “And what does this have to do with Astaroth’s former universe?” Max asked.

  “You know how I’ve always been able to see the worlds?” said Mina.

  Max nodded, recalling her accounts of worlds grand and tiny, solid or ethereal, whose denizens had been aware of her and eager to make her acquaintance. She seemed to be able to see these other worlds or dimensions whenever she wished, just by letting her eyes relax and focus in a particular way.

  “Well,” Mina continued, “as Uncle ’Lias said, there are places in any world that are thin. And if you’ve got enough magic, or try at the proper time, you can cross from one world to another.”

  “Okay,” said Max. “So what’s so special about this crossroads above Ymir?”

  “It’s much thinner than most,” answered Mina. “And it exists not just in this world, but in Nether and every other world I’ve seen. What’s more, on certain days these universal crossroads overlap each other. This would make it much easier not just to travel between worlds, but—”

  “Between two universes,” said Max.

  Bram nodded. “Precisely. Even under these ideal conditions, it would require an extraordinary amount of power to open a gateway, but Astaroth is determined.”

  “So you think Astaroth’s trying to open a gateway to another universe?”

  “I’m certain of it,” said Bram.

  “What makes you certain?” asked Max.

  “Observation,” replied the Archmage bluntly. “For almost a year, Astaroth has been visiting Ymir on these special days and channeling a great deal of energy at the crossroads. He’s either trying to rupture the barrier or communicate across it.”

  Max rubbed his temples. “If you’re right and Astaroth fled this dying universe, why would he be trying to contact someone?”

  There was a quiet, controlled dread in Bram’s voice. “I believe Astaroth is going insane. I believe he intends to sacrifice this world to the Starving Gods he served long ago.”

  This was too much for Max to digest after all he’d been through. He suddenly felt light-headed, unsteady on his feet. Shuffling to the niche where Bram had been sitting, he eased himself upon a cushion. Mina sat next to him while the Archmage poured each a cup of tea from a pot that had been simmering.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Max quietly. “Every encounter I’ve had with Astaroth—every conversation—has been about him reshaping the world. Why would he just destroy it?”

  “Not destroy it,” Bram corrected. “Sacrifice it. The difference is subtle, but important. If Astaroth merely wished to destroy the world, he already has the means. By itself that would gain him very little. But if he surrenders this world to the masters he abandoned, perhaps they will forgive, or even reward, him.”

  Max set down his tea. “Astaroth has been living here for thousands of years. He’s been acquiring power, orchestrating endless schemes, and now he’s just going to throw it all away?”

  “What has Astaroth always coveted?” asked Bram sharply. “Why has he been acquiring all this power over the millennia?”

  “He wants to rule,” said Max, turning the question over. “No … he’s never really been interested in ruling. As soon as he got the Book of Thoth, he left ruling to others. Prusias wants to rule; Astaroth wants to create. Every time I’ve spoken with him, he’s said he wants to build a better and more beautiful world. He wants to be God.”

  “Correct,” said Bram emphatically. “And he has learned a painful lesson. In this world, he may be a god, but not the God. Not even the Book of Thoth can make this so. Astaroth has possessed it now for almost three years. Tell me, how has he used its almost infinite power?”

  Max was tempted to say that Astaroth had created a new world, but he hesitated. That wasn’t exactly true. Astaroth had not really added much that was new. Instead, he had subtracted—scraped away the modern ideas, technologies, and civilizations that he found objectionable. While magic and mystical creatures had flourished in this new era, Astaroth had not invented them but simply revived them. In retrospect, it seemed that Astaroth had been remarkably restrained.

  “He’s removed truenames from the Book,” Max mused. “But I don’t think he’s added many. Why is that?”

  “Why indeed?” said Bram. “Have you ever seen anything he’s created with the Book? Anything wholly new?”

  Max searched his memory and recalled the time he’d left Rowan and sailed to Blys alone. He pictured the abominations he’d seen piled atop the rocks or clustering in the sea. “Creatures,” he muttered. “Creatures in the sea—like mutated seals or crabs jumbled together. They were braying … yelping. They almost sounded in pain.”

  “I’m sure they were,” said Bram. “I’m sure they lived very brief and miserable lives. Do you think they were what Astaroth intended?”

  “No,” said Max. “He likes order and elegance. Those
creatures seemed the opposite of that. Maybe creating is harder than destroying or erasing.”

  “It always is,” said Bram. “But tell me another thing. Did David struggle to use the Book of Thoth? Did he struggle to create?”

  It seemed an age ago when Max and David discovered the Book of Thoth beneath Brugh na Boinne in the Sidh. When David had opened its cover, he perceived almost instantly how to use its power. He had even praised the Book’s simplicity. Within minutes, David Menlo had created a new species from nothingness—two beautiful birds that had never existed before.

  “No,” said Max. “It was effortless for David.”

  “But not for Astaroth,” said Bram pointedly. “Despite his power and intellect, Astaroth cannot use the Book as fully or as easily as my grandson. He can erase or modify what exists, but he’s unable to create what he wishes. Something gets lost in translation.”

  “And you think this has driven him insane?” said Max.

  “I think it has played a decisive factor,” said Bram. “Astaroth has gotten everything he’s wanted: He escaped these Starving Gods, he passed himself off as a demon, he accumulated great power on Earth, and now he even possesses the means to reshape it. And it isn’t enough!”

  “So he’s dangerous,” said Max. “Even angry. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to sacrifice the world.”

  “Did David tell you what Astaroth said when he restored his hand in Nether?”

  “No.”

  Bram’s feral eyes blazed. “ ‘I want you whole when I draw your God out of hiding. I want you whole when your God is devoured!’ ”

  Max said nothing.

  “Astaroth is going insane,” said Bram. “This red winter is but a warning, a symptom of a mind straining not to snap. While Rowan has been warring on Prusias, I have been unraveling all I can of Astaroth’s origins to discover a means of defeating him before catastrophe strikes. But my quest is dangerous. Astaroth knows I have been trying to follow him. He knows I’ve been interrogating spirits—spirits that may know his history. He is hunting me, Max. Rowan is the only place where I am safe.”

  “What prevents him from destroying you here?” asked Max. “He has the Book.”

  Bram gestured around at the magnificent chamber. “Rowan was built by Old Magic from another world. The Book of Thoth has no power over it. If Astaroth wished to attack me here, he would have not only Elias Bram to deal with, but also Mina and the first true dragon in centuries. No, it is far easier for Astaroth if he catches me away from Rowan or in the Nether. He is always watching, always lurking. Very rarely can I go about undisguised.” The sorcerer gestured absently to the feathers along his throat. “Delving into Astaroth’s past has been a demanding and rather dangerous hobby, but the puzzle is almost complete. Only one more piece remains, and I can’t get it without you. You must help me.”

  Max almost laughed. The man’s arrogance was boundless. “I must help you?”

  “I spoke poorly,” said Bram. “I am requesting your help, not demanding it. The situation requires—”

  “Enough,” said Max, holding up a hand for silence. “You know, I’ve been hearing about the great Elias Bram since I was twelve. But you haven’t been too interested in our struggles. No, you started a war and left us to fight it—claimed other priorities while thousands of our people died. Well and good. But Astaroth’s your quest, Archmage. You’ve made that very clear.”

  Bram’s eyes blazed at this rebuke, but he choked back a reply and merely stared at Max. During the long silence that ensued, Mina looked from one to the other and fiddled anxiously with her magechain.

  “This won’t do,” she said at length. “We have to be united.”

  Bram nodded his agreement and spread his hands in appeal. “I need your help, Hound. Will you at least hear me out?”

  Max leaned forward. “You hear me out first. I think you’re a coward, Bram. A fraud. You haven’t been hunting Astaroth. You’ve been hiding from him. Hiding in this tower. Hiding behind Ember and Mina. What do you have to say about that?”

  “Max!” hissed Mina. “You mustn’t say that to the—”

  “What? Archmage? Hero? Legend? I don’t care about his titles, Mina. He’s just a man. And a sorry one at that.”

  Instead of anger, the Archmage regarded Max with an infuriating blend of empathy and bemusement. After several seconds, he put down his teacup. “Is there anything else you care to say? It would appear you’ve harbored these feelings for some time.”

  “I’m not the only one.”

  “Oh, I’m certain of that,” Bram chuckled. “And I’m certain you’re a finer man than I, Hound. You proved as much when you disobeyed the Morrígan.”

  Max narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that?”

  Rising, the Archmage stretched and reached for a heavy black cloak. “If you feel fit for a walk, I’ll explain.” The man thumped his chest. “I’ve been sitting in this heat too long.”

  “Should I come with you?” inquired Mina anxiously.

  Bram cupped the girl’s chin, a smile softening his hard features. “No, little one. And no need to worry. This talk is long overdue.” He glanced at Max. “Your clothes are on that bench, Hound. You can change behind that screen.”

  Twenty minutes later, Max and Bram emerged from the great rune-sealed arch that guarded the entrance to Túr an Ghrian. Outside, the weather was bitter cold, with stinging gusts that roared off the sea to bend the coastal pines. But not even the dismal weather could dampen Max’s enjoyment of seeing Rowan and Old College once again. Just ahead were Old Tom and Maggie, gray and solid, their windows ablaze with light against the wintry gloom. With a muttered oath, Bram wrapped his cloak about him.

  “You’ll find the Sanctuary much more comfortable,” said the Archmage.

  Max fell in stride with him, his boots crunching on the shoveled path as they walked past the academic buildings. Bram squinted ahead at the streetlamps, their lights ghostly in the snow.

  “David sensed the Morrígan in Prusias’s throne room,” he explained. “He even made out snippets of your conversation. The lad is nothing if not perceptive. I’m impressed by your resolve. I’m almost certain I’d have given in. I’ve given in most of my life.”

  “I couldn’t care less about your sins, Bram.”

  The Archmage gave him a shrewd look. “You should. We’re far more similar than you may care to admit.”

  Max scoffed. “I’m no sorcerer. David and Mina have more in common with you than I do.”

  “Not true. Those similarities say little of our core identities. I know David has confided the nature of his father to you. The lad is half demon, a cambion. And Mina is something else entirely. The Faeregine some call her, and it’s as good a name as any. But you and I? We are cut from similar cloth. We both descend from gods and humans. The Old Magic in us is stronger than David’s and far more volatile than Mina’s. The Faeregine is incapable of destruction or evil. But the two of us? We are more than a little capable, are we not?”

  Max did not respond.

  “I understand you better than you might imagine,” Bram continued. “The temptations you face … I know how difficult they are. Power is exceedingly dangerous to the one who holds it. I never understood that until I’d been banished from Solas.”

  Max stopped in his tracks. “You were banished from Solas?”

  “Oh yes,” said Bram, acknowledging a group of passing scholars. “The historians glossed over it—too embarrassing—but I was stripped of all my titles and banished from Solas when David’s mother was a little girl.”

  “Why?”

  “My foolishness nearly ended the Red Branch. The order had been investigating incidents around the world and believed a single entity was orchestrating them. I dismissed their theory, of course. After all, if such grand conspiracies were occurring, wouldn’t I have sensed them?”

  The sorcerer shook his head at his folly.

  “The Red Branch feared the Enemy had detected their ac
tivities. They requested my help, but I was busy with experiments I deemed more important. When I ignored them, the Red Branch asked Solas’s council to order my compliance. The council did so, but I ignored them, too. Order me? Surely they had forgotten themselves.”

  “What happened?” asked Max.

  “The Red Branch was ambushed,” said Bram sadly. “I rescued two, but the other ten were lost. They had been correct, after all. A single being had been orchestrating these events—a being I’d even encountered as a little boy. We know him now as Astaroth.”

  “And because of this, Solas banished you?”

  “They did,” said Bram. “And justly. I did not protest the council’s decision. Had they not removed me from my post, I would have relinquished it. I was stunned by what had happened. It was the first time I recognized how dangerous power could be. I was not fit to hold it.”

  “But you returned eventually,” Max observed. “You were at Solas when it fell.”

  “Quite right,” said Bram. “But for ten years I lived in the countryside with Brigit and Emer. I’d forsaken magic entirely and tried to forget my past when the council tracked me down. Dark matters were escalating well beyond their ability to contain them. Rumors were circulating that the Enemy was seeking a book that contained all the world’s truenames. The council wasn’t certain if such a thing existed, but if it did, the potential dangers were enormous. Given this new threat, they asked me to resume my duties as Archmage and recover this fabled book.”

  Against his wishes, Max found his anger diminishing. People expected perfection from Elias Bram. Perhaps Max had, too. Although he had not participated in the siege, the Archmage had by all accounts saved the fleet when they’d been attacked near the Strait. As the two passed the Manse’s frozen fountain, it occurred to Max that much of his life had been shaped by decisions this man had made centuries ago. It was natural to be curious.

  “So how did you acquire the Book?” he asked. “I’ve only heard bits and pieces.”

  Bram blew on his taloned hands and waited for some Third Years to pass before replying. “It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “The first step, of course, was to determine if such a book existed. I scoured Egypt for evidence, but most of the ancient tombs had been ransacked long ago. However, after speaking with spirits in those places, I learned that the Book of Thoth was no myth and that a witch had found it centuries earlier. I traveled on to India and China, where the witches were most numerous and powerful. It was there I learned of the ossuaries and vaults high atop Nepal.”