‘This is for my friend’s safe passage too, OK?’ said Eric.
‘More! Give!’
‘Will you let my friend up too?’
The spear points came back, one jabbing close to his crotch. He gave them all he had left in the wallet, including the ten-dollar note and his driver’s licence. The nearest took this, carefully studied it and looked, amazed, from the licence’s unsmiling picture to Eric’s face. The others did likewise, and all seemed entirely lost for words.
Something had changed here and Eric didn’t know what. The groundmen suddenly backed away, their spears pointed at the ground. ‘Let up my friend, please,’ said Eric.
The groundmen scampered off like animals spooked by a noise. But Case said, ‘It’s going loose around me. Quick, grab me …’ Eric reached down to help him up before he fell through the widening hole. ‘What’d you do to scare em off?’ said Case, once they’d caught their breath.
‘Not sure. Something about my licence. The picture I think. They didn’t know what to make of it.’
Case laughed. ‘Seen some pretty bad licence pictures in my time, too. Let’s get the hell out, what do you say? It has to be day by now.’
Sure enough pale daylight poured through the stick-grid. ‘Why didn’t we buy bandages at that store?’ Eric said, prodding the bleeding cut gouged in his shoulder.
‘Why buy when you can steal?’ said Case, winking. He pulled a white roll of cloth bandages from his backpack and wrapped some around the wound. ‘Not too tight?’
‘No, it’s fine, unless I’m poisoned. Vicious little bastard. Wish I knew what I’d said to piss him off.’
Through the stick-grid’s gaps there was no sign of the creatures he’d seen last night. Only when they went outside and saw the trails of spiked tracks in the ground, and some huge ones very close to the tunnel’s mouth, was he sure it had been real.
54
Occasional gusts of wind blew thick swirling ribbons of discoloured air between the trees, but the current as a whole was weaker than yesterday, as though magic changed day by day like the weather. The equation now was pretty simple: there was a full day’s light to find their way out of the woods, or they were probably dead. Neither of them liked the odds, nor the fact they’d seen no animal life aboveground at all, bird or beast, no longer even the nasty insect clouds that had earlier covered both their arms with itching little red bites. Trees and more trees still fenced them in with no end in sight. Like a clock’s ticking hand, their crunching footsteps began the countdown to nightfall.
And that was if the creatures, whatever they were exactly, never came out during the day.
The day wore on. The woods, mile after mile, were the same: nothing but the trees and Tormentor tracks. ‘You a religious man, Eric?’ said Case, as the very first fading of afternoon light began.
‘Don’t know. Whatever I was, all this,’ he waved at the surrounding trees, ‘being on the other side of a door we found in a train bridge … well, it’s changed the maths a little.’
‘If you got any prayers or favours to call in, now’s the time. Night’s coming and we’re dead men.’
They came to a large downwards-sloped clearing, surrounded by a ring of patchy bare trees with skeletal branches. Eric was about to insist on a rest break, whatever Case had to say about it, when something at the clearing’s edge caught his eye. He said, ‘Actually, Case, maybe let’s keep our mouths shut.’
‘Why, what’s …?’ Then Case saw it too: seated on a thick branch some way above their heads, a war mage stared right at them, as though it had been waiting for them. Long horns curled from its crown to its jaw line; a thick ropy beard, brows and tangled hair were like a nest about its face. A thick coat of something’s skin hung awkwardly about its body.
‘Is that the same one?’ Eric whispered.
‘Can’t tell. They all look the same, pretty much.’
Its feet squeezed the thick branch like bird claws trying to strangle it, grinding off little pieces of bark that sprinkled to the ground. Its eyes were locked on Eric’s. ‘Get the gun out,’ he whispered. ‘And go invisible.’
Case had already drawn the Glock. The war mage’s cat-eyes followed the motions of his hand as he raised it and aimed. ‘Not sure I’ll hit it from here,’ he said.
‘Hurry, put on the charm and get closer.’
The war mage’s head cocked sideways inquisitively. Its hand slapped the air like it was swatting a bug. The gun was knocked flying to the ground, skidding along across broken sticks and dead leaves. Turning back to Eric, it crouched down on the tree branch, pointed a long finger at him and spoke, deep voice rasping, ‘You’re Shadow.’
‘Should I answer it?’ Eric whispered.
‘You’re Shadow,’ the war mage repeated, its voice as deep as a machine’s. It clawed at the air, as though trying to express something and struggling for the words. ‘A servant,’ it said at last.
‘It’s nuts,’ said Case. ‘Be careful what you say.’
Thanks for the tip. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered. To the war mage, ‘We don’t want to fight you. We’re just lost travellers.’
The war mage’s head cocked like a bird’s, then it dropped down from the branch, thick beard and hair rising as it fell into a crouch. ‘You’re Shadow,’ it rasped. It began to speak twice, then said, ‘Four converging points met across a plain. A cloud formed of erupted heat. A battle, a victory. A servant delivered them.’
‘Shadow. I keep hearing that,’ Case murmured. ‘Why?’ He had the necklace out. The war mage’s eyes were on him again as he slipped it around his neck and vanished. It shifted on its feet, alarmed, bright yellow eyes carefully following the disturbed leaves of his footsteps. When Case neared the gun, the war mage again patted the air with one palm, making the gun skitter sideways along the ground. It said more urgently, ‘Heat comes. Much heat. A servant. Your wish, I’ve
‘Case, stop. I’m not sure it’s going to attack.’
‘From what I hear, these things don’t do much else but attack.’
‘It’s trying to tell us something-’
The war mage dug the tip of its staff into the ground and wrenched its top around in chopping motions for a minute or more. Swirls of magic threaded through the air from above the tree tops, curling down in a long thin funnel, the thin end drawn to the staff’s tip. It sucked air and seemed to inhale tiny threads of magic, curling like smoke between its lips. ‘Look at that,’ Eric whispered, before remembering that to Case’s eyes it would seem the war mage was just breathing air.
‘You’re Shadow,’ rasped the war mage, now staring at him, eyes wide, imploring him to understand. It crouched low and scooped a bunch of leaves, sticks and dirt into its mouth, eyes unblinking on Eric as it chewed and swallowed. He remembered his first encounter with one of these creatures, the way it had eaten the flesh of its victims, and Sharfy’s voice:
‘My shadow,’ Eric said, nodding. The war mage listened to this with head cocked then made a hissing noise of frustration.
‘Come away from it, Eric,’ said Case, worried.
Eric went towards Case’s voice. ‘We can’t leave the gun. Let me try something.’ To the war mage, ‘I’m going to pick up our weapon. I will not use it to attack you. But we must find our way out of these woods, and we need it. Trust me. I won’t attack you.’
It watched him with eyes as uncomprehending as a beast’s, crumbled leaves and bits of chewed twig scattered in the beard near its mouth. Eric slowly went to the gun, the war mage’s head following every movement as he picked it up. Slowly into Eric’s pocket it went, then he backed out of the clearing. ‘Where are you?’ he murmured.
‘Here,’ said Case.
He followed the sound of Case’s footsteps. The war mage watched, then sprang from a crouch up to its feet and shuffled after them. ‘A servant,’ it called. ‘Dangers. A …
