Chapter 125: Chapter 125

The bastard sword sliced through the waves of Artemises like a hot knife through butter. I couldn’t have asked for a better weapon and completed the seemingly overwhelming task of staying alive surprisingly well, clearing the way of all invading Artemises.

The last one fell, evaporating in a cloud of black mist and I let the sword rest, tip down, on the ground. While it was easy to cut through my enemies, it was still a heavy thing to be swinging around, even for a short period of time.

I took a moment to calm my breathing, then straightened and looked more properly around me.

As I’d been fighting and running, the world around me had been shifting from memory to memory and I hadn’t wanted to risk paying it too much attention. But now that the immediate threat was passed, perhaps it was best to figure out where I was. Thɪs chapter is updated by NoveI(F)ire.net

The street was empty and the dark sky and street lamps thronging with moths and other nightly crawlies suggested it was around midnight or very, very early morning. Somewhere nearby a croaking frog in the drains send disembodied echoes up and down the street, setting a slow rhythm for the night.

I kept the sword by my side though I was very conscious that anyone looking at me would immediately be able to tell what it was and how sharp. For now there was no one, but this Coil had a way of making the unexpected happen.

I looked around and discovered that the security gate of a low-rise apartment block was open and I headed towards it.

It was an old building in an old district with not even a hint of a CCTV camera. By the curb there were plastic bags heaped up by the overflowing, orange rubbish bins and I gave it a wide birth. It smelt funny.

The state of things in the stairwell was the same with peeling paint and naked electrical wires haphazardly nailed to the ceilings and walls, looking like a black river of plastic and metal.

At the end of the first flight, I came to three closed and locked doors flanked by rusting security gates. They reminded me of the doors I’d seen in the Walled City way back, especially from the murky radio broadcast I could hear through the walls.

What kind of a memory was this? This was Artemis’ memory Coil and so these should, and had, been his memories, so what was a place doing in them? He couldn’t have... lived here, right?

I began up the next flight of stairs, mulling the issue over.

Status and appearance were the two most important things to my father, I’d known that since I was small, so I couldn’t imagine him choosing to live in a place . Had things gotten that bad in Pearl City for him that he had to escape out here? Surely not...

I came the top of the second flight and it was much the same there. I rounded the corner and headed up again.

On the fourth floor, unlucky four, I finally found something a little different: an open door. The security gate was still closed, but after feeling about, I found the latch to unlock it and it swung open without any protest.

Of course, I was going in, that wasn’t even up for debate. A better question was ’what would I find there?’

I renewed my grip on the sword and held it up with both hands like a baseball bat. Better safe then sorry, no?

The place was dark, and the light from the naked lightbulb in the stairwell was far from enough, so, after stepping over the threshold, I spent a moment searching the inside wall beside the door for a light switch. When I found it, I flicked it on, half expecting it to not work, and discovered that not only did it still work but that I knew why this place was in Artemis’ memories.

There was a long hall from the entrance and the wooden floor was covered with a thick, European-styled rug that complemented the walls and the wallpaper plastered to it. The light came from two metal lamps that flanked the entrance and for a moment I thought I’d perhaps teleported back to Pretan.

Our house hadn’t been exactly but it was similar enough for me to know that this place was, without a shadow of the doubt, Artemis’ home in Pearl City.

There was a neat, wooden shoe rack next to the door but I chose to instead step, with my shoes, around the rug. If I had to fight, slippers would just slow me down and, besides, what needs was there for me to be polite to this man, especially in an imagined space.

I continued down the hall to the combined dining and living room. Here the classical European decor continued, though punctuated with a few modern touches here and there.

In the centre of the room, and incredibly out of place, was a square sideboard with a large basin placed on it. Clearly, its position in the room meant it was significant, but to what the significance was, I had no idea. Best to check it out.

Still walking slowly, I approached the basin and discovered that it was filled to the brim with water. Or at least, it had looked like water up until I came close.

On nearing, the surface rippled and a black plume erupted from within. I stepped back, readying the sword, but nothing happened and I stood down and watched as the liquid turned fully black.

Then purple, blue, and finally white.

Then an image appeared.

The vantage point that the basin showed was far off, like a crane shot from an action movie, but I could still tell it was you firing off your bow as Arthur went for you. You and him were running from boat to boat on a lake, a somewhat bizarre setting that would not have been out of place in a kungfu flick from the nineties, clashing each time the pair of you came close.

Worry formed a lump in my throat. Though you had a ranged weapon, and Arthur looked unarmed, it was clear that you were losing the advantage and losing it fast.

Without meaning to, I reached into the basin. I think my subconscious desire had been to reach for you and pull you to safety somehow, and as I did, the image in the basin changed. For a moment I thought I’d broken the connection but then I saw that rather than mucking things up, my impulsive move had instead changed the vantage point of the ’camera’ that was showing these events. It was now far closer to you and on eye level.

You’d mentioned to me that Arthur Penn had clearly been keeping close tabs on you for many years. Perhaps he did this through his minions with tools , it seemed likely enough.

I pulled my hand from the water and saw that the vantage point did not change. If I could see you, and what I saw really was what was going on (and I had every reason to believe it since this whole thing was a plan you and I’d concocted together) then could I perhaps make it a two way connection?

Could I perhaps... My eyes fell to the sword hanging from my left hand.

Bran shot off another bolt, rolled forward then continued running without bothering to see how Arthur dealt with the attack.

He’d given up trying to learn from the man and was now fully focused on just keeping ahead though he could feel himself tiring.

He could generate more boats to let him continue running indefinitely, but his body had limits as did his mind. Being the master of the Coil had its obvious advantages, but one lesser known disadvantage was related to the cognitive load the master had to carry when running a space. Normally, the advantage of having near complete control meant things didn’t drag on until it became an issue, but this was clearly what was happening now.

Bran paused his retreat to switch to a set of daggers and nearly lost his head as Arthur made a swipe for him. Bran had been right earlier about Arthur’s range likely being larger than it initially appeared.

Now it looked like the man could attack at least up to four metres away from himself and Bran bemoaned the fact that he’d never learned to fight with a shield, speed always having been his strength. Then again, even if he had a shield, it wouldn’t have been much use without a proper sword.

Bran sprung up, planting a foot against the side of a boat’s cabin and used it to launch a sudden swipe at Arthur’s back.

The latter was slightly slow in reacting and yet the blade did not find its target. Instead it seemed to slide harmlessly against some invisible barrier and to the side, setting Bran off balance.

Had Arthur deployed some kind of force field around him? That seemed to be the only reasonable explanation, yet it should also have been impossible given Bran’s control of the space. Did Arthur have the ability to ascend in authority?

And just as Bran was running out of energy, so too was Arthur running out of patience, Bran could feel it in the impact of each blow.