The Serpents of Arakesh (23 page)

‘Nah, not so you'd notice,' admitted Richard. ‘But who knows? Maybe it takes time to work. Or maybe you need a lot more than that for it to be effective — especially if there's, like, a fair bit to do.'

There was an awkward silence. Then Jamie jumped to his feet. ‘Come on — we don't have time for this! I'm sure Richard's right and the snakebite isn't dangerous. But right now our first priority is to move on — and fast. Here's the potion — tuck it away safely, Gen. I reckon you've earned the honour of carrying this one! Look — the floor's closed over, and the doorway's open. Let's just hope the stairs lead down, and out of here!'

From nowhere, an unwelcome thought formed in my mind. It was something a teacher told us a mountaineer said about climbing Mount Everest: ‘Never forget that when you reach the summit, you're only halfway.'

I looked at the open doorway, and, like Jamie, I hoped with all my heart the steps would lead downwards, and out of the temple.

But they didn't.

Once again, the stairway led up — up not two flights this time, but four, up into the metal dome at the very top of the Temple.

It was a small, windowless chamber. The only light came from a long, thin slit in the roof high above us, almost as if someone had sliced into it with the blade of a knife. It was unbearably hot. Almost at once, I felt beads of sweat
pop out on my forehead and upper lip.

‘The view from up here would be amazing, if only we could see out,' Kenta whispered. Her voice echoed with a strange, metallic intensity.

‘Are we all here?' I asked. ‘Rich? Jamie? Gen — are you still OK?' They all answered. ‘Can anyone see Tiger Lily?' There was silence.

I had a sudden, vivid memory: Tiger Lily sitting at the edge of the emerald serpent's pit, her golden eyes fastened hypnotically on the snake as it slid in its endless circuit. Tiger Lily crouching in the same spot after the pit had closed over again, staring at the bare floor where the snake had been.

‘Shoot,' I muttered, ‘I'll bet that darn cat's still down there. Wait for me, guys — I'll be back in a sec.'

But when I turned to head down the stairs again the doorway had vanished, leaving only a bare wall.

It was growing hotter by the minute.

‘Get out the parchment, Kenta,' Rich said. ‘Maybe it'll show us the way out.'

‘Yeah, and do it quick,' gasped Jamie. ‘I'm stewing.'

Now that my eyes had adjusted to the gloom, I could see this room was very different from the ones below.

It measured perhaps eight strides from end to end. Again, it was completely circular, but this time there was no central pillar. Instead, in the middle of the room was a pedestal about waist height, with something protruding from the centre.

The dome-shaped metal roof radiated heat in almost tangible waves. The slit of light hurt my eyes when I looked up at it. Suspended in the darkness above us was a gigantic metal disk. Reaching my hand up, I could just reach it. It
was cold and inert, and so heavy it didn't budge when I pushed against it.

‘Adam, don't,' whispered Gen. She sounded scared. ‘What if it falls on us?'

Kenta shone her torch onto the floor. For the most part it was tiled, as it had been on the previous levels. But here, the tiles were inlaid with two huge metal plates, joined by a short strip running through the base of the pedestal.

‘The floor is a representation of a set of scales, I think,' Kenta whispered. ‘The pedestal is like the centre of a seesaw. Do you think it's symbolic of the scales used in the Chamber of Hearings? See how one of the ends is circular, and the other square?'

‘Stop waffling and pass over the parchment before we all fry,' said Richard impatiently.

But when we opened the parchment up and peered at it in the light of the torch, there was no new message. The circular poem was there, and the four lines underneath, but the space above was blank.

‘Maybe the information we need is in the last part of the poem, and we don't need an extra clue,' Kenta said.

‘Put the parchment on the table,' Jamie suggested. ‘Then we can all have a better look.'

We moved up to the pedestal, and Kenta carefully opened out the parchment.

I reached out one finger and touched the strange protrusion sticking up out of the centre. It was made of glass or crystal, like one of the phials we'd collected the potions in, only bigger. I wondered whether it could have some kind of ritual significance. Perhaps the Curators came up here and poured some of the venom into it as a kind of sacrifice, or something. Maybe we were supposed to pour some potion in too, to reveal the doorway leading down and out. If so, I hoped it would be the same one we'd come up. I was desperate to find Tiger Lily again.

A soft gasp from Kenta broke into my thoughts. I looked over her shoulder at the parchment. Where the blank space had been only moments before, a message was appearing: two words, growing gradually darker and more distinct as we watched.

ecape no

Gen started to cry.

A trickle of sweat ran down my spine like a cold finger.

‘Even I can figure this one out,' said Rich. I knew his words were meant to make us smile, but they had a desperate, hollow ring.

‘But that's not how you spell
escape
,' said Jamie.

‘Maybe not,' said Rich grimly, ‘but this isn't a spelling test.'

The heat was like a furnace. My ears were starting to ring, and I felt light-headed. Next to me, Gen slumped to the floor. We needed to think — and fast. But my brain had gone numb. There was no way out I could see. No escape, just like the message said. I knew time must be running out — it could only be a matter of minutes before they came for us.

But we did have one option left. It was a last resort, but it was still an option — the only one I could see. It was our ticket home, and I could feel its reassuring shape against my back, through the fabric of my rucksack.

I tried to remember exactly what Q had said.
When you make your re-entry, do so from the same point you arrived at, as exactly as possible. Logically, the interface between the two worlds will be strongest there.

It might not work from here. And it would mean leaving Tiger Lily behind.

‘Guys,' I said, ‘there's one more thing we can try.'

We stood in a huddle behind the pedestal, the parchment stashed in Kenta's backpack. The others were all holding hands. I could feel Rich's, big and damp with sweat, clamped firmly on the back of my neck.

Jamie was muttering the last four lines of the poem over and over, interspersed with the occasional, ‘Spelling does
so
matter, Rich.' He sounded close to tears.

On the pedestal in front of me lay the microcomputer. It was switched on, and its screen glowed with a greenish fluorescence in the gloom. It looked weirdly hi-tech on the simple stone table, as out of place as something out of a science-fiction movie. I had a sudden, intense misgiving about what I was about to do.

I would have given everything I had to feel the solid, sleeping weight of the little cat in my backpack.

I squinted at the keyboard, searching for the right keys in the dark. I found them with my fingers and lifted the computer up in front of my nose. Peered at it again to make sure then closed my eyes, ready to press.

Suddenly Jamie yelled out, ‘
One pace backwards
! It's not ‘no escape'! It's
one pace
, written backwards. Spelling
does
matter, Richard! Quick, everyone, let's try it! Take one pace back,
now!'

Richard's hand tightened on my neck. Still clutching tightly to one another, the five of us took one long step backwards, into the centre of the metal square on the floor.

As we stood there, a single ray of light as fine as a laser beam shot down from the slit in the roof above us, pierced the darkness, and struck the crystal phial. The crystal shattered the white beam into a multitude of rainbow colours that lit the chamber with a blinding flare of radiance.

Jamie yelled triumphantly:

‘Unless bright Serpent sun to Zenith climb

And fang of light doth pierce the phial of time!'

And in the same split second, the floor tilted away beneath us, and we dropped like stones into nothingness. As I fell I saw the other end of the scale swing up to smash against the huge disk suspended above.

A tidal wave of sound boomed after us into the black void as the noon gong sounded over Arakesh. Even falling, spinning through the darkness as I was, I flinched from the barrage of sound.

Instinctively, my hands clutched, clenching into fists … and my fingers clamped tight onto the keys of the computer.

Sound and light and black shards of darkness battered me from every side. I was falling, falling, weightless as in a dream, with the same sick feeling of having left my heart somewhere above me. I bounced and crashed against invisible walls, my brain rattling in my skull.

The roar of the gong carried me with it like a wall of water, bearing down on me, overtaking me, tumbling me over and over, bruising my body and searing my lungs like fire. Then I was rushing up, up, through deep, dark water, the sound of the gong ringing in my blood, pressure exploding my brain.

I was flung like a rag doll onto the shore of our world at last, bright light cleaving my skull like a sword, retching and spewing, too weak to breathe.

‘Adam? Adam — are you OK?' It was Kenta's voice, but it was far away.

My ears felt full of water. My body had turned to lead. I could feel small waves at the water's edge sucking at me, tugging me back to the soft embrace of the ocean. If I could only roll over, I would reach it and it would take me back, floating, weightless, drifting …

‘Adam!' A hand was shaking me roughly, dragging me back. I moaned, and tried to pull away. ‘
Adam!
Open your eyes — you're scaring the girls!'

I wrenched my eyes open. My face was wet — from water, or sweat, or tears. I could feel a familiar roughness under my cheek, and something hard hurting my forehead.

I lifted my head. It weighed a ton.

The computer room at Quested Court slowly swam into focus. I was lying sprawled on the carpet under my computer desk with the leg of the desk digging into my forehead. I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I felt sick and heavy, as if gravity had suddenly doubled. Breathing was an effort, as though I was trying to suck treacle into my lungs, instead of air. Everything looked misty and indistinct, as if there was an oily film over my eyes.

The other four were staring down at me with worried faces.

‘Are you OK?' quavered Gen.

‘Yeah — I guess.' My tongue felt thick and swollen.

‘It was easy for me this time,' said Jamie jauntily. ‘I got knocked about a bit, though, and I gave my head a bump. But hey — we're back! Doesn't it feel great?'

I stumbled clumsily to my feet.

‘Has anyone seen —' I croaked.

Richard shook his head.

That was it, then. Tiger Lily was gone.

Suddenly Jamie clamped his hands onto his breeches, an expression of horror on his face. His face turned bright
red and his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I think I've wet myself.'

I looked down at him. There was a dark stain on the seat of his breeches, but …

‘It's OK, Jamie, I don't think you have,' I said numbly. ‘I think it's the potion. The phial must have broken.'

‘Which one was it? It wasn't …' Gen's voice was the merest whisper.

‘It was the one from the garden. The brown serpent. Inner Voices.'

‘I've got the beauty one,' said Gen, turning slightly pink and digging in the pocket of her tunic. ‘Or rather …' She held out her hand for us all to see. Sticking to her fingers like coarse, wet sand were the crushed remains of the phial that had once contained the emerald potion.

‘It was the re-entry,' said Jamie. ‘Maybe you can't bring things from one world into another — or not such delicate things. Maybe there's some kind of — I dunno — sonic force or something that destroys them.'

We looked at one another, the same thought in all our minds.

White-faced, Kenta slipped the straps of her backpack off her narrow shoulders and set it down on one of the desks. She undid the toggle and drew out the parchment, unrolling it and sliding it carefully from between its protective covers.

It was completely blank.

Reaching into the bag again, Kenta pulled out my shawl. Her hands trembling slightly, she untucked the ends and opened it out.

There among its soft folds, safe and intact, lay the phials containing the Potion of Power … and the Potion of Healing.

Because he had been waiting for me last time, I'd expected Q to be sitting in the computer room, watching the clock for our return. But he wasn't there.

We trailed to the door and out into the corridor. There was no sign of anyone. The passageway was dark and silent, with that echoing emptiness that settles on houses at night when everyone has gone to bed.

The sound of the grandfather clock ticking in the hall was as loud as footsteps in the silence. As we passed, it wheezed, and struck once. Half past ten.

‘What should we do?' whispered Jamie. ‘It looks like everyone's gone to bed. But it's not
that
late, and … I'm
hungry.'

I had a hollow feeling too, but it was disappointment, not hunger. It was so unlike Q not to be waiting for us. It seemed odd that he would just have gone off to bed, leaving us to blunder back to a dark house and no welcome. The clock ticked on, counting the seconds away.

Suddenly, I knew.

‘Quick — he's with Hannah.
We have to be quick!
'

I turned and ran up the stairs, with the others behind me. Left at the top, along the dark passage to Hannah's door. I could hear the blood thumping in my ears. Silently, I eased the door open. Someone groped for my other hand. It was Kenta. She slid something into it — something cold and smooth that tingled.

Across the room Q was hunched over beside the bed. The soft nightlight illuminated his face. He looked like an old, old man. I felt Richard's hand in the small of my back, giving a gentle shove. Hesitantly, I walked forward into the room.

Everything looked the same: the clown picture on the wall, the rocking horse in the corner, the dolls' house, the cuddly toys arranged on the armchair in the corner. It was tidier than a little girl's room ought to be.

I walked softly across the carpet to the bed. Q looked up at me like a man in a dream, with no sign of surprise. He gave me a slow smile, the saddest smile I'd ever seen. ‘Welcome home, Adam. You're just in time to say goodbye.'

I looked down at the little figure in the bed. The tubes were gone. The battered teddy lay beside her on the pillow. Death hovered in the room like a grey angel.

‘Take her hand, Adam.'

I put my big, rough paw round the little hand that lay curled on the sheet. It was very cold. Her eyes fluttered open and rested on me for a moment. I couldn't tell whether she even recognised me. They drifted shut again.

‘Q,' I whispered, my voice sounding rough as sandpaper in the stillness, ‘we've got it. Look.'

I opened my hand.

‘She's still — there's still time, isn't there?' My eyes scanned the bedside table. It was cluttered with bottles and tumblers and containers of pills.

I reached for a plastic medicine measure. I eased the cork out of the neck of the phial, and carefully filled the spoon. There was still half the potion left. I replaced the cork, to keep it safe. I had no idea how much we needed. I had no idea if it would even work.

I felt a sudden pang of unease, and pushed the memory of the silver serpents to the back of my mind. A voice spoke harshly in my mind.
She's dying anyway. This is what it was all for. Do it now.

I glanced across at Q, who made a helpless, fluttering motion with his hands.

Gently, as if I was lifting a newborn kitten, I slid my arm round Hannah's shoulders and raised her up. It was like lifting a bundle of dry sticks wrapped in velvet. Her head flopped. I lifted the spoon to her parched, cracked lips.

‘Hannah,' I whispered urgently, ‘open your mouth. It's
medicine. It will make you well again. You have to have it.'

The tiniest frown flickered across her face, and her lips tightened. Hannah had obviously had enough of medicine. But my heart lifted. The spunky Hannah I knew was still in there, faded faint as a shadow.

‘You
have
to! Come
on
!'

But her lips stayed stubbornly closed. A wave of panic rose up in my chest like bile. If she refused to take it …

‘Hannah,
come on!'
Just as I'd done with Tiger Lily and the bird, I cupped my hand under her jaw, felt for the twin ridges of teeth under the fragile skin, and gently squeezed. She gave a little mew, like a kitten, and her mouth opened a tiny crack.

Quickly, I slipped the spoon in and tilted it. And at the same time, I tipped her head back, to stop her spitting it out.

Hannah hiccuped and coughed. She made a rattling, gurgling sound … and she stopped breathing. My heart turned to ice. She was choking. I wanted to shake her — to shout at her and shake her and force her to be well. I wanted to fold her in my arms and hold her close, and let my strength soak through into her frail little body. I wanted to turn the clock back and leave her to drift into death peacefully, instead of choking her on snake venom from an alien world.

I lowered her gently back onto the pillow, held her hand and prayed.

She gave another little cough. A tiny translucent bubble popped out onto her lip and sparkled there, as iridescent as mother-of-pearl in the soft light. And as I watched, the dry, cracked lip under the bubble smoothed over. It was a dewdrop on a rose petal.

Hannah's lips parted, and she gave a deep sigh. Her eyes opened.

‘Q,' she whispered, ‘I'm thirsty. Is there any lime juice?'

She struggled to sit up, but she was so weak she wobbled and fell back on the pillow, like a newborn foal. ‘I feel like fish fingers, with lots of tomato sauce. And jelly,' she told us from the pillow, a dreamy look on her face. ‘
Strawberry
jelly, with hundreds and thousands.'