The Knowledge (The Circle Book 2) Read online

  “That is. . . quite a brood you have there more offspring than any one being truly needs to secure their legacy”

  She cackled. “It is not a legacy that makes me wish to breed, you of all people should know that. . . at least I remain present as a parent. . . let alone have the decency to breed only with my own kind.

  She gestured to a mountain in the distance. But on closer inspection, Shaman could tell that it was no mountain. It was a creature, lying perfectly still in slumber, a rest that had already lasted aeons, and would likely last aeons more.

  There was a glint by the base of the creature, one that formed the shape of something familiar. And with a subtle turn of his step, he directed them towards the gargantuan beast, whilst hoping that a confessional turn to the conversation might distract his sister from him re-routing their journey.

  “It is not my wish to abandon my children. . . there is a reason for all things, a future they are being prepared for.”

  “Oh Sha'ma, how many times have I told you not to trust a damn thing Three tells you. . . That mutated crossbreed has machinations of their own, the likes of which you can't even begin to comprehend with just the one head. . .”

  A shiver went down his spine, as Kahgo remembered that Faith was watching through his eyes, and listening through his ears. They were speaking in an old tongue, one that Faith would likely not be able to comprehend, but that did not mean he would not get the gist of what was being discussed. If he heard the mention of Three, if he learned that they were more than just three men born in curious circumstances, that would change more than just the status quo of the Circle.

  He kept the fear to himself, balled it up inside, and did all he could to lock it away and not allow Faith anywhere near it. As far as he could tell, the man who watched through his eyes was observing in a mild state of confusion, given that he did not comprehend the language that was being spoken. But the one thing he knew was that they were closing in on the goal, for at the foot of the great mountainous beast was their prize. It was buried in the rock, a massive blade some eight feet tall, not including the tip that was embedded in the ground, its gleaming surface etched with a thousand symbols and sigils that Faith had never seen before.

  Nor should he have, Kahgo thought. For those sigils were from a time long gone, when Old Ones were more present in the Natural World, when protection against them took strong magick, and strong magick was in in greater supply than it was in this age.

  Shaman tried not to let his eyes linger on the blade, but even standing in its presence, his sister could tell that it was of interest.

  “You can't have it,” she grunted.

  “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Because I know you, Sha'ma. You are so easy to read. You may not have it, for I still require it to breed.”

  “I only need it for a short time.”

  “Again, you are so transparent. You do not wish for my brood to grow any greater than it has. . . and I will not sacrifice my right to breed for whatever you wish to do with it.”

  The time for subtlety or subterfuge was over. He had no choice but to tell her the truth, and hope that it would be enough to convince her to lend him the weapon. “There is an Old One that wishes to incur upon this realm.”

  “Good for him, too many mundanes in this damn place as it is.”

  “It will rule the lands, destroy and devour everything upon the face of the earth―”

  “But as you might have noticed, dear brother, I do not live upon the face of the earth, nor do I care for it.”

  “Do you think it will not seek you out here? That it will not wish to rule below the oceans as well as the lands above?”

  “I think it will know that we are kin, and allow me and mine to continue our existence however we choose―”

  “This is not some god that had crawled through the bowels of that which lurks at the threshold and will emerge as some simpleton. . . This is the lurker himself.”

  Dam'i-Ka turned to him with wide eyes. They appeared to lose their glow, and her jaw dropped. “That is not possible, he is an Ancient One, no mere god. . . If he were to pass through. . . He would most certainly be the last of those to ever pass from the Outer Realms. . .”

  Kahgo nodded. It seemed as though she were warming to his position with the situation at hand.

  “That would mean. . . “ she turned from him to the monolithic beast that slept beyond the God's End. “That this would be one of the last I could breed with. . . And. . . So I most certainly cannot give you the blade!”

  His heart sank. “It will be for a day, perhaps two. There is no need to be so possessive―”

  “Possessive?! You want to talk of possessive, brother? You have all but taken the world above as your own, stood as its protector for millennia, forced me to live at the bottom of the darkest place, that man will never come to. That is possessive. If you think that I would, for a moment, give up that which is mine in order to do a favour for the one who banished me, you are very much mistaken.”

  Before he could respond, her fingers had swum through the water, and Shaman Kahgo was no longer at the dark depths of the ocean. The light seared his eyes, the heat was unbearable, and he found himself falling through the air towards a swirling mass of lava.

  41

  For his family

  In mid-air, Kahgo righted himself, and came to a dead stop, hovering in the air above the swirling core of the volcano that his sister had teleported him into. The water from his hair and clothes came off him in a searing cloud of steam that dissipated before it had a chance to rise far from his body.

  “Three,” he muttered under his breath.

  The magickian nodded in his periphery, and in the blink of an eye, he was returned to Faith's office.

  “What the bloody hell was that?!” Faith growled, as he found himself staring back at himself through Kahgo's eyes. He removed the casting and the milky white hue retreated from his irises.

  “She has grown stronger than I expected. . . through motherhood.”

  “Motherhood?! What the bloody hell is she doing down there? Growing an army? Why are they all. . . how are they like that?!”

  Shaman sighed. He was hoping not to have to participate in that conversation. “They are. . . the offspring of her, and a. . . an Old One.”

  “What?”

  “That is why she requires the God's End. The creature is asleep, and due to its size it cannot be. . . milked.”

  “Milked?!”

  “Thus, she uses the blade to cut into the core of the beast's reproductive organs, and claim the seed for herself.”

  Faith stared at him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. It appeared as though the concept was one step―or perhaps many steps―beyond his comfort zone.

  Kahgo decided it was best that he offer a solution, in the hope that Faith would find his composure along the way. “And so, there is but one way to solve to the problem at hand. . . if she is not willing to give the blade over voluntarily. . . We must take it.”

  Faith stared at him. “But. . . But. . . If. . . If she is. . . she takes the seed of the―”

  “You are stuck on the wrong part of the information I have imparted. We are to take the blade, without her knowledge.”

  With a sigh, and a sturdy shake of his head to knock himself out of the rut, Faith returned his focus to the matter at hand. “But she's. . . you said she is more powerful than you expected, she teleported you, that's not something―”

  “It is something I could do once. . . but age has not treated me as it does others. A hundred years ago, perhaps it might be different. . . And my sister, despite being older, she is empowered by the seed. . .”

  “A hundred years?! How bloody old are you?!”

  Kahgo decided it was best not to answer that question, and quickly moved the conversation on to a solution. “A teleportation would alert her and her brood to our presence. That magick, it ripples. But there is another way.”

  Faith knew exact
ly what he was speaking of. It was the same issue that faced them when they had to make an incursion into the Djinn's barrier at Villa de Vecchi. “You want to cross through the realms.”

  Shaman nodded.

  “But Nichols made it clear he didn't want to hear from the Circle again.

  “That is true,” Kahgo sighed. “However, I will approach him not under the auspices of the Circle. . . This would be a favour for me. . . and if we are lucky, and if the Fates are on our side, he will see it as such.”

  “That sounds like a lot of bloody 'ifs' there. . .”

  “And yet, Jules Nichols is a good man, better than he knows. And when a request is put to him, and the world is at peril, I have no doubt that he will do what is necessary. For his family, if for no other reason.”

  42

  A guest he had been expecting

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  Jules Nichols was sitting on the couch with his son, Natan. The two had been reading for the best part of an hour, but as that time progressed, it was increasingly clear that the child's attention was elsewhere.

  “Come on,” Jules said. “What's that word.”

  “Don't need to read. . .” Natan told him, with a stern expression on his little face.

  “Of course you need to read, reading is important. All the best things are in books.”

  “No! Don't need to read now! He's coming soon!”

  “Who? Daddy? No, daddy's not back from work for another few hours.”

  “Not my daddy!” the boy shrieked. He was annoyed at how his father really wasn't getting the point. Reading didn't matter to him, not then and there. A guest was coming, a guest that he had been expecting for some time―not that he understod exactly how it was so crystal clear in his head that they would be expecting company. Somehow it was a fact to him, just as he knew night would fall and the sun would rise. They were not going to be alone in the house for much longer.

  “Come on, get through another two more pages, and then we'll go to the park―”

  “No we wont. . .” the boy said, with a knowing tone.

  “Of course we will, why would we not―”

  A breeze blew through the living room, setting Jules on edge. The doors and windows were closed, he knew that―and he had felt a similar mysterious breeze before. . . It meant that his son was right, they were going to be receiving company.

  There was a smile he felt in his periphery―not accompanied by a ringing, the telltale sign of a magickal call. This was a reassuring presence, one that he had been trying to forget ever since the events on the South Bank. Thanks to him, that had been unwritten from history, but it had not been removed from his mind. . . the memories, the guilt, sat with him every day, try as he might to move on from the horrors of the act he had been forced to carry out.

  Jules made to wave the call away, but the gesture did not remove the presence. It remained. He tried again and again, but it would not go. With a disgruntled huff, he gave in and accepted the damn call.

  “Jules Nichols,” the voice said. He recognised it all too well by now. It was the voice that convinced him to get embroiled in the damn Circle in the first place.

  “What?” he grunted.

  “I know I have no right to ask a favour from you, certainly not whilst you are with your child.”

  Jules's gaze darted around the room, suddenly he felt all too paranoid about being spied upon.

  “I am not watching you, Jules Nichols. Your son is the one who informed me of his presence.”

  Jules glanced down at the boy with a raised eyebrow. The child shrugged and giggled to himself

  “What do you want? I'm not coming back in to the Circle, I've told Faith that a thousand times over.”

  “It is not the Circle that I speak for. . . this is a situation that has ramifications for the whole world, for your family, for every family.”

  “Is this about the thing in Paris, the deaths that got rolled back?”

  He could feel Shaman nod. And could also feel that there were other deaths, many more, that he had not known were undone.

  “This thing is spreading,” Jules said. “Whatever it is, it's around the world.”

  Another nod in his periphery.

  “Then I'll do it. Whatever you need. I'm not going to sit back while more people die.”

  He could feel the slim smile on Kahgo's lips, and a wordless intent of thanks. But he wasn't volunteering his assistance for Shaman Kahgo. Ever since the South Bank, he was looking for a way to make amends for the life he had taken. And this, if nothing else, was a start.

  43

  A doorway of shadows

  MARIANA TRENCH, PACIFIC OCEAN

  Jules had barely had a reason to use his adept with shadows since the South Bank, but there were so many shadows to choose from at the depths of the ocean, that opening up a portal through the realms was child's play.

  Shaman had directed him to the precise coordinates that he needed to be transitioned to, in order to take the blade from the ground―and all he needed was a doorway, he made it clear that Jules was under no circumstances going to step through with him. The pressure alone would be deadly, let alone the heat and the water and the lack of oxygen. . . or the monstrous creatures that dwelled there, born of his sister's womb.

  A doorway of shadows erupted in the darkness, and Kahgo stepped through it. It took his body a moment to adjust to the pressure. Having come from the Shadow Realm, where the atmospheric pressure was similar to that of the Natural World, to the depths of the ocean where it was a thousand times greater, and would have likely crushed a mundane body. However for him, something older than man, with pure magick flowing through his veins, it was merely a momentary adjustment period.

  He glanced around, to be certain that his presence had not set off any alarms. For the time being, he appeared to be be safe, and rose from the volcanic rock beneath his feet. Even standing at more than six feet tall, the hilt of the God's End was still a further two above his head. He waited until it was at waist level before he took hold of it. The hilt was rough under his skin, made from the same metal as the blade, with no leather or wood covering it. He wrenched at it, tried with all his might to tug it from the rock, but it refused to come loose.

  It had been enchanted, he thought, so that only his sister could free it from the ground. But he was reminded that it could not be true―the blade had enchantments carved into the metal that precluded it from any further magicks being put upon it. That meant that it was not the blade that was enchanted, but the rock in which it ad been embedded.

  Kahgo returned to the ground, and laid his hand against the rock. It was volcanic, old, from an eruption long in the past―and yet his sister had continued to breed, so she must have been able to free the weapon at some point.

  He grit his teeth and released a small focussed casting of impossible heat against the rock. The blade glowed red, the glyphs on its surface gleamed as the rock began to shift in response to the sheer temperatures that were accosting it. But the heat was causing a torrent of water to bubble and boil around him, a shaft of them funnelling up into the darkness above.

  The sword began to shift in place, his casting was working. But the longer it took to pull it free, the greater the chance of being discovered by his sister's brood. He ended the casting, and tugged with all his might at the hilt, pushing and pulling it against the molten rock that was quickly becoming solid again. With a sharp motion, it came away from the ground, and he held it aloft, turning on his heel to return to the portal of shadows.

  But as he waded towards it, there was motion in the darkness, hundreds of eyes turned in his direction, thousands of teeth gnashed, and tentacles writhed, as the massive army of brood swum wildly towards him. He didn't want to hurt them. As much as they were hideous monstrosities, they were still his kin, and the idea of injuring―let alone killing―his own blood was abhorrent.

  They were close, so close, and his legs were keeping his movements limited, the human body was not
designed for travel at these depths, especially when dragging a weapon that was taller than he who pulled it. There was only one thing for it. . .

  At his command, Kahgo's spine exploded apart, his back opening up to reveal a throng of tentacles that thrashed and whipped through the water. He let his legs give way, as the tendrils he hid under his skin propelled him forward, through the portal just as the creatures' teeth bore down on him.

  As he transitioned through the realms, he did all he could to repair his back―this was no thing for a man to see, and it was certainly nothing he wanted Jules to see. . . not yet. There was a time and a place for such things. And there were many events to come before he would show Jules Nichols his true face.

  44

  Reparations

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  Having said his goodbyes to Jules, Kahgo declined the young Shadowmancer's offer of a portal back to the Circle, as he doubted it would be able to penetrate their wards. Although, given how much the Shadow Realm was now a part of him, Shaman wasn't sure how true that still was. . . Even the man himself probably did not fully know how much power lay at his hands.

  As Kahgo departed, Jules did not volunteer himself as an asset in the battle to come―nor would Shaman ever dream of asking. This was not a fight that Jules needed to be a part of. Those skirmishes were on the horizon, that was clear, but this was one that the elder magickian had to see through by himself.

  Even the operatives of the Circle would not truly be involved in the conflict that was to come. He was only one amongst them who could wield the God's End. And as much as he did not wish to have to harm the creature that was attempting to incur into the Natural World, he would take up the mantle. This was his place, his destiny. Even if he had attempted to deny it before, the intrinsic nature of how he was connected to the beast and the only weapon that could strike it down, proved as much. There was no other path for him to take, the Fates had seen to it. They had connived and conspired to place him where he was, to reunite him with so many from his past, only to have their lives on the line if he did not do as those Fates wished of him.