The Burning Page

The air boomed, and a gust of freezing wind washed over her and outwards. Then it switched to a hissing suction in the opposite direction that dragged at her clothing. Chaotic power throbbed against her bare skin, aggressive and growing.

Irene was almost certain she wouldn’t like the answer, but she had to know what was going on behind her. She rolled onto her side, her head still swimming, and turned to look.

There was a hole in the air where Alberich had been standing. It hung in empty space like an obsidian mirror twice a man’s height, blackness seething around its edges and struggling to expand. In its depths, Irene thought she could see a man’s figure, half-defined and obscured by the shadows. It was diminishing every second, as though it was somehow retreating from her without actually moving. It raised an arm in a beckoning gesture, and for one stupid moment she thought, Of course, this is how I catch Alberich – all I have to do is get up and walk forward . . .

Darkness boiled out of the hole in the air, reaching out in tentacles that curled towards the bystanders. And towards Irene. One shadowy tentacle coiled round her ankle, cool through the silk of her stocking, but with sparks of chaos fizzing through it like bubbles in champagne. She shrieked, momentarily unable to phrase anything in the Language through sheer terror and disgust. She struggled to pull herself away, flailing her feet wildly.

The woman’s voice spoke again, but this time it was like the first line of a psalm: other voices from around the floor chanted a response in thunderous unison, and the floating void in the air shrank as lightning crackled around it in a halo.

Irene’s conscious, professional mind was trying to take notes, even under the current circumstances. So this is what happens during a chaos incursion in a high-order world. It has significant difficulty in sustaining itself, and even local humans are able to force it shut – assuming they’re powerful enough. Of course it would be easier to be analytical if that damned tentacle wasn’t still trying to drag her towards the hole. And the beautiful marble floor was so smooth that there was nothing to halt her inevitable slide towards it. Even her fingernails could gain no purchase.

‘Chaos power, release me!’ she gasped, trying to project her words loudly enough to be heard. But this time the Language failed her. She knew she was forming the words properly, she could hear them, but there was no power behind them. She was a reservoir that had run dry. Her head ached as if someone was drilling screws into her temples, and she lost what little grip she had on the floor, slipping inexorably towards the hole in space.

Kai stepped between her and the void and went down on one knee, seizing the tentacle in both hands. Irene could see the scale-patterns showing on his skin in the flaring light of the shuddering chandeliers, as his nails lengthened into claws. The great choir of massed voices spoke again, and their force beat against the air like hammers in a foundry. Kai’s features were frozen in concentration, and his hands tensed with the effort as he wrenched them ferociously apart.

The tentacle spasmed between his hands, then snapped in a burst of shadow.

Kai dropped it, ignoring it, and swept Irene up in his arms. He swung her away from the rapidly closing abyss, carrying her effortlessly back towards the surrounding line of robed sorcerers. Irene didn’t have the strength to do more than hang onto him as her mind raced. She was aware that they needed to get out of here before attention shifted to them, but what about the book in the Empress’ quarters? And was there something useful in her conversation with Alberich that she’d missed?

The hole closed with a snap; and the howling of air, which had become a background noise, abruptly ceased. Irene took a shuddering breath of relief. The air suddenly seemed to taste so much cleaner. The room was still full of the gabble of voices and the shrieks of panicked civilians – but it was a human noise, and less apocalyptic. Kai backed a few paces towards the door, Irene still in his arms, then came to a stop as several military types shouldered into his path.

‘I believe Her Imperial Majesty would like a word,’ the oldest of them said. His hair and beard might be snow-white with age, but he had the build and muscle of a serving officer. And there was nothing elderly about his attitude. ‘This way, young man, if you please.’

Irene tugged at Kai’s arm. ‘Put me down, please.’ Her voice was cracked and dry. She coughed, and her next words were more audible. ‘Please. I can walk.’

And she would rather face the Undying Empress on her own two feet.

The gentlemen escorting them up to the steps of the dais were polite, but she and Kai were still prisoners, under guard. The crowd was beginning to settle down now, and more and more interest was focusing on them.

The Empress herself barely had a hair out of place. A maid had appeared from somewhere and was restoring the varnish on the nails of her left hand, while to her right an anonymous-looking man in plain black, possibly Oprichniki himself, was delivering answers to her rapid-fire questions. As Kai, Irene and their escort arrived and respectively bowed or curtseyed, the Empress turned to them, waving her servants away. The light seemed to cling to her, flowing over her silver dress and crown. Physical details, such as her white hair or heavy build, seemed unimportant in comparison with the power at her command.

The crowd fell silent, not wanting to miss any of this.

Irene attempted to think of a good excuse for what had just happened. She’d been trying for the last few minutes, but her best idea so far – we’re loyal subjects who wanted to expose an evil impostor – wouldn’t stand up to much investigation. This was why she liked to get away before anyone could start asking questions.