‘Do you really think Mr Carter can pull this off?’ Dillon asks as we contemplate this strange phenomenon.
‘It will be difficult. And because of the protective enchantments surrounding the palace, he will have to place us and pick us up outside the palace walls.’
Arkarian mulls over Dillon’s doubts. ‘Why don’t you tell us how you travelled to Lathenia’s palace?’
Dillon shrugs lightly. ‘The Mistress always kept me close by her side, and I just went along for the ride. She gave me my wings years ago; I guess that helped. But somehow I think Lathenia’s magician, Keziah, had a lot to do with the transportation.’
I try to reassure them both. ‘Marcus can handle this chore.’
‘You have a lot of faith in that man,’ Dillon says. ‘He’s only human, you know. I’ve seen him make mistakes before.’
‘Those who are above us will guide his hand,’ I say.
Dillon remains unconvinced and still curious. ‘Oh yeah? Like who?’
Like the angels, the thought comes, but I keep it between myself and Arkarian. Also known as the survivors, they fled to earth when their world was overtaken by the dark and became the underworld. After their first settlement here was destroyed, they established the ancient city of Veridian, saving their superior technology, which still pulses silently and secretly behind its decaying walls. And while their race lived on for thousands of years, it was those first survivors who were rewarded with the honour of overlooking the earth and its growing inhabitants. It is their mortal bodies, preserved in human form, that we borrow when we travel through the labyrinths of the Citadel and into the past.
Arkarian barely glances at me when he adds his own thoughts, agreeing it’s a good idea to keep this conversation between ourselves. Gently he reminds me that Dillon is waiting for an answer. I try to recall what he asked, but in the end don’t have to reply. A strong hand knocks heavily and hurriedly at the door.
Arkarian opens it. Shaun is standing there heaving as if recovering from a marathon run. ‘Quick, Arkarian. Something is happening to the sphere. It’s going crazy!’
We follow Shaun to the octagonal chamber that houses the sphere. The sight of it used to unsettle me, but now that I understand where it comes from, where all of Arkarian’s machinery comes from, it doesn’t affect me so much. The sphere is spinning wildly, creating a continuous humming blur.
Dillon remains unimpressed. He has only one thought. ‘We haven’t got time for this! What about Neriah?’
Arkarian puts his hand on Dillon’s shoulder. ‘You’re right, Dillon. And the speed at which the sphere is spinning means it could do so for a while yet. Shaun, stay here and keep watching it. When it stops, and the time period is revealed, look for anything suspicious, anything that will give us a clue to what Lathenia has planned. If we’re lucky we should be back before it stops spinning.’
With wide and worried eyes Shaun nods, pulling a stool beneath him.
I tilt my head towards the sphere. ‘Any idea where it’s headed?’
Arkarian’s eyes darken, revealing his grave concern. ‘Only that Lathenia is going deep into the past. Very deep. We’ll need to get back as quickly as we can, Matt.’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ Dillon calls out.
Arkarian shifts us to the Citadel, to the room with the high panelled ceiling and floor marked in an octagonal shape. Standing within this shape he produces and hands us each a long silver cloak. ‘Put these on.’
Dillon takes his but can’t stop looking up and around. ‘What are we doing in this part of the Citadel? This isn’t the labyrinth. Don’t tell me we’re using our own bodies?’
‘Where we’re going is out of ordinary time –’
‘Yeah I know, but … if she sees us. If she sees me!’
‘She won’t see any of us,’ I try to reassure Dillon.
‘You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been to Lathenia’s palace. There’s no way she won’t see us.’
‘Trust me.’
Dillon glances at Arkarian. He trusts him more. Arkarian nods deeply, and finally Dillon grows silent. As the three of us stand within the octagon shape, wrapped in our cloaks, Dillon can’t help one last comment. ‘Let’s just hope Mr Carter doesn’t place us too far away from the palace walls.’
Silently I agree. Without another thought or sound, the three of us begin to dematerialise. Within seconds we are re-forming on unsteady ground. I stumble forward blindly. It’s night and a blustering wind throws sleet in our faces.
‘Is everyone all right?’ Arkarian’s voice struggles through the gale.
I turn around, tugging the hood of my cloak over my head, and see them both doing the same. ‘Where are we?’
Dillon looks around, still adjusting to the darkness. ‘Good question.’
‘Does anything look familiar?’ Arkarian asks Dillon.
His head shakes as he peers into the miserable weather. ‘We should probably stick to a northerly direction.’
Arkarian shares a look with me. A concerned one. We don’t have much time to waste searching unknown landscapes.
We move off, the sleet in our faces reducing visibility to almost nothing.
‘I told you it was a big ask,’ Dillon mutters.
An hour later, cold and weary, we come to a rocky hill. Suddenly Dillon gets excited. ‘I know this place.’
At last! We follow, clambering over boulders on all fours to the top of a hill. And there, sprawled below in the darkness, stands a palace that looks like something out of a fairy tale – a dark fairy tale. Most of it is obscured by a swirling mist. But lights glow from the turrets and along the battlement walls.
Arkarian squints into the darkness. ‘I have never seen crossbows quite like that before. They look more like pistols.’
‘They’re the weapons I was telling you about,’ says Dillon. ‘The ones with poison darts that cause instant death. They’re accurate with those things for up to three hundred metres. The needle-like bolts don’t even have to penetrate to kill. Just pierce the skin. Isabel’s healing would be useless, even if she were here or we could get back to her quickly enough. I hope these cloaks are protective, otherwise we’ll soon be three dead men.’
‘Thanks for that, Dillon.’
‘Look, Matt, it’s all right for you to say all I have to do is trust, but I have to ask – how are we going to do this thing without getting killed first?’
Making sure we’re still out of sight of the watchtowers, I explain the essence of my plan. ‘When I know exactly where they’re keeping Neriah, I’m going to place a shroud of invisibility over each of us.’
‘You’re going to make us invisible?’ Dillon checks, and looks hopeful for a moment. ‘It’s a good idea, but won’t the hounds still smell us?’
Arkarian lets me know in his thoughts that Dillon has a point.
Dillon adds, ‘And don’t forget the protective barrier around the palace. That’s magic, you know.’
‘Getting inside won’t be a problem. Once I know which room they’re keeping Neriah in, I’m going to disable the enchanted barrier long enough so we can use our wings to materialise directly into her room.’
‘You can do that?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK. But once we have her, how do we get her out? Neriah doesn’t have her wings yet, does she?’
‘I’ll make her invisible too, and we … walk.’
‘Yeah, right!’
‘It will work, Dillon.’
‘There’s one thing you’re forgetting.’
‘What’s that?’ Arkarian asks.
‘We can’t use our wings if we can’t visualise where we’re going. And we don’t know which room they’re holding her in.’
Lightly I lay my hand on Dillon’s arm. My plan depends entirely on his memory. ‘Didn’t you say you’ve been inside this palace before?’
He nods and I explain, ‘I want you to remember it for me, room by room, passageway after passageway. Recall
the images. I will use them to enter the palace with my mind and find Neriah. When I do, I’ll tell you which room she is being held in. You know the palace, so you’ll be able to use your wings to get there. As for Arkarian, we’re both Truthseers, so I can share a visual image with him that will show him the way.’
At last Dillon begins to believe this rescue might just work. He grins at me, looking eager to begin. ‘I get it. All right then. Let’s see …’ He closes his eyes, and I do the same. ‘The front gates are made of iron, twelve metres high. Can you see them?’
Dillon’s memory is clear; he has no need to describe anything verbally, but if he’s more comfortable doing it this way, then that’s OK.
‘The gates are massive,’ I tell him. ‘How do they open?’
‘The locking mechanism is operated by the Gatekeeper.’
‘Show him to me.’ The image of an armed soldier appears. He operates a series of handles in a set pattern. I watch carefully. The gates open, and along with Dillon’s mind, I move through them.
‘The outer courtyard is open with no shelter,’ Dillon explains. ‘See the cobbled path to your right? Watch. It will lead you to the inner courtyard doors.’
As the doors swing open, a dark and empty cobbled area appears. This could be an advantage when we try to leave. But then Dillon informs me, ‘This is where the hounds prowl.’
Dillon is proving to be a great source of knowledge.
‘Look to your right,’ he says. ‘There’s a tunnel. It’s made entirely of thick curved glass. You can see through it to the outside yard, but everything is blurred.’ The tunnel appears. ‘The palace doors are at the end of this tunnel. They’re brass with gold adornments in the shapes of lions’ heads. They stretch six metres high and are arched at the top.’
I see them and zoom up close.
‘Behind them is the great hall. It’s a huge, open space. There’s not much furniture, just a couple of long tables and stools. At the end a fire will be burning. It will be completely encased in glass. Lathenia has a thing about fire.’
I know this. I’ve been told, but I keep my thoughts to myself. ‘Keep going.’
Dillon continues to visualise and describe the palace interior, from the great hall to its adjoining corridors, to a huge library, studies, bedrooms, kitchens, drawing rooms and so on. As he does so, I search for signs of Neriah.
She seems to be nowhere.
‘Would there be dungeons downstairs?’ Arkarian suggests.
‘Of course there are,’ Dillon replies. ‘But … Marduke wouldn’t put his own daughter down there, would he? There are things down there that shouldn’t be in this world. Any world!’
I’m reluctant to visualise Neriah in this scenario, but the dungeon needs to be checked. After a moment’s silence, Dillon takes a deep breath as if mentally preparing himself for the worst.
‘That corridor you saw at the far end of the great hall, the one with the padlocked door, is the one you must go down. See the stairs? They’re long and deep and dark, but just keep going. At the bottom turn left. There’s a tunnel made of brick. It’s moist and slippery, but there should be a lamp on the wall. More stairs. Take them and go right down to the second locked gate.’
The corridors are narrow and made of bricks. It’s dark here, just as Dillon says, but lights from burning candles flicker eerily across the cobbled floor. Once through the second gate I see rooms on either side. I step lightly on the moist cobbled path between cells and try not to gag. The stench is unbearable, but more than that, there’s a sense of such evil it is almost incomprehensible.
Dillon falls quiet as I go on to explore the dungeon cells. What I see shocks me and I balk at the sight. Someone – something – is in that first cell, but it’s definitely not Neriah. It’s not even human. It paces restlessly backwards and forwards, restricted by the size of the cell, and makes loud grunting noises. My mind zooms into the cell beside it, where another creature lurks. It grows restless and throws itself against a wall. The entire chamber reverberates, and moisture drips from the ceiling. Another thump, this one nearer to me. I take a closer look and see that the tip of an animal’s horn has pierced the ancient brickwork. I doubt even Lathenia would put Neriah in this microcosm of hell, but to be sure, I project my mind into all six cells before withdrawing.
I open my eyes to find Dillon and Arkarian staring at me with questions in their eyes. My whole body shakes as I try to shrug off the lingering sensations from the dungeon.
‘Nothing.’
‘Then where is she?’ Dillon groans.
‘Think,’ Arkarian tells him. ‘Is there any room, any space within the palace walls that you have forgotten to show Matt?’
Roughly, he pushes his hood back. ‘There is one other possibility. But no …’
‘Tell us,’ Arkarian says softly.
He heaves a deep breath. ‘It’s a tower, but not a tower.’
‘Where is it?’ I try to form an image quickly. We’ve been here so long already, and we’re still on the outside.
‘Somewhere in the southern end of the inner courtyard.’
No image forms. ‘That’s not very clear, Dillon,’ I say.
He rubs fingers over his temples, frustrated. ‘I’ve never seen it, so I can’t really help you. If Neriah is in there, then we’re lost.’
‘Tell me all you know about this tower.’
‘Like I said, it’s not exactly a –’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘The Mistress calls it her cage.’
‘It’s a cage?’ Arkarian asks, sharing a concerned look with me.
‘It hangs in the air about a hundred metres up, suspended by magic, or so I’ve been told.’
Arkarian’s frown deepens as he looks at Dillon. ‘You know the palace as if you’ve lived here a lifetime, so how can you have never seen this … “cage”?’
‘Every time I looked, it was covered in that grey mist that hangs around here all the time.’
‘Hmm,’ Arkarian mutters. ‘The perfect prison cell. One that you can’t see.’
‘Maybe …’ My thoughts spill over into words. ‘But I seriously doubt its perfection.’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘That nothing hangs suspended in midair, magic or not. I think the magic is in the concealment of its entrance and exit.’
An idea hits me, a way that I can see this ‘cage’ for myself. I start to move away, then remember the others.
‘Stay here. I have an idea. I’m going to check out this cage for myself. But if I’m not back in twenty minutes, I want you to go back to the Citadel and wait for me there. It’s not safe here on these boulders. Sooner or later the hounds will catch your scent. I don’t know exactly how long my invisibility screen will last, so I won’t create it until we’re ready. And Arkarian, you will need to check on the sphere before long.’
‘Hey,’ Dillon argues. ‘I’m not leaving here for one second without Neriah.’
Trusting my instincts, I ignore Dillon’s demand, sensing that his passion could put us all in danger. I direct my thoughts to Arkarian. If you leave without him he may try to rescue Neriah on his own.
I move off into the darkness. When I’m out of sight I try to work one of the powers I learned when I was with Dartemis. It’s the one that shocked me the most, not just the first time I used it, either, but every time since. I close my eyes and find my inner focus. Without trying too hard, I centre my entire being on one thought. One thought! And then it flows from me. Eagle.
With a smoothness I’m still getting used to, my arms change into massive wings while my legs and the rest of my body re-form into the shape of a bird. Even though I’ve done this many times now, I’m still surprised by the sensation of almost complete weightlessness and buoyancy of my chest and lungs. Using my wings, I propel myself up and take flight into the dark, snow-driven wind in the form of a golden eagle.
I soar high above the palace, making sure to rise above the enchantment that protects it.
There’s a lot of swirling mist below, but the view from my eagle eyes is remarkable. The palace yards are large and open spaces. I spot Lathenia’s hounds prowling restlessly. One howls, and soon the others follow. They sense something. We are going to have to be very careful.
I soar down and fly as close as I can without being detected, looking for signs of the ‘cage’. I almost complete a full circle of the yards before I spot it, shrouded in mist. When I’m close enough I focus on removing the enchantment directly above the cage.
From here I see how it got its name. It hangs in the shape of a dome, seemingly in midair, the mesh so fine it would contain the smallest bird. But it’s not a bird that occupies it at the moment. Neriah is there, sitting with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, shivering on the glass brick base.
I take a close look at the fine silver mesh that surrounds the cage. No way will my eagle form get through that, nor will it pass through the enchantment surrounding the cage itself. Quickly I work at first identifying, then unbinding the enchantment that keeps Neriah’s cage a secure prison. I then transform into a moth. The adjustment is strange at first. Everything seems oversized. My wings flutter madly and very fast, but they do the job, only scraping the mesh once or twice on the way through.
Inside I re-form into my human shape again.
Neriah jumps back at the sight of my changing form and scrambles away across the floor.
‘Neriah,’ I whisper. ‘It’s Matt.’
She turns her head and sees that it’s me.
‘Speak softly,’ I warn. ‘We’re a long way up, but we don’t want our voices to carry to the hounds.’
‘Is it really you, Matt? How did you get here?’ She waves a hand in the air. ‘No, don’t answer that. You were that eagle staring into the cage a moment ago.’
She gets up and approaches me, her steps tentative. ‘Do you have news of my mother?’
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