19 An Atlantian Device

AS AIYANA MADE her way out of the Forum, desperation and fear began to overwhelm her and she sank to her knees on the cold marble. Without money she couldn’t change the situation for her people. Without access to the White Daemoni she couldn’t learn how to release the viral souls. The vanth might soon find her and she would not survive a second encounter.

The paladins had made their position clear; they didn’t want a viral on the throne. They would do whatever they could, including letting people starve, to keep her off it. They would let war ravage the continent until a victor emerged and then throw their support to them. Aiyana didn’t care about the throne now. She just wanted to protect her people and the viral souls depending on her.

She stumbled through the Pantheon, a huge rotunda over three hundred feet in diameter. Ahead lay the entrance, a portico of thick granite columns. Within the circle of the rotunda, below a coffered concrete dome, was a raised marble dais in the shape of a pentagram. At each point stood a giant statue of chryselephantine. One for each member of the ancient pantheon, worshiped long before the imperium’s birth.

As she made to circumvent the dais, for only paladins stepped inside, a figure emerged from behind a statue.

She halted, and glanced around for Church spies seeing no one. No matter, they would know. They always knew.

Asher of Atlantis approached her. ‘I assume it didn’t go well, my lady?’

Aiyana felt like screaming, but she fought for control of her emotions. Even her magic had forsaken her ever since the voices had begun. A trickle remained to maintain her appearance and she sometimes wondered if it was worth bothering. ‘They are paladins. Old and miserable and they think everyone else should be like them.’

Asher grimaced. ‘I know where the White Daemoni is located.’

‘How?’

He offered her a sly smile. ‘Does it matter? If you want to see it, you need to come with me. Right now.’

‘They’ll know—’

He grabbed her pulling her close as a flash of light erupted around them. She kicked him in the shin, to break his hold, and turned to flee.

She came to an abrupt halt in unfamiliar surroundings. The walls shimmered with gold, here and there inset with precious gems. Those walls were much closer although this new chamber they stood within was also domed. She turned back to the Atlantian. He had sat down on a step to massage his leg. ‘Where have you taken me?’ she demanded.

On the stone floor beside him was a small metal device. It had what appeared to be a core of lapis lazuli. The metal looked hot. The Atlantian held up his right hand for a moment, showing the scorched rags he’d wrapped around it. ‘Shouldn’t you be asking how?’

Fists on her hips — until she realised it was Misla’s pose after which she removed them — she sniffed. That was another Misla idiosyncrasy. The washerwoman’s influence was greater than she’d imagined. Maybe she should be running things. ‘I am aware of such Atlantian devices. I’ve read of hundreds of similar contraptions.’

‘I believe you mean inventions and reading isn’t seeing or experiencing now, is it?’

‘Contraptions, which utilise spectralic magic and cannot be operated without it.’

Asher stood with a wince. ‘I’m impressed. Not everyone knows that. Those must have been Atlantian books. How did any make it into imperial libraries?’

‘Considering the manner of our arrival ... here, it’s not that hard a guess.’ She declined to answer his actual question and reveal how an imperial spy had once infiltrated Atlantis. The spy had stolen more than just an artefact.

He stooped to retrieve the device, which he stuffed into his pocket. ‘You need to see the holy book, don’t you?’

‘It’s not holy no matter what they say. It’s just a book.’

‘You want to see it or not?’

She frowned at him. ‘Very irreverent, aren’t we? What happened to all that “my lady” business?’

‘You kicked me in the leg.’

‘So?’

‘It hurt.’

‘You should’ve asked first before grabbing me. Now, I assume it is around here somewhere? Which brings me back to my original question. Where is here?’

The Atlantian glowered at her for a moment, before gesturing with his chin to the right and a door beneath a narrow pediment with two columns. ‘I would have asked,’ he muttered as they walked towards it, or rather he limped and she walked, ‘had there been time. Two men were following you.’

‘I never saw anyone.’

He touched the door and shoved it open. There was a winding staircase with uneven stone blocks spiralling downwards. ‘I know.’

‘They don’t lock it?’ she asked in surprise.

He let her go ahead as he shut it behind them. For a moment there was complete blackness until he produced a light. She realised it was the same device, which produced a strong blue glow she found comforting.

‘You have never been down here?’ he asked.

‘Paladins only, remember? I doubt my father or grandfather ever got this far. The Church protects its secrets behind a mockery of faith. In case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘To get here by the normal route,’ he said, ‘would’ve meant passing through a gauntlet of over two dozen guards all sworn to the Church. Besides, I was down here earlier picking the lock.’

‘A thief, then.’

‘I think you’ll find you are about to become a thief too. After all, aren’t you breaking in and stealing something, even if it’s just words?’

‘Too clever for your own good, Atlantian.’ He just grinned at that and she found herself liking him, which infuriated her.

They were nearing the bottom, and then her feet touched level ground. Asher’s blue light revealed that there was no door, just open space, admitting them into a vast underground cavern. She recalled something he’d said. ‘Wait, the Church has no guards of its own.’

Asher laughed. ‘Yes, and the exemplars were just the imperial bodyguard and nothing else. And, you of course know everything because you are a princess.’

‘I do not appreciate your tone, Atlantian. I think I preferred you on your knees.’

She realised with a start they were on some sort of plateau, with a drop into open space beyond it. She took a few steps closer to Asher who gestured to their right at a set of broad stone steps rising to what looked like some sort of altar. As they climbed the steps, the blue light expanded to fill the chamber, revealing an object covered in red cloth atop the block of basalt. ‘Perhaps you will appreciate this. I warn you though, the tone of its words is much darker than you think.’

‘Read it all have you?’ Reaching the top, she stepped up to the altar. Lifting the wide heavy tome with Asher’s help, she removed the protective covering and smoothed the cover with one hand.

‘I thought you said it’s not holy?’

‘I have a love for books, in particular ancient ones. Do you know how many have listened to the Church quote these pages? Yet few have laid eyes on it.’ She hesitated to open it and was surprised to find her hands shaking.

‘Worried it’s all been a lie? That your whole world is about to be turned upside down?’

She glanced at him, ready with a rebuke, but saw genuine interest in his face. He wasn’t mocking her. He was asking a sincere question. ‘My world is already upended Atlantian, as is everybody else’s.’

She opened it and immediately saw the flaw in her little plan. The book was thousands of pages thick. Made of paper, which was impossible if it was so old, but the paper was yellow and cracked with age. It looked genuine at least, and not a copy.

‘What are you seeking?’ asked Asher at her shoulder and she fought the urge to shove him back. She had to remind herself he had brought her there and risked death doing it.

Then the man quietened, perhaps sensing something from her. She let her viralic power burgeon and heard him grunt. It was necessary though she didn’t need much. She couldn’t use much of her power anyhow.

Her magic flowed across the pages; magic touched by thousands of viralic souls who guided its course. The pages fluttered and opened in a rush. The one she stared at was full of text like all the others, but this was in a language she couldn’t read. She thought it looked like old Atlantian.

She glanced at her companion for help. His face had erupted in sores and he was scratching at them, while glaring at her.

‘What?’ he snapped. ‘You need me or something?’

‘They’ll heal in a day or two. I promise. I sensed no life source for my power down here, and I hadn’t stored much. Not even a rat in this place. There’s always rats.’

‘Life source?’

She grimaced. ‘To use my viralic magic, I need to steal life first. Don’t worry, we rarely kill anyone in the process.’

Grumbling, he motioned for her to move aside and examined the writing. He was scratching at several different body parts and she stifled a laugh. The poor man didn’t deserve it. She’d have to find a way to thank him.

‘This is old, but fortunately for you I’ve had an education in old Atlantian dialects. This one originates from Zalanthya.’

‘That’s right. Your ancestors came from the north long ago, didn’t they?’

‘There is a lot to read even on this page. You looking for anything in particular?’

She glanced at the open book and found her gaze focused on a single paragraph as though the souls guided her. ‘There.’

He read the passage she indicated aloud, translating it into Icarthian:

‘The undead one must walk the path of the scattered.

In their hands sits time and creation.

To become one, she must first be of two minds, and

to find herself, she must become lost.

The future of all lies in the past,

where the undead one will discover a living heart

born of death and Torment.

An unworthy one for one who is worthy,

together forged to slay the Darkness.

‘Well, the fifth line,’ he added, ‘could also be translated as “remains in the past”.’

‘Remains in ... oh, I see.’

‘You do? It also capitalizes the word Torment, like it’s a title or a name. What do you think it means?’ He’d obviously never heard of the Grim’s servants.

She stepped away, tapping her chin, and thinking furiously while she spoke. ‘I’ve never told anyone this. When I was four years old, a powerful mage named Beezer contacted me in my dreams. He was from the past. At least two centuries ago. Don’t ask how I knew who or what he was, or when. I just did. The virals of that time needed my help and he had chosen me. The magic he’d used to reach across time, well, it was immense. I maintained contact with him up until m eighteenth year. Eventually, I agreed.’

‘To what?’

‘To his plan to save them. To save the undead.’

‘Four years old? How could you consent to something like that?’

‘Asher, I’m undead remember? And besides, my consent came many years later when I was older.’

‘Well, that is a magic I’ve never heard of.’

‘The histories say the purges wiped out all the undead. It was both true and false. Until I agreed, they had all perished. After I agreed, history changed.’

Asher was scratching his head in confusion and she suspected in irritation from his sores.

‘I collected their souls,’ she continued, ‘by means of a spell spanning time. That ancient mage helped me to perform it. Now, they are safe with me.’ She looked at the Atlantian, yet saw no mockery or disbelief. Just interest and perhaps sympathy. ‘Time is always our enemy. Even the undead will fall to it eventually.’

Asher nodded still scratching. ‘Can’t argue with you there, I guess.’

‘Viralic magic can thwart time if done correctly, which is how Beezer reached me.’

‘You mean, manipulate time, don’t you?’

She turned to look at the White Daemoni, which remained open. ‘No, I mean thwart. Or cheat if you prefer. However, Time and the Spectrum are one and not separate as most people think.’

‘I’ve heard this notion before. I don’t claim to understand it though. I’m not one for philosophy.’

‘It’s not philosophy, Atlantian. What I need isn’t to cheat time. I need to do as you just suggested. To manipulate it. I believe spectralic magic can do this, not least because it is viralic’s opposite. If I am to succeed, I need someone with that ability.’

Asher was shaking his head. ‘Wait. What are you saying? You think you can travel into the past? To do what?’

Huh, well there’s the disbelief. Knew it was in there somewhere. ‘“In their hands sits time and creation”,’ she quoted. ‘Is there such a device from Atlantis?’

He dropped his hands and stared at her before looking away. A flicker of his eyes told her he knew exactly of such a device. ‘I don’t believe what you are requesting has been attempted. It’s killed the few people who’ve managed to go back a few minutes.’ He looked at her pleadingly. ‘Aiyana Todralan, I came here to serve you not help kill you.’

‘I’m undead. You can’t kill what doesn’t live.’

‘You know what I mean. Do not attempt this.’

‘The verse is speaking about me, but I think it also hints at you. I must walk the path of the scattered for what I seek remains in the past.’

‘And the scattered would be ...?’

How much can I trust him? she thought. How far could she trust anyone? The verse had in fact informed her of far more than she could have hoped or wanted. ‘Asher, please, how can I get hold of such a device?’

‘There must be another way.’

‘You came here for a reason. Just not the one you thought. You came here to help me save the world from annihilation. Perhaps to save the entire Spectrum.’

Slowly, he removed the device from his pocket, examining it. ‘I invented this you know. I usually left that sort of thing to my sister, but this was calling to me for years before I gave in. My greatest work, not that my father ever acknowledged it. He always favoured my sister’s inventions. Ironic.’

‘What is?’

He glanced up at her. ‘Oh, nothing.’

‘Somehow, the Spectrum is looking out for us. We were meant to meet, Asher of Atlantis. You were meant to create it and bring it to me. The Spectrum fights against the Darkness as much as we do.’

He didn’t look happy. ‘My abilities are not strong enough for what you ask. It would kill me to try. I don’t care about that, but it might leave you stranded in the past, or worse. There’s no way to know.’

He doesn’t care about dying? Who is he? ‘Can you get us out of this cavern for a start?’ She gave a pointed look at the object in his hand. She didn’t want to kill anyone, least of all this man who risked himself for her.

He examined her with a sad expression. For some reason, he cared and she couldn’t understand why. ‘Not from inside I can’t. For some reason this place is resistant to spectralic power. Odd, since your magic worked fine. There’s a tale in there somewhere for certain. We need to get out of this cave first.’

She turned away from the altar.

‘My lady, please. Do this and it might destroy you.’

She halted at the top of the steps. ‘I never said I would need to return or survive this journey. I think I know someone who can help me operate your contraption.’

Asher put the device away and followed. ‘Who?’ he asked from behind as they climbed down.

She grimaced, feeling uncertain how she would ask the woman. ‘My imperial marshal.’ It seemed an unfair request, even outrageous, but the verse was clear. The path of the scattered.

‘You mean the terrorist?’

‘No, I mean the Aidari.’

‡

AIYANA RUSHED THROUGH the palace corridors, guards in tow. Captain Artorius who had reported to her, now led the soldiers in Scatter’s absence. With this latest news, Aiyana had found herself lumbered with a dozen greencloaks where two or three would’ve sufficed. It wasn’t as though they could stop a vanth anyway.

They crossed two courtyards and moved down to the lower levels to reach the palace medicary, a building separate from the main one, which lay closer to the river.

When she spotted the imperial marshal, she forgot all about her escort and rushed to the woman’s bedside. Scatter was severely wounded although conscious.

Holding her hand, Aiyana knelt beside her friend and it was in that moment she realised the truth. She’d had few friends since Liviana’s coup and it meant something to her that Scatter had become one.

The Hatavan woman smiled up at her but then said, ‘Please, send the others away.’

Aiyana turned to the captain and nodded. The soldiers left to take up positions outside.

When she glanced at the imperial marshal again, she gasped. Two of the wounds in Scatter’s torso began to knit together, the blood ceasing its flow.

‘I know what you are?’ she blurted before thinking. She glanced around to see if the palace medicus or his attendants had heard. They hadn’t. She looked back at Scatter. ‘I’ve seen this once before.’

The marshal nodded. ‘Cathya Shivar was a fine woman from what I’ve heard of her. I met her, but did not have the pleasure to get to know her. I did not wish her to know who I really was for my own reasons.’

Aiyana felt the pain resurface and had to fight the urge not to leave. ‘It was the vanth wasn’t it? You killed it?’

Scatter winced. ‘I am weakened, but so is the vanth. I wounded it, enough to give you some time. I will be well in a couple of days. Until then, you must be careful and surround yourself with guards. As many as you can.’ The marshal then closed her eyes and slept.

Aiyana got to her feet looking around at the people. Some had died, their faces covered with silk cloth, while others were in the process of dying. Most had suffered injuries from the vanth, perhaps some during the destruction of the Pleth. To prevent the entire world from dying she had to release the viral horde.

She stared down at the one woman she needed to achieve that, but who couldn’t help her. She felt desperation become despair.

The vanth was out there and it wanted Aiyana Todralan dead.

‡

SCATTER FELT THE VANTH’S poison infecting her. The wounds she could manage. The poison was another matter. She had seen others suffer a similar fate, forced to turn to the Darkness, becoming that which they had fought. The vileness of Tartaros was spreading through her and though her angelic soul fought a valiant defence, it was futile. She would succumb and either perish or become a Fallen One.

She wasn’t Angelborn as Cathya Shivar had been, one of the reasons she’d not revealed herself to the woman. She had not been born with both a mortal and angelic soul. She had not been born at all. She was all angelic, the flesh she wore nothing except a façade to allow her to interact with this reality. If the vileness took her, she would become a powerful Fallen One, likely a vanth like Samael.

I need to end it before then, she thought, but there was a reluctance in her to act. Too much was at stake and she could not abandon Aiyana, and yet how can I help her, corrupted as I am?

The pain wasn’t something she was used to, but it paled in comparison to what she might inflict if she succumbed. Suicide was not a concept known to angels, but she had spent a long time among mortals.

‘You look unwell,’ said a voice beside her cot.

She opened her eyes to see the sweaty face of a fat man leaning over her. ‘Better than you look all of the time,’ she croaked.

Davard Tystrus, better known to her as Adal, lowered himself beside her cot. He brushed back her dark hair and stroked her forehead. ‘You are in great pain, my old friend?’

She managed a nod and whispered, ‘You have forgiven me?’

‘There was never anything to forgive,’ he lied. ‘From the looks of it this is beyond healing.’

‘I know.’

He sighed. ‘Linuncia, you know I can’t save you, but I can give you one gift within my power. Time.’ Her eyes widened and she smiled in relief. She knew exactly what he meant. He spoke the words anyway. ‘You have a task remaining to you. I can help ward off the infection, enough to give you several days. However, I will be able to do so just once. Tartaros will not be denied.’

‘I won’t become ...’ She could not get the words out and it wasn’t due to weakness.

He grabbed her hands and held them tight. His face shimmered, and instead of a fat man there was the handsome angelic visage of her old friend. ‘Either you will end it in your battle to come or I will be there to help you. I promise.’

She relaxed a little, her breathing coming easier as a weave of light enveloped his hands and hers. It coursed through her, burning off some of the infection, forcing the rest from vital areas of her soul, buying her time.

Adal, once again looking like a fat sweating conclavist helped her to her feet just as the medicus was passing by.

He halted, his wide-eyed gaze on Scatter. ‘How ... I mean, I wish all my patients would recover ... I mean, how?’

With a smile, the imperial marshal stepped past the confused mortal and out into fresh air.

She had one last battle to fight and then peace would be hers for eternity.