London Underground: An Unofficial Legend of The Secret World (Unofficial Legends of The Secret World Book 2)

by Blodwedd Mallory

  The edge of the platform had crumbled off into a giant space-like void. A cosmic sort of red glow shined in, highlighting what remained of the concrete support pillars, rendering them two-toned in the half-light.

  My mind boggled trying to make sense of it. What was I seeing? Was this the end of the universe? The floor of the platform that hadn’t crumbled away was covered with roundish Filth pods and branches, overgrown like some terrible disease cells. I could see why Alex had called it a cancer. Whatever was happening, it seemed like this Filth was a symptom.

  Two weirdly glowing giant moon-like objects hung in the starry expanse of the blackness, with space dust trailing away from them. Asteroids tumbled through the space near the platform edge weightlessly, spinning and turning as they passed by. A metro train subway car was suspended in mid-air, pulled up alongside the broken platform.

  I edged, numbly, to the broken ledge of the platform, my guts churning with nausea and fear as I tried to see what was below. I was deep underground in the earth in Japan, not at the end of the galaxy. I looked down at the endless drop into nothing.

  Below the broken platform loomed the vastness of space. My head spun, and I wobbled. My heart raced as adrenaline shot into my bloodstream, the unbridled fear stabbing me in the chest, and I stumbled backward. The pain shot upward through my neck to my brain, and I grabbed my head as I collapsed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Enemies

  June 20, 2012

  I awoke the next morning, depressed by my dream of darkness and Filth. Then I thought about the fight I’d had in the street with Sevenoir, which depressed me further. Frustrated with myself at not knowing what to do in either case, I got out of bed and jumped into the shower to prepare for another day of training.

  I arrived at the Crucible shortly before eight o'clock. Sevenoir was not yet sitting at the bar, drinking his breakfast. Plimmy’s comment from the pub about him following me jumped into my mind at the sight of the empty bar stool. Why would Sevenoir be following me?

  Nah. She had to be wrong about that. If he were following me, I wouldn’t be having such a hard time finding him. I sighed, my earlier depression welling up again. I’d track him down sooner or later to apologize.

  I made my way down the stairs while my mind wandered some more, reviewing the questions raised by my dream. What was the Filth? Was this what was really happening in Tokyo? Who was Sarah? Did I need medication and a therapist? I couldn’t decide whether I should tell someone about it or not. And who would I tell? Sevenoir? Plimmy? Brigadier Lethe? They’d think I was crazy for sure.

  “You’re early,” Lethe commented as I stepped down onto the marble practice floor.

  I gave him a tired smile as I dropped my bag near the half wall separating the practice area from the lounge. Using the stairs, I took care to ensure my muscles were well stretched as the day's practice would entail more footwork. I'd learned the hard way just how many muscles that used on my lower body.

  When I was done, Brigadier Lethe motioned me over, his usual scowl firmly in place. I'd begun to realize that was a natural state for him and so I didn’t take it personally. I had enough on my mind already.

  “I need to focus on some other recruits this morning, soldier, so practice advancing with a jump and lunge, and if Sevenoir decides to grace us with his presence, we'll have you do some work together.”

  Nodding, I gathered my things and moved over to the west side of the room, where there was a more forgiving practice area. The last couple of days had taught me that the marble was hell on my heels and knees, but Lethe had set up a sparring mat near the melee target practice area that had a little more give. Once I'd gotten over my aversion of being near the chained rakshasa demons, I'd started working out there.

  I was on my third round of jumps and lunges when I noticed a tall, platinum blond man walking down the west-side steps to the practice floor. What was it with Templars and white hair?

  At first, I thought it was Sevenoir rolling in from whatever debauchery he'd gotten up to the night before, but I got a look at this man's face and realized my error. He was handsome, but with a stern visage, wearing a long black overcoat that ended slightly below his knees, loose cargo pants, a black T-shirt, and a pair of sturdy-looking black boots. An ornate Templar cross hung around his neck from a chain. A five o'clock shadow covered his jaw, which only served to reinforce the impression I got that this was an agent who took his job seriously. If anything, he was the anti-Sevenoir and looked like an avenging angel, rather than a rogue Lothario.

  “Ho, Drenneth!” Lethe called in greeting. “Good to see you in here. How did yesterday’s skirmishes at the Fusang Projects in China go?”

  He approached Drenneth, and they clasped arms, Lethe slapping him on the back. Drenneth responded in a deep rumbling voice, but I couldn't quite make out what he said.

  China? Foiled in my attempts to eavesdrop, I turned my attention back to my footwork and focused, trying to apply all the guidance Lethe had given me. I worked on my step size and varying the tempo as he taught me. My footwork had improved as my muscles were conditioned to the legwork. I could sustain almost 20 minutes now without wanting to die, which was good because I would be getting a blade to work with any day now, and I could hardly wait.

  I heard a footstep and looked up. Drenneth had moved over to a rakshasa near me and had pulled out a long practice katana from the weapon case and secured it at his left hip with a sash. His own sword, a vicious looking one-handed blade with a glowing red gem in the pommel and top edge serrated with spikes, was hung by its scabbard on a rack to the right of the practice area.

  I was thrilled! Finally, a chance to see someone work with a blade. Abandoning any pretense at practicing my footwork anymore, I stopped to watch. While I watched, he began to methodically practice hitting his target with quick and precise strikes, striking downward first, then reversing direction and striking again instantly in an upward motion. My mind boggled at how quickly he could attack the bound rakshasa.

  “What do you call that move?” I asked, intrigued.

  Drenneth gave no response.

  I tried again, a little louder this time. “Excuse me. What do you call that move?”

  “I heard you the first time,” Drenneth rumbled. “I'm practicing. You should be too.”

  My face got hot at his dismissal, and I felt disappointment well up. This day sucked. I just wanted to learn how to wield a blade! “I'm sorry for interrupting,” I said in a small voice, and went back to my lunges.

  He continued on with the quick strikes for a few more minutes as I advanced, jumped, and lunged, varying my approach each time, per Lethe's instruction.

  “It's called Tsubame Gaeshi.”

  I turned my head at his voice and stopped my footwork.

  “It's a technique from ancient Japan. The name means ‘turning swallow cut’ because of movement of a swallow’s tail in flight,” Drenneth explained, continuing to practice the move. He stopped finally and turned to me. “I've been using it for years, but one can always get better with diligence.”

  “Thank you for explaining. I hope to start learning blade work myself soon,” I said gesturing at my legs and smiling wryly. “Hence why Brigadier Lethe has me practicing footwork.”

  “Footwork is key,” he agreed, turning back to his target.

  He began practicing another blade technique. This movement was so graceful, watching it was like watching water trickle over stones. It was mesmerizing. Part of my brain recognized that this was a more straightforward technique that probably took much less energy to use.

  I realized I was gawking and once again turned back to my footwork. Advance, advance, lunge. Advance, jump, lunge. Again.

  “Flowing strike.”

  I looked up at him, confused.

  “That's the name of that technique. You use it to attack a single opponent. As opposed to ‘crescent fang,’” he said as he moved forward until he was standing midway between two of the bound rakshasas
and swung his blade in a crescent-shaped arc that hit both of them, “which you use for more than one. Very useful if you find yourself surrounded.”

  Drenneth turned back to me, his katana at rest in his right hand, the tip of the blade pointing at the floor, and eyed me speculatively.

  “Both are simple moves that don't require a lot of preparation. They will buy you time to assess your opponent's strengths and weaknesses to prepare your strategy in combat.”

  He sheathed the sword, and crossed the space between us and, pulling the scabbard from the sash around his waist, he grasped it palm down near the middle, and handed the sheathed katana to me horizontally. “Here, you try.”

  I reached out eagerly for the weapon with my right hand, my scarred palm tingling.

  Drenneth shook his head and gave me a slight smile. “Tradition requires you to put both your palms up to receive a katana. That is how you show respect to a teacher or anyone with more skill or power than you have.”

  I nodded my understanding and put my hands up as he suggested. He placed the sheath in my hands. It felt cool against my skin, and my right palm itched with the desire to hold the blade by the pommel. I resisted the urge and stood there patiently.

  “I assume you’ve never actually used a katana before, correct?” he asked, and I acknowledged that I hadn’t. “Okay, then. Let’s start first with some basics of handling and drawing a blade. First, give it back to me the same way you took it from me, palms up. That is the correct way to return the blade as a student.”

  He took the sword back, pushed the scabbard back in the sash at his waist, then turned slightly to the left so I could watch him in profile. He pushed the hilt of the katana forward slightly with his left thumb. That, he explained, was called breaking the seal on the scabbard.

  “In Iaidō, you draw the sheath forward with your left hand as you pull the katana out. The blade flips forward as you draw to point at your opponent. This is a fast, graceful draw that shows you mean business.”

  Drenneth demonstrated the maneuver. It was scary how fast he moved. He resheathed the sword, then did it again twice more slowly so I could see what he was doing.

  “Don’t ever break a seal unless you are prepared to fight. It is an open threat to someone trained in fighting with a blade.”

  Other open threats, he explained, included reaching across your body and grasping the hilt without actually drawing the blade, or pulling the sheath forward but not entirely out of the sash, to make it accessible for a draw.

  Good to know! If I’d listened to my itching palm, I would have grabbed the scabbard from him and whipped the blade out without that instruction. I realized that there was an ocean of information here I had yet to learn, yet I was glad to begin to dip my toes in it finally.

  “Iaidō is the practice of learning to be a warrior. It has standard forms, called ‘kata,’ which train the body to learn to use the katana as an extension of itself,” Drenneth said. “It also trains the mind to develop ‘mushin’—the single-mindedness necessary to face your opponent with honor and spiritual harmony in the face of death, or in our case, anima exhaustion. Think of it as a kind of yoga or tai-chi with a blade.”

  I was so caught up in Drenneth’s lesson that didn’t hear Brigadier Lethe approach until he spoke. “I see you’re giving Wedd a bit of a lesson with the blade.”

  Hands on his hips, Lethe nodded his approval, then eyed me with suspicion. He had learned to read me pretty well in the past week. “Don’t get too excited. You will start with a wooden practice sword in a few days, I think. For now, go over to the other side of the room and brush up on your blood magic and chaos spells. It won’t do for you to forget those in the meantime.”

  I grumbled under my breath at being sent away, but grabbed my stuff and dutifully wandered back to the east end of the practice area, while Drenneth and Lethe continued to discuss other concerns out of the range of my hearing.

  “So, do you want to go?” Zamira Vata asked me.

  We were sitting out on the patio of The Horned God once more. Zamira had spotted me on the way in the door of the pub and had come over to join Plimmy and me for a drink. Plimmy was having her usual tea. I had reverted back to the St. Swithin’s, and Zamira had a bottle of Stella Artois in her hand. We were discussing the Summer Solstice, which was happening early tomorrow morning right after midnight.

  “Come on, Wedd. It’s customary if you’re new to London to spend your first solstice out at Stonehenge, howling at the moon,” she said with a smirk as she set the bottle back on the picnic bench. “We’ll get a special access visit, so we can go right in next to the sarsen stones. Nothing like that touristy tosh where you have to stay on the outside.”

  “Is Konrad coming?” I asked, warily. I liked Zamira, but I had no desire to see Engel again any time soon.

  Zamira threw back her head and laughed aloud. “He’s no fan of the wilderness, that one. Spent too much time in the pretty halls of politics, he did.”

  I looked over at Plimmy for guidance.

  “Sounds like good fun, dear. A chance to run around with people your own age. I used to love the Solstice parties at Stonehenge,” she said, a far-away look in her eye. “Who knows, you may run into some neo-druid types. I read an article in The Independent that said they make quite a showing there on the Summer Solstice to watch the sunrise and celebrate the longest day of the year.” She got up and went over to talk to the patio waitress about getting us another round of drinks.

  “It’s settled then,” Zamira said with satisfaction as Plimmy stepped away. “Be here at quarter to midnight, and we’ll go together so we can be there precisely at 12:09 a.m. for the actual astronomical solstice itself.”

  “How will we get there?” I asked. I knew Stonehenge wasn’t that far from London, out on the Salisbury Plain, near Wiltshire. It was about 90 miles from Ealdwic, I figured, which was at least a couple hours’ drive, presuming that Zamira had a car.

  “There’s an anima well nearby. We’ll just jump in when the time is right, no worries, and be there in the blink of an eye.”

  I nodded my head in agreement, although I had a strange feeling that there was something here I didn’t understand. If this was a sunrise event, why were we going in the middle of the night?

  “Oh and, wear sturdy clothes and boots. It can get dirty out there in the fields around the henge,” she advised me. “I’ll bring us a flask to share. And, uh, don’t forget your weapons. Just as a precaution, yah? Nothing to worry about, but good to be prepared.”

  I arrived back at The Horned God just after 11:30 p.m. The pub was full of people, laughing and celebrating the beginning of summer. I spotted Zamira in her regular place at the bar and walked up to her. She tipped her pint at me then turned to the bartender and called for a bottle of St. Swithin’s.

  “You all set then?” she asked, eyeing my blue jeans, hiking boots, and leather jacket.

  I took the bottle from the bartender and nodded. “Yep, I think so. I’ve got the rest in my backpack although I’m not sure why they’re necessary.”

  “Never hurts to be cautious,” she said with a wink, then nodded her head toward the front door. “Ah, there’s Sev now. We’re almost ready to roll.”

  I whirled around to see Sevenoir approaching us in his usual black T-shirt, jeans, black leather jacket, and bunny ears. “Oh.”

  “Ladies,” he said as he approached the bar.

  “I didn’t…I didn’t realize you’d be joining us tonight,” I fumbled awkwardly, caught off guard. “I’ve been looking for you. I, uh, have something I need to say.”

  “Well, spit it out then.”

  My face flushed. This was not how I envisioned apologizing to him. I cleared my throat. “I’m, uh, sorry for what I said the other day. It was inexcusable. And, uh, thank you for helping me with the puzzle in the Mithraeum. I’m sorry if you got into trouble over it.”

  Sevenoir waved my apology away with his hand. “Ah, I got the broadside of Julia’s tongue
, but that’s nothing new. So, you’re joining us to do battle at the Stonehenge, eh? Your training must have progressed well in the last couple of days.”

  Battle? What was he talking about?

  “Drenneth is going to join us, Z,” he added, as he motioned to the bartender for a drink. “He should be along in just a minute.

  “Do we know who the fifth will be?” Zamira asked him. At my look of concern, she directed the next comment to me. “Don’t worry about it, Wedd. It’s customary for there to be five in the Templar party for a visit to Stonehenge.”

  “No one’s signed up yet, but I’m sure someone will show,” Sevenoir answered. “Just as well so there are no complaints about a pre-made party.”

  “I’ve got the uniform for her in my bag,” Zamira added.

  Listening to their exchange was starting to make me anxious that I didn’t know what I was getting into here. Party? Uniform? Was this a costume blow-out Solstice celebration or something? Some kind of pagan ritual? Still, it was fun and exciting to be included with the group of young Templar agents, so I decided to stay cool so they wouldn’t think I was a dork.

  Around us, the revelers chatted loudly, laughed, and drank their libations. Upstairs I could hear the disco music in full swing on the dance floor. This evening was shaping up to be the most fun I’d had since I got to London. After the week I’d had so far, I needed to blow off a little steam.

  We walked together to the Ealdwic Park, keeping an eye peeled for trouble. Pedestrian traffic was frowned upon in the park after dark, so we were pushing our luck with the local constabulary to be out here.

  Because I was new to traveling by anima well, Zamira took my hand as we ported out to Stonehenge. Drenneth went first, disappearing in a shimmer of light before me.

  When it came time for our turn, Zamira squeezed my hand and pulled me with her. It felt like being submerged in a tub full of seltzer water, a warm damp sizzling and a flash of golden light, and then I could see the landscape change around me.