Fated

It comes as a bit of a shock when you stop to take a look around and realise just how badly you’ve managed to screw things up, especially when all your decisions seemed like good ideas at the time. Within a few days, two of the most powerful mages in England were going to want me personally and painfully dead.

So what was I going to do about it?

Staying faithful to either Levistus or Morden wasn’t even worth considering. Morden’s little speech had left me cold; I’d made the mistake of swearing fealty to a Dark mage once and there was no way I was doing it again. And Levistus had made it very clear that he would keep me around exactly as long as I was useful and not one second longer. Both would be happy to have me killed as soon as the fateweaver was in their hands, assuming the other didn’t do it first.

Running wasn’t an option either. I had no idea where I was, nor how far this mansion’s wards reached; any attempt to break out would be a roll of the dice even without the guards and defences. A better plan would be to wait until we set out and try to slip away. With my magic, I could probably pull it off … but all that would earn me would be assassins in my footsteps. Neither Levistus nor Morden struck me as the forgiving type.

Force was out; so was alliance. I turned it around and looked at the problem the other way. What did I have going for me?

Knowledge. I was the only person in the world who knew how to open that relic. Morden knew about the key and maybe Levistus did too, but I was the only one who knew that Luna had to be the one to turn it. But what I could learn, others could learn. Right now I was the only one who knew, but no secret this big could stay a secret for long.

So how could I use it?

Snatches of the conversations I’d heard in the last two days floated to the top of my memory. Arachne saying how seers carried great power in times of conflict. Levistus talking about fateweavers, how commanders had carried them in the Dark Wars. Morden talking about action, purpose.

It’s hard to know exactly where ideas come from. Pieces of thought and memory assemble at the back of our minds, creating something more than the sum of their parts. I think it was then my plan started to come together, but only as something vague and shadowy. All I knew was that I needed to talk to Luna, but there was no way I could reach her.

At least, not in body …

I looked into the future: for this to work, I’d have to be sleeping at the same time that Luna was. Luck was with me and, after only an hour, I knew that now was the time. I lay down on the bed and relaxed my muscles, letting the warmth soak into my body. Night had fallen and the only light in the room was the flickering glow of the fire. My eyes drifted closed, and as I began to fall into a slumber I took my mind beyond dreams, to somewhere else. Beyond … beyond … Sleep came.

10

I was back home, standing on the balcony outside my bedroom window. Before me was Camden … or what looked like Camden. The street and the bridge and the houses were the same, but everything was brighter than it should be, the colours suffused with white. The air was still, without a breath of wind, and the canal reflected the sky like a mirror. There was no sun, but the whole sky seemed to glow. The city was so silent that you could have heard a car starting from miles away, except there weren’t any cars. This wasn’t London. This was Elsewhere.

Elsewhere is a world, but it’s not a place. It’s empty, yet you seem to meet someone no matter where you go. You can’t travel to it in the flesh, only in dreams, but the things that happen can be real, and the creatures you meet play by rules you can’t understand.

Even the most powerful mages are reluctant to travel to Elsewhere. Things live here, phantoms who can wear the faces of friends and enemies long dead, who try to trick travellers away from the paths home until they’re lost to wander for ever … or so the stories say. Others claim that Elsewhere is an illusion, a reflection of your own mind, and all you find here is what you bring with you. Still others say that Elsewhere is the place where the world of the living meets the world of the dead, and that from here you can cross from one to the other. I don’t know if any of the stories are true. What I do know is that there have been mages who’ve gone to sleep, intending to reach Elsewhere, and never woken up.

I turned and walked into my bedroom. The desk and wardrobe held items, glinting invitingly, but I didn’t stop to take them. I took the stairs down to the ground floor of my shop. By the time I reached my front door, the world outside had changed: instead of the Camden street, the door now opened onto a courtyard of cracked white flagstones. I stepped out and heard my footsteps echo around the walls. Windows looked down from balconies on all sides and an archway led off into what looked like another courtyard. I glanced back to see that my shop had disappeared. Behind was only a blank wall.