Brandon moves, through nothing and everything. Not “falling”, as that requires there to be a “down”, but moves without motion or control, through something outside of any normal space. Insofar as there is any light here, it’s being shed by an eye, a circle of unfathomable size somewhere “above”, a dome of crimson light with a black sphere at the centre. An outer circle, a wide band of interwoven symbols, although these are static and unmoving.
It moves, just slightly, seeming to focus downwards. A presence, a vast and powerful thing, pushes against him. A thought, a feeling, curiosity and interest, all above a vast, seething power, greater than anything he’s ever felt before, even from her. Words, an incoherent babble, countless languages and pitches and tones, all crowding in and around each other, like being between a conversation of thousands and thousands of people. His mind latches onto the bare few words he can understand, if they truly are words, and not simply a coincidence of sound. Words, but no meaning, single snippets shorn of any wider context.
The eye shifts, taking an eternity to close, and then there is only emptiness, the words fading, whispering growing quiet. And then even that strange un-light vanished, everything fading into nothingness.
Grass, soft beneath his face, and warm soil. He opens his eyes, feeling them crack open, gummy and sore. Sunlight, far too bright and hot. He pulls himself to his feet, vision swimming for a moment, body, soul and gut still heavy with metal. Green grass, stone walls. Where the hell is he? Amy and David are both on the floor as well, and he goes and checks on them.
David’s arm is still bleeding, the markings shifted into new shapes. Amy seems to be in better condition, although there’s still angry red marks across her skin. She stirs, slowly coming to, her eyes dazed as she stands, looking around before speaking.
‘Before you ask, I have no idea what the hell that was. That place, that pit and the weird construction thing? The few things I was ever told about it was that it’s old. Old-old, dawn-of-time sort of stuff. I honestly thought it was either a myth, or some weird misunderstanding of something else. I’ve no idea what languages most of those even were.’
‘Reckon they were carved by someone, or reflections of will?’
‘If someone carved them, then that’s a lot more people travelling through the maze than I’ve ever heard of. It could be one of those weird ancient things that everyone used to know, that become impossible, dangerous or stupid over time, and no-one ever bothered writing it down or telling me. But some of those carvings looked modern. So I’m hoping it’s some weird reflection of will or something.’
‘Right, so what does that mean for when all of the words changed? Can language be broken?’
Her hand went to the back of her neck, and then she tugged at the front of her diving suit, looking down at her chest. ‘Shit, no wonder that hurt.’
‘Another tattoo? Didn’t think you were the type. What’s happened to it?’
‘I’m not bloody showing you! But the letters have all gotten jumbled up and shifted. Explains why it hurt so much, my skin was getting twisted up with it. Let’s check David, see how he’s doing.’
He was still unconscious, as they peeled back his sleeves – both arms were covered in thin lines of blood, swelling out from his scars and tattoos.
‘Any idea what he’s been doing to himself?’ Amy wiped away some of the blood.
‘After two years ago, he went a bit strange. Given what happened, I’m not surprised. He took the family relic and managed to reforge it, which is I guess where that bloody gun came from. I’ve heard a bit about him from Courtessa, I think he’s been hunting down some of those from the other side that managed to survive.’
‘Good for him, I guess. Still doesn’t explain the creepy tattoos though. Or the scars. I guess they must have meant something, if that only affected writing.’ She checked down her top again. ‘Drawings seem unaffected, but symbols have changed.’
Brandon wanted to know what her tattoo was of but knew she wouldn’t answer so didn’t bother asking.
‘That seems a damn vague boundary. Although tally marks, I guess? He’s only young, so being stupid and dramatic seems fairly typical. And there were quite a few people that needed dealing with – I know Courtessa dealt with some herself and tried to get me involved. Surprised she never dragged you into it.’
‘I try and avoid her, didn’t give her my number or have a sending table she can use. And she’s a bit too kill-happy for me’, said Amy.
‘I guess when you can conjure flames, then everything looks like a problem to be set on fire and exploded? Anyway, where the hell are we, what did we find out and what do we do now?’ Brandon looked around again – he could see the edge of a housing estate fringing the unkempt field they were in, so there must be roads nearby. ‘That woman, Kashura Abyad, she’s in charge, and seems pretty damn skilled.’
‘The woman in white, yeah. And she wants you, and now probably me, dead. She knows a lot more than anyone we don’t know should. And running a cult, which is almost always a bad sign. It was rare for anyone to see her in person, most of the local heads were legitimately invested in the group. I heard a rumour she was looking for you, pure blind fluke I bumped into you.’
‘What rumours? It’s not like I’ve done much for the last few years.’
‘That you might be an enemy of the faith, but could also be converted to an ally. The description was pretty spot-on, but as of a few years ago.’ She looked at his scraggly beard, or, more accurately, the results of excessively sporadic shaving. ‘That wasn’t mentioned, for example. So she knows you by sight, but didn’t know where to find you.’
They started walking, dragging David with them – his time in the water had at least lightened his body, making him easy to haul around, as Brandon spoke. ‘Is she something old that got freed, one of my ancestors screwed her over? Although we weren’t known for sealing people away or anything, when we wanted someone gone, it was generally pretty easy to make sure they were gone on a permanent basis. And she’s picked up on language and everything pretty well. Have you done any investigation work?’
‘Yup, nothing. No legal existence I could find, not even a fake one. Kashura Abyad has followers to deal with money and all that side of things. There’s the usual stories of inner circles, more mysteries and all that stuff, but the woman’s a ghost. Actually…’ She considered. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen anyone touch her. Think she might be actually a ghost?’
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
‘I’ve never heard of one like her if she is. They’re normally stuck to a place and mono-focused, not out and about doing stuff. Plus the bodyguards – they’d probably notice if they were guarding someone not physical. She can’t be new, but the look she’s got is pretty distinctive, and that “glaring bright light” is not a sensation I’ve felt before. And she was keeping this one on tap for some reason. How long do you think he was down there?’
‘No idea. I’d been there a few weeks and never heard anything about it. I’m surprised he’s as functional as he is, being stuck down there for any time…’ She shivered. ‘Drive most people insane.’
‘His relic will help. As soon as he got that back, and killed someone with it, then he started to recover. Still can’t believe he turned it into a goddam gun, although I guess that’s more useful than a knife. Easier to use, at least. As long as he doesn’t get too enthusiastic with it, I’d rather not have to put him down.’
They dragged him up, supporting him between themselves, and started carrying him. They had landed in some old stone circle, great finger-slabs of grey stone clutching out of the ground, Amy looking at the stones with interest.
Brandon spoke. ‘Any idea where the hell we are? Recognise the stones at all?’
She shook her head. ‘No idea. Old, I guess, surprised they’re still here and not knocked down to make space for more homes.’ She tilted her head. ‘Think I can hear cars though. I need to get some proper clothes, this is not comfortable or practical! And you look like a homeless person.’
‘It’s a disguise!’ Although one that was admittedly very close to his usual clothing. ‘If anyone asks, we can probably say it was a stag party, at least. Two of you match.’
They hauled David towards the sound of cars, until they found a road, managing to hail down a mercifully unquestioning taxi driver. Wherever they had gone, it had possessed separate internal time from the real world, as it was early morning now, although the heat was already pounding down, metal starting to shimmer with heat-haze. They arrived at the train station, rammed with morning commuters, everyone sagging and wilting, work attire already sweat-stained.
They got a few odd looks, but the usual attitude of the morning commute (“not my problem”) prevailed. Although the mood of the crowd was strange, jostles being met with harder shoves back, muttered grumbles becoming louder profanities.
Hunger rumbled through Brandon’s stomach, as he tried to recall the last time he ate, coming up blank. Amy snapped her fingers in front of his face. ‘You feeling OK? Looked a bit funny there for a minute. Not going to collapse on me, I hope? I can manage to carry one person, two might be a bit much.’
‘Yeah, just tired.’ He pulled his hand away from the wall, sweat making it cling to the metal walls. Where his hand had been there was a slight depression into the surface, like a palm had been pressed against it during construction. He looked at his hand, surreptitiously checking the necklace, finding it unchanged. That couldn’t have been him, could it? It hurt enough consuming the metal of a lock, never mind a lump of train wall. Just a coincidence, surely?
Inside, the carriage was a broiling hell, far too many people, far too close to together, far too hot. And the power was on the blink, meaning the lights kept blinking on and off, the AC giving all-too-rare moments of relief before shutting down, the carriage becoming a hotbox of other people’s scents and body-heat.
He tugged at his shirt, peeling the fabric away from his body. Somewhere, close by but blocked by the press of people, a grumble of dissatisfaction suddenly sparked loud, shouted swearing, everyone else trying to push back, create a circle of space around the problem. Through the crowd, he could see two figures grappling with each other, grabbing and wrenching each other around, knocking against the surrounding crowd.
They shouted and swore at each other. Brandon tried to listen to what they were shouting at each other, to place the language, but couldn’t quite make out any of the words. They twisted and spun around, knocking into the surrounding crowd. They fought and tussled, ragging each other around, everyone else staying back. Someone else in the crowd threw a punch, fight expanding as others started to join in, the brawl spreading down the carriage.
Someone was shoved towards him, and he raised an arm to defend himself, shoving them back. They turn and stare at him, squaring themselves up, Amy slamming a fist into their jaw before they can act. Everyone else takes a smart step back as she glares around, rubbing a fist. The carriage is fever-hot now, air thick and hot, too many people’s breath and bodies too close together. He could feel irritation and anger rising up within himself, the urge to just hit someone intensifying, mostly limited by having to carry David.
Amy was looking around as though spoiling for a fight, fists tense and ready, as the train slid into the next station. As soon as the doors hissed open, Brandon stepped outside, even the slightly cooler air on the platform an improvement over the stifling carriage. Transport police ran in, trying to break up the brawl, which had now spread onto the platform, enveloping other travellers and drawing them into it. Still hauling David, they beat a hasty retreat before getting dragged into the brawl, up the escalator towards the surface.
‘Thanks for that. Heat always makes people kick off, but that was crazy.’
They reached the top of the escalator, ignoring the sounds of the brawl from beneath them. They passed the underground map, surrounded by the usual mob of tourists. Brandon glances at it, then looks again. Several of the familiar lines looked different, the text strangely blurred. He tried to move closer to see, and then one of the tourists turned and punched another one. Another brawl quickly developed, as they hurried past, trying not to get involved.
Outside, the air was slightly less stifling, although the concrete and tarmac were both radiating heat, everyone taking what shelter they could in the shade.
‘I know it’s hot, but why is everyone so angry?’ Amy was still on the defensive, arms raised and swivelling her head around in case of attack.
‘God knows, but it’s far too bloody hot. Just smack them if they give you shit. And we really need to get you some new clothes.’ Brandon reached over and slapped David, his eyes fluttering. ‘Wake up, you lanky shit. Without using that goddam gun of yours. Where are we, and is there anywhere we can get clothes nearby?’
They were somewhere in the fancy part of the city, all million-pound apartments about the size of a postage stamp, with ridiculously expensive cars that never left their garages. And they were starting to attract attention, the place wealthy enough that they were getting looks, from people that might do something about it.
‘We’re going to have to go see her, aren’t we?’
Amy groaned. ‘Crap, really?’
‘Well, I’ve got no more money, and I’m guessing you don’t have any either? And this one’s useless.’ He shook David. ‘She might be able to wake him up. And if she can’t, she can probably keep him from doing anything stupid.’
They started moving, trying to look unobtrusive and not doing a very good job of it. Which one of the places did Courtessa live in? They all looked the same, and if they tried several, the concierges would probably call the police.
‘It’s that one, isn’t it?’ He pointed at one that looked like a column of obsidian, a pillar of black glass, a blinding-bright dot where it was reflecting the sun.
‘Yeah, the doomspire, the locals call it. Let’s go do this, then. And hope we don’t need to stage a rescue of her new kid, wherever the hell she found them.’
‘That’s a problem for another day. If she’s raising some fire cultist, that’s not our problem, until she starts setting things on fire. We can worry about it afterwards, when this… whatever this is gets sorted.’
They entered the building, the concierge giving them a look of highly polite doubt, hand no doubt hovering over a security button. With all the tired, blasé confidence they could muster, they walked towards the lift, the doors “dinging” open. Inside there were the usual buttons, but when he pressed the one for the penthouse, the door stayed open.
There was a number pad, allowing for codes to be entered. Brandon looked at Amy, who tapped in the numbers, as the concierge walked towards them, ready to question them. The doors slid shut, and the lift started to slide upwards.
‘She should change her codes more often. I guess when you’re centuries old, then stuff like this becomes easier to skip over.’