Before the Fall: 2 (Rojan Dizon Novel) - Softcover

Knight, Francis

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0316217700 ISBN 13: 9780316217705

Publisher: Orbit, 2013

Synopsis

MAHALA IS A CITY OF CONTRASTS: LIGHT AND DARK. HOPE AND DESPAIR.
Rojan Dizon just wants to keep his head down. But his worst nightmare is around the corner.

With the destruction of their power source, his city is in crisis: riots are breaking out, mages are being murdered, and the city is divided. But Rojan's hunt for the killers will make him responsible for all-out anarchy. Either that, or an all-out war.

And there's nothing Rojan hates more than being responsible.

The fantastic follow-up to FADE TO BLACK!

About this title

About the Author

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Before the Fall

By Francis Knight

Orbit

Copyright © 2013 Francis Knight
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-316-21770-5

CHAPTER 1

No-Hope-Shitty: the name says it all really. This particular part of the city,so far down it was almost the even-worse Boundary, was one of the crappier shit-pits. The smell of hopelessness, fear and the sweat of too many people seemedground into the dank buildings that crammed every available space.

I made my way along a swaying walkway that was only nominally attached to theclutch of gently mouldering boxes they called houses down here and tried not tothink how far down the gap underneath went. To keep my mind off the drop, Iswore at Dendal in my head. Some damn-fool notion he'd had was why I was here inthe arse end of the city. Trying to find someone I wasn't even sure existed in amaze of synth-ridden houses and rotting walkways that looked as though they'dturn on me at any time and dump me down twenty, thirty, floors to the bottom ofBoundary, or even further to the newly opened 'Pit–to Downside.

Heights, or, rather, depths, make me nervous and nervous makes me cranky, so Ikept on swearing at Dendal in my head. Downsider music, all wailing voices andthumping drums, rattled crumbling walls unused to anything more raucous than theoccasional bland hymn. Wary eyes peered out at me from cracked windows. Here wassomewhere I really didn't want to be, not an Upsider like me. The whole area wascrammed with recent Downsider refugees, fearful, and not without cause.

I'd ditched my usual outfit: the leather allover and the flapping jacket thatmade me look like a Special. It was handy for scaring the crap out of people,but Downsiders had a particular hatred for the elite guards and that hatred wasjust as likely to overcome the fear that was radiating through the thin walls. Iam many things but suicidal isn't one of them, so I'd dressed to blend in withan old-fashioned button-up shirt and a pair of tatty trousers I'd found thatdidn't quite fit. Just another guy feeling his way in this new and strange partof a city most of the Downsiders hadn't even seen before a couple of months ago.To them, the Upside of Mahala was the mythical come true, the alien place wherethings and people were weird. I kept having to remind myself of that. I'd eventried my best with my face, tried to give myself that Downsider blue-whiteundertone to my skin, rearranged things so I didn't look as threatening.

That disguise had its drawbacks, though. I'd been scowled at, sniffed at, spaton and sworn at on my way here. The sudden influx of refugees intoUpside–only into the less salubrious areas such as No-Hope, butstill–on top of the demise of our major power source and the resultingloss of trade, jobs, food and everything else, had made everyone, Upsider andDown, tense. There had been incidents all over just lately, from both sides,events that made parts of No-Hope a dangerous place for someone like me, foranyone not a Downsider. They'd also made other places just as dangerous for therefugees. If I showed my real face here, if they knew it was me who had causedall those things, I'd have been pitched over the side of the walkway before I'dtaken half a dozen steps from the office.

I stopped on a corner between a boarded-up apothecary and a little grocery storethat had run out of even really crappy food, wishing I'd brought a light of somekind, but candles were scarcer than food then, and I don't like to use rend-nutoil. The mingled smell of rotting fish and day-old farts wasn't a nice kind ofaftershave and doesn't pull in the chicks. Sadly, it was that or nothing, so Iwent with nothing.

Since the Glow had been destroyed by yours truly, power was at a premium. Downthis far in the city sun was a rumour. It wasn't much past noon up in therarefied air of Over Trade. In Heights and Clouds and Top of the World, Ministrylived in the sun, shielding it, stealing it from us dregs. That much hadn'tchanged–yet. It might never. Down here in Under, beneath the factories andwarehouses of Trade that were eerily silent now, it might as well have beenmidnight. Even the cunning network of mirrors and twisted light wells that gavemy office a shred of real, actual sunlight for about three minutes around noonand an almost constant dusk for the rest of the day, failed this far down.

I told myself that I didn't need light for what I was here for. True, I didn't.Rather, what I needed was pain, my pain. Which was a bitch, but I'd triedeverything else, and everything else hadn't worked. Dendal was waiting and Ididn't like to disappoint, and not just because he's my landlord and boss. He'smy boss because if he concentrated he could spread me over a large portion ofthe city. He could do it accidentally too, which was more likely, but I alwaysfound it best not to make him wait. He gets all insistent about his littleobsessions and it's easiest just to go along. Besides, I owe him a couple oflegs, in that without his help I probably would have blown mine off long sincewhile I learnt my magic. So, here I was.

The boy Dendal was after was a Downsider refugee; no records, no known address,not even a name to go on. All I had was a scrap of cloth and a hunch ofDendal's. It was magic, or nothing.

Left to my own devices, I'd have said screw the little sod and abandoned him tofend for himself, no better or worse off than thousands of others quietlystarving to death in the dark down here. Responsible isn't high on my list ofqualities. In fact, I usually try to make sure it doesn't even appear on thelist. But Dendal's persuasive, and also really good at guilt-tripping me even ifhe doesn't mean to. I hoped he would appreciate it, because this was going tohurt, and I don't like to hurt.

With my good hand, I rummaged in my pocket for the scrap of cloth Dendal hadgiven me. There wasn't anywhere to sit that didn't involve what was probablysynth-tainted water. The damn stuff still lingered, still made people sick fromthe inside out even now, so I crouched down and leant back against a ricketywall that I hoped would take my weight. I was getting better at this, but stillhad a tendency to end up on my knees when I tried because it usually felt asthough I was about to pop an eyeball, or perhaps a bollock.

I laid the scrap of cloth on my lap and stroked it with my good hand. My anchor,that cloth, the little bit of someone that would help me find them, in this casea boy. If I didn't know someone well then I needed a prop to help me findthem–something of theirs usually, something intimate to them.

On the plus side, I didn't need to dislocate my thumb to power up my magictoday. On the minus side, that was because I'd fucked up my whole left hand inthe incident that had led to all the Glow disappearing. The hand was stillhealing and all I needed to do was try to make a tight fist to have white spotsrun in front of my eyes and power run through my veins. There has to be a betterway to cast a find spell–any kind of spell–but I haven't figured outwhat it is yet. When I do, they'll hear the halle-fucking-lujah from Top of theWorld all the way down to the bottom of the 'Pit.

I made a fist and pain spiked through me along with magic, sweet and alluring,and oh so dangerous. It spun around me, through me, calling, always calling. Inand out, quick as I could, that was the best way. Before it tempted me, beforethe black rushed up to claim me. I'd beaten the black before, once, but I wasn'tso sure I could do it again. It was always there, waiting to trap the unwary,seductive and tempting. The price of my magic wasn't pain, it was the threat offalling into the black and never coming out, of losing my fragile sanity to it.

It came quickly, flowing up my arm from the scrap of cloth–the sure andcertain knowledge that the boy was to the east, a hundred yards away and twolevels down. The pungent smell of a rend-nut oil lamp overlaying the moreinsidious chemical tang of synth, an ominous flicker of shadows. Even moreominous-looking men. Four Upsiders in a half-circle around a boy on the ground.Upsiders who looked seriously pissed off. One of them made a grab for the boyand a knife gleamed in his other hand. In that gleam I thought I saw the rumourthat was spreading everywhere but officially. Someone was killing Downsiders,and not just in fights either. Three dead boys already, and this looked likeanother in the making. No wandering along the walkways to find this particularboy; not now, not if I wanted to find him alive.

See, now this is why I don't like responsibility. Not only does my magic hurtlike fuck, now it seemed I was going to have to risk a stabbing and I reallyliked that shirt. It would certainly look better without my blood on it. I couldhave left the boy, I could have turned away. It certainly would have been betterfor my health. But, despite what my exes will tell you, at length and ingruesome detail, I am not completely heartless. Only mostly. Besides, we neededthis boy if what Dendal suspected was true.

Muttering under my breath about fucking Dendal and his fancy fucking notions offucking charity, I clenched my fist tighter. The black sidled up behind me likea thief, waiting for its chance to drag me into its madness, its joy. Comeon, Rojan, you know you want me, you need me.

"I'm not afraid of you," I lied. "So fuck off."

Pain was everything, magic was everything, every part of me. Universes wereborn, spun across my vision and died. I knew I was going to regret this but Ishut my eyes, let the where of the boy seep in. The rend-nut stench grewstronger, surrounded me and made me gag. The air grew danker, colder. One finalsqueeze of my hand that had me groaning and then I opened my eyes and tried notto throw up.

A ring of very surprised faces in the flickering dark. Not very happy faces. Ihad, of course, announced that I was a mage about as subtly as having a bigflashing arrow pointing at my throat saying "Please rip here", which, all thingsconsidered, could be said to be a Very Bad Idea. Way to go, Rojan, alwaysleaping before you look.

The man with the knife recovered from his surprise the quickest and loomed overme with a menace that seemed to come naturally.

I always come prepared.

I didn't fancy any more pain so I pulled my gun, pressed the end of the barrelagainst his nose and made a show of cocking it. Everyone stopped. Guns werestill new enough, still expensive and rare enough, that I was pretty confident Ihad the only one for half a mile in any direction. "Hello. Anyone want to tellme what the fuck they think they're doing?"

Knife-man took two slow, careful steps backwards, but he didn't lower the blade.A quick glance round and I realised why. In my rush towards responsibility I hadfailed to see the other men outside the circle. The crowd of them behind me.Looking big and mean and very ugly. I'd heard of this in whispers, of Upsidersgoing around mob-handed into the refugee areas when it was quiet, finding somepoor Downsider on his own and stomping him before getting the hell out. Of themboasting about it afterwards in Upsider bars. Is it any wonder I'm such a cynic?

Three of the men stepped forward. I'm a fairly big guy, broad enough with it,and I can look threatening when I need to, but these guys had it down to an art.A mean look to them, like they probably kicked their way out of their mothers'wombs, head-butted the midwife and then got stuck into mugging their parents andstrangling the cat.

I was beginning to wish I hadn't bothered getting out of bed that morning, orthat I'd never met Dendal, or even that I'd stayed dead when I'd had the chance.

The boy crouched by my feet, dripping sweat and fear.

"In my pocket," I said. "Left-hand side."

He didn't hesitate, but delved into the pocket and pulled out my pulse pistol. Avery specialised and until recently ever so slightly illegal piece of kit. Thekid stared at it for a moment as if it were a live snake before he seemed to geta grip of himself, and the pistol.

The Upsiders were moving in, wary, careful, but closer every second. I risked aglance behind: a shabby door that looked half eaten by synth and damp. I backedtowards it and the boy came with me. He was shaking fit to bust and whathappened next was probably inevitable.

He pulled the trigger. Now, a pulse pistol is, as I said, a specialised piece ofkit. It doesn't fire bullets, it fires magic, at least provided it's a magepulling the trigger.

Dendal had been right about the boy. He fired, the razor flipped out and slicedhis thumb and the whirring mechanism took the pain, the magic, magnified it andblasted it out of the end.

I imagine the Upsiders were ever so grateful that it was non-lethal. Eventuallygrateful, at least. The pulse leapt out and jumped from one to another, far morepower there than anything I'd ever been able to coax out of it. The zappingpulse dropped everyone it touched, shorting out their brains and sending themslumping to the dilapidated floor to wallow in shallow synth-tainted pools.

The boy had let out a yelp when the razor cut his thumb, but now he stood asthough his own brain was shorted out, staring dumbly at the pile of limp bodies.

We didn't have time for that. The pistol knocks them out but they soon wake upagain, and I only had one set of cuffs on me.

I made a mental note to congratulate Dwarf on the improvements he'd made to thepulse pistol, grabbed the boy and made a run for it. Courageous to the end,that's me.

CHAPTER 2

It took some persuading to get the boy to come with me–I'd saved him froma good kicking, or worse, but he knew from my voice I was an Upsider and fromhis point of view that meant I was a bastard. I can't say he was wrong, but Ican be persuasive when I want to be, not to mention he was half starved and Ihad come prepared with food. Not much, and it was a crap not much, but it wasall we could find, all there was. He shovelled it in like he'd not eaten in aweek, which he probably hadn't, and followed me with a suspicious scowl thatsaid he'd be off at the first hint of trouble.

Mesh walkways crisscrossed above us, leaving no shadow in the gloom. They saggedaway from walls, dripped who knows what down our necks. The further we got awayfrom the 'Pit that Downsiders had once called home, the more jittery the boybecame. At least once we got to the level of the office, the walkways werefirmer–but the drop was longer. Further up the buildings get less squashedlooking, but down here the weight of the city above, below, all around, was apressure you could feel in your bones.

By the time I got the boy back to our new offices it had begun to rain, a slowcold seeping through all the levels above us, a steady drip that always seemedto find the crevices in your jacket or around your neck to sidle into. We'd hadto move office because being associated with the old me was now a dangerousthing. I have this way with people–I'm great at really pissing them off,and this time I'd outdone myself. Whole battalions of Upsiders were pissed withme, or would be if they found out I was still alive. The Downsiders weren't farbehind and, to top it off, most of the ruling Ministry, while unofficiallyignoring the fact I was still alive, would be pleased if I ended up in lots ofsmall, messy bits. So currently I was not me, Rojan, bounty hunter, pain-mage,shirker of responsibility, pathological womaniser and physical coward. I wasMakisig, Maki for short. I was still all the other things, though I was tryingto be subtle about them. Especially the mage bit. We'd only been legal a fewweeks but there was still a hell of a lot of hate about, and legal isn't thesame as safe.

Dendal had a knack for picking sodding awful offices, too. This one hadpreviously been a front for a Rapture dealer and off-their-faces lowlives had ahabit of wandering in and asking if they could score. Some of them got quiteunhappy when all they got was a lecture from Dendal about the evils of drugs,beer, sex and anything else he could think of before he sent them on to theother huge drawback of the offices.

The temple next door.

I could hear them now, chanting and praying their sanitised, Ministry-approvedprayers. People playing with their imaginary friend. Not that I would ever saythat to Dendal. He gets very focused when the Goddess is involved. I suppose abit of faith gave people hope, which was about all that could be said for it.They needed hope now more than ever.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Before the Fall by Francis Knight. Copyright © 2013 Francis Knight. Excerpted by permission of Orbit.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Orbit
• Publication date: 2013
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0316217700
• ISBN 13: 9780316217705
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 384