The Burning Man

4

The high winds gusting along the chasms of New York City threatened to tear Church from the few square feet on top of the Empire State Building. Clutching onto the mooring mast to save himself, the world spun far below.

Don’t look down, he repeated like a mantra, and focused instead on the blue sky of a new day. But he couldn’t help himself. His stomach churned and his head whirled, and he dropped to his knees, fighting to keep control. The wind continued to pull him back and forth.

This is insane, he told himself. An invisible maze up in the clouds, where one wrong step meant plummeting to the ground far below?

Crawling to the edge of the platform, he peered around. There was no sign of where the maze began. Leaning out, eyes screwed shut, he flailed about but felt only thin air.

From his jacket, he pulled the can of spray paint he had bought in a convenience store on the way from Grand Central Terminal. He had no idea if it would work. Reaching out again, he sprayed a small amount. The paint particles were caught by the wind.

Edging along the platform, he tried again. When he was near the end of the second side, some paint remained, frozen in the air. With relief, he sprayed a strip extending out from the platform. The first steps of the maze were revealed.

That was the easy part. Steeling himself, Church stood up and stepped into the gulf. His heart flipped and his knees buckled, but the maze held his weight.

Away from the platform, the vertigo was even more debilitating. He felt as if he was suspended in the air, with nothing beneath his feet but the street far below. An overwhelming sensation of falling made him spasm from side to side, or pitch forward. Only his willpower stopped him going over the edge. Every step he had to steady himself, shut his eyes and fight the rushing fear that threatened to paralyse him, and, he thought, drive him mad. Gradually, he established a kind of control by keeping his eyes fixed as much as possible on the horizon or the sticky paint at his feet.

He discovered the maze was barely two feet wide. He sprayed a section, edged forward, desperately holding on to his stomach, and then sprayed some more. But the paint wouldn’t last for ever, and if the maze was extensive, what would he do then?

Thirty feet out the wind blew even more fiercely. It came in intermittent high gusts, and each time he had to crouch down and brace himself to resist being blown off. It felt like only a matter of time until a gust took him unawares.

Every now and then he would stop and close his eyes, and breathe deeply, pretending he was on solid ground. And that was when he heard the sound of clapping. Wobbling as he looked over his shoulder, he saw Veitch sitting on the platform at the top of the Empire State Building.

Rage exploded in Church with a ferocity that shocked him. He thought of all the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons Veitch had slaughtered over the years, the agonising wound he had inflicted on Church in Beijing, the spell that had sucked at Church’s Pendragon Spirit and driven a wedge between him and the woman he loved. But most of all he thought about how Veitch had stolen Ruth from him.

‘You’re expecting me to risk my neck out here just so you can steal the Key when I get back?’ Church said.

‘Something like that.’

Veitch’s nonchalance made the blood thunder in Church’s head even more.

‘Actually, I was just having a little bet with myself,’ Veitch continued. ‘How long before the path turned left and you went right, or before you leaned a bit too far to one side and went over the edge. But carry on, mate — don’t let me stop you.’

Consumed with anger, Church drew his sword. ‘We end this here and now,’ he shouted, marching back along the precarious path.

His own anger sparking viciously, Veitch drew his sword and stepped hesitantly onto the path. Church could see him cursing under his breath as he walked out over the void, but soon his rage made him forget where he was, and he focused solely on Church.

‘We’ve come a long way, you and me,’ Veitch said, ‘from strangers to friends — until you abandoned me.’

‘Don’t give me any of your pathetic whining. You can’t blame me for what happened to you. You can’t blame anyone, not even yourself. You got a raw deal, and that’s just the way it was. But everything that’s happened since — that’s all you, through and through.’

Veitch’s face darkened. ‘You know what pisses me off about you? You give me that look my dad used to give me when I was a kid — that I disappoint you. I wish you’d just go at me with that sword, because nothing’s worse than that look.’

Church levelled Caledfwlch, instantly feeling Veitch’s own sword sucking at the power it contained. ‘Made sure you got your equaliser in place before you faced me properly.’

‘If you want to chicken out, mate … The truth is, we’re tied together on some level you don’t understand, and if you were smart enough, you could suck all the nasty, black misery out of me and make yourself stronger. Only maybe you’re just not as smart as you make out.’

‘I don’t want to pollute myself with what you’ve got.’

‘You’re not smart, or you’d get the fact that we’re the same. Or maybe not exactly that — different sides of the same coin, perhaps. We’d each benefit from a little bit of the other.’

‘Been doing some thinking, have you?’

‘Yeah, I have.’

‘Think harder.’

Church attacked forcefully, oblivious to the gulf on either side. As Veitch blocked the blow, blue and black lightning flashed across the sky.

They moved back and forth along the narrow path amidst the furious storm of energy discharges, a whirlwind of swords, both fixed intently on the other, the world, the stakes they had both striven for, all of it forgotten.

The wind caught droplets of blood from Veitch’s arm, and from Church’s cheek. They were evenly matched in skill and motivation.

Occasionally, Church would duck a blow and come sharply up against the precariousness of his position as he teetered on the edge of the path, fighting to regain his balance, the world rushing beneath him. Veitch didn’t give him a second to recover. Returning his attack, Church drove Veitch back, trusting his own instinct to keep him in the centre of the path.

‘What are the pair of you doing?’ Ruth’s desperate cry interrupted them. Fearfully, she clung to the mast.

Veitch was distracted. Unable to stop carrying through with his thrust, Church sliced Veitch’s upper arm. In his pain, he lost his footing and went over the edge.

Ruth shrieked.

At the last, Veitch’s silver hand crashed against the edge of the path and clung on. The strain was clear on his face.

‘Go on, then. Let me die,’ he shouted. ‘You get your girl back. I pay the bill for all the shit I’ve done. You win.’

Veitch was right — everything would be simpler if Church just let him fall. For a moment, he even considered it, but then he saw the Libertarian’s grinning, cruel face in his mind, and wondered if this was the turning point on his path to becoming that twisted mass murderer: one death for his own benefit could easily become two, become many. In the end, wasn’t Veitch right? They were both capable of the same thing, given the right circumstances. Veitch had slaughtered in the past and Church would do so in the future. The seeds were inside them, two brothers from the same stock. How could he judge?

He grabbed Veitch’s forearm and hauled him back onto the path.

‘You’re so bleedin’ noble, you make me sick,’ Veitch said.

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Don’t get all girly and think just ’cause you saved my life it’s going to be all smiles. All you’ve done is help balance things out a bit.’

‘Ryan, we’re more than a thousand feet above a messy death. This isn’t the place.’

Veitch glanced back at Ruth, who was tearing herself apart with concern. ‘All right. But I’m coming with you.’

‘So you can stab me in the back and take the Key?’

‘You’re going to have to take a punt, aren’t you, ’cause you haven’t got a choice.’

Now that his anger had subsided, Church could see Veitch was right. Creeping to the edge of the path, he began to spray.

‘Just like old times,’ he heard Veitch say sarcastically.

Church kept one eye on Veitch, fearing that if he dropped his guard he would be pitched off the path to his death, but Veitch followed sullenly, keeping several feet back. Progress was slow. The path dog-legged, twisted, turned back on itself and ran in long, straight lines until they were well out over the city and the Empire State Building and Ruth were far behind. And that was when the paint ran out.

‘Now what?’ Veitch said.

‘We can’t go back.’ Church pondered the point, swaying uneasily in the wind. ‘We’ll just have to feel around and do it without any help.’

‘You’re nuts.’

‘We don’t have a choice.’

Bracing his right foot, Church felt out with his left. Slowly, they edged onwards. Their progress was even more gut-churning without the meagre comfort of the sticky paint path beneath their feet. It felt as if they were floating in thin air.

‘If I throw up, don’t look back,’ Veitch said.

At that moment, the path took a sudden turn to the left and Church’s foot skidded over the edge. His weight carried him over after it. He saw the streets spinning far below, the air rushing into his lungs.

Veitch caught him by the back of his jacket and held him there. Church could tell Veitch was weighing whether to let him drop.

After a moment, Veitch pulled him back. They exchanged one look, and then continued on their way in silence.

Half an hour later, Church came up hard against what appeared to be a wall in the air, though he could see straight through it.

‘Maybe the path goes round the edge,’ Veitch suggested.

Church tested. ‘No, this is it. Dead end.’

‘That’d be plain stupid. All this way to a dead end.’ Veitch thought. ‘A door?’

Church felt around and something gave beneath his fingers. The door opened into a small room that was unmistakably floating in the air, but the walls, floor and ceiling had a translucent quality that gave it some solidity.

Inside sat Jack, Mahalia and Crowther, in a trance. Church immediately sensed another, invisible presence.

‘Where are you?’ he said.

‘All around you, Brother of Dragons. I am Apoyan-Tachi, Sky Father God, and this is my home.’

From the corner of his eye, Church saw Veitch’s hand moving towards his sword. Church signalled for him to stop and Veitch paused, but remained wary.

‘I’ve come for these three Fragile Creatures, Sky Father God,’ Church said.

‘One is too dangerous to remain in this Great Dominion. He will only draw unwanted attention.’

‘I won’t let him stay here. We’re going to the Far Lands. He will help us defeat the Devourer of All Things.’

‘Too late.’ There was a sound like the sighing of the wind through branches. ‘The Devourer of All Things has closed all the doorways to the Far Lands. It knows your plans, and it wishes to keep you trapped here in the Fixed Lands where you are forever limited.’

‘That’s it, then?’ Veitch said. ‘It’s all been for nothing?’

‘No, it’s not been for nothing,’ Church said firmly.

‘I’ve always admired your optimism.’ For the first time there was no sarcasm in Veitch’s voice.

‘Sky Father God, let me take these three and I promise they will be removed from this Great Dominion.’

Another moment of whispering wind. ‘You have made your way across my ritual path, and so you are worthy, Brother of Dragons. But know this: the moment the One is in your hands, the Devourer of All Things will rise up. Your End-Time will be close.’

‘I’ll take that risk. And thank you.’

‘Hurry, Brother of Dragons. The path back will not remain in place long. Hurry!’

Veitch muttered under his breath, ‘I don’t bleedin’ like the sound of that.’

When Church opened the door, the invisible path now sparkled as if it was sprinkled with gold dust. Veitch led the way, followed by Jack, Mahalia and Crowther tramping like sleepwalkers. Church brought up the rear and kept a close eye on them in case they woke suddenly and fell.

Halfway along the return journey, Church glanced behind him and saw the sparkling dust drifting down towards the grimy streets. The path was falling away.

‘Ryan, you have to move faster!’ he called out.

Veitch saw the reason for Church’s anxiety and increased his pace, though the danger of slipping increased with it. Church herded the other three along as fast as he dared, but the disappearing edge of the path was racing towards his heels.

A loud noise, like a heavy, metal object being dragged, echoed all around.

‘What the bleedin’ hell is that?’ Veitch called out.

‘Don’t think about it now,’ Church said. ‘Just get a move on!’

The edge of the path was only a few feet behind him, and he was jostling against Crowther’s back. The wind gusted stronger, and on the horizon storm-clouds gathered rapidly; there was something unnatural about the speed with which they were rolling together.

The Empire State Building appeared in the gathering gloom ahead. Church could see Ruth still gripping the mooring mast, the wind whipping her hair. At the window, just below, the others watched anxiously.

‘Ryan, you’re going to have to run or I’m dead!’ Church shouted.

Veitch held Church’s gaze for a moment, thoughts racing across his face, and then he ran, only his innate balance keeping him from falling. The others followed somnolently.

Thin air sucked voraciously only inches from Church’s heels.

The metallic grinding echoed again, even louder, setting Church’s teeth on edge.

Veitch leaped for the platform and dragged Jack, Mahalia and Crowther onto it behind him. Church was a second too late. The path disappeared beneath his feet, but then four arms pulled him to safety. He fell in a heap with Veitch and Ruth. Her hand gripped his back and gave it a squeeze that told him all he needed to know, for now.

‘That was mental!’ Laura said when they were back inside. ‘Church-dude, you are a mad bastard and no mistake.’

Shavi hugged him tightly.

‘Enough of all that homoerotic stuff,’ Laura continued. ‘Can we toss the traitor off the top of the building now?’ She fixed a cold eye on Veitch. ‘I haven’t forgotten that knife you stuck in my chest in London.’

‘I knew you wouldn’t die.’

‘Yeah, but what about the agony, you tosser?’

Church searched Veitch’s face as his own doubts twisted inside him. ‘Are we going to fight?’

‘Up to you.’

‘I need both Keys, Ryan. I’m going to destroy the Void. Nothing else matters.’

Incomprehension flooded Veitch’s face. As it gradually cleared, it was replaced by an instant of revelation. ‘All right. I’m coming with you.’

‘You have got to be kidding!’ Laura exclaimed. ‘He’s murdered God knows how many of us, and now he wants to be friends!’

‘I didn’t say anything about that!’ A crack of emotion broke in Veitch’s voice.

‘Ryan’s done some awful things,’ Ruth began hesitantly. ‘He’s made a lot of mistakes, and we’re not going to forget that.’

‘Damn straight,’ Laura interjected.

‘But he can help us. We need to be Five again — we need to have all our strength if we’re going to face what lies ahead.’

‘You’re vouching for him?’ Church asked.

Ruth bit her lip, nodded.

Laura cursed loudly, but Shavi interrupted, indicating outside where the storm-clouds had made the city as dark as night.

Mahalia emerged from her daze. ‘What the hell’s going on? Who are you losers?’

‘Oh, look — a little Laura,’ Ruth said.

Mahalia slapped off Miller who was trying to comfort her, and he turned his attention to the awakening Jack and Crowther.

The metallic noise began to boom with a regular beat, and beneath it was a rustling whisper, growing louder.

‘What the hell is that?’ Laura asked quietly.

‘The people,’ Shavi replied, ‘speaking with one voice.’

As the sound grew, they could make out the words: Croatoan, Croatoan, repeated constantly.

Shavi drew their attention to the outline of buildings against the storm-clouds, now blurred with movement. ‘The spiders are coming,’ he said in awe.

Amidst a mounting sense of doom, they made their way to the sidewalk where Nelson and Tombstone waited in disbelief. The spiders swarmed across the sides of skyscrapers and surged up from the sewers.

‘Ten Billion, huh?’ Laura said.

‘I am starting to think that was a slight underestimation,’ Shavi replied.

Church grabbed Nelson. ‘We need to get back to Grand Central Terminal.’ Nelson nodded, dazed, and ordered Tombstone to commandeer a taxi.

Veitch pulled Church to one side. ‘What’s the point?’ he said quietly. ‘You heard that Sky God say all the gates to the Otherworld are closed. We’re stuck here.’

‘I’m not giving up, Ryan.’

Veitch shook his head, but as they raced as fast as they could through now-seething streets in two packed cars, he kept glancing at Church, his confused emotions playing out on his face.

All around people stood in a trance, faces turned to the boiling storm clouds, each of them quietly chanting, ‘Croatoan, Croatoan,’ in a preprogrammed ritual of release. Over it all, the flaming outline of the Burning Man was now clearly visible in the sky.

A small number of people who had seen through the Void’s spell and had spent their days living outsider lives now ran in horror, searching for some escape that they would never find.

‘This world is coming to an end,’ Tom said. ‘The Mundane Spell has been shattered once and for all, and you have become a threat to the Void’s rule. It’s shutting the planet down and starting again.’

‘All those people,’ Ruth said desperately.

‘There’s still hope for them. Nothing dies,’ Church replied. ‘It’s up to us now.’

At the entrance to Grand Central Terminal, Church asked the detectives to come with them. Nelson shook his head. ‘Somebody I’ve got to see.’ He looked out across the blackened, churning city. ‘She shouldn’t have to face this on her own.’

‘I’ll drive,’ Tombstone said with bright fatalism.

Church led the others down the sweeping steps and across the main concourse to the tracks.

‘You’re planning to catch a train?’ Laura said incredulously. ‘You’ve lost it!’

‘We’re going to the Far Lands.’

Veitch prodded Mahalia to keep moving and she glared at him murderously. ‘What are you planning?’ he asked.

At the end of the platform, Church sliced his arm with Caledfwlch and sent blood spraying across the rails. Within moments, the Last Train rumbled into the station in a cloud of steam and smoke. The doors slid open to reveal Ahken, smiling obsequiously, a cruel glint in his eyes.

‘I was expecting you for one last journey,’ he said.

‘Can you take us to the Far Lands?’ Church asked.

‘Of course. That is our next and final destination. We have always been travelling towards this time, towards that place. The end of the journey is near now.’

He stepped aside to let everyone on board. Church, Ruth and Veitch remained in the open doorway as clouds of steam gushed across the platform from the starting engines. They watched as a wave of scurrying black washed down over the platform. Everywhere they looked was black and seething. The city, the world, was being taken apart by the spiders.

The train pulled out of the station slowly, gathering speed.

‘It’s going,’ Ruth said. ‘It’s all going.’

‘The Blue Fire’s still out there,’ Church said. ‘And we’re not beaten. We’re stronger than ever.’

Veitch watched the spiders at work, his deep thoughts unreadable. ‘From now on, it’s war,’ he said, almost to himself.

They let the door close and took their seats with the others. Silence filled the carriage as they all pondered what they were leaving behind, and the weight of the responsibility that now lay on their shoulders.

Then Church drew Caledfwlch and said to Veitch, ‘Draw your sword.’

Puzzled, Veitch took out his blade. As the two great swords were slowly brought together, the black flames and the blue flames jumped towards each other, danced, mingled. Church winced at the touch of the cold as the fire around Caledfwlch grew a shade darker. But Veitch was wide-eyed with wonder as small blue flames shimmered amongst the black fire around his sword for the first time.

‘We’re ready for the fight,’ Church said, and seeing the confidence and hope shining in the faces of his Brothers and Sisters, he knew they all agreed. For the first time in a long while, they were all together, drawing from each other’s strengths. He felt a surge of pride and the belief that anything was possible.

The train moved out from the gathering darkness towards an uncertain future. The old age had passed. A new one lay ahead.