Timekeepers: Number 2 in Series (21 page)

M
ore memories, of old times.

He’d naively thought that he could just close the Way of Eden and return home to his roomy bedchamber in Elysium. He’d been wrong.

Three hours after Sam had set the wards in the Way of Eden, his mind had cleared enough for him to dare head home. The guards at the gate of the city had let him pass, recognising him for a Waywalker. But he’d seen it in their look. They knew that his eyes, usually black, were now turned grey as the noise of the Light faded from his ears, darkening the whiteness of his irises with them, so that his eyes returned to normal only by degrees. They were afraid of him.

His room hadn’t actually been in the palace, but in a street near it. He was, after all, just a bastard Son of Time, rather than the genuine article.

The house was a burning wreck.

He heard the minds of the people around him, heard them knowing what he should have known – that his own brothers had burnt his house down as retribution for sealing the Way of Eden. It was unlikely they would stop there.

And in that sea of minds, that he was still half aware of as the effects of the Light faded, he felt two others that were neither focused on the crowd nor on the gutted house, but were entirely dedicated to watching
him
. And these minds were…
cold
.
It made his fingers tingle just to touch them. They reminded him of snakes, but at least snakes had a genuine motivation for killing. These creatures existed to kill for no other satisfaction than the murder itself. And they were about to kill him.

It was that revelation that prompted him to shield himself behind a distortion spell. Which was why the first crossbow bolt only bounced off the cobbles nearby, and why the second embedded itself in a door inches from his right ear. He ran, but knew he wasn’t about to lose these assassins. Firedancers were persistent. He fled to the palace, where he thought that perhaps he might receive protection. The guards were, after all, sworn to protect all Children of Time.

Indeed, the ordinary guards did not attempt to stop him. But he felt fear grip him again when he entered the populous great hall and saw Jehovah whispering to his archangels. Catching sight of him, Jehovah rose to his feet, touched the archangel Michael on the shoulder. Michael turned, saw Lucifer too, and advanced towards him. The other archangels followed, spreading out around Michael to form an arrowhead of tight faces and drawn blades. A space cleared between them and Sam and, imperceptibly, the crowds in the hall shuffled to seal the doors with bodies.

Sam looked round for help, and every eye he caught avoided his gaze and fell elsewhere. At the end of the hall Jehovah rose to his feet and stared mercilessly down as the archangels formed a ring of metal around Sam. Within it Sam turned like a trapped animal, before facing Jehovah once again across the silent hall.

Then, without warning, he smiled.

‘You know I was right,’ he called out, loud enough for Jehovah to hear.

‘Time will tell,’ replied Jehovah.

Continuing to smile, Sam shook his head. ‘You never knew the extent of my power.’ He didn’t move a finger, didn’t say a word, but vanished where he stood. The archangels stirred in consternation, but still the silence filled the hall, pouring in from every direction.

‘Don’t move,’ snapped Jehovah. ‘He’s within the ring of steel. It’s illusion. Stab him, and you’ll see.’

So, tentative at first. then gaining confidence, the archangels lunged and stabbed at the empty air beyond their swords – which nonetheless appeared to come away clean.

‘You can’t do it,’ called out Jehovah. ‘You can’t sustain illusion like that, and escape.’

There was no answer, except, high above, a window cracked with a dull ripping sound. All eyes went up. No one there. Each gaze danced round the room as one after one every window cracked, but none shattered.

‘Where are you?’ called Jehovah.

They all saw it. Lights darkened throughout the hall, the sunlight through the shattered windows seemed to grow faint, the darkness crept out of every shadow and thickened.

Shadows crept across the hall, shadows with claws ready to rip, shadows that danced nimbly through the people and, as one, converged on Jehovah.

‘Where are you?’ repeated Jehovah.

And me, and me, and me, and me, and me.
 

A window smashed at the far end of the hall, but no one noticed it. They were too busy watching the shadows that danced round them and which, for each individual, summoned up the worst nightmare that leered in the dark corner of their minds.

So no one saw the small, dark figure, trembling from strain, pale as the moon, pull himself through the shattered glass, bleeding from cuts by a dozen swords. You couldn’t maintain a complete enough illusion to hide for long from a Waywalker. Nor could you just magic others’ weapons aside as you flew to safety. You had to compromise.

‘You will die for this, Lucifer!’ screamed Jehovah, realising that his target was lost.

Unoriginal
,
thought Sam, but said nothing. There was already too much being said,
and me, and me, and me, and me, filling my head, no escape
…

The silence flooded in, and suffocated everything it touched.

*

The priority was to get a message to Seth, preferably without getting killed in the process. If he asked to meet Seth as himself, he knew Seth wouldn’t come. The only alternative was to force the message on to him.

Sam Waywalked back to the edge of the night.

It was a strange sensation, standing between day and night in a pink desert, with nothing around for hundreds of miles and yet knowing,
knowing
that somewhere in the night an entire army moved, trudging slowly towards Tartarus. Sam didn’t stir from the Portal, fearing being caught unawares by attackers, and wanting a quick line of retreat. He laid out his remaining Molotov cocktails and loosened his sword in its scabbard, looking round at the bare landscape and questing gently for any sign of danger.

He felt nothing. The Portal stood smack in the middle of the desert, there being nothing alive for miles around to warrant it being protected or sheltered by nature. Any features that might once have stood around the Portal had been eaten away by the sand, and now only it remained, an empty patch of air behind Sam that just happened to be slightly more interesting than every other patch of empty air.

He cast his mind into the night. he sent quietly. No answer. Louder, then. Why not?

Silence, but just on the edge of sensing… another mind brushing his own?

A stirring of thoughts. Then,

Sam smiled, and wondered that he should be so relieved to hear his enemy’s voice. Then his smile faded again and he tried to speak seriously.

And another mind slid into the gap between Sam and Seth’s. it whispered.

snapped Sam.

Seth’s mind, breaking in.

hissed Jehovah.

began Sam, and felt the wall descend again.

Sam hit him. He hit him with everything he had and felt Jehovah stagger back in shock, felt his head fill with buzzing. And then, sensing Jehovah’s pain as every blood vessel in his nose burst, he hit him again with just a little bit more, that bit of magic inside that he’d never let anyone know about.

Always play your cards close, that was the rule. No one knew what a Son of Magic’s potential was, no one understood how much he’d hidden.

Sam hit Jehovah again, and again, and again, feeling Jehovah’s mind buckle under the pressure of his own, and even when Jehovah’s shields failed he struck yet again into the soft, malleable parts of Jehovah’s mind, driving home centuries of hate and anger, turning his emotions into magic, his magic into arrows, and firing those arrows with unwavering aim.

Another mind slammed in front of the stricken Jehovah, another voice.

screamed Seth.

And just behind Sam, calling his name softly, ‘Lucifer.’

Sam staggered and turned. Thor smiled, leaning on his axe. ‘Little light, little fire,’ he said. ‘You think you can fight your way to freedom?’

Sam drew his sword but didn’t attempt to rush Thor, leaning on the blade instead and drawing heavy breaths. He felt emptied of everything; the last attack had taken it out of him. ‘It’s a trap,’ he said. ‘Cronus sees through your eyes, let him see my words! You’re being led into a trap.’

‘You’re lying to save yourself.’

‘Please, listen to me,’ begged Sam, edging away as Thor advanced. ‘
Listen!
’

‘It’s too late, little light and little fire. You’ve lost. You’ve been losing for centuries. In fact, I don’t think there’s a single battle you’ve ever won.’

‘You people always underestimate the plucky little guy. Last time we fought, you limped away with a dagger in your leg.’

Thor patted his thigh. ‘I’m feeling much better, thank you. And I don’t plan to make the same mistake.’

‘That’s what they always say. “Sell me your soul, Lucifer, go on. I won’t underestimate you, Lucifer. Run and hide, come and fight, it’s all for a good cause, Lucifer, One sacrifice for the Many, Many for the One, it’s all the same, Lucifer.” It’s bullshit, but it’s all the same to certain people, isn’t it?’

Thor took a step towards Sam, who dropped his sword and held up his other hand. A bottle full of petrol was clasped there. ‘Do you know what this is?’

Thor shrugged, but magic rose around him, thick magic to ward against fire. Sam smiled and shook his head. ‘No, no, no. You’ve got entirely the wrong idea. I’m not going to use this on you. I’m going to use it on them.’ He pointed behind Thor.

Thor grinned back. ‘No. I know that trick far too well, Lucifer. You don’t catch me out with it.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Sam. ‘Tinkerbell will be pleased.’ Thor frowned, recognising something in Sam’s face that shouldn’t have been there.

Sam heard the thunk of the crossbow. Thor must have heard it too, because he moved in the way that only Cronus might manage, becoming a blur and snatching the crossbow’s quarrel out of the air. A sopping wet Tinkerbell, flanked by at least a dozen Ashen’ia, was already reloading.

Thor spun on Sam, who shrugged. ‘Don’t look at me. You’re being led into a trap; you don’t stand a chance.’

Cronus hissed in Thor’s voice and sprang back as another bolt sailed through the air. Without a word he stepped back, a Portal opening behind him. Sam made no move to stop him as he stepped into the Portal, which closed upon him.

That left Sam and two dozen Ashen’ia, who didn’t look at all sympathetic. There was an uncomfortable silence. Carefully Sam picked up his sword.

‘Help me,’ he said. ‘You’re sacrifices. You’re going to die. Many for the One. You’re going to be butchered by Seth’s army and left to die. Help me stop him.’

‘Don’t listen,’ said Tinkerbell, his eyes not leaving Sam’s face.

Sam gave Tinkerbell an almost sympathetic look. ‘You’re going to die too, you know. You’ll be in Tartarus with the rest of them, and Night will take you over, lead you to the battlefield, and there you’ll die in a sea of blood with a thousand other innocent souls for a needless fight. This is your fate too. Help me.’

‘Night will protect me. I’m of her blood, I strive to free her son. Night will keep me safe.’

‘Time would kill his own daughter, his own son. What gives you the impression that Night is better? Night had Loki, Loki killed Balder. Night had Seth, Seth seeks to free Cronus. Is this a promising family record?’