Influence (25 page)

Sully appeared from
behind the altar carrying a leather folder. Lizzie moved to his side.

‘You’re not really
going to give that to him are you?’ she whispered.

‘Honestly, I don’t
know Lizzie, I’m not sure we have any choice.’

‘What will happen if
you do?’

‘Nothing good. Stay
sharp, be ready if an opportunity to run presents itself.’

There was a small
scream from the crowd as Robe whipped off the canvas sheet covering the massive
mirror on the side wall.

‘It’s time,’ he said
returning to the altar and holding his hand out to Sully. Sully hesitated, presented
the folder, then drew it back to himself.

‘Robert, I, I can’t,
you have no idea what you might release.’

‘Serf, take his arm
will you please.’ Lizzie turned to see a look of dread appear on Void’s face.
With a short twist of the Serf’s wrist Void’s arm capitulated in a gut
wrenching snap. His scream filled the room bouncing back off walls and ceiling
in a chorus of agony. Void looked up, wide eyed, at the impossible angle his
elbow now turned, and he screamed again. The Serf dropped the boy’s arm and it
fell to the ground in a flop as if a puppet’s string had just been cut. Lizzie
rushed to him and eased his whimpering head onto her lap. The creature moved to
Robe’s side and Sully handed over the folder without further protest. Robe
removed Sully’s hat and placed it on his own head.

He carefully removed
the three parchments from the folder, each a blonde brown colour, ancient and
fragile, and threw the folder to the ground with a slap that silenced those by
the door. Robe stood in front of the mirror where there were more candles and
the light was less gloomy. He read through the ancient documents while the Serf
stood dutifully by his side. The creature appeared perfectly still but Lizzie
noticed that its reflection shimmered and jolted around the frame of the large
boy it occupied. Robe addressed the crowd:

‘Don’t be afraid
people, come closer,’ he said throwing his arms wide. The huddled students by
the door did not move and did not make a sound. ‘Come on come on, there really
is nothing to be afraid of,’ Robe assured, grinning maniacally. ‘Please excuse
all the theatrics, this moment has come somewhat sooner than envisaged, but it
is a joyous day none the less, a day we will all never ever forget.’  He beckoned
with his hands, and still there was no movement from the crowd. Robe sighed and
placed his hands on his hips. ‘You all joined the Council for a reason, the same
reason I did, to see how far this rabbit hole goes. Am I right? Magic,
incantations, knowledge long thought lost, that is why you joined, that is what
drew you here. Yet when someone offers you the chance to fully explore this
knowledge you huddle together like sheep. I am not your enemy. This man, your
Curate is the one who drip feeds you what he wants you to know, he stymies you,
he patronises you, and yet you worship him. Sheep. You truly are nothing but
sheep. Well no more, I am here to usher in a new order, or more accurately the
oldest of orders, older than you bleating morons can possibly fathom.’

Robe placed the three
scrolls carefully within the circle of the star and adjusted a few of the
candles, clearing wax that had covered a line or a symbol. He then turned back
to the mirror, threw his arms wide once more and began to recite the words of
the summoning ritual.

The candles reacted
immediately. Darkness swept into the room as the flames all reduced to tiny
embers. Dread filled Lizzie’s heart as the mirror took on the faint glow she
had witness in Vic’s room. She turned to Void, who she thought was drifting in
and out of consciousness. ‘We need to get you out of here,’ she whispered.

‘H... how? He has the
only exit… blocked,’ said Void struggling to talk through the pain. Lizzie was
too afraid to touch his arm which lay on the ground underneath him, crooked and
unreal.

‘Just hold on, I’ll
think of something.’

Robe’s incantation
was a mumbled pattern repeated in a loop. The bang on the door started up again
as the crowd grew increasingly fearful.

A low rumble emerged
from below the sound of Robe’s words, at first it was impossible to place its
source, but it became increasing clear that the noise was coming from the
mirror.

As in Vic’s bedroom a
silver-grey mist materialised behind the grand brass frame, it swirled and
danced, trapped behind the glass. Sully stood on the altar frozen in place,
completely impotent to prevent proceedings.

A white hand slammed
against the glass producing squeals from the terrified crowd. It slid down the
full length of the four feet high mirror on the wall, massive and malevolent.
That same horrific face appeared with its great white mouth agape throwing out
an agonised groan. Much more of the creature was visible than in Vic’s room
with the far larger mirror. The milky-white fluid flesh of the hand and face
could now be seen covering long, spindly, yet powerful looking, limbs. Its
swollen belly seemed to ripple as it bounced against the other side of the
glass and drummed a low beat to accompany the tortured growl. Robe stepped
forward throwing his hands wider, his voice intensifying as his cyclical mantra
suddenly changed, he bellowed:

‘Exorior Asmodeus.
Exorior Astaroth. Exorior Leviathan. Exorior Belial.’

‘Oh shit,’ said Sully
slamming his thigh into the slab of the altar as he backed up, Lizzie took her
cue from the look on his face and braced herself, clutching Void tight to her,
waiting for the face behind the glass to react. But, to her surprise, the white
giant receded and a quiet settled over the room. Robe too fell silent, and for
a moment Lizzie thought, hoped, that he had lost whatever connection he had
manifested. The crowd, huddled together, stirred like they were beginning to
think it was over too but then, as one, they knew it was only just beginning.

The low pitched roar returned,
but not as before, this time the walls shook. Motes of dust fell from invisible
cracks above their heads and Lizzie felt the sound reverberate through her
whole being, making it difficult to breath. The swirling mist continued to glow
behind the glass, but then Lizzie saw, with horror, that it was no longer
contained, long smoke fingers flowed uninhibited beyond the limits of the
mirror into the room. The white face returned, moaning as before, the thing
reached out its pale white palm apparently expecting a glass barrier, but its
thin skeletal arm flowed into the chamber. Encouraged by this change it curled
its fingers around the edges of the frame and pulled itself forward. The deep
eyeless hollows of its face examined the room. Its non gaze fixed on Lizzie for
a moment making her recoil, before moving on to others. Its passive mournful
expression twisted into one of fury and it threatened to pull itself into the
room when the booming low growl intensified, evidently not from the creature,
but from something unseen. The fury on the thing’s face turned to terror as a
massive black hand appeared around its neck.

As colossal as the
white horror appeared to be it was dwarfed by whatever that black taloned claw
was attached to. The white creature clung to the edges of the mirror frame,
momentarily resisting the new evil, before being wrenched back. The dreadful
moan fell away as if dropped from a great height to its doom.

‘We’re ready,’ said
Robe turning to the Serf. ‘Bring me one of them.’ The Serf’s head flicked to
the assembled crowd by the door, there was an immediate rout as Robe’s servant
approached them. There was nowhere to hide and precious little space to run.
One girl in the middle of the group had the base of her cloak trod on by one of
the others sending her off balance and she stumbled trying to catch her feet
before crashing to the ground painfully. Like a gazelle separated from the herd
the Serf clutched her by the ankle and dragged her back toward its master. One
of the group, a large boy who would have been a physical match for the
formidable Todd, found courage where others could not and attempted to
intervene. He pulled at the Serf’s hand trying to prize its fingers apart, but
when that failed he threw a punch into the side of its head. The Serf turned
briefly and returned an open palmed blow to the boy’s face sending him back
into the scattering group. Lizzie lowered Void’s unconscious head to the floor
and stood, fury and disgust overwhelming her. She glanced at Sully who held his
hands to his face, barely able to watch, he saw the intent in Lizzie and shook
his head voicing a silent NO to her. The girl’s scream was harrowing. She
clawed at the stone floor as the Serf dragged her to Robe’s feet before dumping
her to the ground. The fallen boy regained his feet and rounded again on the
Serf who blocked his path to the girl. He clutched both fists together and
brought them down on the Serf’s back with every muscle firing. The Serf this time
stumbled to one knee and its palm slapped the stone floor to prevent it falling
further, but it was far from beaten. In one fluid movement it turned and lifted
the boy off his feet by the neck. Those present could only look on as the Serf began
to squeeze the life from him.

‘LEAVE HIM,’ screamed
Lizzie, it was all she could do. The Serf took no notice, but the candelabra
next to him seemed to. It flared in response to Lizzie’s command and fire leapt
from it. Not an inferno, but enough for the Serf’s cloak to catch. The fire
crept up the flank of the serf towards the arm clutching the boy whose breath
was gone and whose life was soon to follow. Suddenly aware of the flames the
Serf dropped the boy and reeled away slapping at its arm. It fell to the ground
and wrenched the now blazing cloak off. A few of the crowd quickly pulled the
unmoving boy to within their ranks. The alarm the Serf had displayed quickly
faded as it got to its feet to re-join its master abandoning the pointless bout.

Robe, unaware of
anything but his invocation, sank to his knees pulling the girl into a seated
position. He wrenched her head to the side with one hand and pulled her arm
wide with the other, opening her up to whatever was about to escape the prison
of the mirror. Robe’s chant started again as he offered up his sacrifice, but his
words could not be heard over the demon’s booming cry. The girl’s frantic
scream was also now drowned out as a mouth appeared from the mist, black and
fanged and it filled the mirror’s frame. Its great clawed hand reached through
toward the helpless girl, the fingers dissolved into mist once again as they
reached her, thin black tendrils curled themselves around her, and penetrated
her nose and mouth. She stopped screaming almost instantly and new horrific
noises could be heard from the mirror as terrible shapes appeared. The
unmistakable beat of wings pounded the air behind the frame and a great beaked
creature appeared, it hovered for a moment in the frame like a gothic painting,
a black scaled humanoid body beneath a massive birdlike head. A high pitched
squawk caused Lizzie to throw her hands protectively to her ears. The bird
creature flew to the edge of the frame and became smoke in a burst. Still
keeping its profile it entered the room. And then laughter, horrible childish
cackling, erupted from the mirror. The din of it was so loud Lizzie expected
another titan, but a small impish creature hauled itself up over the frame from
somewhere below. It had the body of a muscular child and its two heads had
Lizzie scrambling backwards in revulsion. Again childlike, the heads displayed
wide fanged mouths with long thin tongues lashing from them. It walked on hands
and feet and it sprung into the room becoming a pool of black smoke on the
ground that shuttled forward toward a horrified crowd by the door. Robe stood
examining the girl he had by the hair. There was no protest from her now. Her
eyes were black pools and they stared up at their commander.

Lizzie looked around,
for something, anything that could help. If she
was
responsible for the
fire attack on the Serf, she had no idea how to repeat it, and so it could not
be relied upon. Sully waved his hands at her pleading for her to stay still as
the smoke form creatures were so far ignoring them. Lizzie stepped towards him,
maddened by his cowardice and snatched his rod from him. An ornate silver eagle
sat atop a small black wooden staff, there was enough silver in the eagle to
give the rod some weight. With Robe’s focus devoted to the violation of the
girl he did not notice Lizzie stepping onto the seven pointed star and
launching the rod with all her might at the mirror and the quickly dissolving creatures.
She expected the flamboyant stick to fly, barely noticed, through the gateway. She
expected, if indeed her aim was true, to strike the demonic entities spilling
in through the frame with as little impact as a fly off a windscreen, but the
rod struck, and shattered glass. The roar of the demon’s collective ire was
tremendous. Large sections of the mirror fell to the stone floor dividing
further on impact. The smoke was gone in an instant.

‘Damnit, Liz. Can you
refrain from meddling for one Goddamn second?’ yelled Robe turning to her,
knowing exactly from whom the nuisance had come. The Serf stepped towards her
and grabbed her by the shoulders holding her towards the approaching Robe.

‘You realise,’ he
said infuriated, ‘that all you’ve achieved is to slow the process, don’t you?
The size of the mirror doesn’t really matter.’ He was right, Lizzie watched as fresh
tendrils rose from every piece of mirror which had landed reflective side up.
This time they did not need Robe’s direction, they swept toward the door and
the crowd looking for hosts.