JUST when she thought she was getting used to this place it changed again. One moment they were travelling across a loose shale cliffside, the next they were on an open plain of grass. When grass turned to sand and they were suddenly surrounded by open desert, Livia was in awe at the sight, transported back to her time in the Ramadi Wastes. But no sooner had she acclimatised to that than they were trekking along the edge of a rocky cliff, wind whipping the sea beneath an ominous grey sky.
The Hermit took the lead. He wore a battered hat at a jaunty angle and a moth-eaten jacket that apparently shielded him from the conditions, despite its many holes. No matter the state of the elements he set a heady pace, whistling some tune she didn’t recognise, swinging his walking stick like he was out for a summer stroll. Behind her, Hera helped Mandrake along as best she could. He seemed even more befuddled now they had left the safety of the cottage, as though the environment were robbing him of his few remaining faculties. Hera did her best to gently coax him along but at times it was difficult. Despite the trouble she had, Hera stoutly refused any help from Livia, determined to struggle along on her own.
‘So what’s the deal with this place?’ Livia asked the Hermit, finally sick of his whistling. ‘Why does everything shift and change of its own accord?’
The Hermit turned and gave her a wry smile, before splaying his arms and looking upwards. ‘Why does the sun shine? Why does the wind blow? Why do the—’
‘You’re about as much use as shit in a pair of new shoes, you know that?’
The Hermit seemed genuinely hurt. ‘I was only trying to answer your question.’
‘You mean you don’t know?’
He looked a little sheepish. ‘Yes, that’s probably what I was getting at in a roundabout way.’
‘It’s madness,’ Livia said.
‘Only because it’s not what you’re used to. This place simply doesn’t obey the same rules as your world. Its geography is not beholden to any law, and neither is time.’
‘Neither is time? What does that mean?’
‘It means a day here could be a year there, could be a century somewhere else.’
Livia felt that hit her like a dart. ‘You mean I could get back home and find everyone I’ve ever known has been dead for a thousand years?’
The Hermit gave her a piteous glance. ‘Firstly, the chances of you getting back home are infinitesimally small. Secondly… yes, I suppose you’re right.’
She shook her head. ‘You know, you really are a tiny bundle of joy. Has anyone ever told you that?’
The Hermit smiled, missing her sarcasm. ‘Why yes. Several times, actually.’
Livia went back to plodding behind the strange little man, wondering if this had been such a good idea after all. Maybe she should have accepted the safety of that cottage in the mountains. Maybe this had been folly all along.
But of course it wasn’t. A tiny chance was better than no chance.
As they rounded the jutting headland, the Hermit stopped. Following his gaze Livia saw a monument standing in the middle of some flat grassland. It was a portal, fully ten feet tall, its stone frame carved with strange sigils and sprouting outlandish sculptures. In its centre was a pulsating mass, like some kind of gelatinous pool that occasionally bulged and beat with life.
‘Short cut,’ said the Hermit.
‘We’re going through that?’ Livia asked, remembering the last time she had passed through a similar portal and the feeling of utter emptiness it had given her.
‘Unless you’d rather walk for another hundred years?’ said the Hermit.
‘Let’s go,’ Livia replied, taking the lead and striding down the hill towards where the huge gateway stood.
When she was within twenty yards of it, the sporadic pulsing of the portal’s surface changed to a violent throb. With a hollow popping sound, like when she had to pull her leg from the muddy earth, three figures emerged from the other side.
They stood tall, unaffected by their journey through the portal. Each was bare-chested, head bedecked in a grey wolf pelt, animal hide covering pitch-black skin. They held spears adorned with feathers and bird bones. Livia had never seen a group of more muscular men, their waists impossibly thin, their shoulders bulging impossibly broad.
‘Ah,’ said the Hermit, stepping in front of Livia. ‘We have company.’
His voice bore none of its previous humour, and it scared her.
One of the wolfmen came to stand before the Hermit, looking down on the tiny man as though he were about to pounce.
‘This portal leads to the sovereign territory of Lord Luphir,’ he said, voice deeper than a well. ‘You will pay tribute.’
‘I see,’ said the Hermit nervously. ‘That’s a new one. Last time I passed this way Kastion was in charge.’
‘Luphir ousted that bitch from her perch a year ago. Now, are you going to pay tribute or am I going to take your head?’
The Hermit glanced back at his travelling companions. ‘I… don’t really have much to offer,’ he said.
The wolfman looked up, seeing Livia standing there. The look on his face made her feel like she was part of a forthcoming banquet.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ said the leader.
The Hermit shook his head. ‘Luphir won’t want her, trust me. She’d be very stringy. Probably repeat on him later.’
‘We’ll let Luphir be the judge,’ said the wolfman, shoving the Hermit out of the way and taking a step towards her.
Livia backed away, fear rising within her as the huge beast of a man loomed down.
Suddenly the warrior braced himself, brandishing his spear defensively, as Hera rushed past Livia, sword raised. She went at the wolfman with abandon, and he was at pains to parry her blows. The other warriors rushed forward to meet Hera, their spears held at the ready. Livia turned, seeing Mandrake on the ground, hands over his ears as he rocked back and forth like a scolded child. Livia wanted to shout at the bulging idiot, to scream for him to help, but he was clearly no good for anything.
The Hermit stood to one side, watching proceedings with a curious look on his face. Hera was going to die and he was just standing there. The woman was surrounded now, her attack turned to defence as the wolfmen jabbed at her with their spears. For every lunge she responded with a parry, but she couldn’t hold them off forever.
Livia’s rage grew inside her like a wellspring. Something was boiling up within, churning like the strange sea she had looked out on moments before. Roiling like the surface of that portal. This place fuelled a fire within her she couldn’t quench… not even if she’d wanted to.
She rushed forward, not knowing what she was going to do – just that she had to do something. The first of the wolfmen turned to regard her. He brought his spear about, ready to impale her where she stood.
Feeling that rage inside, that primal hate, all Livia could do was bellow at the warrior.
Her voice was a cacophony, all her fury and pent-up aggression funnelled through her mouth. The wolfman was thrust into the air and thrown into the sky until he disappeared into the distant grey cloud.
Everybody stopped.
‘What the fuck?’ Livia said.
She barely had time to dodge to one side as another spear was thrust at her. Hera jumped in, sword flashing, but one of the wolfmen batted her aside with his muscular arm, a crunching blow that sent her sprawling.
Two warriors bore down on Livia now. She tried to summon that power once more, tried to channel whatever magic she had conjured, but she was spent. There was nothing left inside her to call upon.
One of the wolfmen kicked her in the chest and she fell in the dirt, teeth clattering together. From the ground she stared up helplessly at the tip of a spear, waiting for it to slice through her flesh.
Before the wolfman could impale her, he exploded. Blood spattered Livia’s face and her front was covered in guts. She barely had a chance to lock eyes with the last wolfman, who looked as surprised as she was, before he too exploded into red ribbons of flesh and ichor.
Livia wiped the gore from her eyes and found the Hermit standing there. He was pointing his walking stick as though ready to shoot an arrow from it. Instead he smiled, spinning it in his hand, then leaning on it jauntily.
‘Right, that’s it,’ Livia said, rising to her feet. More guts slipped from her frock and spattered onto the ground. ‘No more lies. No more vague, ephemeral riddles. Who the bloody hell are you?’
The Hermit nodded, as though she had found him out. As though he’d been hiding some big secret but Livia had gotten to the bottom of it and now he had to confess.
‘My name is Durius,’ said the Hermit. ‘Though in Canbria you would know me best as the god Urien the Trickster. Hera would call me Duchor, although the legends they ascribe to me in the Ramadi are invariably false. It’s all very bloodthirsty up there and they do have a tendency to exaggerate.’
‘You’re a bloody Archon?’ Livia said.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Durius. ‘But the more pressing question is – who are you?’
Livia shook her head. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘What you just did. We all saw it. Unbridled power booming from your tonsils. Only the most devout sorcerer should be capable of that, and yet you come from a land that has been cut off from magic for a hundred years.’
‘Well, you’re the expert,’ she said. ‘You tell me.’
Durius placed a finger to his lips, pondering the problem. ‘Could be that you spent so long with Innellan inside your head you took a part of her with you. That’s rare but not unheard of.’
Livia shook her head. ‘No, that bitch is gone. Completely. I had power in the other place, the mortal land, and that was her acting through my body. But here, it’s just… me.’
‘Well then, I have no idea,’ said Durius with a shrug.
‘Great,’ Livia replied. ‘All-seeing, all-knowing Archon, and you don’t know where my power comes from.’
‘I’m a god, my dear. But no one’s perfect.’ With that he flipped his stick into the cruck of his arm and headed towards the portal.
Hera had managed to get Mandrake to his feet now, and they followed Durius to the edge of the pulsating door.
‘Any surprises on the other side we should be ready for?’ asked Livia.
Durius turned. ‘Isn’t that the point of surprises? You don’t get to find out in advance.’
With a wink he jumped through the portal and disappeared.
Hera stumbled past her, looking up with a defeated expression. ‘Count yourself lucky,’ she said. ‘I had weeks of this before you turned up.’ With that, she and Mandrake stumbled through the magical gateway.
Livia gave one last look around at the mournful sky above and the remains of the bodies on the floor.
Well, she wasn’t going to get any answers waiting around here. Stepping forward, she let the portal take her.