Risen, p.5
Risen, page 5
part #12 of Alex Verus Series
If I bring in other mages, Anne will spot them a mile off and won’t come anywhere near.
It seems to me that her not coming anywhere near would be altogether the best outcome.
I was silent. I didn’t have a comeback, and I wasn’t willing to leave.
Well, November said at last. If you insist on staying, I’ll monitor as well as I can. But I must once again urge you to reconsider.
Thanks.
I stayed there as the sky above faded from purple to black. The futures shifted and jumped, but the ones in which Anne arrived kept shrinking, the possibilities dwindling and petering out until the futures in which she appeared on the street were only a blank void.
I stared across the street. The lights in the house were on, on both the ground and first floors. Anne and I had gone there for dinner a couple of months ago. It had been my first time meeting her family, and once had been enough. If Anne hadn’t been struggling with the after-effects of a childhood like that . . .
A wave of anger rose up inside me. I thought about crossing that street, kicking the door down, and picking up those foster parents and slamming them into a wall so that I could shout into their faces do you know what you’ve done? It was more tempting than it should have been. Who was going to stop me?
Anne’s foster family hadn’t been dark tyrants like Richard, or sadistic monsters like Vihaela, or cold manipulators like Levistus. They’d just been selfish and petty. But having to grow up in a family like that, being treated for years and years as though she didn’t matter, had damaged Anne just as surely as any of the enemies we’d fought, and it had been a kind of damage her magic couldn’t heal. It had left cracks in her mind, cracks into which Sagash and Jagadev and Richard had driven wedges, splitting her personality into light and dark. And it had been that split that the marid had taken advantage of to possess her.
The people in that house really did deserve to pay for that.
I let out a long breath, taking my anger and resentment and setting it aside. Going after Anne’s foster family wouldn’t do anyone any good, not now. Still, a thought lingered. Anne had considered coming here – probably would have, if something hadn’t stopped her. She’d wanted to go back to her beginnings. Maybe I needed to do the same.
The futures were silent and still. I turned and left.
‘. . . throughout the realm’s boundaries,’ Karyos said. ‘The creatures of the Hollow will warn me the moment Anne sets foot in this shadow realm. But that may be too late.’
‘You can’t figure out any way to deactivate Anne’s key specifically?’ I asked.
Karyos shook her head. ‘My magic is of growth and life. I have little understanding of the wards you and your friends created. I could pull them down, but . . .’
‘But then Anne could just walk in anyway,’ I finished. ‘Along with anyone else.’
Night had fallen in the Hollow, and Karyos and I were standing in the doorway to my cottage. Karyos was barely visible, a slight, starlit figure blending in with the trees and grass. In the shadows, the hamadryad’s golden skin and bark-like hair were hidden to the point that you could have mistaken her for a young girl.
‘I am sorry I cannot do more,’ Karyos said.
‘Not your fault,’ I said. ‘We spent weeks setting up these wards. Can’t expect to find a way to shut her out this fast.’
‘Will she come again?’
‘Not in any of the futures I can see,’ I said. ‘Her number one reason for coming here was Luna, and we’ve moved Luna out. Also, right now, she’s probably got as many prisoners as she can handle.’ I paused, looking at Karyos. ‘But if she does come back, I’ll be ready. I won’t let her walk in here like that again.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Can you do me a favour?’ I asked. ‘That meditation technique you use, calling back old memories? Could you try to remember everything you can about jinn? Especially anything that might tally with what Richard said in the negotiations.’
Karyos nodded. ‘Very well.’
I stepped into my cottage and shut the door.
I walked to my desk, then carefully slipped the copper headband up over my hair and laid it down on the wooden surface, well away from everything else. I could feel the item’s spirit, restless and swirling; it didn’t want to be put down. I stood there for a few minutes, maintaining the connection, harmonising it until the item had quieted, before I finally took my hands away. Next I removed my armour, the plate-and-mesh coming off my limbs and body one piece at a time. It’s heavier these days than it used to be. The armour’s been damaged many times over the years, and each time the broken plates and material have grown back thicker. My armour’s more willing than the headband to be taken off, but I still had to take some time reassuring it that I wouldn’t be in danger overnight. Once I was done, I glanced at the sovnya leaning in the corner. The polearm was the easiest of the three to put down, but the hardest to wield – it wanted to kill, and every second that it was in my hands, I could feel its bloodlust. Karyos had told me to take it out of her shadow realm, but I didn’t have anywhere else to put it and I didn’t trust it to be out of my sight. For now at least, it seemed stable.
Imbued items are dangerous. Wielding one is less like using a tool, and more like riding a very powerful, half-trained animal – you can influence the item, but it can influence you right back. Most mages will only use imbued items when they absolutely have to. Wielding two at once is much harder than using one – the items fight with both their wielder and each other, pulling in different directions. I’d been using three.
It was only the dreamstone and Arachne’s training that let me do it. With my experience of Elsewhere, I could stabilise the links between myself and the items, riding the waves of their desires. The armour pushed me to be guarded and safe; the headband wanted to be high up and watchful and always on the move; the sovnya wanted to attack and kill. Instead of fighting the urges, I’d cycled between them, allowing each of the items free rein when the time was right, and playing them off against each other when it wasn’t. But keeping it up was a strain, and right now I felt like I’d been carrying heavy weights all day.
There were other weights, though, that I couldn’t put down.
The Hollow was still and quiet. Karyos had retreated back to her tree, and to her strange dryad form of sleep. Luna was far away, hiding in a place where Anne couldn’t find her. The night was mine alone. I stepped out of my cottage and closed the door.
Out in the night, under the stars, I could breathe more easily. I’ve always liked the darkness, ever since I was a child. In the shadows, when all is empty and quiet, life seems to slow down to a calmer pace. There’s time to think.
I walked the paths of the Hollow, slipping between the trees. The birds in the branches above were sleeping, heads tucked beneath their wings. The only movement was the rustle of the leaves in the breeze, and the occasional skitter of a night-time creature. As I drew closer to the Hollow’s north side, I came to a small rise, rocks and grassy earth forming a hillock ten feet tall. A pair of amber eyes gleamed from above.
‘Hey, Hermes,’ I said. I climbed the hillock, my steps quick and sure. The blink fox had been sprawled on a flat patch of rock at the top of the rise, lying on his side with his chin hanging over the edge. As I climbed up next to him, he rolled onto his belly and looked up at me.
‘How are you doing?’ I said.
Blink.
With a sigh I sat down next to the fox. ‘So how was your day?’
Hermes yawned, shutting his mouth with a snap of teeth.
‘Wish I could trade.’ I looked past Hermes into the darkness. ‘We’re going to be launching an invasion tomorrow. Sagash’s shadow realm. Well, I guess we should call it Anne’s shadow realm now. Same place I met you, come to think of it.’
Hermes tilted his head.
‘I’m not sure how many people are going to be coming back. Anne and the jinn are one thing. But then there’s the Council to worry about as well, and Richard’s cabal. All three of those groups hate each other. It’s pretty much a guarantee that things are going to go wrong.’
Hermes seemed to consider that, then gave what could have been a shrug.
‘I know, not your problem. But it is mine. I have to somehow figure out all of the ways in which this can go to hell, and stop them from happening, and also hold everything together long enough to make this work. And if I don’t, then it’s all going to fall apart, because there isn’t anyone else. All the people I’ve got on my side, they’re good at what they do, but there’s no one else who can do what I can.’
Hermes blinked.
‘It was never like this before,’ I said. ‘There always used to be someone above me. First it was Richard, then it was Helikaon. Then for the longest time it was Arachne. I mean, I had people depending on me. But if it was ever too much, I had someone I could go to. I can’t do that any more. There’s no one above me, not even the Council. I make a mistake, it’s just me.’ I was silent for a moment. ‘You know, when I was dealing with Ji-yeong today, I was acting a role. But it’s starting to feel like I have to do the same with everyone. If Luna and Karyos have problems, they expect me to have answers and sound like I know what I’m doing. Because if I don’t, they’ll think “Oh crap, if he’s worried things must be really bad.” I wonder if that was how it was for Arachne? She was so powerful, but always alone. And when I’d come to see her, it’d usually be because I needed her help.’ I smiled as I remembered those visits, sitting amid the sofas and the rolls of silk. ‘God, I must have been so annoying. Every couple of months, I’d be bringing her some new problem. Usually something that was my own fault, too. And I’d expect her to be wise and patient and tell me how to fix it. And she would.’ I stared into the darkness, my smile fading. ‘She never talked about her own problems. Even right at the end, when she knew what was coming. I used to wonder why. I think I understand a little better now. She didn’t talk about herself because she really didn’t have anyone she could talk to. And now it’s the same for me.’
Hermes yawned again.
I laughed and looked down. ‘Except you. I can lay all this stuff on you and it won’t bother you at all, because you really don’t care. Because you’re a fox.’
Hermes blinked.
‘Today was her birthday,’ I said. ‘September seventh. She just turned twenty-seven. Remember the party we did for her last year? Me and you and Luna and Vari? The war was heating up so we couldn’t do much. Still made her happy. Didn’t realise it was going to be the last time.’ I was silent for a moment. ‘I thought about leaving her a birthday card. Even planned out how I’d do it. Put it in an envelope, leave it with a beacon marker somewhere in the castle courtyard so she’d find it once we were gone. Was a stupid idea. Would have had to fight through those jann to get there, then fight my way out again. Risking my life for nothing. But a bit of me still wishes I’d done it.’
Hermes looked up at me, then reached across and touched his nose to my left hand. I glanced at him and smiled, then scratched his head. We sat there for a while under the stars.
I slept badly that night. Strange currents tugged at my dreams, making me twist and turn. I felt as though a voice was calling to me, but every time I’d start half-awake and listen, I’d hear only silence.
It felt as though someone was seeking me in Elsewhere. I slipped into a dreamshard and extended my awareness, searching for the brush of another consciousness against mine. I waited like that for a long time, but nothing came. I was alone.
At last I gave up and slipped back into normal sleep. The voices didn’t come again.
4
I woke next morning to the sun streaming through my window. I lay on my futon for a little while, listening to the birdsong, then sat up and looked down at my right arm.
From the tips of my fingers all the way up to my shoulder, my arm was smooth, too white and pale to be living flesh. It flexed and moved like a normal arm, but without wrinkles or tendons or veins. It looked like an animated statue. Only at the curve of the shoulder did the material meld into normal skin, but white tendrils were already reaching into my shoulder blade and collarbone.
Klara, the life mage who’d studied me after I’d replaced my hand, had told me that the fateweaver was going to continue transmuting my body until one of three things happened: it reached a stable equilibrium, it reached my brain, or it reached my heart. She’d been fairly confident that the last one would happen first, probably within a few months. Right now, that estimate was looking very optimistic.
I’ve made a lot of enemies in my life. Light mages, Dark mages, magical creatures. Over the years, as that list had got longer and longer, I’d had a growing feeling at the back of my mind that it was more than I could handle. Sooner or later one of the people I’d pissed off was going to catch me at the wrong time, and I’d be too slow or too outmatched or just unlucky. One of them would get me – the only question was which.
But over the last couple of weeks, I’d changed my mind. My enemies weren’t going to kill me; this would. I didn’t have any evidence and I hadn’t seen it in any of my divinations, but the feeling didn’t go away.
I did a short workout. I’ve had to change my exercises over the past month, as the fateweaver spread to transmute more and more of my arm. Push-ups don’t work any more: my right arm is too strong. Barbell lifts had the same problem. Instead I did dumbbell exercises on my left side, then some leg and abdominal work. Once I was done, I washed and shaved and walked out.
The air of the Hollow was fresh and clean. A glance through the futures told me that Karyos wouldn’t be up until the afternoon, so instead I reached out through the dreamstone to Luna.
Luna responded instantly to my mental touch, with no trace of drowsiness. You’re up early, I told her.
Couldn’t sleep. Anything?
On Vari? No. I need your help with something.
Okay.
The invasion’s going to launch this evening, I said. Between then and now, find out what you can about what Richard’s adepts are up to. Preparations, mobilisations.
Richard? Luna said. Not the Council?
The Council are going to be coming to me.
And what about when they get Vari in their sights and decide he’s acceptable losses?
Then they’ll start being a problem again, yes. Until then, my bigger worry’s Richard.
Luna was silent for a moment. All right, she sent. I’ll handle it.
Thanks. I’ll be in touch.
I broke the connection and started reaching out through the futures. It was time to look up an old friend.
A cold breeze hit me as I stepped out of Elsewhere and let the gate close behind me. I was standing on a mountaintop, granite and close-cropped grass dropping off around me down and down into the valleys below. The sea glittered in the distance, and the sky above was bright and blue.
A few hundred feet north of me was an old hut, hidden by the rocks. If I followed the ridge around the boulders, the hut would appear, and it would be empty and deserted. Door hanging open, cold burnt sticks in the fireplace. Someone had been there, perhaps recently, but they were gone.
I terminated the path-walk and explored a different future where I left the ridgeline and approached the hut from the other side. This time I’d see the fireplace first. Once again, there’d be nothing there. My future self entered the hut, searching nooks and crannies. Empty.
New future. I circled all the way around and crept up from the back. Once the future Alex had reached the hut’s back wall, he moved swiftly around to the door.
Empty.
I paused, then started walking. I kept a very close eye on the futures of the empty hut. For a moment, I thought I saw them quiver.
I came around the boulders, still watching the futures. My divination told me I’d see a cold fireplace, an empty hut with an open door . . .
The hut’s door was closed, the rock in front of it neatly swept. A small campfire was burning, the flames licking at the bottom of a pot. And sitting on a flat stone was an old man with bleached-white hair, dressed lightly despite the cold, glaring right at me.
‘Goddammit,’ Helikaon said in a tone of pure disgust.
I used to believe that my divination always told the truth. When it failed, I’d assume that it was my fault, that I’d made some kind of mistake. But gradually, over the years, I’d noticed that those mistakes seemed to happen a lot more often around certain people. Specifically, other diviners.
I’d finally figured it out last month. Master diviners could project illusionary futures, make other seers think that something was going to happen when it wouldn’t. That was how Richard had been able to trick me in the past, and how Helikaon had tried to trick me today.
‘I’d say it was good to see you,’ I said, ‘but apparently the feeling’s not mutual.’
‘What gave you that idea?’ Helikaon jabbed his thumb back at the hut. ‘Long as you’re here, make yourself useful and get some cups.’
I walked forward. ‘Not this time.’
Helikaon looked up at me as I stopped on the other side of the fire. His eyes were sharp, calculating. The short-sword at his side shifted as he adjusted his position.
I looked down at my old teacher and he looked back up at me. Then with a sigh I sat down on a rock, and the moment was gone. ‘I was hoping you could give me some help.’
Helikaon grunted, the tension leaving him. ‘Been trying to do that for fifteen years.’
I nodded. ‘Your way was never going to work for me.’
‘Of course it bloody works,’ Helikaon said. ‘Can’t hurt someone if they’re not there.’
‘You can still hurt everyone else.’
Helikaon shrugged.
‘I know, you don’t care,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not here to change your mind.’
‘Like to see you try.’ Helikaon pulled himself upright and disappeared back into the hut, reappearing a few seconds later with a single mug.
