The Night Watch
Page 70

'No, the elements.'
'Maybe you overdid it slightly with the concentration of power?' I asked. The boss ignored the jibe.
'Anton, what degree of magical intervention are you allowed?'
Ah, of course, he knew about my deal with Zabulon.
'Second.'
'You can stop the hurricane,' said Gesar. A simple statement of fact. 'Reduce it to no more than a cloudburst. You've collected enough power.'
The wind sprang up again. And this time it wasn't going to stop. It tore and tugged at us, as if it had decided to blow us all off the roof. The rain began to lash down.
'It looks like your last chance,' the boss added. 'But then, it's up to you.'
The defensive shield sprang up around him with a glassy tinkling sound. It was the first time I'd seen a magician use such defensive measures against the ordinary excesses of the elements.
Svetlana carried on drawing the Book of Destiny, with her dress billowing out around her. Egor didn't move a muscle, as if he was crucified on an invisible cross. Maybe he couldn't see or understand what was going on. What happens to someone when his old destiny is taken away and he still hasn't been given a new one?
'Gesar, the typhoon you're about to unleash will make this storm look like nothing,' I shouted.
The wind almost drowned out my words.
'That's inevitable,' Gesar replied. He seemed to be speaking in a whisper, but every word was perfectly clear. 'It's already happening.'
The Book of Destiny had become visible even in the human world. Of course, Svetlana hadn't been drawing it in the literal sense of the word, she'd been extracting it from the deepest levels of the Twilight. Making a copy, so that any changes she made in it would be reflected in the original. The Book of Destiny looked like a model, a replica, made out of fiery threads of flame hanging motionless in the air. The raindrops sizzled when they touched it.
And now Svetlana would start changing Egor's destiny.
And later, decades later, Egor would change the destiny of the world.
As always, trying to shift it towards the Good.
And, as always, failing.
I staggered. In a single instant, completely without warning, the strong wind had become a hurricane. The scene around me was incredible. I saw cars stop on the avenue up close against the kerb – as far away as possible from the trees. A huge advertising hoarding collapsed on to an intersection without a single sound – the roaring of the wind completely drowned out the crash. A few little figures made a belated dash for the buildings, as if they hoped to find shelter by the walls.
Svetlana stopped. The red-hot coal was still glowing in her hand.
'Anton!'
I could hardly make out what she was saying.
'Anton, what should I do? Tell me, Anton, should I do this?'
The chalk circle was protecting her but not completely – the clothes were still being torn off her body – but at least it allowed her to stay on her feet.
Everything else seemed to have disappeared. I looked at her, and at the glowing piece of chalk, already poised to change another person's destiny. Svetlana was waiting for an answer, but I had nothing to say to her. Because I didn't know the answer either.
I lifted my arms up towards the raging heavens. I saw the spectral blossoms of power in my hands.
'Can you handle it?' Zabulon asked sympathetically. 'The storm's quite wild already.'
Even through the clamour of the hurricane, I could hear his voice as clearly as the boss's.
Gesar sighed.
I opened my hands and turned the palms towards the sky – the sky where there were no stars, the sky full of dark roiling clouds, torrents of rain, flashes of lightning.
It was one of the simplest spells. Almost the first one everybody was taught.
Remoralisation.
Without any limiting conditions.
'Don't do that!' Gesar shouted. 'Don't you dare!'
In one swift movement he dashed across to shield Svetlana and Egor from me. As if that could stop the spell. There was nothing that could stop it now.
A ray of light that humans couldn't see shot from my open hands. It was the scraps that I'd gathered so mercilessly from all those people. The scarlet flame of roses, the pale pink of peonies, the yellow glow of asters, white daisies and almost black orchids.
Zabulon laughed quietly behind my back.
Svetlana stood there, holding the chalk poised over the Book of Destiny.
Egor was frozen in front of her, with his arms flung out.
Pieces on a chess board. The power was in my hands. I'd never had so much power. It was overflowing, I could direct it at anyone.
I smiled at Svetlana. And very slowly raised my palms with their fountain of rainbow light towards my own face.
'No!'
Zabulon's howl didn't cut through the roar of the hurricane, it completely drowned it. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. The leader of the Dark Ones rushed towards me, but Gesar stepped out to meet him, and the Dark Magician stopped. I didn't really see all this, I felt it. My face was enveloped in the shimmering colours. My head was spinning. I couldn't feel the wind any more.
There was nothing left except a rainbow, a never-ending rainbow, and I was drowning in it.
The wind raged all around me without touching me. I looked at Sveta and heard the invisible wall that had always separated us breaking down. Breaking down and forming a protective barrier around us. Her fluttering hair settled gently around her face.
'Did you use it all on yourself?'
'Yes,' I said.
'Everything you collected?'
She still couldn't believe it. Svetlana knew what the price for borrowed power was.
'All of it,' I answered. I had an incredibly light feeling.
'Why?' The sorceress held out her hand towards me. 'Why, Anton? When you could have stopped this storm? You could have brought happiness to thousands of people. How could you use it all on yourself?'
'In order to avoid making a mistake,' I explained. I felt slightly embarrassed that a Great Sorceress like her didn't understand such a minor detail.
Svetlana said nothing for a moment. Then she glanced at the piece of chalk glowing in her hand.
'What should I do, Anton?'
'You've already opened the Book of Destiny.'
'Anton! Who's right? Gesar or you?'
I shook my head.
'You decide for yourself.'
Svetlana frowned.
'Anton, is that all? Why did you take so much Light from others? What have you wasted your second-degree magic on?'
'Listen to me,' I said, not sure how much conviction there was in my voice. Even now I wasn't entirely convinced myself. 'Sometimes the most important thing isn't to do something. Sometimes it's more important not to do anything. Some things you have to decide for yourself, without any advice. From me, or Gesar, or Zabulon, or the Light or the Dark. All on your own.'
She shook her head.
'No!'
'Yes. You must decide for yourself. And nobody can relieve you of that responsibility. And whatever you do – you'll always regret what you didn't do.'
'Anton, I love you!'
'I know. And I love you. That's why I won't say anything.'
'And you call that love?'
'There isn't any other kind.'
'I need your advice!' she shouted. 'Anton, I need your advice!'
'We all create our own destinies,' I said. It was rather more than I ought to have said. 'Decide.'
The piece of chalk in her hand flared up in a slim needle of fire as she turned back to the Book of Destiny. She swept her hand through the air and I heard the pages rustling under the blindingly bright eraser.
Light and Dark are only spots on the pages of destiny. A flourish of the hand. A rapid stroke.
Words of fire streaming across the page.
Svetlana opened her fingers and the chalk of Destiny fell at her feet. As heavily as if it were a lead bullet. The hurricane tumbled it across the roof, but I managed to bend down and put my hand over it.
The Book of Destiny started to dissolve.
Egor staggered, doubled over and fell on his side, with his knees pulled up to his chest, curled up into a pitiful little bundle.
The white circle around them had been washed away by the rain, and I could walk over to them now. I squatted down and took hold of the boy's shoulders.
'You didn't write anything!' Gesar shouted. 'Svetlana, you only erased things!'
The sorceress shrugged. She looked down at me. The rain had already broken through the fading barrier and soaked her white dress, transforming it into transparent muslin that no longer concealed the form of her body. A moment earlier Svetlana had been a priestess in white robes, and now she was a young woman soaked to the skin, standing in the eye of a storm with her arms helplessly at her sides.
'That was your test,' Gesar said to her in a quiet voice. 'You've missed your chance.'
'Light One Gesar, I do not wish to serve in the Watch,' the young woman replied. 'I'm sorry, Light One Gesar, but it is not my path. Not my destiny.'
Gesar shook his head sadly. Zabulon came across to us with a few quick steps.
'Is that it?' the Dark Magician asked. He looked at me, at Sveta, at Egor. 'Didn't you do anything?' He looked at the Inquisitor, who raised his head and nodded.
Nobody answered him.
A crooked smile spread across Zabulon's face.
'All that effort, and it's all ended in a farce. And all because a hysterical girl didn't want to leave her indecisive lover. Anton, I'm disappointed in you. Svetlana, I'm delighted with you. Gesar,' – the Dark Magician looked at the boss – 'my congratulations on having such remarkable people on your staff.'
A portal opened behind Zabulon's back. He laughed quietly as he stepped into the black cloud.
I heard a heavy sigh rising up from the ground. Although I couldn't see, I knew what was happening. One after another the members of the Day Watch were emerging from the Twilight and racing to their cars to move them as far away as possible from the trees. Or hunching over and running to the nearest buildings.
After them the Light Magicians abandoned the cordon. Some for the same simple, human reasons. But I knew that most of them stayed where they were, looking up at the roof of the building. Tiger Cub, wearing a guilty expression just in case. Semyon, with the gloomy smile of an Other who'd seen worse storms than this one. Ignat with his eternal expression of sincere sympathy.
'I couldn't do it,' said Svetlana. 'I'm sorry, Gesar. I couldn't.'
'You never could have,' I said. 'And you were never meant to.'
I opened my hand and looked at the little piece of chalk, which while I held it was no more than that – a wet, sticky piece of chalk. Pointed at one end. Broken off unevenly at the other.
'How long ago did you realise?' asked Gesar. He came across and sat down beside me. His shield extended to cover us and the roar of the hurricane faded away.