​​​​11 Chitter Chatter

A TAPPING SOUND was his first awareness. It echoed through Threadfin’s skull. He wanted to tell whoever it was to quit it. Hard to sleep with such a racket. He couldn’t work his jaw, never mind anything else. Was he stuck in a wall again? He didn’t remember entering one.

His eyes were open, or at least he thought they were. A faint light grew in the distance. A few minutes later it was closer. As the light grew, he saw in front of his face something like stone with a translucent quality, and a blade below his chin with what looked like a hand connected to it. A hand without an arm from what he could make out.

Muffled sounds accompanied what had become hammering. A shuddering crack and he fell face first into a bright light and smacked his head.

The voices were clearer, if still muffled. Hands grabbed at him, trying to turn him over. He felt like shoving them away, but his limbs weren’t responsive.

‘You’re still alive,’ said a familiar voice, as hearing returned. ‘Oh, sorry, you’re still dead is what I meant. Well, what about a thank you? Can’t imagine you’d want to spend eternity locked up in that.’

‘Half dead,’ Threadfin muttered, after spitting out a lump of ... something or other. Squinting in the glare, he managed to find the energy to shove himself onto his back. He listened to the sound of lapping water and lowered voices close by.

He looked up into Podral Pole’s face. Not a sight he wanted to see, but he supposed it might’ve been worse. It could’ve been Grudge nattering on about his Ma. He noticed a greenish tinge to his Darken’s cheeks. Was he thinner too? Apparently, sea voyages didn’t agree with him. ‘You know,’ said Threadfin, ‘I’ve known corpses looking healthier than you.’

Pole grunted. ‘I don’t need to hear about your ol’ girlfriends. I’m still feeling dodgy.’ He placed a hand on his stomach.

‘What happened?’ He had a faint memory of doing something with ... and there had been ... and, oh yeah, all that.

‘A battle broke out between them soldiers and crew. Figured it for a mutiny, so I went back to the cabin to grab you. Found you covered in whatever this stuff is. You ... and the first mate. Well, to be precise, Bander had one arm in it and he was dead. Couldn’t see why it would’ve killed him but we cut him free. Got the sergeant to do it. Nasty business. Anyhow, I could see you inside. You weren’t clear but I knew it was you. I mean, who else would end up like that?’

‘Bandar wanted to cut my head off.’

Pole nodded. ‘I guess it were his followers what kicked off the mutiny. Got some of the greener soldiers onto their side too. Not too many but it made things difficult.’

‘Huh, guess I acted right on time.’

‘You know there should be an apprenticeship or something for your line o’ work,’ Pole muttered, sitting on the stony beach beside him, arms resting across his knees. ‘One which lasts decades. An island in the middle of the ocean or something, thousands o’ leagues from nowhere important.’

It took Threadfin a moment to focus. Turning his head to the side, he spotted Nevet and the others. ‘Where are we?’

‘Somewhere up the coast from Tiral, I guess.’

‘Why didn’t the ship reach the city? If Bandar’s dead, didn’t the mutiny fail?’

Pole turned and leaned towards him. ‘Well, as to that now, order was restored, true, but the winds died and it was all oars. Worse, some four dozen oarsmen had come down with a fever. Another few dozen developed a weeping rash from head to toe. A handful were smothered in blisters. Also, the captain had dropped dead, his body all shrivelled up like the life had been sucked right out o’ him.’

Uh oh.

‘Those who followed Bandar might’ve failed, but it didn’t mean everyone was on your side. Didn’t take much thinking for them to link you to those events.’

Threadfin tried to sit up properly, but Pole laid a hand on his chest and shoved him back.

‘And not just that,’ his Darken went on in a cheerful tone, which did not match his face, ‘but seeing as you decided to encase yourself in stone, well, word of it got out. You see, Grudge had gotten to the cabin afore me. Finding you like you were, he decided it was a good idea to run and get help from some o’ the bloody crew!’

Threadfin spotted the scout casting a furtive glance their way. Seeing them watching, the man ducked, pretending to play The Gorgon & Grim on a piece of cloth with Tope. Nevet and Vilt were on lookout.

‘Funny is this bit now,’ Pole went on, ‘but most o’ the crew didn’t want you aboard. Strange how folks behave, isn’t it, when their captain keels over, and after their first mate goes nuts, and their oarsmen get sick, and the wind dies. Grudge and company were near murderous in your defence.’

‘Ah well, I guess—’

‘Hey, Pod,’ called Nevet continuing to play with his back to them, ‘you stealin’ back the gold didn’t help matters now did it? You know, seein’ how the first mate had marked it for himself.’

‘Enough out of you, Nev.’

‘I’m betting your history with Bandar didn’t help either. Especially when he discovered the gold, which he’d stolen from the captain, was missing.’

‘Will you shut your stupid gob?’

‘Just sayin’.’

Threadfin sat up, while his Darken avoided looking at him, picking at his teeth. They were on a stony beach, punctuated by huge rocks of what looked like basalt. Waves lapped the shoreline to their right.

As Threadfin made to say something, Pole raised a warning finger. ‘Never mind what he said. What I retrieved was ours, considerin’ they’d failed to provide safe passage and all. Principle of the thing was what it was.’

‘My sister should appoint you, imperial treasurer.’

Pole muttered something inaudible.

‘So, you taking the money was what drove Bandar over the edge, kicking off a mutiny. Was all the spewing your guts up an act?’

Pole tried looking innocent. ‘When I went for the gold, I’d had things organised. I wasn’t going to let Bandar set the pace. I’d planned on tossing him overboard. Folks fall overboard all the time in bad weather.’

‘You said the wind had died.’

‘That was after. Anyhow, I knew he’d never let you reach Tiral.’

Threadfin couldn’t help smiling. ‘So, it was all your fault is what you’re saying. Fine, apology accepted. We all make mistakes.’

Pole’s face darkened, the vein in his forehead trembling.

‘Okay, okay, I messed up too. Not the first time and won’t be the last. How am I supposed to grow in my powers if I don’t experiment?’ He hadn’t killed anyone, which was the one consolation ... oh yeah, the captain. Well, he’d tried being careful. Weren’t good intentions what counted?

‘I convinced them to set us ashore,’ said Pole, ‘by way of compromise. Told them chucking you overboard would bring terrible luck. You know sailors, they never take chances with luck.’

‘Okay, I got it, no experimenting at sea.’

Pole rubbed at his bristly jaw. ‘No magic-mixing at all would be better.’

‘Always take what you can get. I am a mage after all.’ Threadfin felt his strength returning, and he began stretching his arms.

Mid-stretch, with Pole grumbling, he spotted the shattered black rock out of place on the mostly grey and white stones, and sea shells. He got up and stumbled over to what had almost been his tomb. Much of it lay intact. From the largest section, a hand gripping a dagger lay half exposed. Ebb Bandar’s hand, in perfect condition. Blood still dripped from it, which was odd. Threadfin nudged it with his shoe and the fingers flexed.

The stone had a glassy lustre, and was the colour of coal. He picked up a piece and ran his fingers across it. It had the consistency and feel of glass or rock, edges razor sharp. Obsidian.

His Darken joined him. ‘So, what now?’

‘We head for Tiral.’ The mage licked thin lips, still tasting salt and grit, and turned to scan their surroundings. ‘Nothing has changed.’ A few miles from shore were low hills, which rose into jagged mountains. In the distance to the north, huge peaks spread for miles. It had to be the southwestern spur of the Wunn Mountains. They were somewhere south of Byrsa. ‘How far do you think?’

‘Eighty leagues, maybe. Too far on foot for us living folks. By the way, I think this is yours.’ Pole handed him the bronze fragment.

Threadfin took it, shaking off the sand. Lifting it up and shifting its position, he stared into it.

‘What are you doing now?’ asked his friend, taking a few steps back.

‘Oh, magic-mixing stuff. Out of your league, so don’t ask.’ Out of mine too, but there’s no need to make him anxious.

‘You watch it with that,’ Pole warned. ‘I don’t fancy ending up like Bandar there.’ He gestured at the severed arm.

‘I’ll be careful. I mean, aren’t I always?’ Shielding his eyes, he saw the image had changed. It was no longer of a ruined city, with Lorn in the background, nor what he had seen aboard ship with her against some strange landscape. This image was clearer, a distorted reflection of the sky above.

Several spheres hung in the emptiness, other than the lowering sun. They were transparent and distant. Other worlds. They had to be. He glanced up, but saw no sign of them. Nothing but blue sky and grey clouds. Only within the bronze fragment were they visible. Either this piece of metal has some weird qualities, or I’m discovering new sides to my magic.

Sometime later, they set out south-westwards with the mountains on their right. They didn’t get far before stopping. The mountains were now on their left.

Threadfin turned around and about. ‘Um, did I miss something?’ he asked. The coast was nearby, the distant thunder of waves rolling towards them, but it was on the wrong side. He looked up at the sun, a dull red in the sky as it sank lower. It was also in the wrong place.

Pole scratched at the scar on his face, turning around in circles. ‘Okay, what did you do? This isn’t funny.’

‘Why do you assume it was me?’

His Darken simply stared. ‘You’re the only one here capable of turnin’ mountains and coasts about.’

Threadfin saw Grudge was searching for seashells. Tope looked nervous, though Vilt and Nevet appeared unbothered. All in a day’s work with a viral mage for company. ‘Pod, if I could do stuff like that, I think I could’ve gotten us to Tiral without all this bother.’

The Darken shrugged.

Threadfin kneaded at his forehead with a knuckle, fighting for calm. ‘Look, maybe with the Shathra Stone I could move mountains, after decades of study, maybe not. It wasn’t me.’

‘My Ma always said if the sun rose in the west and sunk in the east, she’d marry again. I don’t expect she will, being buried and all.’

‘You certain you buried her deep enough?’ asked Tope.

Grudge ignored him. ‘Undead get married, Mr. Mage, don’t they?’ He gave Threadfin a queer look. ‘Heard of it, once.’

‘Your Ma’s not undead,’ said Nevet. After a pause, he added, ‘She’s not, is she?’

Pole held up his hands in defeat. ‘What are we going to do about our situation?’

‘We could walk back the other way,’ Vilt suggested. ‘See what happens.’

‘Yeah,’ said Nevet, ‘but is where we’re headin’ to in that direction? I mean, did the whole world get turned about, or just us?’

The mage shrugged and started walking, placing the mountains on their right a second time. They didn’t get far before the same thing happened. The mountains peaks lay to their left.

‘Did anyone see it this time?’ Threadfin demanded. ‘Anyone?’

Tope looked at his feet and Nevet spat. Vilt was too busy smiling at Grudge who was scratching his head. Pole offered him a sour look.

Somebody or something doesn’t want me to reach my destination, he realised. That cinched it. He was on the right track. Knowing didn’t help there and then, but it made him determined.

‘Look,’ said Pole, his voice shaky, ‘it’ll be dark in a couple o’ hours. Why don’t we find a place to camp, and figure this out in the morning?’

They headed into the foothills in search of a campsite. Pole was right. He needed to think it through. Otherwise, they’d be stuck on the coast forever.

He walked inland towards the mountains looking for a suitable spot. Glancing about, he found himself deep within the mountains. Not the foothills, but higher within the peaks and miles from the coast. Steep grey rock rose about him on either side. No sign of the others.

He was alone.

Huh, he thought, this isn’t going well. Sounds about right. He couldn’t go for a walk these days without something happening. Was enough to force a mage to quit magic. A chittering, clacking sound came from overhead as though something was in the rocks.

Something alive and watching him.

‡

THREADFIN USED VIRALIC magic, and knew its limits or so he thought. He knew less of the magic used by living mages. Enough perhaps, to know what was and wasn’t possible. Davard Tystrus, a fat breather once named Crawl, had been able to move from point to point in an instant. Was this what had happened, or had the landscape shifted? The power required humbled him.

The chittering clacks had turned hostile in tone. He walked deeper into the mountains, seeing no point in going back. Not that he’d be able to. Besides, the answers lay ahead. He tried to let himself feel whatever was up there. Normally, he sensed life and his experiments – he dared not call what he did, training – had gotten him to where he could distinguish one from another. Whatever was up there, it defied his talent. He checked the mirrors he’d secreted about his person, and double-checked his weapons.

In less than an hour, the narrow track reached a broad plateau. Laid out before him were the ruins of a township. Stone buildings, built from the same limestone as the mountains, solid but for gaping holes. He took those to be windows, though the positioning appeared lopsided. No sign of any doorways. There were no roofs either, which meant they must have been wooden and had since rotted away.

He stepped amid the ruins on what he guessed might’ve been a main street and reached the plateau edge. A drop of hundreds of feet to jagged rocks. Beyond, a landscape devoid of life, and a wasteland he didn’t recognise. A red sun rode high in the sky when it should have been nightfall by now. At some point, he’d crossed an invisible border. What he saw wasn’t Adalalcas, but the ruined landscape of another world.

A mirror world, like those Scatter had told him of.

Hulking rock formations and deep valleys stretched to the horizon. He thought he saw in the distance a volcanic eruption of dark gaseous clouds. Those spheres he’d seen in the reflection were permanently in the sky.

The chitter-chattering came from all around, including from the ruins. Whatever they were, they surrounded him. He brought out the bronze fragment, his back to the buildings. Using it to look behind, he saw hundreds of pale creatures. The nearest was five feet away. Vicious fangs filled their mouths. Their eyes were large white orbs, and though their bodies looked emaciated, something told him they shouldn’t be. They had pointed ears and bald heads with a vaguely human shape. Others arrived, clambering through the ruins to join the throng.

Threadfin had walked right into their trap.​​​​​