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Corrigan, unbidden by me, blasted the insects with a fire spell, nearly singeing the rest of us in the process, but the bugs showed no sign of distress, and the flames did them no harm.
Our fear turned to horror when the insects began to crawl all over each other, making a heap, as bugs continued to pour from the brothers’ gaping mouths. The growing mound of insects began to writhe as it rose higher and higher, like dust caught in a whirlwind. All the while, a buzzing sound filled the seven-sided chamber, rising in pitch and volume like a cross between a lover’s voice coming to the final point of ecstasy and a massive nest of wasps we’d had the misfortune to disturb.
‘They’re turning into something,’ Galass said, ‘but. . .’
The question died on her lips as the buzzing dropped, almost to a sigh, and the transformation completed. Before us now stood a being who might have been mistaken for a man, were it not for the twelve eyes circling his head like a crown, and the way his gleaming, coppery flesh was made from thousands of crawling insects.
We had just met our first Pandoral.
Aradeus, ever the diplomat, slid his rapier back in its scabbard and gave a short, courteous bow. ‘Greetings, my friend. You have just accomplished something wondrous, something never before achieved. You are the first Pandoral being to set foot upon the Mortal demesne.’ The rat mage extended a hand. ‘You and I have an opportunity, one heretofore unknown to two entities as different as we are from one another. We could, with a single choice, a single act of decency and dignity, put aside violence and distrust and set a course for both our peoples towards understanding and peace.’
The glittering being stared down at the proffered hand, so still that even the bugs comprising his body stopped fluttering and twitching. Two of the twelve eyes looked down to meet the rat mage’s gaze, then the other eyes studied each of us in turn, as if trying to decide what to make of the bizarre creatures before him.
At last he smiled, and in a voice formed of the beating of thousands of wings, perfectly modulated to create pitch and tone, said, ‘You will serve.’
Chapter 49
The Pandoral
You will serve.The first words ever spoken by the inhabitants of a neighbouring plane of existence to those of ours: a proclamation meant to instil terror and subservience.
This guy didn’t understand who he was dealing with at all.
‘Alas, great Pandoral,’ I said, offering our visitor a bow even deeper and more elaborate than the one Aradeus had given moments before, ‘I got out of the servant business some time ago. And you, I’m afraid, have already outstayed your welcome.’
As I stood back up, I blasted him with the desecration spell I’d negotiated from a very perturbed Tenebris hours before.
‘You can’t be serious,’the diabolic had said.‘Do you not have the phrase “the cure is worse than the disease” in your realm?’
But I’d been implacable in my demands, and despite all his warnings, he’d eventually relented.
The desecration spell is a particularly destructive form of Infernal magic. It’s built on the aspect of the physical laws of their realm that splits consciousness from ecclesiasm. Basically, it tears your spirit– or the thousands of tiny bug souls that make up your spirit– into infinitesimal fragments of self-destructive misery. The desecration is the undisputed king of unmaking spells; the hellborn conjuration that shredded Ascendant Lucien in his tent and the weeping arrow I used on that idiot cosmist back at the Jalbraith Canal both look like candle flames trying to outshine the sun next to a desecration spell.
Black, green and red gobs glimmering like vomit-shaped chunks of onyx, emeralds and rubies spewed from my outstretched hands to spray all over the Pandoral. The onyx bits splintered like tiny knives, separating the individual bugs making up his form from one another. The gleaming rubies exploded into thousands of tiny fireballs while the green stuff was busy poisoning minuscule aspects of the Pandoral’s consciousness and spirit, not that you could see that bit. And it was happening all at once.
Thousands upon thousands of little screams echoed around the seven-sided chamber as the bugs fell apart onto the floor, until at last, silence returned. Then, after a decent pause to let me think I’d won, they skittered back together, climbing over each other once again until the Pandoral stood before us once more.
‘You will se—’
‘Yeah, a moment if you please,’ I said, then turned to Corrigan. ‘You’re up.’
It occurs to me that I might have made Tempestoral spells all sound the same, like it’s all just one big pile of loud, blinding bolts of fire and lightning and whatever the hell other disasters emerge from that plane of reality when you open a breach into it. But I’m sure Corrigan– and all Tempestoral mages, really– would want me to tell you that it’s not all noisy blasts. There’s nuance. Subtlety. Texture.
‘Burn, you motherfucking bug piece of shit arsehole!’ Corrigan bellowed, and unleashed enough raw destructive force to make every previous spell I’d ever seen him cast look like a butterfly kiss. Somebody– maybe it was Shame or Alice– had the sense to wrap the rest of us in some kind of preservation spell to keep us from being turned to ash. I’m not sure Corrigan was particularly concerned either way; he just wanted to obliterate the Pandoral, no matter who else died in the process.
The walls all around us started to fall apart. Individual stones that had been rippling from whatever reality-warping spells the Seven Brothers had been using to prepare the way for the Pandorals were now separating from their mortar and catapulting towards us like a giant spitting out broken teeth.
‘Andthat’show you take care of business,’ Corrigan said when it was over. At least, I’m imagining that’s what he said, as I was pretty much deaf by that point, so I couldn’t hear him any better than I could the Pandoral, who was busy assembling himself out of the swarm of bugs again before repeating, ‘You will serve.’
Alice tried slicing him with her whip blade, but it passed right through his body and the swarm came back together unharmed. Aradeus stabbed the Pandoral with his rapier– yeah, I know how stupid that sounds, but rat mages have their own destructive spells, and he wasn’t letting anybody take over the Mortal realm without a fight. Shards of grey magic, like tiny claws, erupted from the tip of his sword, each one tearing at one of the insects holding the invader’s body together.
Galass, teeth gritted and eyes bleeding tears, summoned up the blood magic she so despised and turned it on the Pandoral, drawing oozing red droplets from the insects. Shame reached out with her hands and began distorting the swarm’s shape, weakening its cohesion, leaving it vulnerable to the attacks of the others. Fidick’s young, beautiful face became even more stunning as alabaster skin glowed with golden light. When he spoke, the Auroral Song emerged from between his lips, a vibration that shook the Pandoral’s form, causing dozens of insects to fall apart from the others, landing like raindrops on the stone floor.
Together, the seven of us gave the Pandoral a good taste of what happens when you go around trying to conquer the Mortal realm.
Corrigan caught my eye and he grinned like we were back at the Ascendant’s camp, laying siege to some citadel or castle. He looked almost happy– and proud, actually. All this time, I’d been so focused on the machinations of those who’d brought the seven of us together– the Lords Celestine, the Devilish, Hazidan Rosh, even our own apparently insignificant choices– that I’d never realised that there was something marvellously messed up about this little coven of ours: Corrigan, with his thunderer’s conjurations of lightning and fire and just about every other destructive force you can imagine; Galass, with her blood magic, able to tamper with the essence of life itself; Aradeus, the dashing rat mage, his spells a mixture of trickster magic and daring. Even I was no slouch, with my complement of Infernal spells meant to poison minds and summon any number of ugly things to the world. Add to that we had an angelic and a demoniac on our side– never before, to my knowledge, brought together. And finally Fidick, the beautiful boy in whose radiance you could sense the hands of both Lords Celestine and Devilish resting gently upon his shoulders.
Fighting together like that, blending our disparate abilities into an utterly insane combination of tactics and assaults as we gave our all to a humanity none of us had ever really felt a part of? It was like. . . it was like being part of a family.
