Author: Benedict Jacka
Category: Science
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Looking through the futures, I couldn’t recognise any of the paths ahead. Apparently the cube had dropped me into a different part of the bubble realm from last time. I picked a direction at random and kept going. Luna was silent for a moment, and I had the feeling that she was talking. Okay, she said at last. What if we attack at the same time that you’re coming out? We pull some of them away from the storeroom and you’ll have a better chance.
Yeah, they’re not going to fall for that. Onyx and Pyre will send a few guys to keep you busy while they stay by the statue. Only way you’re going to pull them off is to fight your way right into the mansion.
We could.
And if you do, you’ll be too deep to disengage. Chances are whoever’s at the front will get killed.
If we don’t, you’ll get killed.
I’m not letting you guys do a suicide run against Onyx and Pyre, I said. Look, if I can get the fateweaver, it’ll open up options. Maybe I can figure out a way to bypass the sink effect. Either way, I’m pretty sure I’ve got better chances of getting away solo than the three of you have with a frontal attack.
Right, Luna said. She didn’t sound happy. Because using the fateweaver to fight Onyx worked so well last time.
Hey, I’ve got out of worse situations than this.
Name one.
Uh . . . I said. Got to go. I’ll be in touch.
I kept on walking, following the curving corridors. The only sounds were the echo of my footsteps and the occasional drip of blood. I wondered if Abithriax was watching me now, and how I’d look if he was. He’d see a mage in battered and burned armour, right hand ruined, left hand holding the cube that was the key to his prison. What would he be feeling as he looked at me? Curiosity? Contempt?
“So I’ve always wondered,” I asked the cube. “Why did you choose Luna anyway?”
The cube didn’t answer.
“I mean, you obviously picked her out. I knew that as soon as she told me the story about how she ‘found’ you. I was just never sure as to why.”
The corridor ended in a door. I set the cube down on the floor and took out my tools. “I suppose you could have just bonded with the first girl to pick you up,” I said over my shoulder as I started working on the door. This one was more complicated, needing a password as well as a specific magical signal. “But I never got the feeling that that was what you were doing. You always struck me as the kind of imbued item that has a purpose. So what was it? What were you created for?”
The locking mechanism gave way. I put my tools back in my pocket, picked up the cube, and put a hand to the door. It slid open with a hiss.
The room within was a death trap. Mirrors covered the walls, floor, and ceiling, even the backs of the doors, all tilted at slight angles. A tiny panel at the far corner held three projectors, aimed so that the energy beams they sent out would reflect over and over throughout the room in a deadly lattice able to cut flesh and armour to ribbons.
Or at least that was what they would have done if they’d been active. The projector at the back of the room was inert, and without it, the room was just a lot of mirrors. A glance through the futures confirmed that it wasn’t going to activate. I walked in and took a closer look. The mechanism hadn’t been sabotaged or deactivated that I could see: it had just failed.
Now that I thought about it, a lot of the systems in the bubble realm seemed to be failing. I’d been passing flickering and dimmed lights, and that door that had jammed hadn’t been the only one. Maybe the entire place was finally falling apart. It had lasted for over a thousand years undisturbed, but that had been before Luna and I had broken its seals six years ago. Bubble realms aren’t all that stable.
“Maybe it’s because of us,” I said to myself as I opened the door and kept going. “When we opened this place back then, we must have disturbed a lot of stuff. And no one’s been doing maintenance.” I looked down at the cube. “Was that why you showed up? Because the Council had found the statue, and you knew that sooner or later they’d force a way in?”
The cube sat silently.
“Doesn’t explain why you’d pick Luna though. I mean, if you wanted the place opened, a Council mage would have made more sense. But then, if you just wanted it opened, you could have done that a long time ago. So what do you want? I guess maybe you want to keep Abithriax sealed, but at the rate it’s going, the prison might not last much longer . . .”
No answer.
“You know, I kind of feel like I’m doing all the work in this conversation.”
I kept working my way through the bubble realm. Not all the traps were inactive, but I had my divination and my memories, and unlike last time, I didn’t have a bunch of people chasing me. My hand kept bleeding. The bandages were soaked through, and I was starting to wonder if I should be worrying about blood loss.
And then, all of a sudden, I was there. The corridor opened up into a huge circular room, columns around the edge rising up into darkness. The lights set densely around the wall should have illuminated the room brightly, but only a handful still glowed, leaving deep, uneven shadows. At the centre of the room was a dais, and on the dais was a pedestal, a barrier of force shielding a small object within.
Time to end this. I checked to see that my route to the pedestal was clear, and stepped out.
At least, I’d meant to step out. Instead, I hesitated. Nothing was stopping me. I knew that I was perfectly safe, at least until I opened that barrier . . .
And that was the problem. As soon as I did, I was going to stop being safe.
Come on, I told myself. After everything else that’s happened the last few days, this should be easy. If you can make it through Richard’s shadow realm . . .
Except that in Richard’s shadow realm, I hadn’t been the one making the decisions. I’d just reacted to what had happened. Same with what had come afterwards. Even the raid we’d just done, in a way. Sure, I’d planned it, but the big choice had been made for me.
If I took up the fateweaver, I wouldn’t be able to react anymore. I was going to change, and I didn’t know how much of my old self would be left.
It’s not as though you have much choice.
But wasn’t that how I’d ended up like this? I’d adapted and reacted, telling myself that I was doing what I had to. And in doing so, I’d let Richard and the Council set the prevailing wind. Now that wind had blown me to the edge of a cliff.
I did have a choice. I’d always had a choice. Richard had been trying to teach me that, in a way. It was just that accepting that lesson would have meant giving up things I cared about. Now it looked as though I was going to have to give them up anyway. If I wanted to save Anne, I would have to change.
In the old days, when I was struggling with something like this, I’d have gone to Arachne. I’d have asked her what to do, looked for reassurance. But Arachne was gone, and who could I go to instead? Luna? Even if she was willing, it wouldn’t work. Sitting back and letting other people make decisions for me was how I’d gotten into this mess in the first place. This had to be my decision.
Maybe I’d been so passive for so long because, deep down, I’d been afraid of what might happen if I stopped. I’d relied on the judgement of Arachne and my friends because I hadn’t really trusted my own. There’s a ruthless streak inside me, something cold and lethal that Richard had recognized from the very beginning. When I’d rejected Richard, I’d rejected that part of myself as well. Except that by doing that, I’d also turned my back on the part of myself that was most decisive, most willing to commit to a choice and accept the consequences. In a way I’d made the same mistake as Anne, burying my dark side in the hope that it’d go away.
But it hadn’t gone away, and to be honest, I’d never really tried to make it go away. Again and again, when my back was to the wall and I was in real danger, I’d fallen back on that part of myself to stay alive. And s
o it had always been there, a quiet voice at the back of my mind. Vari had said that I was too passive, that I always let my enemies take the first shot, and he’d been right, but he hadn’t understood that the biggest reason I did that was because I was resisting that little voice reminding me how much easier it would be to just kill them instead.
I couldn’t afford to be passive anymore. For a long time, I’d been pretending to be something I wasn’t. It had been a holiday, and now my time was up.
I remembered Hermes. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and go do something.
I gave a half smile. “Well,” I said aloud. “It was good while it lasted.” And I walked out.
The room had been left almost exactly as I remembered it. I could see the place where Griff had moulded the stone into chains to bind Luna, see the patch on the floor where Onyx, Rachel, and Cinder had killed him. If I looked closely, I thought I could even make out a faint stain on the floor. Now that I was closer, I could see the fateweaver, half obscured by the barrier, a simple wand of ivory. There were three receptacles on the edge of the pedestal, each the size and shape of the cube. I reached out towards the leftmost one—
I felt menace from the cube, clear and threatening.
I stopped dead. All of a sudden, the futures had stopped being safe. “You don’t want me to open it?” I asked, being very careful not to move.
The cube didn’t exactly answer, but the sensations changed, becoming demanding and insistent.
I thought for a second. I knew Abithriax was watching and I didn’t want to speak out loud. Reaching out with the dreamstone, I touched the cube delicately, its thoughts slick and hard, like wet glass. I projected a clear image of what I was intending to do.
The cube seemed to consider a moment, then its resistance ceased. I dropped it into the receptacle. The barrier pulsed and vanished.
I started to reach for the fateweaver, then paused. I could feel my armour around me, wounded and bleeding. It had carried me this far, but it wouldn’t survive where I was going. Slowly and painfully, I stripped it off, blood leaking onto the mesh from my useless right hand. When I was done, I folded up my armour and laid it on the dais. “I’ll try to get you out safe,” I told it.
The armour stirred under my hand. I straightened, took a deep breath, and picked up the fateweaver. “Hey, Abithriax,” I said to the air. “I’m back.”
A voice spoke from behind me. “So I see.”
I turned. A man was standing there, his hands clasped behind his back. He had white hair and a white beard, thinly streaked with red, and wore the crimson robes of a member of the Old Council. He looked exactly the same as when I’d last seen him, but then he’d been dead for over two thousand years. Or at least his body had.
“I want the fateweaver,” I told Abithriax.
“You act as though you expect me to be surprised,” Abithriax said. “Everyone who comes here wants the fateweaver. Do you have any concept of just how many mages have come before you? Of how many have stood where you stand right now?”
“Not really.”
“No,” Abithriax said. “You have no idea at all. So very many. Begging and demanding, confident and fearful, brave and cowardly, all find their way here. All wanting the same thing, all thinking themselves clever enough to hide the desire burning inside. All ending the same way.”
“I imagine you haven’t had too many come twice.”
“And you think that makes you special?” Abithriax looked at me with contempt. “I was a master mage for more than two thousand years before you tried your first fumbling spell. You are a child.”
“I suppose to you, I am,” I said. “So are you going to try to possess me again?”
“Why should I bother?” Abithriax asked. “You shield your thoughts, but your body tells me all I need to know. Your own power is insufficient to win your battles, so you come here, expecting to make use of mine. I have no need of a weak bearer.”
“Liar,” I said. “You aren’t doing it because you can’t.”
“You think those mental defences you are so proud of could withstand me at my full strength?” Abithriax said. “I could break your mind like a twig. I choose not to. Be grateful for that, and go live the brief remainder of your life in whatever manner seems best to you.” Abithriax vanished, leaving me alone.
Or not quite alone. I could feel his presence from within the fateweaver, locking me out of the item. I didn’t know whether Abithriax really could possess me if I didn’t invite him in, but he was right about the gap in our abilities. I had no way to take the fight to him.
At least, not here.
I reached out to the dreamstone in my pocket, and channelled. I’d practised this over and over again with my divination, and now that I did it for real, the spell was quick and easy. Even though I’d known in advance, it was a surprise how little power it took. You’d think something like this would be harder.
A translucent oval appeared in midair, hovering in front of me. It could have been an ordinary transport gate, except for two things. First, it seemed to lead into the same room I was standing in already. Second, there was a transparent barrier across the gateway, visible to magesight as a faint shimmer. It would give to pressure, but air didn’t flow in or out.
I stepped through the gateway, the fateweaver in my hand, and let it close behind me. “Abithriax,” I said again.
The fateweaver didn’t respond.
He’s not even paying attention. Well, that’d change soon enough. The pedestal was still there, empty in this reflection. I set the fateweaver down on it, then stepped back and waited.
Seconds passed. I bounced up and down on my toes, full of energy. I didn’t feel as though I was dreaming at all: I felt more awake than I’d ever been. My vision was clearer, and vitality surged through me. I could get used to this.
Focusing on the fateweaver, I saw tiny wisps trailing upwards from it, like evaporating light. I glanced down to see that the same wisps were trailing from my clothing and the wrappings around my hand. I wondered how long I’d have.
Abithriax rematerialised, blinking into existence in front of the fateweaver. He looked around, frowning. The room wasn’t shadowed anymore, but clearly lit in grey and blue. “What are you doing?”
“Let’s try this again,” I said. “I want the fateweaver.”
“Travelling to some shadow realm will not change my answer.”
“But this isn’t a shadow realm,” I said. “This is Elsewhere.”
Abithriax went still.
I nodded down at the fateweaver. “See those trails? How long do you think it’ll last?”
“So this is your plan.” Abithriax studied me. “The fateweaver will last longer than you will.”
“Possibly,” I said. “I imagine it’ll depend on our relative strengths of self. You’re probably stronger as far as that goes, but then, the fateweaver isn’t your natural body. I expect that’ll work against you. As to who’ll give out first?” I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Want to find out?”
“Hm,” Abithriax said. “You surprise me.”
“First time you’ve been in Elsewhere?”
“Please,” Abithriax said. “I’ll admit your Council has made some advances, but in pure magical theory, you have a long way to go. No, my surprise is to do with you. I remember sifting through your memories quite clearly, and you were a type I’d seen many times. Trying so hard to prove that you weren’t a Dark mage. Yet now you come here willing to throw away your life and mine, just to take what you want. A Light mage would never do something so destructive.”
“I’m done pretending to be Light.”
“So I see,” Abithriax said. He looked at me a moment longer, then shrugged. “Very well.”
“Very well?”
“I concede the conflict,” Abithriax said. “As you have correctly surmised, I value my life more h
ighly than you do yours, and I am unwilling to take the risks of a direct confrontation in Elsewhere. My powers are at your disposal.”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to work.”
Abithriax frowned at me. “What?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I’d love to be able to take advantage of your abilities. There are a couple of problems I’m going to be dealing with quite soon that a mind mage would help with enormously. Unfortunately, I can’t trust you.”
“It appears you do not have a choice.”
“You aren’t listening,” I said. “I told you. I want the fateweaver.”
“I am the fateweaver.”
“No, you’re bonded to it. I’m going to do the same.”
“I have no interest in sharing it with you.”
I tilted my head. “Sharing?”
Abithriax’s face darkened.
“I don’t know how many people you’ve possessed and thrown away over the years,” I said. “Right now, I don’t really care. But I’m pretty sure you’ve had this coming for a long time.”
Abithriax struck. A wave of mental pressure crashed against my mind, trying to roll over my thoughts. It was similar to how it had been with Crystal, but Abithriax was better. Faster, stronger. A true master.
But this time I could fight back. I met Abithriax’s attack with a wall of pure will and threw him away. Abithriax rallied, redoubled his efforts, and I held him off. It was a strain, but I could do it. He wasn’t breaking through.
Surprise flashed across Abithriax’s face, followed by concentration. The two of us stood ten feet apart, eyes locked. Abithriax tried to worm his way through my defences, and failed. I could sense what he was doing, and I started to press him back.
Then Abithriax disengaged and struck with some attack I’d never seen before, sharp-edged like a blade. My defences shattered and Abithriax’s will poured in. Panic rang like a gong as I sensed him starting to take control: with a surge I threw him out, rebuilding my defences higher and stronger.
My body was feeling odd, insubstantial. I glanced down and felt a chill. The trails of light coming up from my clothes and hand had multiplied, and threads of my coat were flaring and wisping away into nothingness. Whatever Abithriax had done, it had damaged my ability to hold together in Elsewhere. I hadn’t even known that was possible.