by Darren Shan
“Why would I be going on a date with Inez?” I ask.
She turns and punches my arm too.
“Ow!” I cry. “What was that for?”
“Being rude,” she says. “Are you suggesting I’m undateable?”
“Of course not,” I say, flustered. “I just meant... we’re friends. Friends don’t go on dates with each other, right?”
“In that case, I take back the punch.” She winks and gets to her feet. “Come on, let’s go explore this borehole. But if there’s nothing special about it, I’ll punch you again, but harder.”
“And if it is special, can I punch you?” I smile.
“Only if you’re prepared to deal with the consequences,” Inez says, making a low growling noise. Then she taps a foot and arches an eyebrow. With a gulp, I lead them off, rubbing my arm where Inez punched me, and hoping I don’t give her cause to thump me a second time today.
17
“It looks... ordinary,” Inez says as we stare at the borehole.
“It isn’t,” I assure her, and hope I’m right, or I’ll look like an idiot.
“Who’s going to cross first?” Hugo asks.
“I’ll go,” Inez says, “in case it links to a zone in Ruby full of assassins.”
“You don’t really think –” I start to say, but she steps through and is instantly lost to sight.
“One,” Hugo counts, smiling.
“Two,” I continue.
“Three,” he says in turn.
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Six.”
Hugo starts to look slightly ill at ease. “How long do we give her?” he asks.
“I’m not sure,” I reply, and I’m starting to worry too. “She didn’t –”
Inez backs out of the borehole, and relief takes the place of concern. But she isn’t smiling or scared when she turns to face us. She’s confused.
“What is it?” Hugo asks.
Inez shakes her head.
“Is it special?” I chuckle.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she croaks.
“Is it safe?” Hugo asks.
“I guess,” she says. “It’s...” She shakes her head again. “I can’t explain. You’ll have to cross and see for yourself.”
“Not before me,” I say quickly, and dart through the borehole.
I emerge in a massive room full of statues of heads, carved out of marble. They’re larger than life, each about a couple of metres tall. They stand in rows, thousands of them, facing in different directions. There are gaps between them, so it doesn’t feel crowded, yet there’s an eerie atmosphere and I can see why Inez wasn’t sure what to make of it.
As I’m looking around, Inez steps through. “What are they?” she asks in a low voice.
“I’ve no idea,” I whisper back.
“Have you seen the borehole?” she asks, and I look behind me.
The panel-shaped borehole hovers forty or fifty centimetres above the ground and is attached to several others, which are inactive, in some weird cylindrical shape — I think they make an octagon, though I’d have to walk around it and count the panels to be sure.
“And the ceiling?” Inez breathes.
I look up and see that it’s white, like the borehole, but with dark ripples running through it.
“The walls too,” Inez says, and when I look left and right, I see that they’re like the ceiling. The wall in the far distance, at the end of the room, looks the same as well. I turn and see that the room stretches an equal distance in the other direction – we’re in the middle of the chamber – and ends with a similar wall.
“I’ve seen something like that before,” I murmur, looking at the ceiling again.
“Boreholes to the Lost Zone,” Inez says, and I go cold.
“If we brush against one of the walls...” I moan.
“Try not to,” Inez says drily.
As we’re staring at the deadly ceiling and walls, Hugo steps through and clocks the heads. “What are those?” he asks.
“We don’t know,” Inez says. “And look at –”
Before she can finish, every head in the room starts to swivel towards us. Each face is different, and they’re a mix of men, women and children. All of their eyes are open and all of their mouths are closed, but as the last few statues come to a rest, now pointing in our direction, every mouth opens and the statues make a soft humming noise. It continues for maybe half a minute, then stops. As silence returns, the heads rotate back to their original positions.
“What the hell?” Hugo breathes.
“I don’t understand any of this,” Inez sighs.
“That noise was like –” I start to say, but get no further.
“Family!” somebody shouts. “The one with the moustache is Family!”
That’s when we realise we’re not alone in the room of heads.
18
A boy steps out from behind one of the statues. He’s very dark-skinned, with black, curly hair, and is dressed in loose-fitting yellow robes. There’s a sandal on his right foot but his left foot is bare. He’s smiling nervously and twitches as he makes his way towards us, blinking as if unaccustomed to the gentle light which is cast by the ceiling and walls.
Hugo casts a look at Inez, to check if she knows who this is, but she only shakes her head and focuses on the boy. He’s maybe a year or two younger than me, although in the Merge one’s appearance is no indicator of their true age.
The boy stops a couple of metres from us and waves shyly at Hugo. “Hello,” he says. “I’m Kojo. What’s your name?”
“Logu,” Hugo says. Then he frowns and offers his real name. “Hugo.”
“Logu-Hugo?” the boy asks.
“Just Hugo,” Hugo smiles.
“You must a king,” Kojo says, squinting hard at Hugo, “because the heads only react that way for royalty, but I can’t see your aura. What’s happened to it?”
“I’ve been remoulded,” Hugo says, “and my aura’s been hidden.”
“They can do that now?” Kojo whistles, eyes round. “How incredible. What realm are you from?”
“Sapphire,” Hugo says.
“It’s still standing,” the boy beams. “Good. The royals of Sapphire were always nice to me. Who are your companions?”
“Archie,” I mutter.
“Inez,” Inez says, making the greet.
Kojo flinches – it’s as if he thinks she’s going to strike him – then relaxes. “The greet,” he sighs. “It’s been so long, I’d almost forgotten. I used to make it to myself for a while, then accept it, pretending I was more than one person, but it seemed pointless in the dark. Let me see if I remember...”
Kojo stretches out his hand, then closes his fingers and presses them to his lips. “No,” he says. “That’s wrong. I don’t swallow the soul, do I? I should put it to... my heart?” He looks at Inez questioningly.
“That’s right,” she says softly, and Kojo grins, pressing his fingers to his heart.
“Are you Merged or SubMerged?” Kojo asks Hugo, his fingers still covering his heart. He maintains his smile, but his lips twitch. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It’s no secret,” Hugo replies. “I’m Merged.”
“Oh good,” Kojo says, his hand falling to his side, the smile coming genuinely now. “I was afraid there might be none of you left. The last time I saw the old fella, he said he was going to get rid of the lot of you.”
“Get rid of all the Merged?” Hugo laughs. “I don’t think so.”
“It seemed like a tall order to me too,” Kojo says, “but the old fella was mighty determined. The Merged royals told me horrible stories about him. He scared them. He scared me too, even though I’m not Merged.”
“You’re SubMerged?” I ask.
Kojo blows a raspberry. “Neutral,” he says proudly.
“You can’t be neutral,” Inez says. “You have to be one or the other.”
; “Not here,” Kojo says happily. “The rules of the Merge don’t apply in this room. I was given orders not to be one or the other, and the royals always respected that, even the old fella, and there wasn’t much he did respect.”
“Is this making any sense to you?” Hugo whispers to Inez.
“No,” she whispers back.
“I didn’t know what to make of it when you stepped through,” Kojo says to Inez, stepping closer to study her intently, like a scientist observing an insect. “I could see you weren’t Family, and he wasn’t either.” He points at me. “That’s why I stayed quiet. I was trying to work out what was going on. Then a king appeared and I knew everything was alright.”
Kojo faces Hugo and clears his throat. “It’s not my place to criticise you, sire, but you shouldn’t really have brought them with you. The Crypt is only for Family.”
“This is a crypt?” Hugo asks.
“Not a crypt,” Kojo laughs. “The Crypt. Regular folk aren’t supposed to set foot here. It’s just for royals. And me, obviously.”
“Would you rather we left?” Inez asks.
Kojo gulps, scratches a cheek and looks at the heads. “I don’t know,” he wheezes. “I’m only telling you the rules. Then again, it’s been so long...” Kojo thinks about it, then sniffs. “If King Hugo says it’s alright, so be it. This is the Family Crypt. Royals made the rules, so I suppose they can break them too.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Actually, the old fella broke the rules as well, and brought several of his followers here over the years. But we all kind of expected such behaviour of him. He was never much of a stickler for tradition.”
Kojo returns his attention to Hugo and straightens his back. “I’ve been listening, sire,” he says, eyes sparkling. “It’s been a long time since I heard anything, maybe a hundred years since the last message, so I’ve nothing new to report, but I’ve been listening every day, every night, all the time.”
“Except when you sleep,” Hugo chuckles.
“I don’t sleep,” Kojo says. “No time for sleeping. I might miss something.”
“But everyone has to sleep,” I say, wondering if Kojo’s joking.
“Not me,” the boy says with a mixture of pride and sadness. “The Crypt keeps me awake. It was strange at first, but I adjusted. I barely miss sleep now. Hardly even remember what it was like. I still dream though. At least I think they’re dreams, but I can’t be sure. Maybe I am asleep, and this is a dream...”
None of this is making sense to me. Hugo and Inez seem lost as well. I decide to ask a few questions, to try and find out where we are. “What is this place?”
Kojo stares at me as if I’m dense. (A look I’m well used to in the Merge.) “The Crypt,” he says slowly.
“But what is that?” I press.
Kojo laughs as if I’ve cracked a joke. “That’s funny,” he snorts.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s pretending he doesn’t know what the Crypt is,” Kojo says to Hugo.
“He doesn’t,” Hugo says gently. When Kojo’s brow furrows, Hugo adds, “I don’t know either.”
“That can’t be,” Kojo says hoarsely. “You’re teasing me. Please stop.”
“Nobody’s teasing you,” Inez says, taking Kojo’s hand. He winces at the contact and almost pulls away, but calms down when she smiles at him.
“You must know about the Crypt,” Kojo says to Hugo while staring at Inez’s hand, which is very pale compared to his. “You had to open a lock to activate the borehole, and it’s a fiendishly difficult lock. Since you’d been shown how to open it, you must surely have been told what it was for.”
“But I wasn’t shown anything,” Hugo says. “Archie found a lock with a woman’s face. It was broken, but he repaired and opened it, then asked Inez and me to cross with him.”
Kojo’s eyes widen. “No,” he breathes, staring at me with wonder.
“It’s not that big a deal,” I say, trying to make light of my achievement. “I’m a locksmith. I’m used to dealing with tricky locks.”
“No,” Kojo says again, shaking his head. “You can’t have opened it.”
“But he did,” Hugo says.
“No,” Kojo insists. “Those locks only open for Family. Nobody else can open one of them, not even the greatest Lox in all the Merge.”
“Well, that clearly isn’t the case,” Inez says, “because Archie opened it, and he’s far from the greatest locksmith.”
“Hey,” I protest, “I’m pretty good, thanks.”
“It doesn’t matter how good you are,” Kojo says. “Only royals can open a Crypt lock.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I shrug. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t meant to open it.”
“But... you can’t...” Kojo sputters. It’s as if someone in the Born had grown up thinking the Earth was flat, only to be told it was round. “You really don’t know where you are?” he says to Hugo. “Or what the Crypt is?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Hugo laughs. “I hope you’re going to tell me.”
Kojo stares at Hugo, then at Inez and me. “In front of them?” he croaks.
“Why not?” Hugo says. “They’re my friends. I don’t keep secrets from them.”
“But the royals always kept the Crypt secret,” Kojo says.
“Maybe that’s how other Family members act,” Hugo says, “but it’s not the way I behave. If it wasn’t for Archie, I’d never have found this place, so he deserves to be told, and Inez and Archie are a team, so she should be included too.”
Kojo gulps. He’s shaking again. “Well, you are Family,” he whispers, “but if we get into trouble, will you tell the other royals I warned you not to do it?”
“I’ll take all the blame if anyone launches an enquiry,” Hugo smiles.
Kojo looks unhappy, but shakes his head and says, “This is the Crypt.”
“You told us that already,” Hugo reminds him.
“It’s where we install a statue of every Family member’s head when they die.”
Hugo’s smile fades. “These are my ancestors?” he murmurs, looking at the heads with fresh interest.
Kojo nods. “There have been no new additions these last several hundred years, and they don’t stretch back to the earliest generations, but we’ve been placing them here for fifteen thousand years or thereabouts.”
“Amazing,” Hugo says, wandering over to stare at one of the nearby faces. “To think these have been preserved all this time, linking us to the distant past, allowing us to see what people were like all those millennia ago...”
“They’re not for show,” Kojo snorts.
“What else could they be for?” Hugo frowns.
“They’re here to communicate with us,” Kojo says, and presses his hand to the statue’s mouth. “The Crypt is the only place in this sphere where the Departed talk with us, through these statues.”
Inez and Hugo stare at Kojo as if his head’s on fire. He sees they don’t believe him and blinks anxiously. “It’s true,” he says.
“No,” Inez replies. “The Departed can’t talk with us.”
“Who are the Departed?” I ask.
“The people in other spheres,” Inez explains. “Those who either died of natural causes in the Born, or who’ve moved on from – departed – the Merge.”
“And they’re separated from us forever,” Hugo agrees. “We have no links to any of the spheres beyond our own.”
Kojo’s eyes widen. “I understand why she doesn’t know about the Crypt, but how can a king be unaware of its existence? Unless... The old fella said he was going to stop royals coming here, and he succeeded until now. Did he erase all memory of it too?”
“Who’s this old fellow you keep talking about?” Inez asks.
“Now, don’t tell me you don’t know about him,” Kojo growls, confusion turning to anger. “The Crypt has always been a closely guarded secret, but there’s no way you haven’t heard of Old Man –”
“– Reap?” Inez
gasps, beating him to the punch.
“That’s the one,” Kojo nods. “I always refer to him as the old fella, except when he comes here. Or came here. He hasn’t been for so long. No one has. All alone in the dark.” Kojo shudders, then starts to move. “Follow me, please. The hunt must continue. It’s been missing for decades, but I stand a better chance of finding it now the lights are on.”
We’ve no idea what the boy is talking about, but we trail him as he starts to weave between the heads, searching for whatever he’s lost.
“Do you think he’s crazy?” I ask Inez in a low voice.
“I’m not sure,” she says softly. “There’s certainly something strange about him.”
“He can’t be telling the truth about the Departed, can he?” Hugo whispers.
“Of course I’m telling the truth,” Kojo says, startling us — we didn’t think he could hear. “I never lie. That’s one of the reasons I was chosen for this job.”
“Who chose you?” Hugo asks, playing along.
“Early Family members,” Kojo says. “The Merge was a simple place when it was created, just a quiet, dark area to pause, recover from the shock of being murdered, and get your thoughts in order before you moved on. But then it changed, perhaps because people were changing so much. New arrivals wanted to make it more like the Born, so they could experience the type of life that was denied them when they were killed. With the help of the Departed, devisers evolved, and started to bring light and life to the new sphere.”
“How do you know this?” Inez croaks as Kojo bends to look inside a crack near the base of one of the heads.
“Hmm?” He looks back at her.
“I’ve never heard anyone speak of these matters before,” Inez says. “No one’s certain what the Merge was like during those early times. How do you know?”
“I was there,” Kojo says.
“In the beginning?” Inez cries.
“Not quite,” Kojo says. “The Merge had been around for four or five thousand years by the time I hit it, but it didn’t change a lot in that period, so it was much the way it had been initially created.”
“Four or five...” Inez sighs. “That means you must be ancient, at least fifteen thousand years old.”