Mirrorworld (32 page)

And yet, over time, these thoughts faded. It was always abundantly clear that the king and queen loved each other very much, and it takes a harder heart than most trolls possess to be opposed to such strong and obvious affection. Over the many peaceful and prosperous decades of Diamond’s rule, opinion thus gently trended in the opposite direction, with the trolls of the Northlands coming to revere their queen as much as they did their king.

“Alas; it could not last, for disaster struck. Fifty years past from this day, prospectors from the city of Portruss, who had heard tales of the diamond troll, came to the Northlands, armed with a troll’s worst nightmare; the pickaxe. Though men of ill repute, they were driven by the thought of unparalleled riches, and made use of mankind’s base cunning to outwit the royal defences and attack king Diamond in his private quarters. The individual might of one troll was not enough to see off a determined group of prospectors, and in due course life was extinguished from the rightful king. They took his body, and were already tearing up the trail on their way home by the time anyone realised anything was amiss.

Upon piecing together what had happened, the queen flew into a terrible rage, and personally led the small army of trolls that set out on the trail of the fleeing prospectors. The men could not outrun a force so driven by rage and despair, and were duly annihilated when the troll force caught up. Alas, their efforts were in vain, for what they found was not Diamond’s corpse, but only his cache of the rare, worthless gems that humans held in such regard. Diamond’s stone form had been broken and shattered, abandoned in pieces along the way, and thus was the rightful king denied a true grave.

Legend has it that Kimberlite took but one diamond of her love’s remains, and returned to the mountains, her rage engulfed by despair. Yet she lived on; childless, she was the end of this royal line, the last hope of trollkind, queen under a mountain of regret. Though her heartbreak would end, and she would continue to be a revered leader of trolls, her dissatisfaction with the paltry vengeance that she had enacted against those who had destroyed her love would only grow, and become a bitter, all-consuming, unconsummated thirst for revenge. Yet she would not leave her mountain; such was her tragedy.”

The wizard spread his hands sarcastically, awaiting applause that he knew would not come. In the silence of the chamber, Kimberlite stared at him, carefully planning her reaction. Hearing the sad story of her life told back to her by, of all things, a human, was a jarring and surreal experience, especially given the detail which he had somehow come by. What possible cause could he have, to taunt the queen of trolls with history when he was of the species that had perpetrated it? Gripping the arms of her throne so tightly that she thought they might crack, she leaned forwards. “You said you would ask something of me, wizard,” she rumbled, her displeasure leaking into her tone. “Well, ask it now, and ask it well, for your life depends on your next words.”

“Oh I will,” the wizard said, fearless still. “It was not my intent to anger you with your own story, Kimberlite, but to demonstrate that we are of a kin. I too have lost a lot, by the hand of the same creatures that ruined you. For as long as I know, the people of Portruss have been tearing their way through the lives of others with no care for the consequences and the destruction they leave behind. I say, no more; I intend to illustrate their folly to them, to take revenge as you have wished to for so long. I ask then, that you join with me; one man alone can do but little, but I intend to build a great army, and shatter Portruss from living memory. For that, I need help. Come out from under your mountain, follow me, and I will promise you all the vengeance that it is in your power to enact. I am targeting the Viaggiatori, but the rest of that city is of no worth to me. Help me, and I will leave them to you.”

The mere memory of Keithus’s words, powered by the spiralling architecture of his rage, sent a shiver down Kimberlite’s spine. She had known then that, for all his madness, this wizard would be true to his word. Whatever had been done to him, it had left him driven, consumed by a desire for revenge, and though his priorities seemed to have evolved more abstractly beyond that in the time since, presumably as a result of his continuing insanity, she did not doubt his intent for Portruss. She had decided right then and there that she
would
follow him, and that decision had led her here, where she stood steward of an impossible army that would descend upon and destroy Portruss as soon as the great mirror was ready. Her thirst for vengeance had grown alongside the wizard’s madness, beating in tandem with her heart. She would tear people limb from limb until she either felt suitably avenged or ran out of people, and that would be that. Portruss would fall.. and then..

And then what?
That was what she kept coming back to, the thing that gave her pause. She had no answer to that question, only the silence of the plateau. Down there, and despite perhaps not having the best of intentions, Keithus has nonetheless managed to break boundaries, settle old grudges, and bring the people of the north together in such a way that had never been seen before. He didn’t seem to give a damn about it, seeing his creation as a means to a single particular bloody end, but the fact remained that, down below, for the first time ever, monster faced down monster and decided
not
to fight. It was miraculous. It was full of potential. It was not something Kimberlite could ignore, because deep beneath her mountains of vengeance, the sheltered part of her heart that held the memory of King Diamond was screaming. She tried to crush it, and though she did manage to silence it, it always came back. That was the thing about diamonds. Only another diamond could destroy it, and now, there were no more diamonds left.

She shook her great stone head, dismissing the difficult thoughts. Destruction and vengeance, those were the things that mattered. She had come too far to back out now. She would not dare try to change the plan. She looked down again at Keithus’s great army, and now saw only the instruments of annihilation. Yes, the time was at hand. Dia would be avenged. That was all that mattered.

Elsewhere in the night, Marcus was in the progress of waking up with a yell. Startled from the sudden shock of a strange dream in which he had woken to find himself attacked by a large man with a knife, he flailed against the darkness, narrowly avoided cracking his head against the undercarriage of the coach, and lay back, disoriented. After a few moments, his mind settled back into his body, and the confused recollection of his false awakening faded, overwritten by a more physical complaint from his bladder. Groaning sleepily, he rolled out from under the coach, and had staggered to his feet before he realised that something was very wrong.

It was the ground. The ground on which he had been lying, on which he’d still believed himself to be standing, was in fact several metres further down than he’d expected it to be. Were that not problematic enough, it also appeared to be rolling past at a brisk walking pace. Carefully, intent on exploring this unexpected situation to the fullest before freaking out, Marcus leant down and felt at the ground, or rather the absence of ground, upon which he was stood. He met invisible resistance that felt a lot like grass. Were it not for the undeniable counter-evidence of his vision, he could almost believe that he was stood in a mossy field, surrounded – he checked – by the rest of the camp. The coach was parked as he’d last seen it, unconcerned. Around him lay the sleeping forms of Musk, Kendra and the Assassin. Everything was perfectly normal, apart from the part that wasn’t.

Marcus stepped back carefully until he bumped up against the coach, and was relieved when this instance of physical contact with a similarly airborne entity did not dispel the illusion and restore the usual thraldoms of the laws of physics. Gripping tightly to this single solid entity in a world that had just revealed itself to be far less tangible than he’d been led to believe, he caught a glimpse through the window of the figure sleeping inside, and was surprised to see that it was Lucin, not Fervesce. The short man was heavily encumbered with duvets, and sleeping like a baby – that was to say, sucking his thumb, weeping softly and calling out for either his mother or more money. Marcus wasn’t sure which, and though it would undoubtedly have been fascinating to find out, he was at that moment more concerned with the absence of the man who was said to have incredible psychic powers, because it seemed like that might be relevant to the situation at hand.

Gently, gradually, he let go of the coach, and stood in space for a moment. Around him he could hear the faint whistle of the wind, but as he stood he realised that he couldn’t actually feel it on him. He took a few more steps, towards the edge of the camp, and then paused abruptly with one foot in the air as he realised that taking even one more step away from the centre might release him from his charmed scenario and send him plummeting into the patch of gnarly-looking swamp that they were currently floating over. He backpedalled very quickly until he bumped up against the coach again, and stood in frozen horror, trying not to listen to the shrill voice in his mind that was complaining loudly about the sheer impossibility of literally everything that was happening.

“Why don’t you climb on up here, son?” asked a quiet, crumbly voice from somewhere above his left ear. Marcus recognised it; it had left a message in his head not so long ago.

“Fervesce? Is that you up there?”

“Indeed it is,” the voice said, from atop the coach. “Come on up, enjoy the view.”

With care, Marcus found a foothold on the side of the vehicle, and pulled himself up. On the roof, he found the old man resting languidly amidst a small mountain of bedding, propped up by what luggage had not been removed. In the light of a little lamp, Marcus saw the man’s eyes turn to him and his face split into a grin. “Hello,” he said.

“You’re awake?” Marcus asked. “I mean.. not to be rude, but..”

“Yes,” Fervesce nodded, “I am awake. I usually sleep a lot during the day – well, I usually sleep a lot if my Talent is going to be needed, but even when it isn’t I much prefer the night. Relaxing.”

“You’re doing... this?” Marcus asked with a hopeless gesture around himself.

“Yes,” Fervesce said. “I do hope it didn’t terrify you too much to wake up in the midst of it.”

“I was alright,” Marcus blatantly obfuscated, “I’ve experienced plenty of crazy lately.”

Fervesce chuckled. “I’m sure you have.. This
is
a very different place to Earth, isn’t it?”

“You’ve been to Earth?”

“Of course I have,” Fervesce said, “I’m a Viaggiatori.”

“Oh, yeah,” Marcus said, feeling stupid. “Sorry. I thought.. you said it like..”

“Like I know it well?” Fervesce asked. “I do. I am, like you, an earthling. I know,” he added, as Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle at the word, “it amuses me too. I’ve always tried to spread usage of Terran, and sometimes Gaian, but oddly enough my fellows don’t seem to care very much for my more romantic self-descriptions. They tend to just go with immigrant, which I’ve never cared for.”

“But you are, in fact, from Earth.” Marcus said.

“Originally, yes.” Fervesce smiled, but it was a faint, thoughtful grimace, one that faced off against the middle distance. “But I haven’t been back for a long time now.”

“Why not?” Marcus asked. “Don’t you miss it?”

“I do, sometimes,” Fervesce said. “But it’s been so long, and after so much Linewalking.. I don’t feel like I belong there anymore. The powers I’ve gained from Linewalking have only taken me further away from a less magical world. This one understands me better, I think.”

“About that,” Marcus said, settling himself amongst the junk of the roof, “what exactly is happening?” He peered over the side, where the ground was still gamely rolling past.

“Psychic bubble,” Fervesce said. “Strong enough to hold us, but thin enough to let air through. When the Master left me a message asking me to come on this trip, I was under no illusions as to how she expected me to help. My powers, you should know, are purely passive. I can use them to build, and enhance, but I can’t fight with them. Conflict was never in my nature, and it seems the Mirrorline understood that.. I try to whack someone about the head with a block of psychic energy, nothing happens. But if I lift someone up, so they can steal the cookies from the highest shelf.. no problem.”

“And..” Marcus paused thoughtfully. “If someone had a pressing need to get somewhere as fast as possible, such as by being able to travel even while they were sleeping.. no problem?”

Fervesce smiled, more genially this time. “You’re a sharp one. Well, not a blunt one, at least.”

“Thanks,” Marcus said. “I think.”

The man’s smile widened. “I don’t pick up everything, resting as I do, but I know you’ve had quite a hard time since you got here, stuck in a foreign land, caught up in a strange situation, and not really getting respect from anyone. I wouldn’t worry about it; it happens to us all. When I first found my way to the Mirrorworld, I was starry-eyed and useless. Experience and respect come with time. I imagine that you’ve got it worse because of that whole ‘ye-who-shall-save-us-all’ thing.”

“I’d have thought people would be falling all over me,” Marcus said glumly. Over to his left, a sheep stood at their level, a sentry atop a nearby hill who watched with vacant disinterest as they floated past. “Not that I
want
that.”

“You have to understand people. The Master was the only one who experienced the revelation that you were of importance, so that for all she claims she is backed up by the Mirrorline, you could simply have been bought in as some sort of trick, to try and pacify folks, give them hope in a desperate situation. Goodness knows hope has been a bit thin on the ground since the news of Keithus gathering an army reached the city. But people are cynical, and wary of hope.”

“I never thought of that,” Marcus said, suddenly very worried. “Do you think that’s true? I’m a marketing stunt? Is my life being thrown away to make people
feel
better?”