The Fall of the Readers Read online

  A clattering, clicking sound came from below them, getting louder quickly. Alice felt a tug at the fabric of the labyrinth, weak as it was here. She fought back, pressing down, making it impossible for Decay to shift himself ahead of them. There was a hiss of rage, and the clatter redoubled.

  “We’re . . . not . . . going to make it,” Isaac gasped out.

  “I’ve got . . . an idea,” Alice said. “Get on my back!”

  “What?”

  Keeping her hold on the labyrinth while manipulating her threads wasn’t easy, but she’d had a lot of practice recently splitting her attention. She grabbed Spike’s thread, not just for strength but wrapping it around herself as tight as it would go, until she felt her body start to change. She fell to all fours as her limbs thickened, her body expanding into the dinosaur’s heavy-boned frame. Spike’s endurance matched his strength, and he could run for days, although his plate-like feet were not a perfect match for the stairs.

  “Back. Right!” Isaac grabbed hold of a spiny plate and vaulted aboard. As Spike, Alice barely felt his weight.

  She redoubled her speed, charging up the steps as fast as she dared. The biggest problem was turning—Spike didn’t corner well at the best of times, and keeping a tight spiral as she ascended was harder than it looked.

  “He’s still coming!” Isaac shouted, looking behind them. “Getting closer! And, um, I think he’s getting bigger, too.”

  Alice risked a glance as they turned. What had been an enormous centipede was now truly monstrous, the size of a charging bull, its mandibles extending in front like lances. It ascended the steps like the slope wasn’t even there, legs rising and falling with swift, unerring precision. Fangs the size of butcher knives still dripped greenish poison.

  “We need you alive, Miss Creighton,” Decay’s voice hissed, still cold and collected. “But don’t think that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you. I am not the only poisonous creature under the ice. You will scream, I promise you that.”

  “Alice!” Isaac shouted. “We have to go faster!”

  Alice tried to shout back, but all her dinosaur body could manage was a screeching honk. She was having increasing difficulty keeping Decay from twisting the labyrinth around them. This was his home ground, and her powers were secondhand—she was amazed she’d matched him for this long. The earth underfoot rumbled as they passed, and she screech-honked again. Do something!

  As he had below, Isaac seemed to catch her meaning at once. She felt his power gathering again, stronger than before, and she heard him gasp with the pain of pulling so much at once. Decay, monstrously oversized, came closer and closer, his mandibles only feet from Alice’s hindquarters. In desperation, she prepared to turn and fight—if I can at least knock him backward—

  Something rumbled overhead, and there was an explosion of snow from the ceiling. It was followed by another, then another, the veins of ice that ran through the rock blasting down into powder as they passed. Snow was suddenly everywhere, falling around Alice in gentle flakes, coating Decay’s armor plates a dusty gray. The centipede was still coming, and Alice screech-honked one more time. Do something better!

  The first rock hit the ground behind them with a clatter.

  The ancient rock was honeycombed and glued together with ice. As Isaac blew that ice into snow, the stones began to shift, and then to tumble. Alice found some last reserve of strength, and surged away from Decay just as a jagged boulder the size of a bus dropped from the stairway onto the centipede. More rocks followed, large and small, a thunderous cacophony that drowned out all other sound and filled the stairway behind her with a flying mix of dust and snow. Decay screeched, his still-free head whipping back and forth, but he was pinned in place, and the rocks were still coming down. Alice lost sight of him as the gray-white cloud billowed upward.

  She felt Isaac slump with exhaustion. The door to the library was coming up, just ahead—they couldn’t have run much farther in any case. Alice slowed to a halt, skidding on steps slippery with flying snow, and hastily shifted back to a girl. She caught Isaac under the arms before he could collapse. His eyes were open, but he was panting for breath, and his legs felt unsteady.

  “That was brilliant!” she said, shouting over the continuing noise of falling stone.

  “I remembered . . . what we did . . . against the Dragon,” Isaac said. “Ice . . . and rocks. Here we already had the ice.” He swallowed hard. “Probably too much to hope that it killed him.”

  “He’s still there.” Alice could feel Decay, momentarily stunned and trapped, but still touching the fabric of the labyrinth. “Can you walk? We need to get out of here.”

  He nodded, and she released him. Isaac took a tentative step, wobbling like a baby deer, and then another with more strength behind it. Alice grabbed the fabric of the labyrinth, twisting a passage from here to there that would lead right to Ashes. The air beyond the doorway went hazy and shimmering.

  You won’t escape. Decay’s voice rang in her mind, through the fabric. She felt his grip slam against hers, strength against strength, blocking her way. Not that way. This is my domain. Whatever powers you’ve stolen, you are still merely a Reader. You are no match for one of us.

  “Isaac.” Alice stopped walking. Isaac halted, a few steps ahead, and looked back.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She didn’t feel all right. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes were closed, all her mental energy focused on the passage. Even speaking was an effort.

  “Take my hand,” she said. “When I say, pull me through the doorway.”

  “Why—” He stopped, and there was a moment of silence. She felt his hand against hers. “All right. Say the word.”

  You are nothing! Decay raged. Your time—the time of all the Readers—is past. This is our time, and our labyrinths will cover the world. You are—

  I know what I am, Alice told him.

  She bore down on the fabric, as hard as she could. It was like tug-of-war, or arm-wrestling, a contest of raw power without finesse. She’d never tried this before, against Torment or Ending or any of the others, never believed that her borrowed strength could be a match for one of the demons of the labyrinth. But inch by inch, she forced Decay out of her path, her whole body quivering with the effort.

  Not possible, he said. This is not possible!

  She felt the connection snap into place. “Now, Isaac!”

  Isaac pulled her to the doorway. Her legs moved, automatically, following him in a stumbling run. All her attention was on the other world, the world of twisted space, fighting now to press back Decay’s increasingly desperate assault. She felt the fabric shift around her as they passed through.

  “I was beginning to wonder what happened to you,” Ashes said.

  Alice let go of the fabric and staggered, leaning heavily on Isaac’s grip. He squeezed her hand tight.

  “Alice?” the cat said.

  She opened her eyes.

  They stood in a hexagonal room carved from stone, its walls shaped into rough shelves, packed with disorderly stacks of books. Doorways led to identical hexagons with more doorways, stretching on and on. It’s a beehive!

  A half-dozen velnebs clung to the shelves, or hung upside down from the craggy ceiling with their weird heads reversed. Ashes was in the center of the room, next to a large green book.

  “I’m okay,” Alice said. “But we have to get out of here. Decay is coming.”

  “Decay?” one of the velnebs said. “But he serves the master. Why would he attack you?”

  “He’s rebelled,” Isaac said quickly. “Turned against our master. We’re going to escape until he gets back. You all should do the same, if you can.”

  Alice hadn’t thought about that. She could easily imagine Decay turning his fury on the velnebs.

  “Rebelled!” The word went around the room. “Rebelled!”
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br />   “Do you have somewhere you can hide?”

  The nearest velneb nodded. One of the ones on the ceiling said, “Creatures-book the of some by favors owed are ones these. Returns master the until worlds their in us shelter will they.”

  “Good,” Isaac said. “Go as soon as you can.”

  Alice could feel Decay’s grip, scrabbling through the fabric. “Come on.” She reached for Ashes, and he scrambled up to her shoulder. Isaac still had her other hand.

  “Did you get the Dragon?” the cat said.

  Alice patted the book under her arm. “I did. That’s the right portal?”

  “If you trust these things.” Ashes glanced suspiciously at the upside-down creatures.

  Alice reached for the green volume next to Ashes, then looked up at the velnebs.

  “Thank you for your help.”

  “Welcome you’re,” they chorused.

  We will find you, Decay whispered in the back of her mind. And when we do—

  Alice opened the book, and read, “She found herself on a rocky hilltop, under a darkening sky . . .”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  THE WORLD COME UNDONE

  SHE FOUND HERSELF ON a rocky hilltop, under a darkening sky. The green book sat atop a short stone pillar.

  “Are we in the right place?” Ashes said from her shoulder. “Those velnebs didn’t make much sense half the time.”

  “I have no idea,” Alice said. She looked over her shoulder. The hills rose into mountains behind her, she could tell that much by their outlines against the sky, but she couldn’t see enough to tell if any of them had three narrow peaks. “I think we need to wait for daylight.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Isaac said. “I don’t think I could walk another step.”

  “Do you think you could manage a few more?” Alice said. “I’d like to get away from the portal-book and find some shelter.” She didn’t think anyone could follow them here, but she was far from certain about the extent of the labyrinthine’s powers.

  Isaac gave a weary nod. “While we still have some light, then.”

  They walked down the slope of the hill and across the next valley. A little way on, Alice saw a stand of trees, ragged little things all huddled together as if for warmth. A tug on the tree-sprite’s thread made them bend out of the way, creating a cozy pocket for the three of them. A further touch, and a few dead, dry branches dropped free, while live branches bowed toward them bearing heavy, juicy fruits.

  “That comes in handy,” Isaac murmured. He gathered the deadwood, and lit it with a spark from his salamander. It soon grew into a cheery little fire, the warmth dispelling the bone-deep cold of the ice caverns.

  “More often than you’d think,” Alice agreed. She munched on one of the fruits. “I need to figure out how to do something besides not-quite-apples, though. I’ve tried experimenting, but it always comes out disgusting.”

  “Apples are fine with me.”

  Isaac took a bite of his own, and leaned back. There was just enough room for the three of them in the little shelter, and when she lay back Isaac’s shoulder pressed against hers. He felt warm, even through his coat. They were silent for a while, finishing the apples and throwing the cores into the fire. Ashes snuggled up against Alice’s other side, and began a low purr.

  “Can I ask you something?” Alice said.

  “What is it?” Isaac shifted against her.

  “Do you ever think about how things could have been different?” Alice said. “If you’d done things differently?”

  “Sometimes,” he said. “But it’s an easy way to drive yourself mad.”

  “I wanted to find out what happened to my father,” Alice said. “I wanted revenge. And that’s brought us . . . all this.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” Isaac said. “You didn’t know.”

  “Maybe I should have.” Alice sighed. “I think back and try to figure out where I could have taken a different path.”

  “Some of those paths might have ended up with you dead,” Isaac said. “Or still working for Geryon, not knowing what he did to you. You might never have met me, or we might have been enemies.”

  Something hurt in Alice’s chest, a sweet, sharp pain. She swallowed.

  “I’m glad I met you,” she said, very quietly.

  Isaac pressed himself a little closer. Alice felt her heart thumping. There was so much she wanted to say, a lifetime’s worth. Except—

  She cleared her throat after a long silence.

  “There’s something I should tell you,” Alice said. “Something I’ve figured out. I hope . . . I mean, I’m not sure . . .” She swallowed. “Isaac?”

  More silence. Then a soft snore.

  “He wore himself out,” Ashes said. “What did you do to him?”

  “He saved me, I saved him,” Alice said. “The usual, really. What else are friends for?”

  “If you ask me,” the cat said, “friends ought to keep you out of situations where you need saving.”

  “That too.” But all I ever do is drag everyone in after me. “Do you ever have any regrets?”

  “Of course not.” Ashes yawned. “I’m a cat.”

  Alice smiled softly, settled back between her friends, and closed her eyes.

  In the morning, after they’d eaten a hasty breakfast of more almost-apples, Alice climbed to the top of the hill to get a good look at the mountains. She was immensely relieved to see that there was indeed one with three tall, narrow peaks, just as Geryon had described.

  They started walking in that direction, Alice leading the way. She couldn’t travel as the Swarm—it was too easy to lose track of landmarks from three inches off the ground—and in any event Isaac wouldn’t have been able to keep up. So they skirted the edges of the hills and fought through clumps of tiresome nettles, until about midday when she spotted a dirt road going in roughly the right direction. After that, they made much better progress.

  In the mid-afternoon, they crested a small rise, and Alice stopped short. There was a car in the road ahead, an old one, the body speckled with rust. A man sat on the hood, while a child played in the weeds at the side of the road. Alice looked back at Isaac.

  “What’s wrong?” he said.

  “There’s someone there.” They hadn’t seen any people since they’d arrived, aside from lights in the distance. Alice didn’t know the local geography at all, but she’d gotten the impression they were well back in the hinterlands. “They look like they’re waiting for something.”

  “They could be taking a rest,” Isaac said, frowning.

  “Or it could be a trap,” Ashes said. “Plenty of creatures can look human from a distance.”

  “How many of them have cars?” Alice said. She shook her head. “Come on. Isaac, if they’re human and they’re going to be trouble, just put them to sleep.”

  “Humans,” Ashes muttered darkly.

  The man was dressed in a thin coat, a vest, and a gray slouch hat, and he had a rifle slung over his shoulder. The child was a little girl, five or six, in a blue dress that had seen better days. The man saw them coming, but evidently he didn’t think they were a threat, because he made no move for his weapon.

  “Hello!” he said, when they came closer. “Can you understand me? You look like foreigners.”

  Alice knew he couldn’t be speaking English, but she understood him perfectly. For the first time this felt odd to her. She’d grown used to universal comprehension among all manner of magical creatures, from different worlds and cultures, but she hadn’t had much occasion to speak to foreign humans. If she concentrated, she could tell that the man was speaking another language—Greek, she assumed—but the words arrived in her mind with the same effortless comprehension as her native language.

  “I understand,” she said, and as he nodded she wondered what she sounded l
ike to him. Do I have an accent? “Are you all right?”

  “The car needs oil.” He thumped the hood. “Or so my son says. He’s walking to the nearest village to get some.” His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t come from the city, have you?”

  Alice shook her head cautiously. The man looked her up and down, and sighed. He had snow-white hair poking out from around his cap, and his face was as wrinkled and tanned as old leather.

  “It’s a hard road,” he said, “with no shoes.”

  Alice had almost forgotten she’d lost her boots again. She shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

  The old man nodded. He gestured to the little girl, who had left off playing in the dirt with a stick and half hidden herself behind a nearby tree, staring at the strangers suspiciously. “You can come out, Ann. They’re only kids. And look, they’ve got a cat.”

  The girl remained where she was. Alice wondered what she’d do if they knew that she and Isaac were a lot more dangerous than anyone else he was likely to meet on the road.

  “What are you doing out here?” Isaac said.

  “Running away,” the old man said simply. “Things have gotten bad, in the city.”

  “Bad how?” Alice asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. “We left quite a while ago.”

  “At first they said everyone was going crazy. The soldiers and the police tried to establish order, but . . .” He shook his head. “Strange things. If you haven’t been there, you’ll think I’m crazy, too.”

  “I won’t,” Alice said.

  “The city was changing. Out of the corner of your eye, when you weren’t quite looking at it. The ruins, you know? The tourists come to see them. But they started to spread, like they were taking over. Modern buildings turning into old, broken walls, old columns, white statues. Like the ghost of a city, coming back. And there were things hiding out there. I could hear them.”

  Alice’s throat felt thick. This was the same thing that was happening all over the world. The labyrinths will spread, Decay had told her. Your time is over. He’d meant Readers, but it applied to humanity as well.