Page 68 of The Malevolent Eight

‘And the future of your child,’ I reminded her.

I’d tried to say those words softly, calmly, almost submissively. Judging by the sharp sting on my cheek, I hadn’t been entirely successful.

‘You’ve done a lot of stupid things in your life, Cade Ombra. I’d wager none of them are as suicidal as playing games with my son’s life.’

‘I play with whatever pieces are put in front of me, Eliva’ren. You set the board as much as anyone else, so don’t expect me to play by a different set of rules than everyone else. Let me guess: Tenebris figured out a way to weaken the Pandoral at the precise instant when the gate to his realm opens, thereby stealing whatever esoteric energies remain there. No doubt he’s worked out a way to get your son out and the two of you returned to your own plane of existence before the Pandoral realm collapses completely. Meanwhile, the diabolic and whoever he’s working with has you cleaning up any messes along the way, right?’

Crossing her arms in front of her, she looked away. It was the first time I’d seen any sign of guilt or shame. ‘Thanks to your fellow Glorians, my son was born into the Pandoral realm. For nine years I’ve been able to communicate with him only sporadically, when some tiny twist of fate worked out in our favour. The Pandorals would have killed him instantly, had they not determined that the unique manner of his birth had entwined his existence with that of their realm. So, instead, they created a. . . a kind of facsimile of me within their realm. My son’s been nursed and raised by a shadow of me that isn’t even real.’

‘But the fractures continued and now the Pandoral realm is on the verge of collapse,’ I said.

She was still not meeting my gaze. ‘When I was giving birth to Hamun, the attunement the Glorians were trying to force upon me caught him instead. Somehow my body momentarily became a gate into the Pandoral realm, my baby was taken from me and I was left trapped here, in this horrible cesspool you arrogantly refer to as the “Mortal realm” as if this was the only one. I was sixteen years old, suddenly more powerful than any mage my own world had ever produced, and completely unable to save my own baby.’

It was a heartbreaking story, but it was also a gambit. ‘You can’t manipulate or cajole me into changing my decision,’ I told her, again trying to take the sting out of my words and again failing. ‘If they come back and I’m still here, I’m going to do exactly what they want. Normally, I’d assume that would give you the chance to rescue your son, but since you’re trying so very hard to weaken my resolve, I’m guessing it doesn’t work that way.’

Now she was the one who looked like she’d been slapped. ‘The gate spell is like all Pandoral magic: it’s a warping of reality itself. It’s raw chaos unleashed in a controlled fashion, reshaping the laws of physics themselves. Actually, it’s more than that, because the gate becomes a layer of translation between two different sets of physical laws, which will allow beings to pass through– in one direction only. The Pandoral wants to go home, bringing as much power from this realm with him as he can. That means if he’s the one controlling the gate, my son can’t come here.’

‘Then I guess you’d better get me out of here, Eliva’ren.’

She shook her head again. ‘I’m sorry, Cade, but my employers don’t want you escaping this cell. They want your body and will broken utterly, and sooner or later, the Pandoral’s impatience and desperation will lead it to torment your spirit all the way down to the ecclesiasm of your soul. That’s when we’ll take you: that’s when you’ll become what we need you to be.’ She held up an arm: one of the bands of metallic sigils tattooed on her skin was gleaming with purplish light. ‘Among my people, this is the band for silk magic. It’s not entirely unlike the Infernal spells you once used to manipulate other people’s minds. I can make you think or feel whatever I desire.’

‘So, no escape plan, then?’

At last she met my gaze. Any guilt or hesitation I’d seen before was gone. ‘I’m not here to free you, Cade. I need only break your determination to submit to the Pandoral. Then I’m going to leave you to be tortured for weeks on end until at last you’ll be ready for us.’

I considered that a moment, then said, ‘You know, for a minute there I was really starting to fall for you.’

She smiled. There was nothing now but sorrow in it. ‘Don’t worry, Cade. In a few moments, you’ll be entirely in love with me.’

I sat down cross-legged on the floor and gestured for her to do likewise. ‘Well then, Eliva’ren, let’s get down to business and see which of us is the bigger arsehole.’

Chapter 38

Commitment Issues

There’s nothing more boring than mages fighting a battle of the minds: no exciting bolts of Tempestoral lightning, no fiery implosions simultaneously burning the flesh whilst asphyxiating the lungs. There isn’t even the screeching and scurrying of rats or cats or bats to entertain you. A mind war is basically like watching two people in a staring contest, trying to work out who’s winning based on which opponent looks most constipated. For the record, I was not at all constipated.

‘You’re not putting up much of a fight,’ the Spellslinger said– maybe silently, possibly out loud; it was hard to tell at the time– as she meticulously tugged at the threads of my thoughts and rewove them into new and troubling patterns.

‘I’ve always considered it bad manners to interrupt an artist at work,’ I replied.

I felt rather than saw her smile. ‘You think that because I can’t afford to have your mind fray completely I’ll be tentative in altering your thoughts?’

That was, in fact, one of the things I was counting on. All my enemies agreed thatsomebodywas going to use my attunement to Pandoral magics to turn me into a living gate to that unfortunate realm, and since a wonderist’s mind is a fragile thing at the best of times, shattering mine would make me useless in that noble endeavour.

‘Your people’s magics are rather blunt and clumsy in comparison to those of the Jan’Tep,’ she informed me with what I felt was undue condescension. Meanwhile, a dozen new inclinations, beliefs and memories were being sewn inside my consciousness. It was hard to tell exactly what was changing, other than I was fairly sure that before this began I hadn’t considered roast chicken to be evil. Maybe she wasn’t as good at this as she thought. ‘To even spark the band for silk magic first requires the initiate to envision dozens of intricate esoteric geometries all at once. What I’m doing to you now is literally child’s play.’

Bragging is generally considered unattractive on this plane of reality, I thought. Maybe I said it out loud. It was really hard to tell, what with my brains being scrambled.

Best I could tell, the Spellslinger had begun with my sense of pride, simultaneously magnifying its intensity– which felt rather pleasant– while retooling it away from things like my joy in undermining other people’s expectations and channelling it all into my disdain for would-be tyrants. And given the Pandoral was the very definition of a would-be tyrant. . .

‘There,’ Eliva’ren said, sounding satisfied with her handiwork. ‘By the time they come to take you from your cell, the prospect of bowing down before the Pandoral will be so intolerable you’ll. . .’ Our eyes were open, so I could see her leaning closer, almost as if she were trying to peer inside my skull. ‘What the hells have you done to yourself?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘You’re lying.’ She leaned back again and through whatever pathways her silk magic had opened between us, I caught a flash of hundreds of choices and inclinations collapsing into a final decision, which in turn led to a single doom. ‘You’re still going to do it. You’re going to give yourself over to the Pandoral.’

‘I probably should’ve warned you, sweetheart. I’m rather stubborn.’

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