Trent Jamieson - Roil

“I speak of arrogance, but mine is nothing compared to that of my people. Born of the Seedship, we shaped this world, changed it. And in that change the Roil was made, though we did not notice it for many years. You see we inhabited the poles of this world, built our metropolises there, and the Roil, that first time, hid.

“We were too busy in our splendour, a race of gods, every one of us a Master Engineer. A people of leisure, unprepared for the pure horror of it all. And it was horrible, not some progression as you see it now, but a fiery seizure. All along the spine of the world, volcanoes spewed forth heat and with it the Roil. Everything we made was ruined and transformed.

“So we made war, we made the engine and rebuilt this world’s laws. Ice not fire became our weapon. The cold. And it is a cruel weapon, cruellest of all. Heat is life, David, its absence is death.

“We built the engines and the lodes, each section fought for with more fury than you can imagine. And once it was done we unleashed them on the world and it nearly destroyed us.” Cadell raised his hands to take in the world. “The universe, even such a small patch of it as this, is a complex thing. No orrery can do it justice. There are thousands upon thousands of little balances and trade-offs. Trip one of them, and you trip them all. The change may be sudden or swift – and even a hundred years in the lifetime of a world is less than a blinking of an eye.

“We swept those checks and balances away as though they were nothing more than irritants of no consequence. You cannot imagine what it was like, but when it was done, the Roil was gone and we remained and, somehow, survived.

“I grew old in that world and have lived the ages since, my duty this, as it is the duty of all the Old Men: should the Roil ever rise again I must stop it. At the beginning, before it could ever pose a threat. And I have failed.

“David, I’m terrified. Death does not scare me, but what I can do does. And if I don’t…

“In Uhlton, there is one who has an understanding – an understanding, mind, little more – of my secrets and he has called me, and called me in the two years I have hidden in Mirrlees and I have not come. Now I will. He has grown bitter. Still he will help us.”

Cadell brightened, slapping David jovially on the back.

“Well, as we have no food, nor are we likely to come across any. I suggest we forgo breakfast and get straight to the walking part.”

“Walking is certainly better than running.”

“That it is, David. That it is.”

Regardless, David’s body protested as though it were not. As they made their way through the verdant to the point of rotting countryside, he struggled with one endlessly unnerving thought.

What on Shale could be worse than the Roil?

It took them several hours to find the railway. Time enough for David to question seriously Cadell’s sense of direction. The land around the Lode was thick with mushy scrub and streams, and they moved at what felt like a crawl.

When they finally found the line, Cadell released a long breath. “We should be safe along these tracks,” he said. “I doubt anyone will be using them again for a long time.”

They walked all day, stopping to rest, only when the walking became too much for David, which was often. Cadell, on the other hand was unfazed by the rigours of the journey. He walked swiftly, sometimes getting dangerously ahead. But he would always turn at the last moment, sensing, perhaps, that he was almost out of sight, and wait until David caught him up.

David was relieved when, at last, the sun setting low and wet behind them, they reached a deserted workers’ cottage, built close to the line.

It had been recently occupied. There were still cans of food in the cupboards, mushrooms and sausages and even a bag of onions hanging above the kitchen sink. The building was simple, a single onion-smelling room with two beds, both with yellowing pillows, but it was shelter from the rain and the only other tenants were fleas, which were heaven compared to Quarg Hounds.

David was asleep almost before his head hit the lumpy pillow.

He woke to morning light and the smell of breakfast cooking on the fire. Onions and sausages crackled. David’s stomach rumbled, but it was the syringe by the bed that drew his gaze first.

David couldn’t remember just who it was that had first introduced him to Carnival (some sordid adventure after his mother’s death, too much drink, a place that felt safe, then became something else). However, the moment of its absorption was still vivid: the flood of calm, the release of all that guilt and fear replaced with joy.

And if the guilt and fear always came back, like a tide, a rushing wave all too quick to return, it could be pushed away again.

He’d lived in that cloud for almost two years, or the cloud had become him. Sometimes David couldn’t separate himself from his hungers, the act of scoring and the ejection of doubt and dread with the injection of Carnival.

He attended to his hunger swiftly, and without embarrassment.

“I found some tomatoes growing in the garden out the back,” said Cadell, looking up from where he was hunched over a frying pan. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

The simple domesticity of the scene struck David harder than perhaps anything he had experienced in the last few days. His voice failed him.

Cadell frowned. “Well?”

“Just try and stop me,” David said.

Stade lifted the glass jar into the light. Two shrivelled fingers floated in the solution contained within. He gave them a little shake.

“I like to keep them with me,” Stade said. “A reminder.”

Medicine spat blood. He’d kept his teeth, and his eyes, which made him think that Stade really wanted to negotiate.

“I’ve got nothing to offer you,” Medicine said. “You’ve taken it from me. The Confluents have no power.”

Stade lowered the jar. “You’re wrong. Your name holds much glamour to it, even if it is a glamour that I have in part created. And it’s that glamour I need.”

“It can’t be as terrible as that. You’ve destroyed your enemies.”

“You consider me far too myopic, Medicine.” Stade put the jar down on his desk. “There is only one enemy, now. I’m evacuating the city, and I do not have time to become a popular leader, and what I need cannot be done by force. The Roil is coming. And we have every reason to believe that it is beginning to advance even more rapidly.”

“There is time enough, surely. Chapman is two hundred miles south.” Medicine spat more blood upon the floor.

Stade laughed. “If only it were that easy. The Roil has been slow to approach Chapman. Winter held it in check for a while, and other forces, ancient machineries of which we have limited – to say the least – understanding and even more limited control. Though Cadell could have enlightened us on the matter, if he hadn’t been so intent on killing my Vergers. However, we have evidence to suggest its growth is about to increase dramatically. When Chapman goes, Mirrlees will not be far behind. A few months, maybe six.”

Medicine crossed his arms. His cravat crusted with his own blood, some of it stuck to his neck, pulled painfully at his skin. “And you’re telling me this because?”