Seasons of War

She glared. “So I can’t fly at all? I have to walk for eleven weeks?”

“Much like the rest of us.”

“And that’s assuming Mevolent is even in Transylvania,” Skulduggery said. “But we have to start somewhere, so why not there? We’ll stay here tonight and set off in the morning.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “We get to stay in a palace?”

Tanith frowned at him. “The palace of a genocidal maniac in a dead city, yeah.”

“And we get to pick our own rooms?”

Tanith stared. “You are so weird.”

They used one of the kitchens to prepare their food, and ate at a banqueting table big enough to accommodate a couple of football teams. When they were done, they sat round a roaring fire and shared stories. Every time Serpine would try to speak, he was told to shut up. It was funny.

They said their goodnights and each of them wandered off to whichever bedroom they’d picked to sleep in. Valkyrie detoured, found Skulduggery as he patrolled the corridors.

“You ever get bored,” she asked, leaning against a corner with her arms folded, “of always being the one on watch?”

“Not really,” he said, walking over. “It’s not like I have to sleep.”

“But you like to meditate.”

“Being alone with my thoughts is almost as good.”

She swayed away from the wall, fell into step beside him. “What do you think about?”

“Many different things, Valkyrie. Often at the same time. Do you have something on your mind that you’d like to discuss? I have all night.”

She smiled, hooked her arm through his, and they walked like this for a while.

“Do you believe in fate?” she asked.

“I try not to believe in most things. Assumption is the enemy of truth.”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Valkyrie said. “On the one hand, we have all these prophecies, and visions of the future, which would lead you to, yeah, believe in fate. But then even the knowledge of these futures can change things. I mean, I haven’t seen one vision of the future that’s come true exactly as I saw it.

“But,” she continued, “it seems to be that, no matter what changes, the actual future still resembles the foreseen future in a big-picture kind of way – so doesn’t that lead you to believe that maybe there is something called fate, pulling events towards a preordained conclusion?”

“Possibly.”

“And then there are these alternate worlds,” Valkyrie said, getting into it now. “Some of them, fair enough, don’t resemble our own at all. But then there’s this one, where they have some of the same people we have in ours. Which means both worlds were running perfectly parallel until some point in the past when they diverged. In our world, Mevolent was killed. In this world, he wasn’t. So if we were both on the same tracks for millions of years until just recently – where were those tracks headed? To fate? To destiny?”

“It’s enough to boggle the mind,” Skulduggery said.

“If there’s a world like this, then there might be a world just like ours, right? That stayed on its tracks, just like we did. So there’s another me, and another you, just as you are now. But, if there is another us, then are they walking on an alternate yet identical world to this one right now? Having this same conversation? Talking about us the way we’re talking about them?”

“Maybe,” Skulduggery said. “What would be more likely is that they shunted over to this world, the same as we did. Which means, if they do exist, we should be meeting them at any moment.”

They stopped and looked around. “I don’t see any other us,” Valkyrie said. “Do you?”

“I do not.”

“To be honest, I’ve probably met enough different versions of myself that it wouldn’t faze me in the slightest.”

“This is true.”

They started walking again.

“Interesting,” he said.

“What is?”

“You described this world as travelling on a track parallel to ours, before it veered off.”

“Yes?”

“So how do you know we’re not the ones who veered?”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“If destiny waits at the end of the tracks, perhaps it’s this world that is heading towards it, and we’re lost in the wilderness somewhere, on tracks that lead nowhere.”

“Wow.”

“Your mind is boggled. I can tell. Your eyes are doing that spinning thing.”

Valkyrie grinned. “Shut up.”

“I don’t know if there is such a thing as destiny. The rational side of me is keen to dismiss the notion – but we work with magic. We work with concepts that routinely defy explanation until a new explanation is found. And then we encounter another concept that defies explanation all over again. So I don’t know if fate is secretly driving us behind an illusion of free will, but I would like to think that I’m responsible for myself, and I find no comfort in the idea that I’m being guided by an unseen hand.”

They slowed to a stop at the bedroom she’d chosen.

“What about you?” Skulduggery asked. “Do you believe in fate, or do you believe in yourself?”

Valkyrie frowned. “I’m not sure I believe in either.”

“Then you’re experiencing an existential crisis.”

“Will it be better by the morning?”

“Most likely.”

“Good,” she said, and kissed his cheekbone. “Goodnight, Skulduggery.”

“Goodnight, Valkyrie.”

She went into her room, and listened to his footsteps, slowly getting fainter.

Valkyrie woke, and couldn’t get back to sleep, so she lay there in the dark and thought about the music box. How soothing it would be to reach into her bag and open the lid, just a little bit, just enough to allow the music to slip out and dance gently over her. She never woke up in the middle of the night when the music box was playing. Bad dreams never played themselves out in the cinema inside her head, the light flickering, the sound jarring – not when the music box was open.

Valkyrie realised she needed to pee.

She got out of bed, feet bare on the cold floor, and took the amulet from the bedside table, pressing it to her belly and tapping it with a finger. The suit flowed out, bringing her warmth.

The toilet was down the corridor. It was a lavish thing. Lot of gold. When she was finished, she shuffled back towards her room, yawning.

She saw Skulduggery standing on the balcony, looking up. She wandered over.

Before Valkyrie could speak, he held up a hand, then motioned her onwards. She joined him where he stood, and looked up at the night sky. At first she couldn’t see what he was looking at – all she saw were the clouds and, through the gaps, the stars.

But then she saw the man.

She looked away for a moment, then back, her eyes readjusting. A man, in the sky, on giant shadow legs, looking down at the streets.

A Necromancer.

They backed away, off the balcony, hid themselves round the corner.

For three minutes, they didn’t speak. Skulduggery had his hand out, reading the air. He motioned to Valkyrie to prepare.

The Necromancer lowered himself down, the shadows dissipating once his feet touched the balcony. That’s where the smooth flow of his movements stopped. Each step from that moment on was little more than a lurch. His body was stiff, his fingers curled like the muscles were just too tight to straighten. In the moonlight, his eyes were dark circles against his pale skin, and his mouth hung slackly. A noise came from somewhere deep within him – a guttural moan.

He looked like a draugr except he was using magic, demonstrating intelligence, and his aura throbbed with a grey, swirling power.

They watched him walk into the Palace like a badly controlled marionette, and followed at a distance. He stopped outside the first bedroom he came to, the one Serpine had commandeered, head cocked to one side.

Skulduggery nudged Valkyrie, nodded downwards, and they watched the shadows at the Necromancer’s feet thread themselves under the closed door. Slowly, Skulduggery drew his gun. Valkyrie went for the Sceptre, realised she’d left it back in her room.

Then the shadows curled around the Necromancer and he was gone.

“Dammit,” Skulduggery muttered, and they ran to the bedroom. From inside there was a muffled curse and the sound of furniture hitting the ground. Valkyrie blasted the door apart and Skulduggery was the first through. The purple glow of the energy stream that flowed from Serpine’s left hand lit up the entire room, but the Necromancer’s shadows were blocking it from reaching him. As Valkyrie watched, the darkness wrapped itself around Serpine’s arm, yanking it to one side. The stream was cut off and the rest of those shadows turned sharp. Before they could start slicing, Skulduggery pulled the trigger. One bullet, perforating the Necromancer’s throat. He flopped backwards over the bed, the shadows withdrawing into him.

Serpine got to his feet. “You see?” he said. “This is what I’m reduced to – a mere Energy Thrower. I could have defended myself quite capably if you hadn’t made me wear this ridiculous glove.”

Tanith ran in, sword drawn. Saracen and Dexter followed. Luke sprinted in behind them in his underwear.

“Are we killing him?” Saracen asked, immediately advancing towards Serpine. Before he got there, the Necromancer stood up and Saracen raised an eyebrow. “Who’s this guy?”

Shadows convulsed, throwing Saracen against the wall and flinging Skulduggery back. Tanith leaped, flipping over the bed, her sword cutting through a tendril of darkness that came for her. Dexter unleashed twin streams of energy that burrowed a large hole through the Necromancer’s chest.

The Necromancer staggered. Valkyrie could see the rear wall through his torso. The organs within were shrivelled, the blood dark and congealed. The injury didn’t seem to bother him.

Shadows came for them all, wrapping around their wrists, their ankles, lifting them off their feet, twisting them in place. More shadows slashed at them. Dexter cried out and Saracen howled and Luke screeched, but Valkyrie’s suit protected her. Lightning streaked from her fingertips. The shadows released her as the Necromancer went tumbling backwards. She hit the ground. They all did.

When she got up, Tanith was plunging her sword through the Necromancer’s head, but the blade went too low, and missed the brain. The Necromancer slammed her into the wall. Serpine tried to tackle him from behind, but the Necromancer just threw him towards Skulduggery as he ran in, drawing the God-Killer sword. A wave of Skulduggery’s hand, however, and Serpine’s trajectory was altered and he collided with the wall instead, and Skulduggery ducked under a slashing shadow and swept the sword diagonally across the Necromancer’s body.

The Necromancer fell in two parts. The shadows stopped moving.

A few seconds passed before Skulduggery looked round. “Is everyone all right?”

“You hit me with a wall,” Serpine moaned from the floor.

“Is everyone else all right?”

“I’m going to need stitches,” Saracen said, holding his side. Blood trickled between his fingers. “But I’m OK. Dex?”

“Fine,” said Dexter. Blood soaked through his sleeve.

“Owwww,” said Luke.

Tanith rubbed her elbow. “What the hell was that? Was that a draugr?”

“Draugar can’t use magic,” Serpine said, managing to stand without any help from anyone.

Skulduggery put the sword away. “Well, this one did.”

“Then it’s not a draugr. It must be something else.”

“It certainly looked like a draugr.”

“I have a question,” Valkyrie said.

Serpine ignored her. “I realise that it looked like a draugr. I realise that it sounded like a draugr. But, because a draugr can’t use magic, then it stands to reason that it is not, in fact, a draugr.”

“A question?” Valkyrie said.

“It must be something else,” Serpine continued. “Related, certainly. But an offshoot of a thing is not the thing itself.”

Valkyrie sighed. “My question is, since it came pretty close to killing a lot of us, was it alone?”

That stopped the bickering. Everyone looked to Saracen as he peered through the walls. Valkyrie expected him to shrug and give the all clear. She was not expecting him to suddenly crouch, eyes wide, pointing to the wall behind Dexter.

Valkyrie crouched, too. She didn’t know why.

Saracen held up three fingers, and indicated to three different points on the wall, then swept his arm to the right. Three of them. All moving in the same direction. All coming closer.

Skulduggery activated his façade so they could read his lips when he mouthed, “Grab your stuff.”

Valkyrie didn’t know a whole lot about boats, but the others seemed to, so she left them to it and curled up in the cabin as dawn reached its golden fingers round the edge of the world.

When she woke, they were on the sea, the waves rolling beneath them. The vessel they’d commandeered was called the Trident – definitely not the biggest boat on offer, but Skulduggery had reckoned it was ideal for their needs, so no one argued. He stood up top, hands on the wheel, the boat taking his magic and transferring it to whatever propulsion system these things used when the sails weren’t enough.

There was a storm ahead, but not in the clouds. The storm that was coming was in Valkyrie’s head. She could feel it. It wasn’t affecting her yet, but it was definitely on the horizon, so she took a Splash of magic from her bag. She’d only brought a handful, and she was already on the last few. She let it dissolve on her tongue, felt the power pump through her. Always guaranteed to put a smile on her face and to head off any storm before it hit.

She stepped out on deck, took a deep breath, felt the warm sun and the salt sting on her face. The sea glittered, unpolluted by generations of mortal industry and human greed. She bet the fish were happier in this universe than her own.

Luke was hanging over the side of the boat, retching.

Valkyrie climbed the ladder, up to where Skulduggery steered. “Permission to come aboard, Cap’n?”

“You’re already aboard,” he responded.

“Permission to come up here, then.”

“By all means.”

She joined him. The wind whipped her hair. “Any sign of mermaids, Sea Hags, anything like that?”

“Not so far,” he said, “but I found some maps down below with the no-go areas clearly marked. It’s going to take a little more time to manoeuvre around them, but the extra effort will be worth it if we don’t all horribly die.”

“And how long will all this take?”

“At the rate we’re going, we’ll get to where we’re going in less than a week,” he said. “Probably.”

“So we might be a little later getting home.”

“That’s a distinct possibility. Are you worried about Xena?”

Valkyrie smiled. “No, I’m sure Militsa will be able to buy a second bag of dog food. But what about that Necromancer? Why do you think he was still able to access his magic?”

“I don’t have enough information yet to form an opinion.”

“Then let’s guess.”

“Oh, I like guessing.”

“I know you do.”

“OK then,” said Skulduggery, correcting their course ever so slightly, “it might simply be that the draugar virus affects Necromancers differently because they’re practitioners of death magic. It may allow them to keep their magic, plus some of their higher faculties. They could still remember who they are, for instance.”

“That’s a possibility,” Valkyrie said.

“That wouldn’t be your guess?”

“I took a peek at his aura. It was strong. Like, really strong. The average draugr, from what I’ve seen, only has a faint trickle of magic. But that Necromancer … the virus actually made him more powerful.”

“You think they infected themselves on purpose?”

“Maybe. I mean, I know it’s a pretty drastic move, and I have no idea why anyone would sacrifice their life and their consciousness like that …”

“Let’s not assume we know about their consciousness,” Skulduggery said. “Yes, he seemed to be capable of some degree of thought, but, until we know for sure, we’ll tread carefully. That said …”

“Yes?”

“You ask why they’d do this to themselves. If they can interact with the regular draugar, maybe steer them, or even control them—”

“Then they’re why the draugar surrounded the city,” Valkyrie said. “So the Necromancers are working against Mevolent.”

“Remember: these are guesses.”

“I know, I know, but this is getting interesting.” They went over a big wave that did its best to rock Valkyrie where she stood. “The Necromancers decide to go to war with Mevolent. They need an army, so they release the draugar virus. But they’re also going up against Lord Vile, so they need their own power boost. Do you think that guy was at Vile’s level?”

“Close to it, at least,” Skulduggery said. “Vile is as powerful as he is because he’s a dead man wielding Necromancy. If we’re right, these Necromancers decided to follow his example in order to defeat him.”

“So they infect themselves,” Valkyrie said, and brightened. “Is this good news? Not for, like, everyone who’s dead, because all that’s still really sad, but, if the Necromancers are at war with Mevolent, maybe they’ll kill him before we even get to him. Maybe they already have. Wouldn’t that be great? We could all go home! We’ll leave Serpine here, obviously, but the rest of us could definitely head on back.”

“You have a knack for looking on the bright side of things, Valkyrie. That’s why I like you.”

“One of the reasons,” she said, and grinned. “Can I steer the boat for a bit?”

“No.”

“Go on. I’m not going to crash into anything all the way out here.”

“You’d find something.”

“Just let me steer, Skulduggery. Just a little bit. Please?”

“If you can point to starboard, I’ll let you steer for five minutes.”

Cautiously, Valkyrie pointed up.

“Amazing,” Skulduggery said.

“Am I right?”

“You pointed up. How is a boat supposed to turn in the direction of up?”

“I don’t know. If it does a flip? Do boats do flips? What am I thinking of? Gymnasts, that’s what. Always get those two mixed up. So can I drive?”

“Absolutely.”

“Really?”

“No.”

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