The next pull caught Lesley when he was in the middle of dragging a sheet of metal in from around the back of the hut. It was a powerful, urgent pull. None of the Shrike’s calm confidence.
“Daiki,” said Lesley, eyes wide, because Daiki was out at the front of the kitchen, nowhere immediately near. Lesley called the ogre’s name one more time before the drumming filled his ears entirely: Libertuslibertuslibertusrubedorubedorubedo — and then all at once they were in the other place.
He was Libertus. Rubedo was on his back. No need for them to be together when the pull came, they’d converge no matter what. Handy, having the same name.
“Convenient,” said Libertus, as his mane settled into a steady, crackling wave. He beat his hooves on the stone floor. Not a marble floor, but not much better. More grip, but more uneven — honestly, did anyone think about this?
“I would not agree,” said Rubedo, hunching. His horn tip bumped the top of a cavern wall.
“—ch out!” screamed Cam, as the last of the swirling magic around them dissipated.
Time sped up. The spray of acid snapped them out of the strangeness of the summoning. Libertus wheeled right. Rubedo dropped against his body. The liquid sank into the stone wall behind them and ate into it, eating away the moss and blackening the rock beneath.
The manticore across from them roared, the froth around its mouth left little smoking holes between its front paws. Its muscles rippled. It crouched, meaning to launch itself bodily at them, but it only made it halfway across the room. Two chains were latched to an iron collar around its neck, the other end of each chain screwed into the half-opened metal door behind it, keeping it within the radius of the entryway.
It made a hurking noise in the back of its throat. Libertus took that as the warning it was and wheeled left. A second spew of acid followed shortly after.
“A manticore!” cried Libertus, in that voice that wasn’t quite his voice. His true form wasn’t made for natural speech, so it took a bit of magic to make it happen. “You summoned us, into an enclosed space, with a manticore.”
A manticore was a true creature of the dark. A chimera of the highest order, one of the most unsightly imaginable: huge, poisonous, part lion, part man, part scorpion, all bad tempered. Libertus had only ever seen illustrations of their true forms, but here was one in the flesh, bigger and sleeker than he would’ve imagined, with rippling copper fur and a chiton-armored tail raised to present a dozen of nasty red spines as it did its best to pace within the confines of the chains. Its teeth were about as long as Libertus had imagined, bone white and ready to sink into Libertus’ ether-rich summoned flesh.
“Hey, it’s not like I knew this was going to happen!” snapped Cam. She’d had the presence of mind to crouch behind one of the stalagmites near the far end of the cavern, holding her grimoire over her head. Neither would provide much protection from a full acid blast, but the manticore had well and truly forgotten her in the presence of a bigger, shinier target. “That thing just fucking appeared when I opened the door! There shouldn’t even be anyone down here!”
“You just opened it?! Who just opens a door in a passage like this?! Honestly! There’s a summon diagram right on it. Right there! How did you miss it?!”
“Camilla did it all the time!”
“The tail,” warned Rubedo.
The manticore had detachable spines. That was news to Libertus. None of the books had ever told him that. They shot out in an arc. Libertus tried to summon a wind to push them back, but in the stillness of the mountain cavern he could only manage the barest of gusts. Rubedo swung his club up to shield them. The spines connected with them hard enough that Rubedo grunted. Libertus felt their impact through his body.
“Yes, because clearly the witch who created this passage would have made it safe for an uppity apprentice.”
“We’ve got the same blood!” snapped Cam.
“And do you hold that summon’s name?”
“No?”
“Then of course it would attack you!” shouted Libertus. Another acid blast. Libertus nearly stumbled as the ground dissolved near his hooves. “Summons are only bound to obey— damn you — who holds — wretched thing! — their contract! As I am bound to follow you. You, my honored master, who has summoned me into a place, with no weather, with no space, to fight an unsightly creature of the dark when you do not even know its name—”
“I do,” said Rubedo, as he blocked another volley of spines. He dared to sit up on Libertus’ back.
Libertus nearly stumbled again. His ears flicked back. “What?”
“You whose name I cannot speak in this world,” called Rubedo, across the way, “do you like your beef bowl with an extra egg?”
The manticore paused mid-roar. It coughed its next mouthful of acid into the floor right in front of its paws.
“Ehghgeh?” it said, its little black eyes flickered in confusion.
It forgot to pull at its chains. Everything stopped.
“What the fuck?” asked Cam.
“Finally, a good question,” said Libertus.
“…And an extra slice of meat,” said the manticore, shaking its mane in recollection. It furrowed its brows. “Do I know you?”
“You know me,” said Rubedo. He pushed his heel into Libertus’ side, nudging him to turn. Libertus went reluctantly, not wanting to give the manticore a clear shot at them, but the manticore didn’t take it. It stared across the ways, its nostrils flared. “And I know you. I cannot speak the name by which you know me in this place, but you have given me steel in exchange for strength. Here, I am called Rubedo.”
A bit of a poetic way to say ‘I cooked you lunch,’ but it seemed to work. The manticore drew back instantly, its back arched.
“Rubedo.” The manticore’s eyes widened. Its fur stood up. The tail shivered dangerously. It dropped, sweeping along the manticore’s haunches. “Yes, how fitting… Yes, I do know you…”
Libertus dropped his head.
(“Girl.” He sent, silently, into his master’s mind.
“What?” went Cam. “Why are you in my head? I didn’t say you could be here. How the hell—!?”)
Libertus nearly sighed out loud.
(“Because the contract permits it,” sent Libertus, as patiently as he could, “and I’m trying to help you. So listen carefully.”
The girl’s mind stopped raging.)
The manticore swayed from side to side. The chains creaked with the motion, stretched to their full length from the door. Libertus let Rubedo guide him closer, his head still lowered.
“It is a shame we should meet like this,” said Rubedo, “I always pray it will not come to pass.”
“More my shame,” said the manticore, “to go up against you. I had not known you were still on the list.”
(“I really didn’t think it could work,” sent Cam. “I thought summons had to have, well, a summoner, and Camilla is dead, and…”
“So you are not entirely an idiot,” sent Libertus. “Good. There is a summoner.”)
“We will be on the lists until our deaths,” continued Rubedo, out loud. His voice stayed level, though by the dual nature of their summoning he must have heard Libertus speak to Cam. “If they have their way.”
To Libertus’ surprise, the manticore laughed bitterly.
“If they have their way,” said the manticore. “Still making it difficult for them.”
“I yet live,” said Rubedo.
(Cam, to her credit, stopped panicking.
“Behind the door,” sent Libertus. “One of her apprentices, probably.”
“But—”
“They will have the contract,” sent Libertus. “In a grimoire, like your own. You will need to find the name, and destroy it.”
“But how will I know which name—”)
“What do they call you, in this world?” asked Rubedo.
“Venenum,” said the manticore.
(“There you are,” sent Libertus. “Now go. Through the door. While he is distracted.”
“Seriously.”
“Now.”
“Sure. I’m ready to die today.”)
But, despite that mulish thought, Cam took off through the stalagmites, moving with surprising speed over the uneven stone. Libertus watched her slip around the manticore’s right side, hesitating only a bit as she took stock of the beast’s drifting tail, which had begun to shiver at the tip, spines flexing, wet with poison.
“Venenum,” said Rubedo, and the manticore’s eyes were locked on him again. “A fitting name.”
Cam managed to reach the edge of the door, ducking carefully under the creaking chains.
“A despicable one,” said the manticore, “imposed on me by those wretched beasts of light.”
Libertus breathed in sharply through his nostrils.
“Rubedo,” he muttered, warningly.
But Rubedo didn’t react to him. Rubedo twisted further in his seat, holding out his club in a gesture of solidarity.
“As it is with mine,” agreed Rubedo. “Must we be enemies?”
The manticore’s sigh was mixed with a growl. He shifted in place, the chain dropped low. Cam was forced to slide back to avoid it. The manticore’s hind leg came down an arm’s length away from her.
(“Aaaghwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck,” sent Cam.
“Patience,” sent Libertus, though he could hardly blame her. Every inch of his body twitched in objection to this creature of the dark. He could hear its scraping breath, every little drop of venom that quivered off of its spines, the acid beading around its teeth, the…)
“I am bound to attack any who would trespass on this gate,” said Venenum.
“And if we choose not to advance?” asked Rubedo.
“Would you really?” The manticore laughed. Another gob of acid dislodged itself from his jowls, searing the floor in front of him. “And what master do you serve, who’d settle for that?”
“We may find a way around,” said Rubedo. “Perhaps, we may make it a riddling contest. As those your honored mother once held.”
Sphinxes were well known to be the female of the species, after all.
“You never change,” said Venenum, jangling his chains as he shook ruefully. His muscles strained. His tail arched. He strained against his orders, the orders that must have been seared into him as surely as his summon name. “Ah, Rubedo, who do you serve now? Who made the mistake of calling the cook? In full armor, no less, and with a…”
The manticore stopped. His pupils froze in his dark, little eyes.
“…A mount,” said the manticore, leaning forward. His nostrils flared. He took a whiff of the air around them, and his mane began to ripple.
(“Master,” sent Libertus. “You’d best be quick.”)
“Rubedo,” said Venenum. “Who is this?”
(“Rubedo,” sent Libertus. “The cavern is too damp for lightning.”)
“Libertus,” said Rubedo, out loud. “My current partner.”
“Your partner?” asked Venenum, his eyes narrowing. His claws eased out of their sheaths, tips scraping the stone as though it were a cushion. “Your ‘partner’ has a horn.”
“A crooked one,” said Rubedo. Libertus jerked under him, but Rubedo leaned his thigh more heavily against his flank, steadying him under him.
“But a horn nonetheless.” Venenum bunched all over again, his voice morphed more firmly into a rising growl. As he bunched, Cam managed to slip under the chain at last. Libertus could barely afford to breathe out at that, because the manticore’s spines began to extend, his sides heaved. “And he reeks of light. Of purity. That sick.” The chain began to clank with each word. “Burning.” Clank. “Sterility.”
The manticore leaned his weight from side to side. The fasteners groaned. Rubedo shouldered his club. One hand rested on Libertus’ neck.
“You are one to talk of stench,” said Libertus, letting his head come up. His horn caught the magic lights in the cavern.
“Unicorn,” snarled Venenum. “Rubedo, that is a unicorn.”
“So it is,” said Rubedo. He pressed his hand against Libertus’ shoulder.
“Rubedo,” said Venenum, eyes blazing with accusation. “Who. Do. You. Serve.”
“Now,” said Rubedo, giving Libertus’ neck a sharp tap with the flat of his palm. Libertus didn’t need to be told twice, he launched himself into the air just as the acid and spines came spewing their way. Venenum roared, throwing his full weight against his chains. The doors shook. The ground shook. The cavern shook. The left fastener bent on its bolts, allowing him an extra foot of space. His tail came around. Libertus danced just clear of it. The manticore whirled the other way and swiped with his claws. They clanged against Rubedo’s club.
“Answer me, Rubedo!” said Venenum. “Is it true, what they say of you? Is it true?”
Rubedo shoved his weight into his club, knocking Venenum onto his side. It didn’t keep him down very long. His left fastener bent further. He rolled to his feet with his tail whipping. Clang, it went against Rubedo’s club. Clang. Clang. Libertus tried to retreat, but the next acid spew hit the stalactites above their heads, and sent them crashing down in his would-be path of escape.
“We are not enemies,” said Rubedo.
“He is!” cried the manticore. “Unicorns are the servitors of the Lords of Creation! That creature you ride is the very image of the Lord of Dreams!”
Libertus’ ears went back. He whirled, bucking his hind legs backwards. His hooves cracked against the side of the manticore’s face.
“How dare you,” said Libertus, stumbling as he landed. “What do you know of the Lord of Dreams.”
The manticore shook off the blow and countered with another tail swipe, scarring the stone between them.
“And he speaks for him, Rubedo,” said Venenum. “He speaks for the very Lord we were sentenced under.”
“A sentence we share,” Rubedo countered.
“A sentence they orchestrated,” said Venenum. “In the prison city they made for us. In the lists we are bound to. We fight and die by their whim, in these wretched other places, under names not our own, and you ride one of them like a pet—”
“I am no one’s pet,” said Libertus.
“And I am no one’s slave,” said Venenum. “Traitor.”
“Be careful,” warned Rubedo.
“Traitor!” roared Venenum.
The left chain’s groan reached a high-pitched whine. That was the one warning Libertus had before the manticore threw himself forward, entirely free on one side. His jaws closed around Rubedo’s club, pulling his arm down. His front paw raked down Libertus’ side, leaving red four lines. Libertus reached out of sheer reflex. His horn crackled and sparked. The cavern lit up in a hot white light. The dampness of the floors carried the electricity in all directions. Libertus smelled burning hair. Some of it may have been his own, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was that twisting dark beast beside him, that awful tail, the smell of acid, of poison, the manticore’s hate-filled little eyes, and the terrible pain in his side as he threw himself sideways, plunging his horn into the manticore’s exposed shoulder.
They crashed to the floor together, all three of them. Venenum’s roar turned into a yowl. Rubedo pulled his club free. The manticore tried to twist, but he was caught on Libertus’ horn. Libertus could feel hot blood well around his horn, spattering his face, and he knew from the way the claws scrabbled his own would be joining it soon—
“Venenum!” cried Cam. “Fuck off!”
The manticore vanished under him. Libertus fell fully against the cavern floor. Rubedo dragged himself out from under him. He used his club to pull himself to his feet. After a moment of gasping, Libertus managed to roll enough to do the same. The chains clattered against the floor. So did the collar, now bereft of its captive.
Cam stood between the open doors, holding a scrap of vellum bunched in one hand.
“That do it?” she asked. She tried to take a step forward, but her legs wouldn’t carry her. She ended up holding onto the right door for support. Her dark skin had a distinctly grey-ish cast as she took in Libertus’ bloodied face and mane. Rubedo came up to her and held out one large hand. She took his fingertips, swallowed, and stayed standing.
“The summoner,” asked Rubedo.
“Found ‘em,” said Cam.
“Alive?” asked Rubedo.
“Yes. No. It’s complicated,” Cam covered her mouth. “See for yourself.”
The passage beyond the gates contained a workshop. There was no question of the owner. It had the same design of the workshop where Libertus had first been summoned. It had a number of bookshelves, tables, and equipment lining the cavern walls. That was where the comparison ended.
This witch’s workshop had been used far less often. The equipment was covered in a layer of fine dust. The bookshelves were empty. All the chairs lined the walls except for one — a chair lying in the center of the room, over the old dust-encrusted summoning circle.
Cam walked up to the chair, and the figure slumped in it. At first, Libertus saw the outline of a fur coat and hesitated, bouncing on his front legs thinking it might be the Shrike, or an apprentice — but the figure was only the size of a child, and made of glass. It was a porcelain doll made in the image of the witch herself. It sat with its false hands closed around the empty space which had once held the torn paper that Cam now shoved into her grimoire. The doll’s glossy head tilted to one side. Its face shaped crudely into the witch’s confident sneer. Its neck awkwardly fitted on a ball joint to a rounded case, which was made of a clear material. Inside, Libertus could make out a clear green liquid, glowing with preservative magics, and in that liquid he could see…
“Oh, blast,” he said. “That’s absolutely…”
“I know,” said Cam. “It’s really. Just… I know.”
A heart. A human heart, and a set of lungs, and a few other organs wrapped in little gold and copper wiring. The heart was beating. The lungs were expanding and contracting. The whole doll vibrated with the warmth of magic and of life. When Cam came close to it, the head tipped over to the other side, the sightless glass eyes rolling in her direction.
“That isn’t alive, is it?” asked Rubedo.
Libertus peered over Cam’s shoulder.
“Alive enough to carry a contract,” he realized, as he touched his horn carefully to its painted cheek. He could almost feel the doll trying to reach out to him, its pleading, flickering little life. “But not alive enough to require more than the most basic of maintenance. How despicable. How absolutely, completely—”
Cam fell to her knees at the doll’s feet. She put her forehead against the book in her arms.
“Yeah, she did stuff like this all the time,” she whispered. “I hate witches. I really, really…”
Rubedo picked her up and held her in the crook of his arm. Libertus hesitated, looking between her and the doll in the chair. The worst part was, he could see the resemblance between the two. It wasn’t just possible that the doll had once been an apprentice not unlike her, but almost certain. The worst part was Libertus could see the brutal practicality of the witch’s reasoning: If you have a secret passage you protect it. No need to waste supplies. No need to waste a person…
Except, what else could this be called, except a complete waste of a person?
“I do have healing magics,” said Libertus. In the quiet of the dusty workshop, he almost didn’t recognize his own voice. “I might be able to ease at least some of the pain. Make it more functional. Perhaps—”
“Could you bring her back?” asked Cam. “Is there enough to make her a person again?”
“No,” admitted Libertus. “I’m not sure there was ever enough there to begin with.”
The witch had used only the bare essentials, and a lingering awareness. That awareness hummed against Libertus’ horn, and all it knew was pain.
“Life,” said Libertus. “My magic is meant for life. Everything I have been asked to do here has been to take it.”
“Make it so she doesn’t hurt anymore,” said Cam.
Libertus scraped his hoof desolately along the floor.
“As you wish, Master,” he said. He pressed his horn to the doll’s chest, the glass over its beating heart. Then he stopped, considered something, and raised his horn instead to place it between the glass eyes.
“Dream,” he whispered. “Dream of something lovely.”
There was not enough of the doll’s mind to come up with something lovely for herself, so Libertus used a dream from his own stores. A memory of a beautiful pink field, with golden clouds, and racing across it top speed — into a horizon with no end, and no limits. Nothing but the cool wind and freedom.
‘Ah,’ came a thought from the doll, its last — and also possibly its first. ‘Wow. Wow wow wow.’
He stopped its heart with a quick bolt of electricity. The doll’s head fell forward.
Rubedo put Cam down. She kissed the doll on its cold forehead. Rubedo folded its empty hands over its chest.
“We are not long for this world,” he said, when they were done. “Do you know where the passage leads?”
“Out of the main valley,” said Cam. “This was Camilla’s bolt hole. In case they ever overwhelmed her. The other witches were always trying to steal her… her… her research.”
Never had that word ever sounded so bitter.
“Take what you can from this place,” said Rubedo, “and go.”
“You’re just going to leave me here?” asked Cam, looking up at him. “Again?”
“Only for now,” said Rubedo. “When you have need of us, we will be there.”
“Better than nothing, I guess,” said Cam, but she cut the summon.
