Mark Chadbourn - Destroyer of Worlds

'Looks like Church was right — she is important,' Veitch noted. 'Not that I doubted him. All right, we haven't got a choice — in we go.'

Shadow John shifted uneasily. 'But no one has ever survived the Labyrinth.'

'The Enemy are right behind us,' Veitch said, ignoring him.

'It's what lies ahead that worries me,' Bearskin said, fingering his beard. 'Still, challenges make us stronger.' He clapped Shadow John on the shoulder and propelled him through the gate. 'Don't worry, brother — I will look out for you.'

'And we look out for ourselves,' Veitch said to Shavi before following them into the cold dark.

Time seemed to stand still in the constant darkness. Ruth and Tom crept along alleys and down side streets, feeling their way, constantly listening for the sound of any approach. Occasionally they would come across groups of the Aztec warriors searching the empty streets or raiding a building to slaughter the occupants, and then they would be forced to retrace their steps and find another route. The warriors were everywhere and progress was excruciatingly slow.

'They're just running us around like rats,' she snapped. 'We need to take control.'

'Perhaps you should conjure up some of that scary Craft,' Tom said sardonically. 'Draw a little attention to us.'

Ruth glared at him. 'I wasn't suggesting that. Besides, I choose the moments when I use my Craft. It's not like some sword you whip out whenever you need it. There are repercussions for every use.'

Tom's eyes glinted in the sapphire light from the tip of her spear. 'Always a price to pay.'

Ruth hoped he didn't notice the shadow cross her face. If she allowed herself a moment's introspection, she realised she was afraid: of what the Craft would do if it was unleashed; of herself, of what she was becoming. Once before, the power had consumed her and she had almost destroyed everyone she loved. She could not let that happen again.

'I smell smoke,' Tom said, distracted. 'A fire in this situation could be devastating.'

'God, I hope the others are okay,' Ruth said. 'I hope Church was smart enough to stay put.'

'He wasn't, and it saved his life.'

Ruth and Tom jumped as Laura emerged from the dark at the end of the alley.

'How did you find us?' Ruth asked incredulously.

'Blind luck.' Laura glanced at Tom. 'All of it bad.'

Tom snorted.

'What are you saying about Church?' Ruth pressed.

'I just met him back there. The idiot couldn't sit tight. Massive city, total darkness, everybody split up — the first thing you do is wander around, calling out names, right? Still,' she added acidly, 'love makes you do stupid things.'

'Come on, what are you waiting for?' Ruth was embarrassed by the eagerness in her voice.

'Okay, Jesus, keep your pants on till we get there.' Laura strode back down the alley, with Ruth and Tom stumbling behind.

'Is he all right?' Ruth asked.

'Yeah, got out just before that cafe building burned down. I bumped into him while I was trying to stay one step ahead of those Aztec freaks. Persuaded him to sit still for a while.'

'Why did he let you go off wandering?' Tom asked suspiciously.

'Because, grandpa, my plant eyes work better than human eyes. So shut it.'

Ruth noted a harsher edge in Laura's mockery; the stress was telling, she thought, though Laura would never admit it.

Laura led them down a side alley to a small courtyard surrounded by three buildings. As they moved cautiously around the edge, they came across Church squatting on his haunches against one wall; he was holding something in his right hand that Ruth couldn't make out.

'Thank God,' she said. 'I was starting to get worried.'

Church stood up to accept Ruth's hug, but as she fell into his arms, Tom called out, 'Wait! There's something wrong!'

Church spun Ruth and clamped an arm around her throat; one flex of his muscles and he would crush the life from her. As she struggled to free herself, Church craned his head around to peer into her startled eyes and she could see then that though he looked like Church down to the smallest detail, it was not him; his eyes were filled with cruelty, and his breath against her cheek smelled of raw meat. She was overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of dread so strong it almost made her faint.

'What's going on?' Laura exclaimed.

Tom held her back. 'Show yourself!' he urged.

The one who was Not-Church held out his right hand, and Ruth could now see that he clutched a smoking mirror. A glimmer of half-recognition crossed Tom's face.

As he turned the mirror, the hand and arm holding it became that of a jungle cat, black spots against white and orange fur: a jaguar, Ruth thought. And then it changed again, into a human hand, but with grey skin stretched tightly across bone. Afraid to look at the face but unable to prevent herself, Ruth glanced back and was convulsed with fear. It was like looking into the face of a corpse, the skin hanging in tatters from decomposing flesh, unmistakable feline qualities in the shape of the eyes and the tufts of fur clinging on to the skull-like pate. Black lines pulsed beneath the surface of his form, the sign of the controlling power of the Anubis Box; another of the gods the Void, and Janus, had chosen.

'In the Age of the Sun, your kind knew me as Tezcatlipoca,' he said. 'Three spheres do I bestride.' He raised the mirror skywards. 'The night.

Death, in all its forms.' And then he directed a lop-sided grimace-smile towards Tom and Laura. 'And temptation.'

'I've heard of you,' Tom said, unable to hide his fear. 'A shape-shifter. You killed the Caretaker.'

'I hold this city now in my grasp, as I have held so many others in times long gone. This night will never lift. Death will never leave this place.' He tightened his grip around Ruth's throat, forcing her to the brink of blacking out. 'And soon one more will join Death's long parade.'

Church came round tied to a chair in a hot room filled with scores of sputtering lamps. Together, they just about held back the dark that swelled in the corners of the room. It was spartan, with bare boards, plaster walls and only an empty chair across from Church. His head ached and his throat was unbearably dry; it took him a second or two to recall where he had been when he was last conscious, and another second to recognise where he must be now.

'Where are you?' he called out.

'Right here.'

The voice came from behind him. Slowly the Libertarian sauntered into view, his sunglasses reflecting the glittering points of lamplight. He spun around the empty chair and sat astride it.

'I must have seen a lot of bad eighties movies,' Church said.

The manufactured flamboyance evaporated and for once the Libertarian stared at Church with cold contempt. 'I am not you.'

'That's not what you said in Beijing.'

'I'm better. Right now I'm what you could never dream of being. In the same way that I could never imagine being you.'

The Libertarian continued to stare. Church was puzzled by the barest hint of emotion in a voice that previously had been all role-playing, and he had the strangest impression, although he did not know why, that behind the Libertarian's sunglasses there were tears in his eyes.

'So you've brought me here to debate our different philosophies?'

The Libertarian laughed; the facade returned. 'Oh, what's the point in that! Any difference will be over very shortly.'

'Not going to happen.'

'Yet here I am. And if there was even the slightest chance of you continuing down the primrose path with your unrealistically idealised world-view, I would not be standing before you.' He waved a finger slowly at Church to emphasise his words. 'Thousands of threads over thousands of years are finally tying together. Oh, if you could only see the full extent of the tapestry you would marvel at the wonder of it all! The rich complexity! I have the luxury of standing on the mountaintop and seeing how a stitch here and another there can create the world we want, while you are mired in the swamp, swatting away insects and wondering when the rain will come.'