It was a sound that Lara hadn’t heard in months.  Somewhere in the crimson glow ahead a baby was crying.  Lara’s heart skipped a beat and the glowing light from her chest shone so brightly, it pierced the fabric of her cloak.  Her hands clutched at her Birthstone and she shot forward, slithering down the rocky path which led to the source of the sound.

          ‘Lara, wait!’ Sumi exclaimed trying to muffle her shout so as not to bring any attention to the pair.  

          Lara paused, turning around to face Sumi, but it was clear that her every thought was bent on finding her daughter as quickly as possible.  

          ‘I know you want to get your daughter, Lara, and that’s what I want too, but you need to listen to me first.’  Sumi was rushing through her speech, competing against the infant cries that called out to Lara like a siren.  ‘You’ve grown powerful, but we must do this together.  If you rush in there, the Ghul will cut you down.  They know we’re in the Endless, and Caliban will be prepared for you.  We must do this together.’  

          Sumi spluttered into a coughing fit.  Her condition had worsened significantly over the days they had spent in the labyrinth of the Endless.  The frostbite had claimed all her toes, and the resulting gangrene was well on the way to consuming much of her body.  It was only sheer determination and discipline that had kept her on her feet, but her breathing was laboured and her eyes hinted at the pain that had riddled her body.  She had constructed makeshift crutches from some long bones she had found littering the floor of a cavern they had passed.  The crutches kept her upright but she was a thin shadow of the warrior she had been out on the hills of Scoriath and on the plains of the Slith.

          Lara slid up to Sumi and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.  ‘Sumi.  You have become dearer to me than you realise.  I do not expect you to do any more.  You have got me here.  That is enough.  You need to rest’

          ‘No!’ Sumi rasped.  ‘I promised you that you would hold your daughter again, and that covenant is the only thing keeping me alive.’  

          Her determination was so fixed and clear, Lara knew she could not suggest that she should remain behind.  ‘Very well Sumi.  What do you propose?’

          ‘I propose caution.  Often when a snorse knows it is near its journey’s end, it will bolt towards home, tripping itself up on the last stretch.  You need to stay rational.  Calm.  Objective.’

          Lara nodded.  ‘I take your point.  Do you have a plan?’

          ‘I suggest you let me scan the area ahead and work out a means to extract your child.  In the meantime, I want you to prepare your En Pyrrha incantation.  That will take care of the Ghul.’

          ‘I don’t need to prepare it any more.  I can cast it at will.’

          ‘Ready yourself all the same.’

          And then Lara realised why Sumi wanted to slow her down.  It would not be just Ghul they would be facing.  There would be more Pryderi.  Pryderi armed with the power of the Incanto.  

Sumi hobbled down the path, leaving Lara to clear her mind in preparation for the fight ahead.

 

 

Caliban had also made preparations.  A squad of twenty-five Ghul, commanded by Major Chabriel, were posted at the entrance to the large cavern that had served as a nursery for over a year.

          The Nursery was little more than a large pit where the Pryderi infants were kept.  The children numbered in the hundreds and were all tethered to poles in the ground, like beasts.  The poles were of all shapes and sizes having been scavenged from the wreckage of ships that had found their way into the Endless through the Worldpool above.

          The babies’ shivering tails and desperate wailing highlighted the horrors they endured in the crèche.  The pit smelt of the defecation and bodily fluids that were usually removed from the environments of most infants.  Some of the children clawed at one another and quite a few bore bruises and teeth marks gained from aggressive exchanges with others in the pit.  Their hair was matted and crawling with rock lice.  Spread amongst the children, bones and scraps of meat hinted at a diet that was totally inappropriate for offspring who had been dependant upon their mother’s milk before being stolen from their homes.

          Rejected soft toys, crudely crafted from animal hide stuffed with moss, could be found throughout the Nursery.  The Ghul had been instructed to create familiar childhood objects for the Pryderi offspring, and had failed miserably in the attempt.  Limited by their knowledge of the world above, the soft toys were shaped into the likenesses of monsters inhabiting the dark places of the world.  Suspended from vines crawling across the roof of the nursery, mobiles constructed from the bones and the claws of small animals slowly turned in the cool breeze that perpetually slithered through the Endless.  Completing this sad mockery, two Ghul wearing white aprons moved through the field of poles, futilely attending to the forlorn cries of the children.

          ‘Look at us Droola!’ sneered Chabriel.  ‘We are Ghul and what has Caliban reduced us to?  Nursemaids!  And look at our adopted children!  These slithering animals make me sick with their scaly skin and wriggly tails.’  

          Tall, white-haired Chabriel was in the process of burping a newly-abducted child.  The baby had been howling since its arrival and the relentless, unappeasable squalling had frayed Chabriel’s nerves beyond repair.  She wanted to shake the baby into silence, but she had discovered weeks ago that such an act only made the babies go limp and that displeased Caliban greatly.  She had tried talking calmly to the baby, but her hollow voice only exacerbated the problem, scaring the infant out of its undeveloped wits.  The Pryderi mothers had begged Chabriel to pat the upset babes instead, but she lacked the delicacy required, and a high number of the infants had to have scratches and lacerations tended to after her attempts to mollycoddle them.  The baby she was holding had been crying for three hours straight, and if it were not for Caliban’s highly specific orders, Chabriel would have eaten the child when she first laid hands on her.

          Droola was doing little better.  She had just fed a child with the milk of a grizzum they had taken from the world above.  The child seemed content with the meal but as soon as she had finished the small sackful of warm milk she had vomited it over her Ghul nanny.  Droola dropped the child in disgust and it added its screams to the cacophony of wailing that filled the chamber.  ‘Why, I would do anything to escape this punishment,’ groaned Droola, wiping the off-white fluid from her off-white skin.’

          Chabriel was separating two children who were clawing viciously at one another.  One of the babies, having newly discovered teeth, sank them into the forearm of the smaller child resulting in a shrill ululation that rang out across the cavern.  Chabriel yanked savagely on the ropes that were firmly tied around the poor baby’s neck.  It did nothing to lessen the din in the vast pen of miserable captives.  ‘Let’s take a break, Droola.  I’m about to strangle one of these nestlings.’

          ‘I was hoping you’d suggest that,’ Droola said.  In her anxiousness to leave the pit, she accidentally stepped on an infant’s tail sending the child into a fit of yammering tears.

          The two Ghul wended their way through the nursery to a small alcove in the rock walls of the cavern.  Along the side of this recessed space lay a bench that had been carved from the shell of a skitterik.  Next to the bench sat a large chest that Droola had stolen during one of her sorties into Morae.  She licked her thin lips as she approached the chest.  ‘Feel like a brew?’ she asked as she turned the rusted knob on a small Cold-powered stove she had acquired on one of her sorties into Scoriath.

          ‘I’d kill for one,’ replied Chabriel, without the slightest hint of metaphor in her voice.

          Droola pulled up the lid of rotting truck.  Many small, round, ugly creatures hopped on their single leg, their eyes blinking as the red light of the cavern flowed into their dark little home.  The animals were indigenous to the Endless, and like so many of the realm’s odd creatures, they did not have a name because the Ghul had never considered giving them one.  With surprisingly sharp reflexes, Droola shot out an arm and grabbed one of the strange animals and in a seamless motion, well-refined after months of repetition, she slammed the lid shut with one hand as the other swung the creature free of its rudimentary enclosure and dashed its small brains out on the edge of a sharp rock.  The squat little animal went limp in her hand.  

          Meanwhile Chabriel produced two iron tankards and placed them on a rickety bone table that was next to the stove.  Droola held the dead creature in both hands and gave it a brutal twist.  A thick brown liquid spurted from its body and Droola artfully aimed it into one of the tankards.  She pulled another creature from the trunk and repeated the whole process.  This done, the two tankards were placed on the stove where they bubbled away, sending an acrid aroma into the air of the room.  After a minute or two, the two drinks were clasped in the hands of the Ghul nursemaids, who leaned back on the bench, relishing the respite from their motherly duties.

          ‘Why are you here Major Chabriel?’ asked Droola as she slurped noisily on her beverage.  ‘I thought you had Caliban’s favour.’

          Chabriel frowned at Droola’s familiarity but decided to ignore it for the time being.  ‘I do.  Or at least, I thought I had until he posted me down here.’

          A heavy pause accompanied Droola’s pondering of this statement.  ‘So you’re not here as a punishment.’

          Chabriel grunted ambiguously.  ‘Caliban has sent me here to await the arrival of two Myrrans who recently stole into the Endless through the Nilfheim breach.’

          ‘But why do you serve in the Nursery?  Surely that job is for lesser Ghul to perform.’

          ‘Caliban wants me to learn the lesson of humility before confronting the Myrrans.  Apparently arrogance got my sister killed.’

          ‘Drabella’s dead?’  Droola was amazed.

          ‘Yes.  Killed by Caliban’s brother.  Burnt to a crisp.’  Chabriel looked slyly at her companion.  ‘I wonder… would you wish the same thing upon me, Droola?’

 

---

 

‘I will tell you what happens now Droola.  You will march back to the Morae breach and from there return to the Endless.  I will provide you with a report to present to Caliban that fully implicates you in the failure to capture the witch Lara Brand.  I intend to make you entirely responsible for this disaster. If you are lucky, you will be reassigned to the Nursery.  Otherwise, I expect Caliban will have you chopped up into pieces and fed to the skitteriks.’

 

---

 

‘Your death would warm my shrivelled heart Major.’  Whatever Chabriel would do to her couldn’t be worse than what she was enduring in the Nursery.

          Chabriel did not seem the least bit offended by Droola’s response.  If anything, she was pleased by it.  

          Droola took a sip of her beverage and sighed.  ‘Major, tell me – the Myrrans you await – who are they?’

          A thin smile crept across Chabriel’s face.  ‘One of them is known to you Droola.  The witch you let escape on Grisandole.  She’s on her way here now.’

          Droola’s pallid face lit up.  ‘That is good news indeed.  Perhaps I will be able to impress Caliban by delivering the witch’s head to him,’ Droola said hopefully.

          ‘Lara Brand is a wily one.  She has done well to get this far.  But she will find her journey ends here.  We have twenty-five of my best grenadiers, not to mention a witch as well,’ Chabriel said defiantly.

          ‘Filthy serpents,’ Droola sneered.  ‘We don’t need their help.’

          ‘I’m not too sure of that,’ Chabriel said as she drained the contents of her mug down her thin throat.  ‘We will need them soon enough.  Caliban’s brother finally approaches and he is powerful.  And there is one who accompanies him, a Helyan armed with shatterstone.  He has killed many Ghul.’

          ‘They have taken their time getting here,’ Droola scoffed.  ‘I don’t understand why Caliban did not let us abduct his brother as soon as his presence was known to us.’

          Chabriel leaned back on the wooden bench and pulled out a knife to sharpen her nails.  As she whittled away at her fingers, she unfolded Caliban’s plans to Droola, in the manner of a teacher trying to assist a dim-witted student.

          ‘Some time ago, Caliban devised the plan to send three assassination squads into the Endless.  The stupid overworlders who were carrying out the mission were oblivious to its origin.  Whilst the squads were wasting time searching all over the Myr for a way into the Endless, a search made all the more difficult thanks to the traitors Caliban had inserted into each group, our forces have continued to grow.  The Kobolds have now released almost thirty Cabal.  The number of witches loyal to Caliban has swelled to prodigious proportions and they have been armed with potent, dark magick.’

          ‘He is a patient man.  I would have slaughtered these Myrrans long ago.’

          ‘Droola, you don’t understand the way his mind works.  The past few months have been a wonderful source of entertainment to Caliban.  He has watched every move religiously, enthralled as his machinations whirred and ticked without anyone having the remotest understanding of what was really going on.’

          ‘You are lucky indeed to have such insight into our master,’ Droola said.  

          Chabriel shook her head and her white hair flicked across Droola’s face.  ‘Luck has nothing to do with it Droola.  Caliban smiles upon those who serve him best.  Let us go back to the pit before Lara Brand arrives,’ she said, rising from the bench.  ‘I don’t want to miss out on a thing.’

 

 

At Droola’s feet, a Moraen child cried out for its mother.  Suddenly, a pair of sai split the air and dug deep into each of Droola’s shoulders, pinning her against the post to which the child was tethered.  Before Droola had a chance to free herself, a ball of fire shot out from the entrance to the Nursery and splashed into her face.  The fireball took hold of Droola’s skin and moments later, a light rain of ashes floated down upon the confused Pryderi baby at the base of the post.

          Lara slithered out from the entrance of the Nursery and stared down the Ghul quickly filling the space between her and the Pryderi young.  

          ‘You don’t want to get in my way!’ Lara snarled as she thrust out her hands and sent a wave of fire crashing down upon the Ghul ranks in front of her.  They did not even have time to attack.  The fire consumed them as if they were dry kindling.  

          Lara caught movement on her left side.  A line of Ghul had their backs bent, ready to launch a barrage of needleback spines at her.  She had nowhere to hide.  Their bodies snapped forward and simultaneously released the vicious spines.

          Lara managed to create a mystical shield a split-second before the spines reached her.  The spines fell to the floor but the Ghul weren’t finished.  They rushed at her, drawing knives as they came – but they were no threat to her.  She cast another fire spell and burnt them into nothingness.

          ‘Stop.’

          Lara spun around to see a red-headed witch standing at the entrance to the Nursery.  The Moraen was small, but beautiful.  Her fingertips glowed with crepitating barbs of blue energy.

          ‘Callisandra Galley?’

          Callisandra did not say anything more.  The only response she had was a handful of pain which she dispensed without hesitation.  Lightning flared out of her hands and shot through Lara’s nervous system.  The blue bolts of electricity crackled across her skin.  She felt her muscles twist and jump as Callisandra’s spell wrought havoc with her nervous system.  Her entire body shook as the stinging energy barged through her veins.  Lara collapsed to the cavern floor, gasping for air.

          She lifted her head to see a Ghul woman moving through the pit where the children lay captive.  She was tall and had long white hair.

          ‘You!’ Lara growled.

          ‘Foolish girl.  You should just give up.’

          ‘Not when I’m this close,’ Lara said defiantly, rising up from the floor of the Nursery.

          In a sweeping gesture, Chabriel threw her hand out to indicate all the babies surrounding her.   ‘Back down, Lara Brand or the progeny of the Pryderi will be but a smear upon the ground.  I will not hesitate to slaughter them all.’

          Callisandra twisted her head around to face Chabriel and snarled.  ‘What?’

          Whether Chabriel meant her threat or not was irrelevant.  She had distracted Callisandra and that was all Lara needed to wrest control of the situation.  She summoned a wind that sent Callisandra crashing into the wall behind her.  Her body slumped to the ground and did move.

          Chabriel had disappeared but Lara knew she was near.  She had hidden herself somewhere amongst the forest of poles that filled the pit.  

          Lara slithered down amongst the younglings.  As heart-breaking as it was to see the babies mewling for her attention as they lay in the dirt tethered to wooden poles, she could not pause to show them the attention they craved.  She only had one child on her mind and she was not prepared stop until she found her.

          She wanted to call out to Birren, but fearful that her baby’s response would attract the attention of Chabriel, she kept her mouth closed.

          A bright light emanated from Lara’s chest.  Birren was so near that Lara’s radiant Birthstone cast its colour upon the posts surrounding her and upon the ground beneath her feet.  From the centre of the nursery a light shone in response and this was both a joy and a horror to Lara, for if she could see the glow of Birren’s Birthstone, so too could Chabriel.

          Lara slithered as fast as she could towards the centre of the pit, ignoring all the other babies that reached out for her as she neared.  

          ‘Oh, Birren, my baby!’ she cried when she saw her child huddled in the dirt at the base of a thick, ironwood post.  Birren looked up and broke out into a smile that seemed too large for her little face.

          ‘Mumma!’

          Lara’s arms reached out and she flew towards her child, her love so intense that the entire nursery was awash in the blue light pouring out from her chest.

          Before Lara could reach her daughter, Chabriel jumped forward and snatched up the child.  Birren jerked awkwardly in her arms and a small cry left the little girl’s lips.  Chabriel withdrew the knife she had slid into the defenceless child’s side.  She held up its moist blade for Lara to see.

          ‘No!’ Lara screamed and the power of her voice was like a terrible storm.

          ‘Come any closer witch and I’ll finish her off.’

          Chabriel clutched Birren to her chest and placed her knife against the child’s throat.  ‘She’s still alive Lara, but that will change if you raise a finger against me.’

          Chabriel’s knife rested against Birren’s fragile neck.  There was no way Lara could release a spell before Chabriel ran the blade across the child’s throat.

          ‘Please…’ Lara begged but she knew the Ghul woman had no mercy to give.

          ‘You have done well to get here Lara Brand, but your journey is wasted.  You will either submit to Caliban’s will or watch your offspring die on the thin edge of my knife.’

          ‘Don’t hurt her.  Don’t hurt her.’  Lara’s confidence had shattered.  Her hands shook uncontrollably.

          ‘Tell your Susanese friend to come out of the shadows and join us.  I know she is here somewhere.’

          Chabriel lifted her knife from Birren’s throat to emphasise her point and that was her mistake.   Suddenly a shining, silver object spun through the air.  It was a throwing star Sumi had collected from the armoury at Toshi Station.  Chabriel noticed it a second before it severed her wrist.  Her hand fell to the floor along with the knife she was planning to drag across Birren’s neck.

         Lara did not waste a second.  Her hands formed a ball of light so brilliant that it could have been plucked from the heart of the sun.  For a moment, everything in the cavern was white.  Everything was bathed in purity.

          The blinding light in the cavern faded to reveal that Chabriel was no more.  She had been burned out of existence.  Nothing remained of her but the knife that lay next to Birren Brand’s little body.

          ‘We’ll get her back, Lara.  On my life, we’ll get her back.’

          Lara clutched at the stone in her chest, but its light had faded.

 

 

Sumi stepped out of the shadows and made her way down into the pit.  She was ill-prepared for the sight that lay before her.  She wanted to pick up each forlorn child and cuddle it, wanted to tell them all that it would be alright, but she knew that she had to keep walking.  It would not be alright.  Tears welled up in the eyes.  It would never be alright.

          Lara fell to the ground and cradled the still body of her Birren.  Sumi hobbled over to her, but could do nothing to console her.  All she could do was lead her friend out of the pit and take her somewhere safe.  

          As they passed the unconscious body of the Pryderi witch who had attacked Lara earlier, they stopped.  Lara was staring down at her with a curious expression on her face.  ‘Her name was Callisandra Galley,’ she said in a hoarse whisper.  ‘She was a friend of mine.’

          ‘She will not stay like this long.  We must make sure –’

          ‘No.  She is no longer a threat to us.’

          ‘But –’

          ‘You know, she didn’t even have a child for Caliban to take.  She must have come down here to support the others.  She once gave me a chair to sit on when I travelled to Grisandole on the back of a flying lobbsle.’

          Sumi realised that Lara would not consider any further discussion on the matter.

          ‘We failed,’ Lara said in a tortured voice.

           ‘You have your child back in your arms, Lara.  It’s time to leave.’

          ‘Caliban still lives and my little one is dead.  It is not time to leave.’

          ‘You want to seek him out?’

          ‘Yes.’

          ‘We will die.’

          ‘I know.’

 

 

Gerriod felt Trypp’s hand wind around his own.  The surging waters of the Worldpool had pushed them both to the bottom of the dark body of water that lay under Lake Erras.

         Hoping to avoid surfacing where Erras’ falling waters pounded the underground lake, Trypp pulled Gerriod through the dark water until he felt they were clear of the crashing torrent above.  The Sapphyrran moved with slow powerful strokes which pushed the pair through the chilling water at tremendous speed.  Gerriod occasionally kicked his legs to assist but it was unnecessary.  Trypp brought them up to the surface long before either of them felt like they were running out of air.

         When they emerged into the soft, crimson light of the vast chamber, a noxious smell reminded Gerriod of his first visit to the Endless.  Lining the shoreline were the same ovoid shapes he had seen months ago when he had first scrambled out of the lake.

          ‘Does it look familiar?’ Trypp said, squinting as he tried to get accustomed to the putrid smell that wafted down from the strange eggs lining the path behind him.

          ‘Yes.  Too familiar.  Look!’

          Gerriod pointed to the far side of the black lake where a massive beast clattered about on long, thin legs.

          ‘It’s Succellos.’

         ‘We must move quickly.  Caliban will know we are here.’

         Trypp made to walk down the pock-marked path that encircled the cavern, but Gerriod stayed put.  ‘Where’s Pylos and Remiel?’ he said as he scanned the dark lake for the other pair.

          ‘The skiffs were pulled apart during our descent.  They could be anywhere.’

          ‘We should be able to see them.’

          ‘We can’t wait for them, Gerriod.  We have to find Caliban.’

          ‘Allow us to save you the trouble,’ said the hollow voice of Caliban’s favoured Ghul, Lieutenant Lucetious.  

          The pair spun around to find a squad of Ghul staring back at them.  They were fully armed and had every weapon trained on Trypp and Gerriod.

          ‘Swim for it Trypp!’ cried Gerriod as he broke into a sprint at the closest Ghul.  He had not gone a foot before he was cut down by a volley of arrows.

          Trypp leapt forward and caught the mariner as he fell backwards with half a dozen arrows buried in his arms and legs.

          ‘He is lucky, Sapphyrran,’ said Lucetious coldly.  ‘Caliban wants him alive.  Unfortunately for you, he made no such stipulation.’

 

 

Pylos’ mind was racing as fast as his heart.  He could feel the pressing weight of the rock above him pushing down on the small space he and Remiel occupied.  In the cramped environs of the small tunnel they crawled down, he could hear Remiel’s breathing and it was as shallow and quick as his own.  The smells in the tunnels were squeezed together in a dense concoction that made the Helyan want to wrap a cloth around his face to keep them at bay.

         He quickly slid a hand to his waist.  The shatterstone sword was gone, torn off his belt by the raging torrent.

          ‘My sword!’ he whispered to Remiel.  ‘It’s gone.  It must be in the lake.’

          He made to turn around in the tight passage but Remiel placed a hand upon his shoulder.   ‘Pylos we can’t go back there now.  There are too many Ghul.’

          ‘But you could use your Morgai powers,’ Pylos said more aggressively than he intended.  ‘I need that sword.’

          ‘You will have to use your wits instead,’ Remiel said softly.  ‘They have served you well thus far.  Let’s keep going.’

          Pylos nodded reluctantly and continued to follow Remiel down the tunnel.  His stomach tightened.  All over his body, the effects of claustrophobia began to take control.  His hands were clammy.  A vein at the side of his temple throbbed and his mouth was dry.  He tried to shake off the anxiety but his headspace was filled with the realisation that he would probably never see blue skies again.

          ‘Pylos come on!’ urged Remiel, swivelling around to face his companion..

          ‘I… I need a moment.’

          ‘What?  We have to go.’

          ‘No, just –’

          ‘Pylos, what is wrong?’

          ‘I’m struggling Remiel.’  His voice was almost unrecognisable.  Although Remiel had only known Pylos a short time, he had quickly become accustomed to the Helyan’s assertive, confident qualities.  The shaking man in the tunnel with him was a shadow of the fearless warrior with whom he had journeyed across half the Myr.  

          ‘Tell me what is wrong.’

          ‘I’m not sure I can be relied upon in the battle ahead,’ Pylos confessed.  His voice had dropped to an embarrassed whisper.  ‘I’m finding it hard to concentrate.’

          ‘You’re Pylos Castalia!  You’re afraid of nothing.’

          ‘I told you when we were in the Thin Grey Line – I can’t bear being in enclosed spaces.  Or underground.  I feel as if my heart is about to burst through my chest.’

          ‘You’ll be okay.’

          ‘No.  I don’t think I will,’ Pylos said wringing his fingers.  ‘I thought I would be able to cope with it but now we are here, shut in and surrounded by so much rock…’

          His voice faded away as the feeling of eternal immurement built inside his head.

          ‘Pylos, let me make this easy for you.  I can’t do this without you.’  Remiel’s voice was firm and clear.

          ‘I can hardly breathe.’  Pylos dropped his head, ashamed but unable to consider anything beyond his immediate situation.

          Remiel grabbed Pylos’ face and lifted it so they were looking directly at one another.  ‘Pylos, you are going to have to get past this.  Deal with it quickly.  I feel for you, but we don’t have time for you to sort this out.  Too much depends on us finishing the mission.  That is your obligation.  That is your duty.’

          Mission.  Obligation.  Duty.  Meaningless words to some, but to Pylos an oath that he would cling to when everything else was falling apart.  His jaw tightened as he reached deep into his heart to find the resolve he needed to finish what they had started.  ‘I will do what is asked of me,’ he said slowly.  ‘I will not let you down.’  

          He was not speaking to Remiel; he was talking to himself.

 

 

Trypp could not tell how many hours had passed since his incarceration.  He had been beaten badly and a bloody fog had enveloped his head.  The Ghul had been merciless.  Intrigued by his unwillingness to fight back, they had hit him with everything they could get their hands on – clubs, rocks, sharp pieces of bone.

         He had been thrown into a narrow circular pit that resembled a well.  But there was no water at the bottom of the deep hole – only bones, rocks and a man by the name of Samuel Melkin.

 

 

‘My father is still alive?’ Gerriod gasped.

          ‘Yes, he is,’ said the gnarled figure hobbling before him.  ‘It was mean-spirited of Defecious to suggest otherwise.  These Ghul can be quite heartless, you know.’

          ‘Then give him back to me!’

          Caliban looked down at his prisoner and frowned.  Gerriod had been chained to the stone dais by the lake, the same dais where he had seen Porenutious Windle impaled upon Succellos’ sting months before.  Two Ghul guards stood to attention in the arched entrance to the cavern, watching the exchange between the two Myrrans.  Succellos hovered nearby, sniffing the air excitedly as she gazed down at the defiant figure of Gerriod Blake.

          ‘It is not the first time I have smelt this one, Caliban,’ Succellos hissed, her voice leering and lascivious.  ‘He has been here before.  Left his smell all over the path.  Touched one of my pretty eggs.’

          ‘Yes,’ Caliban said, studying Gerriod as if he were an exhibit.  ‘Yes, he has been here before.  He is an old friend.’

          ‘I am no friends of yours.’

          ‘Oh, but I hold you with great fondness, Gerriod,’ Caliban said adopting a tone that was both familiar and insincere.  ‘For was it not you who freed me from my captivity thirty years ago?’  He grinned exposing a row of teeth so yellowed and uneven they could have been mistaken for pebbles taken from a dirty stream.  He looked down at Gerriod waiting for the mariner’s reaction.

          He didn’t have to wait long.  Gerriod’s face changed as confusion settled on his brow.  ‘What do you mean?’

          ‘Oh dear me!’ Caliban replied, his unctuous voice patronising his captive.  ‘I forgot.  You have no memory of that day.  Something my brother did to you no doubt.’

          Gerriod tried to rise, but the harsh iron chain around his wrist kept him in a forced state of genuflection.  ‘I know what your brother did to me,’ Gerriod jeered.  ‘What I don’t know is how I helped you escape.’

          ‘Why, you gave me the knife I needed to cut off my own hand.’

          ‘I don’t understand.’

          Caliban leaned so close to his prisoner, the rank smell of his breath made Gerriod shudder.   ‘Let me simplify it for you Gerriod.  I was chained to the deck of The Melody with no hope of escape, immobilised by the very chain that now keeps you here.  You brought me the knife I needed to free myself.’

          Gerriod’s shock was quickly replaced with disgust.  ‘You cut off your own hand to free yourself?’

          ‘Desperation can make a man do astounding things Gerriod.’

          Gerriod’s mind was aflame.

          ‘You gave me the knife.’

          He had provided Caliban with the means to escape and in doing so had condemned his father to a lifetime of torment.  He was the one who had set in motion the terrible set of events that had led to the chaos that now enveloped the world.  He was to blame.  Not Remiel Grayson.  It was he who had been the catalyst.

          ‘I think you’ve upset him,’ Succellos said to Caliban.  Her voice gurgled with joy.

          ‘The truth can sting, Succellos,’ Caliban said casually.

          ‘So can I, Caliban.  Please give him to me.  He is ripe for the picking.’

          ‘Not yet, Succellos.  I want Gerriod’s mind to be kept intact long enough for me to see it fall apart.  I have plans for him.’

          Succellos’ legs clattered on the ground as disappointment shook her body.  ‘Caliban, will you deny me my pleasure?’

          Caliban turned to the great beast and patted one of its shining black legs.  ‘Now that’s a little unfair Succellos.  I gave you the Kobolds.  I gave you the Spriggan and soon I will give you more minds and souls to feed upon than you could possibly imagine.’

          ‘Yes, you have.’  Succellos lowered her torso in a show of contrition.  

          Caliban’s face lit up as he thought of a way to appease his monster.  ‘How about a wager of a sort?’

          ‘Yes,’ Succellos hissed, her face transformed by glee.  ‘I do enjoy a little friendly competition.  What is the prize?’

          ‘You can’t have Gerriod, but we have others coming to visit.’

          ‘Yes!  Yes!  They are here already.  I can smell them all around.  Some are very near.’

          Caliban smiled magnanimously.  ‘Should fortune favour you in what I am about to propose, one of them will be yours.’

          She spun around excitedly.  The thin points of her legs made pock marks in the dais and she struggled to contain herself.  ‘May I choose which one?  Oh, say I may, dear Caliban.’

          ‘You have one in mind?’

          ‘Yes.  There is one who is sick.  Her flesh is rotting.  I can smell it dying on her.’

          ‘Excellent choice.  You speak of the Susanese princess, Sumi Kimura.’

          ‘I want her.’

          ‘She will be here shortly.  I have sent Chabriel to welcome her.’

          Succellos scowled.  ‘What if –’

          ‘Do not concern yourself Succellos.  Chabriel is no match for the witch who accompanies the one you have chosen.’

          Succellos bent down again to address Caliban.  ‘So we know the prize but what is the wager?’

          ‘Ah yes, now we come to the fun part!’ Caliban said theatrically.  He reached into the folds of his robes, drew out a knife and dropped it on the ground before Gerriod.  ‘Look at it closely Gerriod.  Do you recognise it?  This knife once hung in the galley of The Melody.  I think it is only fitting that I give it back to you.’

          Gerriod eyed Caliban suspiciously.  ‘Why?  Why would you give me your knife?’

          ‘Gerriod, I am prepared to let you go free.  All you have to do is cut off your hand with the knife.’

          ‘You’re insane!’

          ‘There’s a fair likelihood of that, but that does not alter the choice before you.  If you are willing to hack your hand off with that knife – the same knife I used thirty years ago – I am willing to let you walk out of here unharmed – except for the loss of your hand.  I have one or two witches who will ensure the amputation does not kill you.’

          ‘I didn’t come all the way to the Endless just to walk back out.’

          ‘Perhaps I can entice you,’ Caliban said seditiously.  ‘We both know you did not come here to kill me.  You came here for your father.  You may have him and walk out of here if you cut off your hand.’

          Gerriod snatched the knife up from the floor eagerly.  He lay his left wrist upon the stone floor of the dais and raised the knife as far as his bonds would allow.

          ‘Wait Gerriod!’ Caliban cried shrilly.  ‘Surely you didn’t think I would make it that easy for you.’

          Gerriod stared up at his captor with a look of fury and horror.  The knife was poised an inch above his wrist.  ‘You maniac!’ he shouted.  ‘You think this is easy?  Mutilating myself for your pleasure.’

          Caliban ignored his protestations.  ‘I am simply saying you might want to hold of slicing up your flesh before I add the complication.  You cut off your hand – you and yours will be free to go, but Sumi Kimura will be given to Succellos.  Should you choose not to sever your wrist, Princess Kimura will be permitted to go free, but you and your father will stay as my guests.’

          ‘What sort of sick arrangement –’

          ‘It’s not sick!’ cackled Succellos.  ‘It’s delicious!  A capital idea Caliban!  The drama of the choice fills the air with delicious scents.  His anxiety is a bouquet.’

          He turned conspiratorially to Gerriod.  ‘She is incorrigible, isn’t she!’

          Caliban’s words went unheard.  Gerriod’s mind was consumed with the proposition put before him.  He had been prepared to do the deed, slice of his own hand, but now things had changed.  The trembling hand that held the knife above his wrist also held the fate of two others in it.  It was an unbearable choice.  He knew what his father would advocate – to put down the knife – but it wasn’t that easy.  Every step on the road to Caliban had been hard fought and now there was a chance he could actually do the impossible and leave with his father alive.

          An image of Sumi Kimura came to mind.  He had seen her in the Cloud Chamber and was struck by the sense of sadness that enveloped her.  Trypp told him later that she had lost her husband and sister in the space of a few months.  She had suffered greatly and now he had been thrust into a situation whereby he could contribute to her suffering.  Or release her.

          The knife shook.

          Succellos leaned in closer and inhaled deeply.  She found the scent of Gerriod’s anguish to be intoxicating.  ‘Yes,’ she whispered longingly.  ‘Do it!  Do it!’

          Gerriod grit his teeth.  A droplet of sweat ran down the ridge of his nose and hung from its tip, shaking ever so slightly as Gerriod committed to his decision.

          ‘Cut your flesh!’ Succellos purred.  ‘Cut away, little man.’

          The knife fell to the dais.  He would not do it.

          Caliban edged in close to his captive.  ‘Now that is disappointing,’ he sighed.  ‘I really thought we had more in common.’

          ‘We have nothing in common,’ Gerriod responded, his voice little more than a bestial growl.

          Succellos sniffed deeply then twisted her head to one side, surprised by a scent she had picked up.  ‘Now that is most unexpected!’

          ‘What is?’ asked Caliban, his curiosity piqued.

         Succellos lowered herself so her face was almost level with Gerriod’s.  ‘Caliban… he’s just like you.’

          Caliban glanced warily at Gerriod.

          ‘What do you mean Succellos?’

          ‘Well, well,’ she hissed enjoying the growing tension.  ‘You’re not the only one whose flesh is rotting Caliban.  I can smell his falling apart.  Look at him closely.  He has the disease.’

          Caliban gazed at Gerriod in shock.  He stumbled away from him as if he had been hit.  ‘You!  You’re a leper.’

          ‘It seems we do have something in common, old friend,’ Gerriod said with a hateful smirk upon his face.

          Caliban abandoned all appearance of equanimity.  ‘Get out of my sight, filthy leper!’ he screeched.  He turned to the entrance to the cavern where his soldiers stood on guard, patiently waiting for orders.  ‘Get him out of here!’ he screamed.  ‘Take him far away until I decide what to do with him.  Get the filthy leper out of here!’

          Caliban continued to shout hysterically as Gerriod was dragged away.  ‘And know this Gerriod – I will kill your father!  He’s dead Gerriod!  Dead!  Do you hear me you filthy leper?  He’s dead!’

 

 

Samuel Melkin leaned forward, his long face lit up by the subdued crimson glow of the pit’s phosphorescent walls.  ‘The Ghul will keep you alive as long as you can entertain them.  Pain entertains them.  As long as you can be hurt, you have a chance of living.’

         Trypp was stunned by the presence of the man in the pit and stared at him in wonder.  He had the dark skin of a Tuirrenian, but it was covered in scabs from infected wounds which were in turn covered with a layer of grime.  It did not seem he had bathed in a year. 

          ‘Who are you?’ Trypp asked.

          ‘My name is Samuel Melkin.  I’d extend my hand to you, but I’ve had all my fingers broken.’  He lifted a hand that was adorned with fingers that stuck out at such awkward angles, Trypp wondered whether the man could hold anything with them.

          ‘What are you doing here?’

          Melkin’s lips curled up in a shape that vaguely resembled a smile.  ‘To be honest, I’m not sure why I am here.  At first I thought it was to keep Caliban Grayson company.’  He looked up to the mouth of the pit, fifty yards above.  ‘I once resided at his cottage,’ he said as if describing a distant holiday.  ‘That was a long time ago.  I haven’t seen Caliban for quite a while.’

          ‘But how did you get here?’

          ‘If you mean, how did I get into the Endless, I was abducted by a Ghul commander by the name of Lucetious as my colleague and I were journeying to the country of Morae.  If you mean, how did I get thrown into the loathsome pit, well, let’s just say, I am a stubborn man.’

          ‘I’m sorry.  I don’t follow you.’

          Melkin gave a grizzled laugh.  ‘In our little hole, you could follow me anywhere, although I doubt that I could follow you.  I happen to know that the Sapphyrro are excellent climbers.’

          ‘I could not climb out of here, I’m afraid,’ Trypp said, examining the walls of the pit.  The hole had been carved out of the rock by the Kobolds and they had made sure that the walls were so smooth that no-one could escape – not even a Sapphyrran.  ‘Even if I could get out, there are at least ten guards above who would take issue with my departure.’

          ‘I don’t think they like us very much!’ Melkin laughed.

          ‘Sir, you said you were stubborn.  What did you mean by that?’

          ‘I refused to lose.’

          ‘Lose?  Lose what?’

          ‘Siege of course.  Caliban considers himself quite the player.  I think that was why I was kept in the Endless – to play games with him.  Initially, I deliberately lost game after game to him, thinking that if I stroked his ego, he would set me free.  Quite the contrary.  He saw that I was losing on purpose and he broke my thumbs as punishment.  So I decided I would never lose again.  And I haven’t.  I won game after game against the leper until one day he tipped the board and sent me down here to rot.’

          A shatterbug flew down into the hole and shed light upon Melkin’s face.  It was gaunt and tinged with madness.  He grinned incessantly and his eyes darted about manically, unable to stay focussed upon a single thing for more than a few seconds even though there was little to see at the bottom of the pit.  

          More disturbing than his erratic glances was the fact that he did not have an ear on one side of his head.  Though the skin had healed it was clear that the ear had been torn off some time in the past.

          Melkin’s hand snatched out and caught the shatterbug.  With his other hand he reached down into a small fissure in the rock and fished out a rusted iron hat.  His face beamed as he pulled the round hat into his lap.  ‘It’s just a miner’s hat, left behind by one of the Kobolds when they dug this hole,’ he said jovially, ‘but to me it is so much more.  It is a cauldron of secrets.’

          Trypp knelt down beside him.  Although Melkin seem deranged, Trypp knew that someone who could beat Caliban at a game of strategy was worth listening to.

          ‘When you squash them, if you listen carefully, you can hear a tiny squeal.’  He stuck his thumb into his mess of fingers and pressed down hard with the crooked digit.  A faint popping noise was heard and Melkin opened his hand to reveal a mess of phosphorescent orange goo.  ‘I love the popping sound they make when they die.’

          Trypp was disturbed by Melkin’s actions and his face did not hide his revulsion.  ‘Do you enjoy killing things?’ he said sternly.

          ‘I know what you’re thinking.  I’ve gone mad.  But I haven’t.  At least not completely.  Look.’

          He presented the hat to Trypp.  Lying across the base of it, like a bowl of soup, was the goo that had been extracted from countless shatterbugs.

          ‘Touch it.’

          Trypp tentatively stuck one of his thick blue fingers into the pot.  ‘It’s sticky.’

          ‘Yes, and it never dries up,’ Melkin said exuberantly.  ‘I don’t have much now, but one day I will have enough to cover hands and feet and then…’  He flicked his eyes up to indicate the escape route.

          ‘You’re going to attempt to climb out of here?’

          ‘Oh not me.  Caliban has snapped far too many of my fingers for me to even consider such a venture.  No, this for you.’

          ‘Me?’

          ‘I always knew one day Caliban would throw someone else down here.  You can imagine my pleasure to find it is someone who will actually be able to use this glue to climb up out of the pit.’

          ‘But there isn’t enough –’

          ‘No.  Not at the moment.  But let us be patient, Sapphyrran.  One never knows the possibilities that may come our way when we are patient.’

 

 

‘By the gods!’

          Pylos and Remiel walked out into a cavern that was unlike any other in the Endless.  It was tall and full of warm, orange light.  Thousands of shatterbugs ambled about in the air but it was not the concentration of so many glowing bugs that stunned the two men who had stumbled upon the cavern – it was what lay in the midst of them.

         Suspended from a thick strand of webbing in the middle of the chamber was a creature as large as a small ship.  It resembled the shatterbugs in every respect but two.  The most obvious difference was its size.  With the exception of the Colossi of Ganesa, it was the largest creature the two men had ever seen.  The other difference was that it did not glow.  It did something else entirely, something that so enthralled the pair slowly approaching the creature that they did not speak.

         Cribella – for that was the creature’s name – had an abdomen that resembled a massive jewel.  It had countless hexagonal faces, each about six inches wide.  As Pylos and Remiel came closer to the creature, they saw a myriad of colours swirling across the multi-faceted abdomen.  Another few steps closer and they realised the colours were in fact moving images.  Innumerable scenes could be seen pulsing through the transparent crystalline skin of Cribella’s abdomen.

         ‘How can this be?’ Pylos finally gasped as he tried to overcome his stupefaction.

         ‘It’s miraculous,’ Remiel sighed.

         Cribella’s abdomen hung a few feet from the floor of the cavern.  This part of her body was at least 100 feet in diameter and so there were thousands of tiny images within view.  Many more lay out of sight where the massive abdomen tapered in to meet the creature’s thorax high above.

         Pylos could see a squad of Helyans riding on snorseback along the outskirts of the Sand Meadow, not far from Sulis’ main gates.  He could see ships being loaded in the half-frozen harbour of Skirnir on Sessymir’s east coast.  Another face depicted a teenage couple rolling together on a field of flowerfall not far from Cessair Tower.  Another showed a young Nessan picking honeygrapes in a lush vineyard.

         His eyes jumped from facet to facet as all manner of scenes unfolded before him.

          Remiel was similarly engrossed.  Emotions welled up in him as he watched a father and son sitting by a fountain in Pelinore as gillygulls danced at their feet competing for the bits of bread that were being thrown their way.

          He reached out and touched the facet he was watching.  Suddenly his head was filled with the corvine sounds of gillygulls demanding more food, the bubbling laughter of the little boy throwing the bread and the dull roar of distant breakers crashing down on the sea wall lining the harbour of the city.

          He took his hand off the facet and all the sounds he had just heard ceased.  He staggered back, overwhelmed by the barrage of sensory information he had just received.

          He and Pylos edged backwards so they could take in the creature that hung before them

          ‘Now we understand how Caliban has seen and heard all that has transpired.’

          ‘Trypp was right, Remiel.  He suggested the shatterbugs were acting as a conduit.  Now I understand what he meant.’

          They craned their heads back, amazed by the sheer number of scenes that were playing out before them.  It seemed every element of Myrran life was represented there.  They could also see the Ghul represented in a distressing number of scenes.  Pylos even found one face in which he could see himself staring at the creature’s abdomen.  The fantastic array covered everything.  

          ‘Everywhere a shatterbug goes…’ Remiel mumbled to himself, trying to appreciate the importance of their discovery.

          ‘This creature,’ said Pylos, pointing up above Cribella’s abdomen.  ‘Is it Cabal?’

          ‘It would seem.’

          ‘I thought the Cabal were evil.  This strange creature shows us no animosity.’

          ‘That is true and yet its influence has probably been more injurious to us than any other beast Caliban has extracted from the Endless.’

          ‘What is that?’

          Pylos had momentarily turned away from Cribella and out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed a large marble statue that had been placed to the side of the cavern, so that the man depicted in the sculpture was staring directly at the great beast in the centre of the cavern.

          Remiel followed Pylos’ gaze.  ‘I don’t believe it!’

          ‘Who is it?’ asked Pylos seeing the recognition in Remiel’s eyes.  ‘Do you know this person?’

          Remiel nodded slowly.  ‘It’s my father’

          Pylos lifted an eyebrow but did not verbalise his surprise.  He approached the statue and could see the family resemblance.  The man depicted had the same sombre gaze that Pylos had observed in Remiel.  A brass plaque at its base read, ‘Gideon Grayson, Bringer of Peace.’

          ‘Gideon?  You named yourself after him.’

          ‘All priests must take on a name.  Gideon seemed… appropriate.’

          ‘But how did the statue get down here?’

          ‘I imagine my brother stole it from Sarras when he invaded Mine One.’

          Pylos turned back to Cribella and pondered the role the creature had played in Caliban’s designs.  It had enabled their enemy to stay one step in front of them all along.  Pylos realised immediately the potential of what they had discovered.  ‘We can use this beast to find where Trypp and Gerriod are.  Perhaps we can find Caliban with it.  Let’s turn this monster to our advantage.’

          His eyes scurried over countless images, quickly ascertaining each scene’s relevance before moving on to the next one.  It seemed futile in the face of so many representations but after a few minutes of frantic searching, his excitement was vindicated.

          ‘Look Remiel!  It’s Trypp.  He’s in a cave or hole.  There doesn’t seem to be any way out and…  Wait.  I know this man.  It’s Samuel Melkin.  He was one of Chamberlain Llyr’s men.  He disappeared about eight months ago.’

          They watched as Melkin’s hand covered the entire facet and then the image faded to be replaced by another.

 

 

Remiel held his breath as he stared transfixed by one particular scene.  It showed a man with scabrous skin hobbling down a path bathed in crimson light.  He had found Caliban.  

          His brother was adorned in a variation of the bone armour the Ghul wore but it sat awkwardly on his stooped frame.  He was flanked by a cadre of Ghul bearing long bone spears.  Behind him slithered a coven of witches, their faces cold and aloof.

          Caliban held a staff in one hand.  His other arm dangled at his side like a broken limb on a tree.  This arm ended in a stump.  Memories of the ill-fated voyage to Sanctuary cascaded into Remiel’s mind.  

 

---

 

Despite the rising calamity around him, Remiel did nothing.   His legs remained propped against the bulwark, but his arms did not pull the chain in further, nor did his large hands let it go.  He just stared out over the gunnel where the Worldpool yawned like death.   

          ‘Remiel!  What’s it going to be?’

 

---

 

Remiel stared more closely at the image presented in the facet before him.  As Caliban walked along, his gaunt face became coloured by an orange glow.  

         ‘Hello Remiel,’ he said.  ‘It’s been too long.’

         Remiel and Pylos spun around to find Caliban standing before them.  On either side of him, a cadre of Ghul stood looking down the sights of their crossbows with their thin, skeletal fingers resting on the triggers.  Behind them seven witches slithered across the rock, their eyes fixed on Remiel.

         Caliban hobbled forward, leaning on his staff as he made his way across the cavern.  His face was partially hidden beneath a polished human skull.  The top and back of the skull had been sawn off, so the bone face sat on Caliban’s own face like a mask.

         ‘I see you’ve met Cribella,’ he said conversationally, as if he were holding a dinner party for close friends.  ‘Of all the creatures of the Endless, she is perhaps the most interesting.  She is my window on the world.  Here I sit and watch your lives.  Here I see all that the gods see.’

         ‘You would liken yourself to a god Caliban?  Is that why you have done all this?’

          ‘Dear bother, do not paint me as the stereotypical villain with self-esteem issues.  You know why I have done this.  My motivation is as naked as the sky that you have taken away from me.’

          Remiel’s fists twitched and Caliban noted the movement.

          ‘It is inevitable Remiel that we will come to blows, but before hostilities commence let us exchange pleasantries, indulge in a little bit of small talk – you know, the sort of stuff that separates us from the beasts… and the Ghul.’

          ‘Very little separates you from the Ghul now,’ Remiel snarled.

          Caliban ignored the comment.  With a flourish of his hand, he indicated the bones he had lashed to his crooked frame.  ‘Do you like my armour?  Yes I admit it’s not a very good fit, and perhaps it lacks the stylings of the armour of a Pelinese knight, but it does make a statement doesn’t it?’

          ‘It makes you look just like them,’ Remiel countered, nodding towards the Ghul surrounding them.

          ‘Oh, I’ll be the first to admit that the design is derivative, but the materials are unique.’

          He took off his bone faceplate and held it up to his own face like a mirror.  ‘I know it’s not the latest fashion,’ he continued, ‘but it does have sentimental value.  A hand-me down, Remiel –’ Caliban stopped and gave his twin a sinister glance.  ‘From our father.’

          He held the mask out to Remiel in a provocative gesture.  Horrified that his brother could be so debased as to wear the bones of their father, Remiel could not speak.  His mind reeled as he tried to comprehend what sort of man his brother had become.

          ‘It’s not a good fit I’m afraid,’ Caliban taunted.  ‘He was a much bigger man.’

          ‘That much is correct,’ Remiel replied.

          ‘Oh Remiel, very good!  Here you are on the brink of your own catastrophe and you have the presence of mind to indulge in metaphor.’

          Caliban stepped away from his brother and held Pylos in his gaze.  Pylos stared back but said nothing.

          ‘Now let us see who else visits us on this fine day,’ Caliban mocked, maintaining the pretence of a civil occasion.  ‘Let me see.  Battle-scarred, weather-beaten skin.  Oafish, blank look.  And the sartorial splendour of a piece of cloth around his waist.  You would not happen to be a Helyan would you?’  

          Pylos continued to stare back at Caliban with contempt.

          ‘Hmm.  I should have expected you’d have nothing intelligent to say.    General Pylos Antigonus Castalia.  I’ve been expecting you.’  The use of his name made Pylos’ blood boil and he spat into Caliban’s face.

          Caliban put a hand to his face and wiped away the spit without taking his eyes off Pylos.  ‘How unfortunate!  You realize that I must repay in kind.’  He smiled broadly revealing his bleeding gums and broken, yellow teeth.  He spat back at Pylos and a vile globule of saliva and blood exploded on Pylos’ cheek.  This was followed by the snapping of a number of crossbow strings as they released a volley of bolts that ripped into Pylos’ legs and arms.  He fell to the floor of the cavern in agony.

          Caliban swung around to his brother.  ‘Before you even consider using your Morgai powers against me Remiel, know that my Ghul have been given very specific instructions regarding the Helyan.  Should you decide to use the talents you so flagrantly usurped… I’m sure you can imagine what they are prepared to do to him.’

          ‘I won’t use my powers,’ Remiel growled.  With a speed that gave Caliban no time to defend himself, Remiel struck out at his brother with a heavy fist.  The punch lifted Caliban off his feet and sprawling back into the Ghul standing behind him.

          Another flurry of crossbows sounded and Remiel dropped to the floor of the cavern beside Pylos with ten bolts buried in his legs.  Caliban rushed at his fallen brother and slashed him across the face with a knife he carried within his robes.  The blade tore across Remiel’s face, exposing the bone under his cheek.

          ‘How dare you attack me, after all you have done!’ Caliban screamed.  He beckoned to some of his soldiers to haul his brother up onto his feet.  They did so without delay, pinning Remiel’s arms to his sides.

          Caliban moved in close.  Despite the years in the darkness and the contagion that had wracked his body, the likeness between the two brothers was unmistakable.

          ‘Let me remind you, I have the advantage.  This coven of Pryderi has been well-prepared for your coming and their arcane defence is more than a match for your party tricks.  For thirty long years I have waited in this hole for this moment – and you foolishly thought you would surprise me!’

          Remiel just grimaced.  The pain in his legs was excruciating.  He could heal himself, but whilst Pylos lay at Caliban’s feet in a bloody mess with the bows of the Ghul aimed at his head, his options were limited.

          ‘Well, brother?’ Caliban flouted.  ‘Nothing clever to say?  Or has your fellowship with this brute robbed you of the skills of civilized communication?’

          Remiel knew he could cut down his brother before the Ghul had a chance to fire another volley.  He knew he could take out the Ghul with his powers before the Pryderi had a chance to defend them.  He could end it all in a moment.  But something stayed his hand.  He needed to see whether a spark of humanity still lay somewhere inside his brother’s black heart.  Before he destroyed Caliban, he needed to know if he could save him.

          ‘Why did everyone have to pay for my sin against you, Caliban?  I understand your desire for revenge, but how can you explain the cruelty that has characterised your every act since that day on Lake Erras?  You have abducted and killed babies.  You have committed genocide.  You have tortured innocent men and trampled over the lives of countless Myrrans.  What can you say to absolve yourself from the grotesque acts of violence you have perpetuated upon the Myr?’

          ‘Listen to you!’ Caliban barked.  ‘You reel my crimes off like a Magistrate, but fail to list your own.  You infected me with your potions and sent me to a leper colony to rot so you could inherit our father’s power.  You are the one who should be seeking absolution.’

          Caliban’s eyes contained nothing but hatred.  Remiel realised that he and his twin would never understand each other.  Caliban was too aggrieved to concede any wrongdoing.  He would not seek to understand why Remiel did what he did.  The impasse had been inevitable.

          ‘I’m sorry,’ Remiel said.  He meant it.  He once loved his brother.

          The apology incensed Caliban who struck out again with his knife.  This time Remiel was too quick and halted his brother’s wild attack with ease, grabbing him by the wrist before the blade got close.  He looked sadly into his brother’s red-rimmed eyes.  Remiel continued to hold Caliban firmly.  Although he did not relish the thought, it was appropriate that he kill his wayward brother face to face.            White fire spread from Remiel’s grip and ran across his twin’s body like a wind.  Within a moment Caliban was ablaze in a flame so hot that all the Ghul surrounding the pair burst into flame as well.  

          Pylos pulled himself back from the blaze, amazed at the power Remiel commanded.  

          But something was wrong.  Whereas the Ghul burnt up in seconds, Caliban was still standing.  Though the fire engulfed him, he showed no sign of being engulfed by it.  Underneath the flickering flames covering his face like a veil, Pylos saw him smile.  Remiel had not harmed him at all.

          Caliban’s cold laugh was all it took for Remiel to end the attack.  ‘Caliban, how could you survive that?’ he gasped as the white fire dissipated around his brother’s body.

          ‘You always were a bit slow on the uptake Remiel.  The Pryderi protect me.  Despite your Morgai talents, I have power over you.  Now learn, the hard way.’  

          The Pryderi began an incantation that swiftly grew louder.  It was not long before Remiel and Pylos were screaming.

          Their bodies twisted about on the floor in sheer agony.  In their brains, Remiel and Pylos felt their skin being flayed from their bones.  They watched haplessly as large pieces of flesh were peeled away.  The pain did not relent and both men convulsed on the ground as their organs were spilled from under their rib cages and their bones started breaking like brittle autumn leaves.  Pylos watched in incomprehensible horror as his heart rolled out across the stone he lay on.  Finally through all this torment, they heard Caliban’s benevolent words: ‘That is enough.’

          Even as the effects of the Pryderi spell gradually wore off, Remiel and Pylos continued to buck about on the ground.  It was hard for the pair to appreciate what had just happened to them.  As the haze of suffering dispersed they slowly came to terms with the fact that their bodies were still intact.  Their flesh lay on their bones and their hearts still beat inside them.  

          The power of the coven was strong.  They had learnt the Incanto's darkest spells.  There was no way for Remiel to contend with such a force.

          Caliban scowled down at his twin.  ‘Remiel, you sought understanding.  Here it is.  Understand now that you will die the most ignoble death I can muster.  The worst, I’m afraid, is ahead.’

 

 

Remiel and Pylos were bound in chains and made to kneel at the base of the great statue of Gideon Grayson.  On a twisted whim, Caliban had his Ghul wind one end of each length of chain around the statue’s outstretched hands so that it looked like Gideon held each man on a leash.

         ‘Is humiliation part of your revenge?’ Remiel snarled.

          Caliban stuck out his staff, placed it under his brother’s chin and tilted his brother’s head up to the ceiling of the cavern.  ‘Look around you Remiel.  This is my domain.  I know you must have a million things to say but I am your host and, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to be heard.’

          Pylos could not hold himself back much longer.  ‘You are a lunatic.  If you mean to kill us, do so now, but spare us the speech!’

          Caliban adopted a sorrowful look and shook his head slowly as if viewing the tantrum of a child.  ‘Dear me.  Such rude behaviour!  Remiel, you should really keep better company.  This savage will get you into trouble.’

          Caliban gestured to the coven and from the air around them materialized needles and threads, one for each of the captives.  The threads looped themselves through the eyes of the needles which then embedded themselves in Pylos and Remiel’s lips.  As if wielded by invisible seamstresses, the needles wove in and out, punching through their skin as if it were thick cloth.  The searing pain of the needle was eventually replaced by the incessant hum of their nerves on fire as each thread was drawn together.

          Despite the pain being thrust upon them, neither man flinched.  They bore their pain proudly.  They did not know whether it was real or just another Pryderi illusion but the distinction mattered little; the pain was the same, and neither man could speak.  

         ‘Thirty years ago,’ Caliban began as if he were telling a bedtime story to a child, ‘things were very different.  The Endless was not the well-ordered, civilised haven it is today.  The Ghul were in chaos, lacking the knowledge of how to extend their sphere of influence and lacking the resources to do it.’

         While Caliban was speaking, Lucetious entered the cavern.  He walked purposefully across the large room, ignoring the Pryderi and Caliban’s new captives and stood to attention at his master’s side.

         Caliban glanced at his lieutenant and smiled.  ‘What excellent timing!  I was just about to talk about you dear Lucetious.’

          Lucetious bowed.  ‘I have news for you, Lord Caliban.’

          Remiel blanched at the title the Ghul officer had used.

          ‘It can wait a little, Lucetious,’ Caliban said, his voice slightly reproachful.  ‘Our guests have come a long way to see me.  It would be discourteous to focus upon other things at the minute.’

Lucetious lowered his head.  ‘Of course, my lord.’

          Caliban turned back to his audience pleased they had witnessed Lucetious’ subservient manner.  ‘As you know, I did not come to the Endless alone.  But unlike Gamelyn Blake, I knew of the Ghul, I had studied their ways and had known enough of their language to communicate with them.’

          He stepped closer to Remiel with a smug look on his rugose face.  ‘Think back to our youth Remiel.  You squandered your days being ordinary whilst I devoted myself to exploring the shadows.  I discovered ancient texts that revealed to me things you cannot find in the happy light of day.  Long before I entered the Endless, I knew of the Cabal, I knew of the breaches and I knew of the Incanto, the grimoire that has made these witches more than a match for the Morgai powers you denied me.

          ‘And so I was more than prepared for my chance meeting with the Ghul.  I was fortunate enough to be met by Lucetious.  Although the Ghul had no leader, it was clear to me that Lucetious did have some influence over his peers.  Unfortunately, the dear fellow was rather intent on killing me at first, but after some negotiation, he soon realized that it could be advantageous to make a friend of me.  With a common hatred for the world above we cultivated a mutually beneficial relationship.  A covenant was entered into – we would find a way to administer justice upon the cruel and peaceful world above us.’

          Caliban paused and sighed.  He felt happier than he had in years.  ‘Questions?  Comments?’ he said with a self-satisfied grin.  He nodded to the Pryderi; a moment later Remiel and Pylos felt the thread that had kept their mouths shut slither across their lips and disappear.

          Pylos was first to speak.  ‘You are no better than these savages,’ he fleered casting a derisive glance at Lucetious.

          Caliban turned on him like marrok upon its prey.  ‘You are in no place to condemn the Ghul as savages, Pylos.  Your own people are little more than a horde of barbarians.  ’

          ‘It sickens me that you could so easily abandon your own people.’

          ‘Do not speak to me of abandonment Helyan!  I know it much better than you.  Isn’t that right, brother?’

          Remiel nodded.  ‘I did you great wrong Caliban.  I do not deny that.’

          ‘I think it wonderfully apt that you have become Morgai, Remiel.  It is almost poetic.’

          Confusion descended upon Remiel’s brow.  ‘Apt?’

          ‘The Morgai are the greatest traitors of all.  The Morgai heritage of deception and lies is unparalleled.’

          ‘I don’t understand.’

          ‘I don’t understand,’ Caliban mocked.  ‘I will have those three words inscribed on your tombstone Remiel.  They define you.’

          ‘Who have the Morgai deceived?  Explain yourself.’

          ‘It is time to cast light upon a piece of history that has been well hidden for thousands of years,’ Caliban cackled.  ‘Surely an event as world-changing as the ancient battle between the Myrrans and the Ghul should have been etched into the consciousness of all races.  It took the combined efforts of thousands of Myrrans to drive their enemy back into the Endless.  How is it that almost nothing is known about the most significant turning point in Myrran history?  How could we not remember?’

          ‘It was thousands of years ago.’

          ‘Quiet, Pylos!’ Caliban snapped.  ‘Every thought that escapes from the roomy cell of your brain has the mark of ignorance stamped upon it.’  

          Caliban turned to his brother.  ‘Let me tell you a little about the Morgai, so you may better appreciate the legacy you have inherited. Long ago, shortly after the breaches were sealed, the Morgai betrayed us all.  They feared that knowledge of the power that lay trapped in the Endless could possibly tempt an evil soul to free the Ghul from their rocky prison.  The Morgai decided that it would be in the Myr’s best interest to forget about the Ghul and the Cabal.  In their arrogant wisdom they agreed to rid the Myr of the memory of those dark times.  Apothecaries were enlisted to create a drug to achieve this goal.  With the help of the weather witches of Morae, the Morgai ushered in three years of drought.  The drug was then added to water supplies that were distributed throughout the Myr and within a year all memory of the Ghul had been erased.  The Morgai also collected all texts that referenced this period and had them replaced with a history that contained no mention of the Ghul or the Cabal or the Endless.’

          ‘That’s impossible,’ Remiel gasped.  ‘What about the apothecaries and the Pryderi who assisted the Morgai.  How could this have been kept quiet?’

          ‘Sadly, Remiel, your Morgai lineage is not as noble as you would believe.  The Morgai killed all the apothecaries and Pryderi who took part in the deception.  For the greater good, you understand.’

          ‘I don’t believe it.  How could they do something so heinous for the greater good?’

          ‘How deliciously ironic that you would ask such a thing,’ Caliban mused.  ‘The Morgai sought to hide the great power that dwelt in the Endless.  But they couldn’t hide it forever.  They missed some texts: scrolls that lay in the vaults under Caquix City, a tome of chronicles in distant Cephalonia and curiously, a carving on one of the statues lining Mine One.  But by the time these things came to light, they were regarded as little more than myths and legend.

          ‘But I knew it was real, as did Maeldune Canna and certain others I gathered around me.  I knew of the aerolith that crashed into the Myr millennia ago and brought with it a delightful cornucopia of life and this knowledge gave me what I required to survive my first few years down here in the Endless.’

          ‘And so you joined with the Ghul to exact your revenge upon me.’

          ‘I joined with them to survive Remiel.  I joined with them because they are kindred spirits.  But as the years went by, and my hatred of you grew I knew the Ghul would not be enough.  I needed others who would not shirk from the light of day.  No offence, of course Lucetious.’

          ‘None taken, my lord.  Please… continue.’

          ‘Now the Cabal were always going to be more difficult than the Ghul.  Though some are as clever as only the cruel can be, others have minds that require cultivation.  Now as fortune would have it, the very first of the Cabal we unearthed was the most important and the most intelligent – Succellos.  I could reason with her.  I could give her what she needed.’

          ‘And in payment for her services you gave her thousands of Kobolds to feed upon.’

          ‘Yes.  Succellos fed like she had never fed before, and as a result I had a compliant workforce that was perfect for my needs.  Over the past year, the Kobolds have helped me disinter more Cabal than we could have imagined.’

          Remiel could not help but be in awe of the intricacy of his brother’s designs, but he was puzzled by one aspect.  ‘You gained the allegiance of the Ghul by promising them access to the world above.  How could you make such promise?  You could not have known the Kobolds would break through to the Endless when they did.’

          If Caliban had two hands he would have clapped.  ‘Oh very good, Remiel.  You are right, of course.  At that stage, I had no certain way of delivering on this promise.  But I had suspicions.  Whilst you were out strolling the promenade and engaging the local strumpets in idle banter, I spent my time pouring over books and scripts brought to me from all corners of the world.  I learnt how to hear the rhythms and cadences of the world.  I learnt to take note of its whisperings and its quiet monologues.  I discovered ways to sense changes and alterations in the ways of things.  

          ‘Long before I entered the Endless, I knew the Kobolds’ stores of shatterstone were dwindling.  I heard stories of how deeply they dug their mines and I knew it was only a matter of time before greed compelled them to carve their way through the floor of Mine One, especially once the headstrong Corbo Industries began to grow into an industrial giant.  When I found myself trapped down here, one of my first labours was to prepare for the Kobolds’ inevitable mistake.  For decades, teams of Ghul struck away at the stone beneath Mine One, in preparation for the Kobold excavations above.  We had to wait thirty years, but our chance came and like all good strategists we were ready to seize the opportunity when it appeared.’

          Caliban looked at Remiel hoping to bask in the glory of his reluctant awe, but his brother was gazing past him at the images colouring the body of Cribella in the middle of the room.

          Caliban whimsically tilted his head to one side.  ‘I’m not boring you, am I?’

          Remiel refocussed upon Caliban and shook his head apologetically.  It was a strange reaction, but Caliban decided not to pursue it in the interests of completing his story.

          ‘I was astounded how willing the Cabal were to assist me.  At first I thought it was just to obtain their freedom, but there was more to it.  Revenge.  The Cabal don’t forget a thing.  They remembered how the Morgai imprisoned them in stone, so they were certainly prepared to help me hunt you down.  Once we had opened all the breaches, the world was handed on a platter to these titans of the deep.  It has been a remarkable game.  Every manoeuvre has worked to bring about this end.  And now I have captured the piece I most desired.’

          Remiel rose up on his haunches and his face flashed with anger.  ‘Manoeuvres.  Pieces.  This is life, Caliban, not a game.’

          A look of disappointment crossed Caliban’s face.  ‘After all I’ve explained, surely you have something more profound to say?’

          A grim smile spread across Remiel’s lips.  ‘How about this?  Never underestimate your opponent.’

          Before Caliban could respond to this cryptic comment seven iron stars sliced into the necks of each member of the coven behind him.  The witches all fell dead in the space of a second.  

          Remiel rose to his feet.  Despite being bound in chains, he unleashed a volley of white fire that pounded into his brother, searing his chest and sending him flying onto his back.  

          Sumi Kimura was on Caliban the moment he hit the ground and with a speed that had defied belief, she twisted herself behind him and held his head locked in her arm with her last remaining throwing star resting on his jugular.

          Lucetious raised his crossbow and took aim at Remiel.  Before he could fire, Sumi’s left hand flickered and half a second later, the crossbow string was snapped by the star she had held to Caliban’s neck.  She quickly pulled out her sai and placed it under Caliban’s chin.  ‘Free them,’ she told Lucetious, ‘or the leper dies.’  

          Lucetious looked to Caliban who nodded, but there was nothing that suggested defeat in his countenance.  Remiel and Pylos were quickly released them from their bonds.  Pylos wasted no time in thrusting the Ghul lieutenant to the ground.  He jammed his foot down upon Lucetious’ neck, ready to snap it if required.  Pylos had no shatterstone sword to kill Lucetious, but a broken neck would certainly slow the Ghul lieutenant down.

 

 

Remiel barely recognised Sumi.  It was not just that one half of her face was burnt.  She looked incredibly weak, so weak that he was astounded she had managed to throw her stars with such unerring accuracy.  She was trembling, either from rage or fatigue.  

          Remiel stepped forward.  ‘Thank-you.  It’s Sumi Kimura isn’t it?’

          She nodded but was hardly listening to him.  Her eyes were focused upon Caliban.  ‘One of the creatures you let loose on the world killed my husband.  Another killed my sister, and this hour one of your Ghul slaughtered a small child.’  

          Sumi’s voice shook and the sai under Caliban’s chin wavered as Lara Brand entered the cavern, cradling the still form of her little one close to her chest.

          Sumi jabbed the sai deeper into the loose folds of skin under Caliban’s chin.  ‘You are responsible for this!’

          Caliban grunted but said nothing as he was made to watch the forlorn figure of Lara Brand slowly making her way across the cavern.

 

 

But then Sumi saw something that filled her despairing heart with joy.  The Birthstone on Lara’s chest glowed, ever so faintly but the light was still there.  Sumi screamed with delight.  ‘Lara, your child lives!’

          Lara was still in shock and Sumi’s words did not register.  ‘Huh?’

          ‘Your baby… look!’

          Lara looked down to her breast and there, bathed in the soft blue light of her Birthstone, her baby breathed faintly.  Her life was hanging by a thread but that was enough.

          She quickly lay Birren on the ground and spoke a healing incantation that took the baby out of pain and into a deep slumber.  Colour returned to Birren’s tiny lips and a little smile appeared on her face as the first happy dream in months crept into her subconscious.  Her Birthstone radiated a warm blue light and Lara’s burned so brightly, it put to shame the light that fell from the shatterbugs overhead.

          It was all the distraction Caliban needed to escape Sumi’s weakening hold on him.  He rolled under her arm and twisted behind her.  His knife came up instantly and slid into the soft flesh under her ribs.  For the first time in her life, Sumi Kimura was caught with her guard down, and her life was forfeit for the mistake.  Her breath gurgled as she died.

 

 

Remiel fell upon him.  One hand held Caliban’s throat in a vicelike grip, the other hovered only inches away from his mottled face of his twin, pulsing with Morgai energy.  Just as swiftly, Caliban had brought up his bloodied knife and held it to his brother’s neck, its tip drawing blood but going no further.  It was a stalemate.  But Remiel didn’t care.  He didn’t come to win the game.  He came to end it.

         Out of the corner of his eye Remiel saw the arrival of more Pryderi.  They were chanting as they entered the cavern and he knew at once that Caliban had once again been shrouded in their protective spell.

         ‘They may negate my powers,’ he hissed at his brother, ‘but I can still break your neck.’

         ‘Well played, Remiel!  It seems we are at an impasse!’ Caliban said proudly.  ‘Your mind is naked to me.  You understand the precarious balance here.  If you kill me, you will die a moment later and the Pryderi will then overcome the Helyan and the witch.  Her child will be taken back to the Nursery.  The Ghul and the Cabal will continue to ravage the Myr and my will shall be done.  I will triumph.  You won’t end it here.’

          Lara rose up, clutching Birren tightly to her chest.  She looked about at the Pryderi with horror.  ‘You can stop this!’ she screamed in frustration.  ‘Look how powerful you’ve become.  Kill this monster who has imprisoned your babies and you can leave the Endless with your children in your arms!’

          She recognised most of them, but they stared back at her as if she were a stranger.  

          ‘You waste your breathe, Little One.  They will only listen to me.’

          Lara spun around to see Arinna standing in the entrance to the cavern.  In her hands, she held a large leather book and from its pages, ghostly blue light cascaded to the cavern floor.

          ‘How can this be?’ Lara said, trying to comprehend the meaning behind Arinna’s words.

          Arinna glanced down at the book she was holding.  ‘You have no idea of the power of the Incanto, Lara.  It makes a mediocre witch competent and it makes a good witch great.’

Lara’s face reflected the heart-ache that she felt inside.  ‘But Arinna – you were a great witch!  You don’t need a book to achieve greatness.’

          ‘I have been elevated to a mystical plane beyond your comprehension.   Whereas once I could hear the thoughts of other witches, now I can control them.   When Succellos tried to manipulate the Pryderi they lost their magick, but under my influence, they have become so much more than what they were. ’

          Lara was dumbfounded by what she was hearing. ‘To what end? Do you do all this for him?’ she screamed as she pointed to Caliban who looked upon the exchange with grim satisfaction. ‘What about Pippa? Have you forgotten how she was stolen from you?’

          ‘And now I have her back,’ Arinna flouted. ‘My ascension is –’

          ‘Arinna, listen to yourself! This book… it has corrupted your heart.’

          ‘No. It has given me strength.’

          ‘Strength? So you can rob others of their free will?’ Lara shouted, her voice seething with contempt. ‘Why not just control us all?  Why do you bother explaining yourself to me?   You could just force your –’

          ‘I wanted you to understand, Little One. That was my hope.’

          ‘There is no hope down here Arinna. Only malice and vengeance. There is no hope.’

          ‘Enough!’ Arinna shouted. ‘I can hear what you’re thinking Lara.  I don’t need to watch the words stumble out your mouth as well.’

          She slithered into the cavern, glancing down at Sumi’s body as she neared Lara.  ‘A pity,’ she mused.  ‘This one fought with a brave heart.’

 

 

Suddenly a shaft of bone flew out of the shadows beyond the entrance to the cavern… aimed at Arinna’s heart.  The shot was true and it would have killed the witch had it not stopped an inch before it reached her chest.  The arrow hovered in the air for a second before it faded into a puff of smoke.

          ‘Perhaps you’d like to join us, Jehenna Canna!’ Arinna said to the darkness beyond the cavern.  A simple flourish of her arm was all it took to drag Jehenna into the light.  Seething with contempt for the woman who had just tried to kill her, Arinna used her magick to drag Jehenna across the cavern floor by her hair.  Jehenna clutched at the roots of her black tresses to stop them from being ripped out of her scalp.  It was a humiliating way to treat an enemy and it made Arinna smile.  But it didn’t end there.

          Jehenna was hauled through the pool of blood that surrounded Sumi and slammed against the cavern floor where she was held down by fingers of rock that sprouted from the cavern floor.

          Arinna then turned to Pylos and Remiel.  A simple gesture sent them flying across the cavern into the statue of Gideon Grayson.  Thick hands of marble then clasped around their necks as dark magick animated the statue.  It held them so tightly both men were kept a hair’s breadth away from passing out.  For all Remiel’s Morgai power, he could do nothing to break his father’s hold upon him.  In the space of a few seconds, Arinna had broken the stalemate and handed Caliban a comprehensive victory

 

 

Remiel was looking at Sumi lying dead in puddle of blood, her unblinking eyes staring back at him.  Beside her lay Jehenna Canna, struggling futilely against her bonds of stone.  Nearby, Lara Brand, aware that her every thought was being monitored by Arinna, sat with her coils wrapped protectively around her daughter.

         Caliban stood in front of Remiel.  He leaned on his staff, waiting for his brother to meet his gaze.  When Remiel finally laid his eyes on his brother, they were lined with tears.  ‘Caliban!’ he exclaimed.  ‘You have lost your humanity.’

         Caliban did not respond immediately.  He stepped closer to his twin and nodded, digesting his words.  ‘You made me what I am today.  You stripped me of my humanity when you poisoned me with this disease.  Am I really the villain, Remiel?’

          ‘Thousands have died because of you.  Thousands more will die because of you.  Perhaps millions.’

          ‘Not because of me.  Because of you.’

          ‘I had to do something.  I couldn’t ignore what I had been told.’

          ‘Ah yes!  The wonderfully provocative foretellings of the late Lilith Cortese.’

          ‘Late?’

          ‘Another victim of circumstance I’m afraid, Remiel.  It was interesting to discover her part in this tragic story.  Although I do not believe that the lure of the Morgai inheritance did not influence your decision to pack me off to Sanctuary, it was curious to learn of the role this woman played.  Whether you were motivated by fear or ambition is incidental.  Your actions were responsible for all that has transpired.’

          ‘I had to do something,’ Remiel repeated, but his sense of conviction had left him.  His voice sounded as broken as his spirit.

          In contrast, Caliban’s bloodshot eyes sparkled as he dwelt upon Remiel’s defence.  ‘Tell me brother, was the future described to you by the seer any worse than the one you have brought about?  Or… perhaps…’  

          It came as an epiphany.  The realisation sent Caliban into a rapturous state.  ‘Yes.  It’s so clear!’ he gasped.  ‘In trying to escape fate, you have sealed it.’  His laugh was cruel and long.  ‘I understand it now!’

          He clasped his brother’s face and held it close.  ‘Remiel, the future you saw was exactly like this wasn’t it?  You assumed what you saw transpired because of what I might become if I took the Morgai gift, but this never would have happened if you had left things as they were!  By interceding, you created the very future you were trying to avoid.  Your vision had nothing to do with the inheritance.  By damning me to Sanctuary and driving me down into the Endless, you led me to more power than I could ever have as Morgai.’

          Caliban spun around as exuberance fuelled his body.  ‘Oh the beauty of it all!’ he exalted.  ‘This is more satisfying than revenge could ever be.’

          Remiel hung his head as low as his unique bonds would allow him.  ‘Yes, it’s true…  it’s all my fault.’

 

 

It was some time before Caliban calmed down.  The Pryderi watched him cavorting about the cavern with blank expressions on their faces.  They watched him constantly, ready to support him should their magick be required, but gave no indication they understood his feelings of jubilation.

         Arinna stood to one side of the cavern and smiled upon the scene.  She could feel Caliban’s euphoria and shared in all his thoughts of triumph.  She could also feel the flood of regret that broke the banks of Remiel’s mind.  His emotions were just as intense as Caliban’s but at the other end of the spectrum.  Where one basked in the glory of his victory, the other was mired in the depths of despair.  It was remarkable that twins could be so different.

         Caliban returned to Remiel’s side.  ‘So now the truth is revealed,’ he gloated.  ‘In condemning me, you condemned them all.  You brought about the very chaos you had hoped to avoid.’

          Remiel slowly lifted his head and faced his brother.  ‘Can you see what a monster you have become?’

          ‘I am surrounded by monsters here,’ Caliban retorted.  ‘Succellos.  The Morrigu.  Cribella…  In their presence, I am an angel.’

          ‘What will you do now?’ Remiel asked, tired of the discussion.  ‘Kill us?’

          Caliban’s eyes narrowed.  ‘Kill you?  No.  That would be too expedient.  I cannot end this conflict so quickly.  My enjoyment of my victory must be commensurate with my suffering.  I require a much grander conclusion to this struggle.’

          ‘What do you mean?’

          ‘I propose a battle.  A great battle between our worlds.  Winner takes all.  And I intend to give you a sporting chance.’

          ‘A chance?’ Remiel scoffed.  ‘You would wager the lives of countless Myrrans in a battle just to get back at me?’

          ‘Let us not forget that you made the first move Remiel.’  Under a brow of rotting skin, his eyes flared. ‘You made the first move, ‘he repeated, punctuating every word with bitterness and pain.

          ‘There has to be another way to end this.’

          ‘You are in no position to make demands Remiel.  There is no other way.  I have been waiting for this for thirty years.  This is my denouement.  You will not rob me of that.’  

          He puffed up his chest and raised his voice as if he were a dignitary speaking to a great crowd of citizens.  ‘Here are the conditions.  If my armies are defeated, the breaches will be sealed and we will bother the Myr no more.  But if I win, the Myr shall be ours and all peoples will pay homage to me!’

          ‘I have no authority to agree to this madness!’ Remiel spat.

          Caliban ignored the comment.  ‘As my invited guest, I shall let you choose the venue and the day, Remiel but I warn you, do not try to be too clever.’

          ‘I can’t do this,’ Remiel cried.

          ‘Choose your battleground!’ Caliban demanded.  He clicked his fingers and Lucetious handed him a map made on a leather parchment.  The availability of the map suggested that Caliban had been planning for this moment for a long time.  Remiel knew a decision had to be made.

Caliban threw the map onto the ground at his brother’s feet.  ‘There are twenty-one breaches across the surface of the Myr – choose one!’

          Remiel’s eyes raced across the map as his brains considered the ramifications of each location.  He had to find a place that would either give the Myrrans an edge, or put the forces of the Endless at a disadvantage.  But life in the cloistered environs of Garlot Abbey had prepared him poorly for such a choice.  He had visited very few of the places on the map.  Lucien.  Sulis.  Tindalo.  Nilfheim.  Mag Mel.  Usnach.

          ‘Decide Remiel!’ Caliban demanded.  ‘You don’t have forever.’

          Copacati.  Johannan.  Amasis.  Cephalonia.  Sarras.  He knew so little about them.

          ‘I’m waiting Remiel!’   

          Dagonet.  Ganesa.  Findias.  Corra.  As in a game of Siege, he had to consider every permutation of the selections available.

          ‘Now!’ Caliban screamed.

          ‘Usnach.  We will fight on Usnach.’

          Once Remiel’s decision was made, Caliban’s demeanour shifted once more.  A relaxed look graced his coarse face and his voice took on an air of nonchalance.  ‘Usnach?  Are you sure Remiel?  A rather inhospitable place to drop your pieces.  You wouldn’t prefer Sulis or Lucien?  Or Sarras perhaps?’

          ‘Usnach.’

          ‘Very well.  And the day?’

          ‘We will need time to prepare our forces.  Midsummer’s Day.’

          ‘What?’ Caliban exclaimed.  ‘I was hoping for something a little sooner.’

          ‘These are your terms Caliban.  If you want to change them then –’

          ‘No.  That would be most unsporting of me.  I admit, I shall be beside myself by them.  It’s all about anticipation, and there is none who is looking forward to this more than I.’

          ‘Caliban, I ask for one thing more,’ Remiel said as he looked across at his companions.  ‘I want you to let these people go.  I ask that Pylos Castalia, Jehenna Canna, Lara Brand and her daughter be permitted to return home.’

          Caliban twisted around to follow Remiel’s gaze.  ‘Two of your greatest warriors and a witch who has grown into a most formidable force!  That hardly works in my favours does it, Remiel?’

          ‘You have killed most of the Myr’s finest warriors.  The odds are already stacked against us.’

Caliban pondered his request and in a overly hospitable tone said, ‘Very well.  I agree to your humble request.’

          ‘There are others…’ Remiel said tentatively.  He was in a difficult position.  He did not know how many other members of the three assassination squads that had set out from Cessair had actually made it to the Endless and he did not want to betray those individuals, but he also knew that Caliban had at least taken Trypp prisoner and probably Gerriod.

          ‘Let me put your mind at rest Remiel,’ Caliban stated taking on a significantly colder tone.  ‘The fellowship that was formed to assassinate me has proven to be an abject failure.  With the exception of Trypp Elan and Gerriod Blake, all surviving members of this desperate plot are in this cavern right now.’

          ‘It is of Gerriod Blake and Trypp –’

          ‘They will stay where they are!’ Caliban said unequivocally.  He turned to Lara and Jehenna.  ‘My lieutenant will provide you with a vessel that will carry you to the nearest breach.  You may take the body of Sumi Kimura with you.’

          Lara wanted to respond in a hundred ways, but every one of them would have got her baby killed.  Instead, she nodded and asked, ‘What about the priest?  Will he return with us to Cessair?’

          ‘No.  From this time forth, I am my brother’s keeper.  Here he shall stay at my side and watch the battle unfold.  Cribella will show us everything.  Remiel will watch every single one of you fall before I will grant him the opportunity to die an unlamented death’

 

 

Lara picked up her child and boarded the Ghul vessel waiting for her.  She sat at the stern with her fragile baby cradled in her arms.  Pylos was unceremoniously dumped on the floor before her.  He had been beaten badly.  Before Arinna had released him from the statue, Lucetious had taken advantage of Pylos’ vulnerability and had taken to him savagely with a club of bone.  His light breathing was the only indication that life still flowed through his veins.  

         Jehenna sat down in the boat and placed Pylos’ head upon her lap.  The slight movement disturbed the Helyan and his eyes slowly opened to see the Acoran staring back at him.

          ‘I like your scar,’ he mumbled before closing his eyes and fading back into darkness.