The Four Realms (28 page)

West felt a shiver run down his spine.
 
No wonder the humans embraced chaos, if this was what it felt like.

"And your intention?"

"To hunt them down."
 
That part had always been part of the plan, although he was still running models as to which course of action would prove the most likely to succeed.
 
Screw that, he thought.
 
He'd shut down his illicit data modelling and run on pure instinct.

Mr Magellan sighed, as if Mr West didn’t understand some major point.
 
"Is it worth it?
 
Why not re-evaluate the models, eliminate the notebook from them, and progress down a more... controlled path."

"Of course it’s worth it.
 
If we can understand what keeps those gateways open permanently, it will save us years of work."

"And you think the notebook of some wizard is going to tell you that?
 
I know that their science is hardly advanced."

West felt frustrated at Magellan's ignorance.
 
Why did his people act like they didn't know what was at stake?
 
"Yet, they are able to manipulate mana with their minds into magic.
 
Can you do that?
 
I certainly can’t."

"The world is unique.
 
This is why we’re here."

"Indeed, and who's to say that those that have lived there for ages have not got a better understanding of their rather special phenomenon."

Magellan raised his voice, his anger controlled yet evident.
 
"There are other ways.
 
Ones that don't involve heresy."

Rage welled up in Mr West.
 
All this time, he'd managed to keep his temper, had been content to simply listen and plan.
 
But Magellan's idiotic refusal to look beyond their religions frustrated him.
 
He threw a fist down on Magellan's desk.

"We don't have time," he shouted.
 
"Our planet is dying and you want to worry about preserving principles.
 
This is a war, you need to understand that.
 
We need to get the job done or there will be no planet to go home to."

Magellan ignored his insubordination.
 
His response was cold and pronounced.
 
"There are other battle fleets, examining other locations."

"And yet, this by far, is the best.
 
The only problem: a chaotic indigenous population who can wield magic."

Magellan scoffed.
 
"You think some wizard throwing fireballs is enough to stop us?"

"I’ve seen the damage a homemade mana bomb can do."
 
West rubbed his arm.
 
"These people are dangerous and unpredictable.
 
This is why we need to proceed with caution."

Magellan raised an eyebrow.
 
"Caution?
 
Is that what you call it?
 
You have a funny way of exercising caution."

"We’ll have them in a matter of days."
 
Now they knew who they were looking for, it wouldn't be difficult to interface with the human’s systems and track them down:
 
CCTV, social media networks, traffic cameras.
 
The humans were very good at producing the data, they just did a poor job of being able to filter through it quickly.

Magellan stroked his chin.
 
"No," he said.

"No?"

"I can’t allow this to continue, West.
 
I gave you an opportunity, and you took it way too far.
 
It’s time for this pursuit to end."

Mr West’s heart raced.
 
Failure.
 
Just the mere thought of it gave him a shiver.
 
His natural reaction should be one of shame, of absolute guilt.
 
Embrace it, he told himself.
 
Embrace it and learn from your mistakes.

"All right," he said with a nod, the mere utterance of the word sending a shock through his body.

He understood this world now, with its immediacy, its impulse, its insanity.
 
He felt more alive than he ever had.

Magellan looked surprised.
 
The beauty of body language, West thought.
 
Obviously he had suspected some form of resistance.
 
When none had come it had thrown him off plan.
 
What do you do now, Mr Magellan?
 
What do you do?
 
Do you throw yourself to the winds of chaos or do run back to your data models and planning?

"Good." Magellan's voice becoming softer.
 
"I’m glad you understand."

"Of course.
 
My actions were always only for the good of our people."

Magellan nodded as if he understood.
 
Liar
, West thought.
 
All you're interested in is protecting your job and pleasing the Dictatoriat.
 
You don't care whether our planet lives or dies.

West took a deep breath as he left the room.
 
He'd lost.
 
His plan to back Magellan into a corner, to allow him to continue his pursuit, had failed.
 
And it felt brilliant.
 
It was the best feeling in the world. He'd do what Magellan asked, at least for now, if only to see what Magellan did next.
 
It was a little frustrating to leave the pursuit when he was this close but it wouldn't be too hard to pick it back up in the future.
 
He doubted Darwin and Cassidy would be getting rid of the notebook any time soon.
 
His data models had shown him that they'd eventually take flight to Venefasia, and that suited him.
 
That suited him just fine.

#

Mr Magellan watched Mr West leave the room, continuing to stare at the door, long after it had been shut behind him.

West was playing a game, a dangerous game.
 
Magellan didn't doubt his patriotism to his race, but you couldn't just throw out thousands of years of teachings, just because your enemy didn't hold to those same values.
 
He’d heard stories of the first of his race to venture into space.
 
The isolation coupled with the sheer size of the universe and their insignificance in it, had turned some of them mad.
 
Magellan was sure that West had seen the pure chaos of this world, and suffered a similar fate.

It would not be hard to have him declared unfit for duty, that was a relatively easy task for someone in his position.
 
But he knew that if he did, questions would be asked; questions that would get back to the Dictatoriat; questions that could have him killed.

If he was honest, a little heresy never hurt.
 
Not that he’d admit that to his men.
 
Everyone was guilty of it from time to time.
 
It was the quest to try and create an ordered universe that mattered.
 
But West had not just crossed the line of what he deemed acceptable heresy; he’d descended into pure lunacy.

He didn't trust West.
 
Even though he’d promised not to pursue his quarry, Magellan didn't believe him.
 
His data models suggested West would never give up the names of his suspects, nor take Magellan's order to stop his pursuit lightly.
 
But in both cases, he’d acted the complete opposite to what his data models suggested.
 
It didn't make any sense, and it made Magellan feel uneasy.

Yet, even if West had finally seen sense - which Magellan very much doubted - the situation they now found themselves in needed to be rectified.

The door opened and Mr North walked in.

"Has West gone?"

North nodded.
 
"How did it go?"

Magellan wasn't about to admit the failure of his data model of West to a junior officer.
 
The less North knew, the better.
 
"As we thought.
 
West’s obsession with this notebook has driven him to everything just short of blackmail."

"He needs bringing back in line.
 
Is there nothing we can do?"

Magellan smiled and placed a hand on North’s shoulder.
 
"There is something you can do."

"Sir?"

"I want you to run a data collection exercise on two individuals: a vampire who goes by the name of Darwin and a girl called Cassidy Mulligan."

"I’ll have it done within the hour."

Magellan squeezed North’s shoulder.
 
Of course he would.
 
Good dependable data.
 
It was like solid ground beneath his feet after a month in artificial gravity.
 
Still the problem remained that if he could get all the data in an hour, he could bet that West had it two hours ago.
 
He couldn't be sure West wouldn't go behind his back and continue his chase.

"I want you to look at something else as well whilst you're running the search."

There was a look of surprise on North’s face.

"Find me details of surviving colleagues.
 
Friends, acquaintances; not the sort they would automatically run to for help or protection, West will go after those if he hasn't already.
 
I want..."

North stopped to think.
 
"I want people very dear to them who they've not seen in years."

"Can I ask why, sir?"

Magellan shrugged.
 
North would be uneasy with the plan, but that couldn't be helped.
 
Compared to West, his plan was hardly a heresy at all.
 
But it was worth it, if only to end this madness and return some order to their operations.
 
He had to tidy up loose ends, clean up this mess.

"Because," he said, "the easiest way to stop West is to find that notebook.
 
And instead of trying to hunt the vampire and his girlfriend down, I intend to set a trap for them to come to us."

"And West?"

"He’s not a concern for now."

If Magellan could get the notebook, it would go some way to cleaning up the mess West had caused.
 
That left only West himself to be taken care of, and there were many ways to ensure that he met with some unfortunate accident.
 
It was a chaotic world after all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - In The Company Of Elves

So that was that then, thought Maureen.
 
She was going to die.

She felt strangely impassive about it, as Psyninius and Xenig lead Joseph and herself across the yard.
 
There was nothing she could do, she told herself.
 
What would be, would be.
 
Joseph obviously didn't share her stoicism, as he wept as Xenig poked him in the back with his shotgun and told him to move.
 
Poor Joseph, she told herself.
 
If she had one regret, it was that he had to get mixed up in all of this.

She did wonder if her calmness was an effect of the spell.
 
It would make sense for the elves to cast some spell to sedate their prisoners, but she wasn't even sure if such spells were possible.
 
Elves knew so much more magic than men.

Her only help lay with George, who had been taken into the stables.
 
But she severely doubted whether he'd be able to help whilst the elves interrogated him.
 
So that was that.

The realisation hit her like an oncoming train.
 
She wanted to die, and the revelation came as a shock.
 
Life without Ernest seemed so empty.
 
She was having the adventure of a lifetime and still she somehow wanted it to end.
 
She'd always thought those who took their own lives to be cowards, unwilling to accept the fact that tomorrow could be a better day.
 
And yet, here she was, about to be shot, and somehow content with it all, as if it wouldn't hurt and she would be reunited with Ernest.

It's time for you to get over your grief, Maureen
, she thought to herself.
 
You make a decision and you make it right now.
 
You either live your life as if it were as your last day, and enjoy and treasure it for those who unable to share it with you, or you pack up, go home and die of the cold and loneliness in that house of yours
.
 
Obviously this choice ignored the fate that was currently pushed into her back.

You can get out of this
, she told herself.
 
At the very least, fight as if your life is worth a damn
.
 
She might not be able to overpower her captors with physical strength, but then her fiercest weapon had always been her tongue.

"You realise that as a resident of the Realm of Men, if you kill me, it'll give my people a reason to come after yours," she said.

"Keep moving," Xenig said.

"Why should I care?" Psyninius scoffed.
 
"We do the work of the almighty goddess.
 
She will protect us."

"Religion hasn't saved people in my own world," Maureen shrugged.
 
"My people like nothing better than war."

"Your people have never faced magic."

"Yours have never faced tanks or fighter jets."

Psyninius laughed.
 
"You think your technology is better than the gifts the God Mother bestowed upon us?"

Maureen nodded.

They stopped at the edge of the yard, a wheat field swaying against a black thundery sky in front of them.

"Your faith in technology is misguided," the elf said.