The Dark (14 page)

‘I know that. I just needed to get rid of him. There are things I have to plan and I can’t do them with
Dillon overhearing.’

Ethan stares after Dillon for a second. ‘Well, it’s just as well you did. Carter wants to meet us in Arkarian’s chambers right away.’

Matt is quick. ‘Let’s go then.’

Ethan puts a hand out towards Matt’s chest. ‘Ah, he meant Isabel and me.’

Matt groans and looks up at the sky. ‘And what am I supposed to do?’

‘Train,’ Ethan says. ‘It’s your physical skills that are going to get you by until…’

Matt’s eyebrows lift accusingly. ‘Yeah, I know. We all know. OK?’

‘You’re too hard on yourself. Just relax.’

‘Well it’s hard to relax when so much is expected of me.’

‘Just concentrate on the physical aspect, the rest will follow.’

‘But my Trainer’s about to take off.’

Ethan has a quick think. ‘Jimmy’s back.’

‘No way! I won’t train with him.’

‘That’s a shame. You could learn a lot from Jimmy. He’s a master trickster you know. He planted the booby traps in Veridian.’

Matt’s head shifts up and down. ‘That’s another thing. If Veridian is so important to us, why haven’t I been shown it?’

My patience finally erodes. ‘Oh for pity’s sake, Matt! Why don’t you just shut up and stop whingeing. You never know, if you stop fighting yourself, your powers might finally emerge – all by themselves!’

Without another word, Matt takes off. Instantly I regret my outburst. I make to go after him, but Ethan
pulls me back. ‘He’ll be all right.’

Nodding, I turn around, but from the corner of my eye I get a glimpse of someone staring at us from near the front gates. Spotting me, this figure slips behind a brick wall as if to conceal himself.

‘What’s up?’ Ethan asks, dragging on my arm to make me hurry.

‘Do you trust Dillon?’

Ethan studies me with a deep frown. ‘What do you mean?’

I shrug. ‘Oh I don’t know. I just have a feeling.’

‘Like what?’

‘Does he ever ask you weird questions?’

‘Dillon? Yeah, all the time. That’s what he’s like. Don’t go getting paranoid. Dillon is like … well, my best friend.’

I stare at him, slowly raising my eyebrows.

‘After
you
, of course,’ he corrects himself with a smile. ‘Seriously, Isabel, you don’t know Dillon like I do. He’s OK.’

‘Do me a favour, all right? Don’t take your friendship for granted. Keep an eye on him.’

‘You can’t be serious! Dillon doesn’t work for the Order!’

We move on through the back gate. ‘Ethan, you can’t know that for sure. Just like none of us knew Rochelle worked for the Order. What if he’s a Truthseer, like her? He could be reading our minds and we wouldn’t even know it.’

‘All right,’ he agrees softly. ‘I’ll be more careful around him.’

That settled for now, I try to put my suspicions aside. Hurrying up the mountainside, we soon arrive at
Arkarian’s chambers. The secret door before us opens, allowing us entry. It feels strange walking down this corridor, expecting, yet knowing Arkarian will not be here. Passing many doors on both sides, I have to fight the urge not to look behind each one of them. Many of these doors lead to training rooms, others I know nothing about. But it would be a pointless exercise as Arkarian is not here.

We get to the main octagonal chamber and see Mr Carter. He’s staring into the 3-D holographic sphere that monitors the past. His focus is so absolute, that when Ethan taps lightly on the wall, he jumps.

‘What took you so long?’ Moving away from the sphere Mr Carter directs us to some chairs he’s brought in. But the sight of these chairs, nothing like the ancient stools Arkarian always provides, has tears hitting the backs of my eyes. I blink them away before anyone notices, and plonk myself down, trying to remember when I last slept.

Mr Carter doesn’t quite make it into his chair before he issues us with new orders. ‘The Tribunal has summoned your presence. Immediately.’

Ethan gets his exclamation out before me. ‘What! In Athens?’

‘But we don’t have the time,’ I explain, hoping Mr Carter is ready to back me on this, to the Tribunal if necessary. All day I’ve been thinking about tonight’s rescue mission. Now I’m told I have to go to Athens instead. ‘Arkarian is our first priority, then Ethan’s …’ I decide not to say the word ‘mother’. Her depression, while linked to past happenings, is not strictly a Guard issue, and really none of Mr Carter’s business. Ethan wouldn’t want me telling him, I’m sure.

But our arguments fall on deaf ears. Mr Carter is adamant. ‘Look you two, you can’t go off on a rescue mission without help from the Tribunal anyway, so whatever their reasons for summoning you, look upon it as your chance to get their assistance. Do you have any idea where Arkarian is being kept – exactly? Do you know where to go? How to get there? Or even where to start? Hmm?’

His questions make me think. He’s bringing up some valid points. But to lose another night is almost too much to bear. And there’s the added worry about Laura. The days to her possible suicide are counting down, and quite honestly I have no idea how to stop it happening. Arkarian said he would help. I believe him. I believe he has a solution, or a plan or something. Without him, in a thousand different ways, we are lost.

Ethan groans. ‘You’re right. We’ll have to go to Athens.’

Well if we have to go, we’d better get everything out of it that we can. ‘Who can we rely on to help us? Which of the royals should we approach?’

While Mr Carter thinks, Ethan comes up with a suggestion, ‘Lord Penbarin. He helped me once before. I think he would do it again.’

For the first time Ethan and Mr Carter don’t argue. After ironing out a few more details, Ethan and I make our way back down the mountain. It’s dark now, but there’s enough twilight to enhance my gift of light, making the path clear for me. Ethan follows, knowing my sight is a thousand times better than his in the dim light. But suddenly my head is hit with sharp pain. It makes me double over, and I wonder fleetingly if I’ll ever get used to these things. I try to relax, to breathe
deeply, but the pain is accompanied now by intense white light. I stumble, my head heavy and unbalanced.

Ethan takes me by the waist, helping me to the ground. I look up at him in a daze, my mind still recovering from that whirlwind flash. But Ethan is impatient to know what I saw. He has to be thinking of his mother. I know this. But while it wasn’t his mother I saw this time, it was someone equally close to his heart.

‘Are you OK? Was it another vision?’

Still overwhelmed, I try to form words. In my silence Ethan’s fears leap. ‘What is it? Did you see Mum again?’

I take a deep breath and try to explain, ‘I was shown the past.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Arkarian said that might happen.’

‘So what did you see?’

‘I saw the woods where your sister was killed. And … I saw Marduke kill her.’

He frowns at me, then lifts his eyebrows. ‘Yeah well, so have I. A million times in my dreams.’

‘But I saw something else, Ethan.’ He waits for me to explain. ‘I saw her
afterwards
.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘She was running through a field of unusual flowers that were growing under a deep red moon. And then I saw her inside a very tall building. It’s her home, I think, but it’s not where she’s supposed to be.’

‘Are you saying Sera is still alive somewhere?’

I think about this and the gaunt and waif-like figure I saw in my vision, then shake my head. ‘I don’t think so, Ethan. This Sera was …’ How can I put it? How do
I explain the transparency of her body, the lack of colour to her skin except for a faint luminescence, the haunted look to her eyes, or how she appeared to be running
through
the flowers themselves? I decide there’s only one way, just come out with it. ‘Ethan, your sister is a ghost.’

Chapter Thirteen

Arkarian

The beating doesn’t last long. It doesn’t have to. Within minutes of their kicking and punching at my limbs, back and head, it’s obvious that much more of this would finish me off. And one thing I’m quickly learning in this place is that no one dares disobey the Goddess’s wishes or commands. Lathenia doesn’t want me dead – yet. And so the wren pull back.

I try to take a deep breath, but I think one or two of my ribs are broken. There is internal bleeding for sure. Blood surges into my mouth. I cough, which near kills me with pain alone. A fat globule of blood spills out on to the stone floor.

One of the wren steps back as the blood pools near his foot. He flaps his wings once and lifts into the air. ‘Argh! He’s going to die. It was your kick to his chest that did it!’

Two of them squabble for a minute, each one accusing the other of delivering the fatal blow. The boy yells at them to shut up and steps over for his first look. I can’t see the expression on his face, as my sight is blurred, but I do hear his chest heave as he groans with
a sound like repulsion, and oddly also like shame. Although this last thought is probably an exaggeration caused by that last hit to my head.

‘Put him in the back of the cart. And be careful of his wounds. Do you hear me now? Be careful!’

His orders are heartening. And there’s something in his voice, a trace of compassion if I’m not mistaken. But it’s hard to tell if the boy has the possibility of becoming an ally.

The wren lift me and carry me outside. The short journey to the cart is agony as one wren lifts me higher than another, and one almost drops me. All thoughts fly from my head and I must lose consciousness, for when I wake, the cart is moving, and the wren are groaning and complaining amongst themselves how weary they are. With no sun, it’s difficult to tell how long the journey is taking. It’s impossible to measure when a new day has begun.

Many times I pass into a state of oblivion. Strange how in these half-wakeful moments, memories return to me. Memories I thought lay deeply buried, of other beatings at the hands of those charged with my protection, surrogate parents who treated me more like a slave than a son. And as always when these memories force themselves to my consciousness, so too does an element of anger. Why was I given into the service of others? After my mother died, why didn’t my father come forward to claim me, instead of allowing me to become an orphan?

The cart stops, snapping me awake. And with the sudden stillness pain returns in just about every part of my body. I stretch out my legs, testing them for broken bones. The joints at my hips and ankles feel numb and
dislocated, though the bones themselves I think are intact. One thing I know for sure: right now I would be incapable of escape, even if an opportunity confronted me. Where would I escape to anyway? To run heedlessly into this complete darkness would be pointless.

The wren carry me to a waiting boat, where they lower me to the floor. My body hits freezing metal. But only when all four wren are also inside does the boy release the rope and climb in. The boat sways as the wren find their places. They look nervous and try to keep their bodies near the centre.

‘You two,’ the boy orders. ‘Pick up those oars and start rowing.’

Grumbling, two wren take up the metal oars. It’s an effort and they heave and complain the whole time. A thump against the boat makes us sway dangerously. All four wren scream out in fear as a flash of fire lights the water for a brief moment. It’s then I see the large chunks of ice all over the surface. The wren manoeuvre the boat between these great chunks, being careful to avoid them as best they can, screaming at each other when they draw too close. They scream even harder when a splash threatens to spill over into the boat.

I try to block out their obvious fear and attempt to change position as the touch of metal is icy cold against my skin. The boy notices, and, as if it affects him on some level, removes his cloak and wraps it around me. He then offers his water flask. I take a sip and thank him.

He makes an irritated sound in his throat. ‘Don’t get excited, I’m just a soldier doing my duty.’

Even in my beaten state I can’t help but get excited – by
the fact that a soldier of Chaos appears to have a conscience. ‘You …’ I struggle to get my breath, ‘are different.’

‘I am as mortal as you.’

‘And just as afraid.’

The boy takes offence. ‘I’m not afraid, not of you.’

His hesitation speaks louder than any words. It gives me a surge of hope.

‘Well,
I
am afraid.’

These roughly spoken words have me staring up in surprise. Especially as they come from the mouth of one of the wren. The other three snort and grunt a grudging agreement.

The boy thumps the wren’s thick curved shoulder. ‘Why are you afraid? You are kings in this land.’

The wren scoffs loudly. ‘I tell you what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of that.’

My eyes follow the direction of his outstretched hand. Though impossible to see through the dark, I gather the wren is pointing to our destination.

‘I’ve heard some things about that island,’ the boy says.

‘It’s not the island. There’s a temple there.’

The other wren snort and nod their heads.

‘I’ve seen this temple,’ the boy says. ‘It’s big, I’ll give you that, like nothing I’ve seen before. But hardly terrifying. It has a … a peaceful feel.’

The wren visibly shudder and hiss at his description.

‘Tell me,’ the boy asks. ‘What is it about this temple that has you shaking in your boots?’

All four are quick to reply, their words falling over each other, making it hard to understand them.

‘It’s sacred ground,’ one explains. ‘Inhabited by one of
Them
.’

‘Are you talking about the ghost that lives there?’

The wren mutter and curse amongst themselves.

One looks up at the boy. ‘We’ll not go there.’

Another one adds, ‘Not one foot.’

The boy frowns. ‘But we can’t leave him on the beach!’

All four of them make hissing sounds and shake their heads. ‘What’s the difference where we leave him? He’s still going to die, whether in the temple, or on the beach when the lake swells.’