Best Laid Plans (7 page)

‘The Archon hasss accepted him.’ Mamba’s yellow eyes bored into Sammy’s skull as he came to in the cavern beneath the Homestead.

A shadow alerted Sammy to the looming presence of Murgah Muggui. ‘What did he say to you?’ she said, mandibles clacking with every syllable.

Sammy sat up and rubbed his pounding head. Ignoring the great spider, he sought out Huntsman.

‘Who is Deacon Shader really?’ he asked, staring into Huntsman’s eyes as if he could read the truth there.

‘I do not understand,’ Huntsman said.

Sammy nodded. Huntsman wasn’t lying. No matter. He knew who Shader was to Rhiannon and that was more important to Sammy than all the confusing things he’d heard from the Archon. ‘He’s lost,’ Sammy said, pushing himself to his feet.

The hybrids formed a circle around him: Murgah Muggui as massive and as solid as the Homestead itself; Baru glaring like he meant to bite, but with his arms folded across his chest and great head nodding; Thindamura crouched, bulbous eyes rolling and tongue flicking. Mamba’s snake-head bobbed upon its long neck, the opening and closing of his mouth suggesting concern.

‘His piece of statue?’ Huntsman took a step towards Sammy and abruptly stopped.

Sammy smiled to let him know everything was OK, but then noticed how quiet the others had gone. They were rooted to the spot, staring at him like they’d seen a ghost.

Golden light danced on the tips of his fingers. He lifted a hand and watched the colour change from gold to blue, then red and green. With a thought, the light faded and he thrust his hands behind his back.

‘I don’t know about the statue,’ Sammy said. ‘But I know what I need to do.’

He raised his hands and let brilliant green light burst from his fingertips. He turned his wrists, tugging the light into circles that pulsed before him, growing, deepening, swirling into a shimmering tunnel in the air.

‘Hold me,’ he moaned, feeling his body give way.

Mamba’s arms closed around him and lowered him to the floor beneath the mouth of the tunnel of light. Sammy let his eyes close and heard a sharp click as he drifted into the air. With a last look at his body lying on the floor of the cave, he allowed himself to be drawn into the tunnel.

S
hader sat beneath a gnarled oak in the forest of his youth. Soft sunlight edged the overhanging canopy of leaves with gold and filled him, body and soul, with warmth. He was clothed once more in a white tunic bearing the red Monas of the Elect; he wore sandals rather than boots, and he sported no weapons.

Luminary Tajen sat opposite him in the shade of a gigantic yew, his expression a mixture of dour brooding, frustration, and excitement. ‘See how Araboth reflects our innermost needs and desires,’ Tajen said, indicating the trees.

‘It’s a pleasant change from Sahul,’ Shader said. ‘I’d forgotten how comforting the sun could be. In Sahul we avoid it at all costs. I once saw a man brought to the abbey after being found in the bush without shade or water. Skin was a mass of weeping blisters that burst at the slightest touch. Flesh practically dripped off the bone. The Grey Abbot did what he could, but the fellow was dead within hours, all dried up and shrivelled like a mummy.’

‘The same sun,’ Tajen said, ‘only from a different perspective. Here in Araboth you see the one you love the most. I often found myself on hills like those of my homeland, or beside a great and tranquil river such as I had known in Aeterna.’

‘Ah, the Tiber,’ Shader said. ‘I imagine the view has changed a good deal since your time.’ The banks of the great river were flanked by vast buildings with intricate domes, sprawling colonnades and high arches, inspired by the draw ings of the pre-Ancient civilisation that had flourished by its banks. Tajen would have known only the ruins of the Ancients’ own city, functional and uniform, towering structures that kissed the sky and declared the triumph of humankind.

‘It is my doom,’ Tajen’s voice was low, tinged with sorrow, ‘that I cannot bask in the reflections of my soul like the others can. This is the Araboth Milo expected, but it is nothing like I ever imagined. It’s pleasant enough, I admit, but it has the quality of a dream.’

‘How can we know which version is real?’ Shader asked, suppressing the feeling that the earth was about to open up and swallow him.

‘I am not a man who trusts the fulfilment of his own desires. Nous is my life and my master. I am content to follow where he leads.’

‘But how can you tell this isn’t what he wants?’

For the first time since he’d settled in Oakendale—since he’d been with Rhiannon—Shader was almost at peace. So what if Araboth wasn’t the promised land; it was good enough for him and he was tired of trying to guess what Nous did and didn’t want.

‘Because I have never felt so removed from life,’ Tajen said, ‘so disconnected from the world and its people. I feel safe here, but with that safety comes complacency. In one such as myself that is the recipe for despair. I’m not saying that Milo and the others are entirely wrong about this place. It may well be a taste of Araboth, but it is too closely allied to our expectations. Our journey is not yet complete and I have a suspicion we have tarried here too long. It seems the more time passes, the deeper we grow enmeshed in delusion.’

‘You think something has gone wrong? Ain’s salvation is thwarted?’

‘Perhaps.’ Tajen studied Shader’s eyes. ‘Although it makes no theological sense. How can an omnipotent god be thwarted? It may be that I am mistaken, that we are still on the path to salvation and my own failings are limiting my experience of Ain.’

‘You don’t sound convinced.’ Shader felt the heaviness of tension returning, settling upon his shoulders like a sodden coat. A chill breeze rustled the leaves of the forest and cloud smothered the light of the sun. Shader felt an icy prickling at the nape of his neck.

‘Something terrible has happened,’ Tajen said, cocking his head and shutting his eyes.

‘What…?’ Shader began, but was arrested by Tajen’s silencing hand.

The colour drained from the Luminary’s face as the enormity of what he’d perceived dawned on him. ‘Death.’ His eyes snapped open, the pupils like two gaping holes onto the Void.

Almost immediately the sky blackened with thick clouds and a shrill wind began to gust about the clearing. Screams sounded in the distance.

‘Come,’ Tajen said, winking out of existence.

Shader followed, instinctively knowing the Luminary’s destination. They appeared in the darkness of an immense cavern. Stalactites glistened with droplets of a reddish liquid and spread an eerie haze throughout the interior. There was a dim glow coming from something on the ground, a dark and bloated shape looming over it. The other Luminaries began to materialize, visibly shaken and gasping at the sight that greeted them. The lifeless body of Jarmin the Anchorite lay sprawled upon the rocky floor, his luminescence fading as the thing straddling him sucked and slurped at his mouth.

Jarmin’s assailant was a pitch-black avalanche of blubber with squat arms and legs; a grotesque parody of a man jiggling with rolls of fat, its swollen face dripping cheeks that melted into the torso.

Shader took a step towards the monster, but froze as it raised its head and let out an anticipatory sigh, shifting its bulk to get a better look at him.

‘So,’ it gurgled, ‘you followed me, little man. You realize you are mine. An agreement was reached.’

‘Agreement? What agreement?’

‘Oh, of course, you weren’t present. Nevertheless, a deal’s a deal. If you have a grievance, address it to Dr Cadman.’

‘Cadman?’

‘What’s up, honey, don’t you recognize me? Don’t you remember my touch?’

Shader stiffened at the memory of the demon’s noxious belches, its tentacles cutting into his flesh, its undulating bulk smothering him.

‘The Dweller.’ His voice quavered, and the demon closed in like a shark scenting blood. Shader scrabbled about for time. ‘Cadman sent you?’

‘My lips are sealed.’ The Dweller gave a sickly grin. ‘You were promised to me, and believe me, it’s better all round if you come quietly. By the way, how do you like my new look?’ It lifted up the apron of flab covering its loins and wobbled it about. ‘Come on, my darling. Give us a hug.’

The Luminaries backed away and Shader felt hands tugging at him, but he shrugged them off. Ice formed in his veins as he watched the Dweller in fascinated horror. His guts churned in revulsion. He wanted so desperately to scream, to turn and run, but he was rooted to the spot as the creature lumbered towards him. The Dweller’s tongue ran across its lips, thick ropes of drool oozing down its cheeks. It belched and held its belly, lifted the flab to reveal a flaccid maggot between its legs. With one hand, it began to rub there until the maggot starting to swell at an alarming rate.

The air shimmered and a cowled figure appeared between Shader and the Dweller. It held out a shortsword with intricate letters etched into the blade. Shader recognized it instantly, as if it had cut through the fog of his amnesia.

‘Archon,’ the Dweller snarled. ‘My master will trap you here.’

Ignoring it, the cowled figure lifted its head towards Shader, bright light effusing from the hood and dazzling him.

‘Take back my sword, Deacon Shader,’ the Archon said in a voice like the wind. ‘It learns from experience. It will prove stronger this time. Aid is on its way, drawn to the gladius. I cannot stay. This place is poison to…’

The gladius started to fall as the figure faded from view.

Snatching the hilt, Shader thrust the tip towards the Dweller and golden light flared around the blade. The demon howled and dropped to its knees, frantically burrowing into the cave floor. Its fat backside wobbled and strained, and then squeezed into the hole with a plop. Earth and rock fell back behind it, covering its escape. Sounds of its underground digging thumped up through the cave floor for a few moments and then all was quiet.

Milo, Tajen, and Narcus crept forward and stood over the crumpled husk of Jarmin’s body.

‘How can this be?’ Milo asked.

Tajen placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes distant, frown-lines like gouges between his eyebrows. ‘Now do you see?’ he said. ‘We have not arrived. We are still running the race.’

The glow from Narcus’s skin was noticeably dimmer. Fine tremors rippled through his limbs as he reached for Tajen’s hand and pulled him close. ‘What is happening, Tajen? Where are we?’

‘Besides Jarmin and Shader,’ Tajen said, ‘no soul has entered this so-called Araboth for centuries. As for that thing, that Dweller…’

Shader relaxed his grip on the sword and its light died. ‘I faced it on Earth, just before I came here,’ he said. ‘I suspect this is its natural abode.’

‘But why should it appear now?’ asked Milo, his bronze tan dissolving in the sweat beading his skin.

Shader shrugged. ‘I remember it smothering me. There was a flash and then I was here with no idea of who I was. Something happened at the moment of my death.’

Tajen knelt beside Jarmin’s body. ‘What is it about you two,’ he said, ‘that attracted the beast?’

Shader struggled to think as the Luminary closed Jarmin’s eyes. ‘It sensed something in me. Presumably the same thing that drew it to Jarmin.’

Take back my sword,
the cowled man had said. The Dweller had referred to him as the Archon. More than ever, Shader was convinced he was dreaming, trapped in a nightmare of his own imaginings. The inklings of an explanation were starting to form in his mind. ‘I had a piece of an ancient artefact,’ he said to Tajen. ‘Is it possible Jarmin once possessed another?’

‘What artefact?’ demanded Tajen, turning from the corpse and standing. ‘Describe it to me.’

Shader bent down and traced the outline of the serpent statue on the dust of the cave floor.

Tajen nodded. ‘Eingana, one of the three beings who fell from the Void. She who is forever pursued by her brother, the Demiurgos. Maybe that’s what drew you here. Jarmin too. You’d both touched her power. It is like a scent, drawing the attention of the Demiurgos. But the demon…’

‘I think it may have been wounded when it tried to consume me back in the templum,’ Shader said. ‘Perhaps the power of the sword and statue combined…’ Shader tailed off. Tajen’s mouth was hanging open as if he’d realized what he was saying. And then the penny dropped. Eingana, the Archon, and their brother, the Demiurgos. Shader had learnt something of the old myths from Aristodeus. Picture language, he’d called it. Metaphysics. If the Demiurgos existed, and if he’d drawn them here, then this could only be…