by Edward Cox
The necromancer didn’t answer. The scar on his forehead burning brightly white, Hamir stepped past Samuel and headed for the spider.
The three agents turned to watch Hamir, as intrigued now as they had been confused. With his back to the group, Hamir stared up at his creation.
‘This construct has been given one simple task,’ he said. ‘To capture Fabian Moor –’ he motioned to the design of symbols on the floor – ‘and bring him here to his prison. As with all spiders, the construct’s best weapon is stealth. It is imperative Fabian Moor does not see it coming.’
He spoke in that strange, breathy language again; this time a single word carrying an instructive tone.
The goggle’s faceted, insect-eye lenses, had not changed the colour of the spider. But with Hamir’s command, its appearance wavered as though a veil of clear water had been drawn across it. The effect animated the face of the golem’s head, making its features dance, almost appear to laugh. For the first time, the construct moved. It skittered as if flinching. The metallic tips of its eight legs ticked against the stone floor, and then were still again.
The legs began to fade. From the ground up, they vanished as if the spider’s existence was being slowly erased, drained into nothingness. After its legs, the smooth lower hemisphere of its body came next. The golem’s face was the last thing to disappear.
Judging by Macy and Bryant’s noises of surprise, they too had seen the spider vanish.
Hamir, with his back turned to the group, held up a finger: a silent instruction to wait.
A few moments passed, and he said, ‘Samuel?’
In the grey, empty space where the spider had stood, a patch of colour returned to Samuel’s world: a blur of purple that expanded and thickened to a fat body of fog. Tendrils, eight of them, grew from the body, thin and insubstantial as they drifted down to touch the floor with puffs of smoke. The ghost of a giant spider formed before Samuel, its deep purple colour standing out in the grey like a single coal burning in a dead fire.
‘I can see it,’ he told Hamir.
‘Excellent,’ Hamir replied. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure the goggles would work.’
He turned to face the three agents, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Your job is to distract Fabian Moor, to make him believe you are the only threat he faces. But be warned – the construct will be single-minded in pursuit of the Genii. Do not get in its way.’
‘Easier said than done, when we can’t see it,’ Bryant grumbled.
Ignoring the comment, Hamir continued, ‘Once set free, the spider will be driven, fast, and it will take the shortest route to its prey. You will have a hard time keeping pace with it.’
He held up a hand to stave off another comment from Bryant. ‘Fortunately, this is where Samuel’s favourite little toy can be of use. Samuel, the spirit compass, please.’
As Samuel fished the device from his pocket, Hamir produced a phial and a small, slim pair of tweezers.
‘Expose the interior, if you would.’
Samuel unscrewed the cap from the compass, and then pressed its face. It clicked and sprang up on a hinge, revealing the tiny, empty flat-bottomed dish beneath.
Hamir popped the cork from the phial and used the tweezers to extract a single hair.
‘Before she turned into a golem, I had the foresight to cut a lock of hair from Betsy’s head,’ Hamir explained. ‘It contains the residue of the magic which infected her – which is to say, the same magic that now resides within the golem’s head. It should work in the spirit compass as any other organic material would.’
Samuel held the compass out, and the necromancer gently lowered the hair and coiled it into the dish.
Samuel pressed the face back into position and watched the needle. It ticked and turned until settling into a position that pointed directly at the smoky and purple spider ghost standing behind the necromancer.
‘Got it,’ he said.
‘Good.’ Hamir turned to face his construct again. ‘Macy, be so good as to open the warehouse door, would you?’
With a frown, she complied. The shutter rattled up to reveal morning light. Instead of a rich golden colour, the light appeared decidedly sickly to Samuel’s altered vision.
‘Once released, the spider will not stop until its task is complete,’ Hamir told them. ‘It will allow you no time for respite, or to catch up should you fall behind. If you want my advice, it will be easier for you to follow underground.
‘Now, are you ready?’
No one replied, which Hamir took as affirmation.
‘Macy, please stand outside. Ensure no one strays past the door.’
She stepped out of the warehouse and disappeared from view.
Hamir drew a breath and barked a single, alien word at the spider.
Instantly, the purple ghost became a flurry of motion. Tendril legs rose and fell on the floor with the scrapes and chimes of metal on stone. Its cloud-like body turned towards the door. Without pause it sprinted forwards, out into the open. It headed straight across the street, and climbed up the wall of the opposite warehouse. Splinters of stone fell to the ground where the pointed tips of its legs dug into the brickwork.
In but a moment, the automaton spider had climbed the wall and disappeared over the warehouse roof, fast and eager to hunt down a Genii.
Hamir turned to Samuel and Bryant.
‘Good luck, gentlemen. I hope you survive.’
Marney awoke to sunshine spilling in through the window. It bathed her face with golden warmth, dragged her up from the depths of dreams, and lit the darkness behind her eyelids with an orangey-red glow. With a sigh she reached out a hand, searching for a familiar body lying beside her; but her fingers only closed around a cold and empty space. She opened her eyes. The residue of Van Bam’s emotions lingered in the bed, and Marney could still feel the touch of his lips upon her forehead: a farewell kiss to his sleeping lover.
Alone, she sat up. In the light of day, the rundown apartment above the bakery did not seem half as romantic as it had the previous night. Van Bam had most likely left the Labyrinth already, and Marney didn’t know when she would see him again. She was glad he hadn’t woken her. She didn’t want to say goodbye face-to-face.
With weary acceptance she rose from bed, washed and dressed herself, eager to be away from the love nest that now seemed so dreary and soulless. No one paid much attention to her when she stopped to buy a muffin from the busy bakery below the apartment. With her breakfast in hand, she slipped out onto the street.
She decided to walk for a while before taking a tram to the Nightshade. It was too early for anyone to wonder where she had got to, and she was in no hurry to discover what new surprises the day would bring. Besides, the crisp morning air would help to lighten her melancholy. Blocking the swirl of emotions radiating from the denizens who flowed along the pavement with and against her, Marney ate her breakfast. The muffin was still warm from the oven, and the preserve inside was dark and sweet.
Strangely, as she walked and ate, her thoughts decided to turn back to her university days. Amongst the flowering memories, she was surprised to find the face of a young man waiting for her; a young man called Karlin.
Marney smiled sadly at the memory.
Karlin had been her first boyfriend. A sensitive soul, almost pretty, with his brooding features and long black hair, he had been conducting his final semester in music studies when he and Marney got together. He was a talented guitarist, a poet, a performer, and considered one of the cooler people among his peers at university. Marney could hardly believe it when she managed to catch his eye.
Karlin fell head over heels for her, adored her, and Marney lapped up his attentions. She loved the fact he was such a good musician; loved the songs he wrote for her, the way he looked when he sang them to her. Marney loved that her boyfriend played in bands; she loved follow
ing him to gig after gig, watching him up on stage in rough and seedy taverns, knowing the other girls in the audience didn’t stand a chance with him. She loved that Karlin only had eyes for her as he performed. But Marney had never loved Karlin himself.
She supposed it was his presence that she found most attractive; his natural ability to command the attention of any audience. Karlin’s aura took the spotlight away from Marney. She was happy and secure hiding in his shadow. Not that she was hiding from herself; she understood what she was – that being a magicker, an empath, was a dangerous thing to be in Labrys Town. Being around Karlin seemed to make it less dangerous, somehow. Maybe she manipulated his feelings for her without even realising it herself. Maybe she used him as a shield.
Marney had known all along it wouldn’t last. Karlin often spoke of the future, of his dreams of playing the biggest stages along Green Glass Row. He always included Marney when he spoke of these things, as if they would be together forever, as if she would always be there to help him through the lows and celebrate the highs.
Marney always knew that one day she would have to leave him, and that thought haunted her every time she watched Karlin on stage, every time she pretended she was part of his long-term plans. She dreaded the moment when she would burst his bubble; the moment where an empath would looked into the sensitive eyes of a creative soul, and feel every break of Karlin’s heart.
Fortunately for Marney, that moment had been spared her.
Marney had been roused from bed one night by a voice in her head. While Karlin slept beside her, the voice called Marney from her dormitory, down into the communal gardens outside; and there, a kindly old man named Denton waited for her.
It had been a strange moment, dreamlike and quick, barely long enough to leave a mark on Marney’s memory. Quite literally, Denton had taken her by the hand, led her away from the life she knew, and propelled her into the shady world of the Relic Guild. Karlin never knew what had happened to her. Marney hoped he had found a new muse.
As she walked through the fresh morning, lost in her thoughts of the past, life suddenly seemed too complicated. She had found real love with Van Bam, and now he had headed off into the war. She would find no peace and security until he returned.
Was there even a guarantee he would return?
With this question burning unanswered in her heart, Marney stopped walking abruptly. She realised that she didn’t know where she was.
She had been following the main street, intending to keep on it until she felt ready to catch a tram back to the Nightshade. But somewhere she had turned off into a dingy side lane. The disused buildings rose high on either side of her, tall enough to block the sun and plunge the desolation into shadows.
Why would she blindly turn into an area she didn’t know? Denton had taught her to be wise to her environment, and all the bad things in the eastern district lurked in its side lanes.
Marney turned, planning to retrace her steps. But why did doing that suddenly seem like such a bad idea? She turned again, studying the way ahead. A curious feeling came over her; somehow she just knew that at the other end of this neglected lane, the answer to the most intriguing mystery awaited her.
Why would she think that?
Alert, Marney reached out with her empathic senses, searching for the emotions of anyone who might be in the vicinity. But she felt no danger, no mugger – or worse – watching her from the shadows. All she sensed was a light presence stroking her thoughts with threads of soft silk, egging her on, willing her to continue forward.
Marney smiled wryly; the presence reminded her of a long time ago, when a voice had called her from sleep and changed her world forever.
Emoting a cloak of concealment around herself, Marney walked to the end of the lane. There, she saw the Resident’s personal tram waiting.
Its sleek and black body seemed to absorb the sunshine; the dull silver square on its side was like a metal eye staring back at her.
Hidden from the perceptions of others, Marney stepped from the lane and approached the tram. She laid a hand on the silver square, the door slid open, and she stepped inside.
‘You know, you could’ve just shouted for me,’ Marney said to Denton as she closed the door behind her.
Sitting on the bench seat, Denton nodded, said nothing, just crushed his hat in his hands.
Marney’s smile faltered. A well-filled rucksack sat on the floor between her mentor’s feet. With a frown, she took the bench seat opposite him.
‘Denton, are you going somewhere?’ she asked.
‘Yes, we are,’ he replied.
The tram moved off, and Marney placed her hands against the unpadded bench on either side of her, feeling the vibrations of wheels trundling along metal tracks. Denton’s emotions were closed to her, and that was never a good sign.
‘What’s going on?’ she said.
He met her eyes, hesitated, and then said, ‘Gideon has been in contact with Lady Amilee.’
Marney nodded. ‘Yes, Van Bam told me—’
‘No, Marney – this has nothing to do with Ambassador Ebril. We have been given orders concerning the mysterious House where Fabian Moor was hiding.’
‘The Icicle Forest?’ Marney sat forward. ‘It’s been found?’
Denton shook his head. ‘The Thaumaturgists have no record of it existing. They are worried, to put it mildly. They believe the Icicle Forest is a secret Genii stronghold hiding within the Nothing of Far and Deep …’
He fell silent, lost to his thoughts.
Marney’s mouth was suddenly dry. ‘What is it, Denton?’
‘Lady Amilee,’ he said. ‘She claims the doorway to the Icicle Forest must be buried so deep in the Great Labyrinth that not even she can see it. If anyone stands any chance of finding that doorway, then we must know the House Symbol. But …’
‘But according to Llewellyn, the only two people who knew that symbol were Ursa and Carrick,’ Marney said slowly. ‘And they’re dead.’
‘Yes. Yes they are.’
Marney shrugged. ‘Then we’ll get it from Fabian Moor. If we can catch him, right?’
‘Perhaps. But we’re not going to wait for Moor’
‘What are you telling me, Denton?’ She dampened the fear crawling up inside her. ‘You said we have orders.’
He averted his eyes. ‘Lady Amilee has given you and me a mission, but …’ He made a disgruntled noise. ‘Forgive me, Marney, but I don’t believe you’re ready for this.’
‘Denton …’ Marney wasn’t sure what to say next.
Concern and uncertainty were etched deep into Denton’s face.
Marney decided to project her own emotions to him, her fear, her confusion, how intrigued she was about what it was he did not believe she was ready for; but most of all, she projected her complete, unwavering trust in her mentor.
Denton met her eyes and gave a wan smile. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘I have something for you.’
He dipped into the rucksack between his feet and pulled out what looked to be a leather girdle. He passed it to Marney, and she saw that it was a baldric holding two lines of six, slender throwing daggers.
‘I sometimes forget how much you’ve learned, how much you’ve grown,’ Denton said as she stared down at the knives. ‘You really don’t need protecting anymore.’
‘Then stop stalling,’ Marney said. She held the baldric up. ‘Where in the Timewatcher’s name are we going, Denton?’
Denton sighed. ‘Marney, have you ever heard of the Library of Glass and Mirrors?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Everybody has.’
The Library of Glass and Mirrors was an Aelfirian legend, a fabled House that recorded history. But not just any history; the legends said it contained the historical accounts of every race and culture that had ever existed, did exist, or would exist. All stored in the Library of Glass and
Mirrors. The past, the present, and the future – everything was known to its librarians.
Marney scoffed. ‘It’s a myth, Denton.’
‘That’s what I thought until today,’ he said. He held up a hand to stave off Marney’s incredulity. ‘The Thaumaturgists consider it a dangerous place, and rightly so. They fear it, and have vowed to never use it themselves, but they have always known the Library of Glass and Mirrors to be real. And they know how to reach it, Marney.
‘If any record of the Icicle Forest exists,’ he continued, ‘then it will be stored at the Library. But the knowledge kept there makes it far too dangerous a House to have a doorway out in the Great Labyrinth, Marney. If we are to reach it—’
‘Reach it?’ Marney snapped. ‘Denton, wait a minute—’
‘Lady Amilee has given me a map,’ he said sternly. ‘It will lead us to the Library, but we must travel through various Houses first. The journey will take us into … into …’
‘Where, Denton?’ Marney demanded. She gripped the baldric tightly. ‘Take us into where?’
Denton sat back and rubbed his face.
‘I’m so sorry, Marney. You and I are going to war.’
Chapter Twenty
Lost Pathways
Fabian Moor stood within the confines of his silver cube. Mo Asajad and Viktor Gadreel flanked him. Together they faced a wall, which had cleared to shimmering air, revealing a scene of pandemonium.
A land lay beyond the cube, a land of sharp rock and scorched trees, buffeted by vicious winds. In the sky, clouds the colour of bruised flesh roiled like poison, spitting lightning at a barren terrain that teemed with corrupted things: things that roamed across the land, near and far, big and small, too many to count, each and every one of them a monster. Twisted bodies with too many limbs; hunched abominations with gaping maws filled with too many teeth; scabrous hulks with wicked thorns for hands. Of varying shapes and disfigurements, these perverted creatures stalked a broken landscape, fighting and existing without reason or conscience.
