Chapter 51. The Circle

  Lyle’s chatter increased as they walked, and Jeremiah realized his excitement was undercut with a growing nervousness. About what, though, he had no idea.

  They didn’t have far to go—around the back of the market square, Lyle led Jeremiah to a building unlike the others. It was recently built, constructed of heavy stone blocks, and featured no windows. A pair of stone doors at the top of a grand set of stairs. As they approached, Jeremiah spotted tiny enchanting runes engraved upon the doors’ surfaces.

  “Now,” said Lyle, standing between Jeremiah and the door, “we face an important moment. If you’re really a mage, great. We can do a lot with that. But if you can open this door…well, we’re going to need to have a very important talk.”

  Jeremiah studied the door. The etchings were an unpowered enchantment diagram. It was complex and some runes were unfamiliar to him, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  “This hedonistic wretch lives a life devoid of discipline,” said Thurok. “There will be some sort of childish trick to overcome, nothing that demands true expertise.”

  “First thing’s first,” said Jeremiah. He placed his hands on the door and spoke the words to charge the diagram.

  Lyle clapped his hands in excitement. “Oh, that’s already more than I dared hope!”

  The diagram stayed dark, however, the door sealed. Jeremiah frowned, and traced the intricate lines. After a few minutes, he discovered a break where several lines should intersect. There was an indentation there, as though a small circular chunk of the surface had been removed.

  He tapped the spot. “Here’s the problem. The diagram isn’t complete until these lines link up. It looks like a piece is supposed to fit in there.”

  “Something like this?” Lyle produced an amulet on a chain from his robes. It was a pendant of the same dark stone the building was made from, with several intricate lines crisscrossing the center.

  “Such pedantic idiocy,” said Thurok.

  “Probably that exact thing, yes,” said Jeremiah, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

  “Go ahead, take it,” said Lyle, offering the pendant. Jeremiah could hear his smug smile.

  Jeremiah took Lyle’s pendant and pressed it into place, aligning it with the points of the runes. Sure enough, it slotted in perfectly. Jeremiah incanted again, and the door glowed briefly before the gap between the doors yawned open, like the mouth of a lazy beast.

  “We have so much to discuss,” said Lyle. He took the pendant from Jeremiah and ushered him inside.

  It was darker in the building, and Jeremiah’s eyes needed a moment to adjust. Details emerged slowly—the room was circular, with a few plain doors around the perimeter. They stood upon a polished black metal floor. Enchanting implements were hung on one wall, but otherwise the room was empty.

  “What do you think?” asked Lyle, arms outstretched.

  Jeremiah looked around, wondering what he was supposed to be seeing. Finally, he realized it was beneath their feet—incalculable tiny lines swarmed the floor, spreading in all directions like cracks in a frozen lake. It was by far the largest enchantment diagram he had ever seen. Jeremiah recognized the material as adamantine, a very rare, very resilient metal. His father had sparingly used pieces of adamantine the size of a fingernail in his jewelry work, and here was a circle that spanned an entire room.

  He began to walk the perimeter, admiring the intricate details. “What is this? Did you engrave it?” If so, then he had vastly underestimated Lyle—this diagram was the work of a master.

  “This is the great project,” said Lyle, “the culmination of generations of work. Well, a piece of it anyways. I’m the sole custodian in Elminia. I maintain it, charge it, and occasionally improve upon the design. And if you’re interested, I’d like you to join me.”

  Jeremiah realized this was why Lyle had been nervous—he didn’t want the help, he needed it.

  “ Pull back ,” said Bruno. “ Make him chase you .”

  “Umm.” Jeremiah ran a finger over one node, as though inspecting its craftsmanship. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  “Don’t act like you’re not impressed!” Lyle cackled. “This is the rarest opportunity, the chance to work on a true masterwork. And the pay is great, if you know what I mean.”

  Something was off about Lyle in this place. The veneer was cracking, Lyle was becoming more erratic.

  “Reel him in,” said Delilah.

  “Actually, I have no idea what you mean. Speak plainly—what exactly are you offering?”

  Lyle was silent for a time. When he next spoke, his voice was measured, colder than Jeremiah had yet heard. “Whatever it is that brought you here, we can procure it, in ways you’ve never even thought of. An entire army working to satisfy your every whim. We have members here from the lowest serial killers to the upper ranks of the regency. Join me in this work, and you may command them all.”

  This was different than anything Lyle had said before. It was frightening. “You make it sound almost like a shadow government,” said Jeremiah.

  “There’s a form of shadow government in Elminia,” said Lyle, “and we control that too. Every single soul of consequence that harbors secret desires knows our touch, is beholden to the pursuit of that need.” Lyle knelt down to inspect an inscription closely.

  Something else was going on here. The flock was much more than a cult of hedonistic indulgence.

  “Sole custodian, but also said ‘we’,” said Delilah.

  “This isn’t the only diagram, is it?” asked Jeremiah.

  Lyle looked at Jeremiah. Through the masks, they held each other's gaze. Jeremiah tensed. His life was being weighed at this very moment. The other man had given no hint of threat, but Jeremiah could feel it, plain as day.

  “It is not,” said Lyle.

  “Careful!” said Allison. “No one knows where you are. If you die down here, you’ll just disappear.”

  “No, press,” said Delilah. “He brought you here because he needs you.”

  Jeremiah snapped his fingers, trying to bring his own levity into the conversation. “The cult serves the enchantment, doesn’t it? This place had to have come first. The work of generations, you said? And the cult formed around it.”

  “Correct,” said Lyle. Still cold, but with a hint of a smile in his tone.

  “But,” Jeremiah began pacing as he talked, “there’s always been someone to steward the enchantment, someone like you. You’re not an old man, you’re not just looking to pass on the task. No, something is changing.”

  It all made sense. The fever in Elminia was peaking, everyone knew something was coming and nobody knew what. But this was it, the something was in this room with him right now.

  “Perhaps,” said Lyle.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Jeremiah stopped pacing. “Lyle, what does this enchantment do?”

  Lyle hesitated. Too long.

  “ He wants to trust you ,” said Bruno. “ Let him .”

  Jeremiah crossed the space between them and spoke in a low whisper. “Let's pretend I didn't come down here just to get high. Let’s pretend I'm looking for something more interesting. More meaningful. I know you’ve carried this alone for a long time. I also know there’s nobody else like me coming along again anytime soon.”

  It was Jeremiah’s turn to put a reassuring hand on Lyle’s shoulder. Lyle stared at him, but Jeremiah couldn't read anything. Lyle could have been weeping, or smiling, or preparing to kill him. He had no way of knowing.

  Lyle was still as if he’d been carved from marble. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “Do you believe in the power of freedom? Truly believe?”

  Jeremiah exhaled, filling himself with Lyle’s worldview, forcing himself to accept the other man’s reality, just for a moment. “I do.”

  A moment’s more silence as Lyle was scrutinized him. For what, Jeremiah had no idea.

  Then Lyle spoke, quickly and harshly, like a confession. “I need someone to help control them.”

  “Control people? I thought this whole thing was about freedom?”

  “Not the people,” said Lyle.

  The air chilled. “What…uh…what do you mean, ‘not the people’?” Jeremiah suddenly felt very alone, save for a terrible truth lurking just beyond his comprehension.

  “The people need help,” said Lyle, with dreadful composure. “It's not their fault, it's just their nature.” He began walking toward the center of the diagram, one arm outstretched, reaching for something Jeremiah couldn't see. “They need help grasping the possibilities. All of the possibilities.”

  Lyle reached the center, and his hand warped as though it were reflected in a deformed mirror. There was something in this room. Something wrong.

  “The curtain has worn so thin, for so long,” said Lyle, letting his hand twist and split in the wrongness of space. “And the people weaken the curtain as well as they give in to their needs. The thinner the curtain, the more they give in. It’s beautiful.”

  “Lyle, is this some kind of mind control?” asked Jeremiah.

  “No! The exact opposite. We are liberating them. We will shine a light on their very souls and they will reach a transcendence of true self-awareness.” Lyle caressed the split of wrongness. “All people, everywhere, will truly know themselves, will finally be able to reach past society’s boundaries to seize exactly what they need.

  “But for such a miracle, we need help…” He raised his gaze to Jeremiah, formed a fist in the air, and yanked.

  Something tore, something in the world.

  Jeremiah looked into the tear, and his mind was blasted with a riotous torrent of concepts pouring forth and crashing against the brick and mortar bulwark of reality. Jeremiah became aware of concepts for which there were no words, concepts of pain beyond pain, the texture of loneliness, the taste of despair, the stretching sensation of chaos unbound that would scatter your body and soul at the slightest breeze. HIs mind reeled at an infinite number of memories of torment and indulgence. But there was also a calling, one that pierced deep into the animal part of his brain and gave him permission to ride any impulse that came to him. To be an impulse. Freedom from himself, from his doubts, from his fears, anxieties, regrets, temptations, weaknesses, flaws, everything.

  “You are a microcosm of perfection,” it spoke, “Embrace thyself.”

  “But I Fear,” Jeremiah’s mind spoke back.

  “Then Fear without limit,” it said.

  “I don’t want to Fear.”

  “Then Fear nothing. All you do, all you feel, all you think, is perfection. You are the paragon of You."

  He was of limitless potential. Nothing could stand in his way.

  It was bliss.

  Jeremiah’s mind recrystallized, scabbing over the blind insanity that had threatened the very boundaries of his sense of self.

  “You’re okay! You’re okay!” Lyle was saying.

  “What…what was I?” Jeremiah asked. It was the right question, but also made no sense. He was lying in a heap on that black mirror floor, his head ringing. The wrong space was once again invisible.

  Lyle was by his side, helping him sit up. “I’m so sorry, I should have eased you into that.”

  “What was it?” asked Jeremiah.

  “That was a glimpse into another world,” said Lyle proudly, “one that’s now so very close to ours. The thinness of the veil helps the people of this city to understand themselves and their true needs.”

  “It felt…chaotic,” said Jeremiah. It was as close a word as he could muster.

  Lyle chuckled, “Yeah, first time is quite the hit.”

  “It also felt, well, evil,” said Jeremiah.

  “Capital E Evil, even!” said Flusoh.

  “That’s just the shock,” said Lyle. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Lyle, was that Hell?” asked Jeremiah.

  “Absolutely not,” said Lyle, “Hell is a plane of pure tyranny and wickedness. It’s what our world is becoming, with its relentless laws and bureaucracy.”

  “Check the other one,” said Flusoh.

  “Was it the Abyss?” asked Jeremiah.

  Lyle sighed. “The name of the plane doesn’t matter. What matters is that it will free our people—all people—from the chains that bind them. Both internal and external.”

  “Yeah, it’s the Abyss,” said Flusoh.

  Jeremiah had learned about the other planes of existence during his studies with Flusoh. Hell and the Abyss were indeed two distinct versions of damnation, though to a normal person the difference would be pedantic.

  Hell was a world of torment and ironclad hierarchy, where the very concepts of law and order were woven into the fabric of existence. It was populated by creatures called devils, monsters most known for striking deals with mortals in exchange for their souls.

  The Abyss, on the other hand, was pure chaotic evil. Any semblance of order was only built upon one's ability to enforce it. It was populated by demons, nightmarish creatures of limitless variety.

  “You’re trying to bring demons into the world?” asked Jeremiah.

  Lyle held up a finger. “No, no! Simply pulling a demon into the world is easy. Any mage who knows conjuring can do it. What we’re doing here is bringing the Abyss to our realm, making them coterminous with each other.”

  “And how is that different?” asked Jeremiah.

  “It’s about the influence of the Abyss itself! The thinning of the barrier has already been affecting this city for generations. Why do you think Elminia is so wealthy and successful? People take chances here. They bet long, they pursue their dreams with reckless abandon and fight for them tooth and nail. You must have felt it. It drives you to greatness.”

  That rising fever. Jeremiah shuddered. All those horrific things he’d witnessed and experienced flashed through his mind. Cutter. Monty. The Tragedy. Selfishness and suffering run rampant.

  But if Lyle’s words were true, all that was simply another side of Jeremiah’s success. Conquering the Gilded Vault, daring to kiss Delilah—he didn’t want to believe it. How could something so wonderful be linked to something so Evil?

  Lyle was watching him closely. “The power is within you, within all of us,” he said. “All we’re doing is setting it free.”

  “I…I understand,” said Jeremiah. In truth, his thoughts were a maelstrom. He wanted to be great, not evil. He wanted that power, feared the responsibility. Were they really so entwined?

  A sense of urgency was rising in Jeremiah’s chest. He was standing on that stormy shore again, rushing darkness below. He hoped he was strong enough this time. “What do you need from me?”

  Lyle took Jeremiah’s hands in his own and spoke in a low voice. “We are close. The fabric between worlds is nearly worn through. You are to become an expert in this most wonderous enchantment. It is carved in adamantine, and cannot be marred by common tools, but I will show you how to maintain it.

  “And when the time comes, and it is coming soon, you will help me control the emissaries of the Abyss, to protect our people while the purveyors of infernal power guide us all in a journey of self discovery.”

  “Emissaries?” Jeremiah asked. “You mean the demons?”

  “Yes. With our combined power, we will bind their wills to ours, and bring true freedom to our people.” Lyle’s hand fell to the amulet as he spoke. “We will be the vanguard of a new, better world, one where we may live unfettered. When you falter, I will aid you. When I stumble, I will have faith in you to catch me. Will you join me in this great project, brother?”

  “I am with you.” Jeremiah heard his own voice, as though from far away.

  Lyle gripped Jeremiah’s forearm and pulled him into an embrace. “Then at last, true freedom is at hand.”