by James Erith
‘Yes,’ Isabella said, ‘what do they find?’
‘They find a…’ Daisy stared hard at the picture, her eyes glowing.
‘A what, Daisy?’
‘A woman.’
‘A woman?’
‘Yes.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Daisy’s face drained. ‘O-M-G,’ she said, pulling her hands to her face.
‘Daisy, what is it?’ Archie asked. ‘What are you looking at?’
Daisy shook her head. ‘Cool. No, nothing really. Thought it was something I’d seen somewhere before.’ She regained her composure, turned to the others, and curtsied. ‘There you have it,’ she said. ‘The story of the wall art.’
Isabella broke the silence with a slow hand-clap. ‘Daisy,’ she said. ‘Nice story, but just for the record diagonal lines in ancient drawings generally indicate rain, not arrows—’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Daisy replied, rolling her eyes. ‘It’s called artistic licence.’
‘And Daisy,’ she continued, ‘where are we?’
‘In a cave, duh?’
‘And what kind of thing is in the middle of our cave?’
‘A hot tub-pit, jacuzzi thing-a-me.’
‘It’s not a hot tub, Daisy, it’s a thermal spring that bubbles up due to naturally occurring heat generated by the Earth’s core. And anyway, what do you think we battled through yesterday—’
‘Stop being so damn patronising, Livi. I know, OK. I do realise. The cave is about us— I knew that all along—the rain, the sunset, the bubbling pool over there. The fact that I can see and hear stuff you guys can’t. That you, Isabella, can repel lightning with your hands, like you did yesterday as we escaped from the storm. And Archie has weird strength, pulling trees up like a horse and stuff, like he did yesterday to get us here safely. You must think I’m completely stupid or something.’
‘Actually, I do,’ Isabella said, bluntly. ‘And, to be honest, I’m hardly surprised you’ve jumped to these ludicrous conclusions.’
‘Conclusions?’
‘Yes. Because now you think the walls are telling us we’re special, huh, with magical powers like wizards and witches. Come on, Daisy! The sooner you get this nonsense out of your head the better.’
‘You’re kidding—’
‘No, of course I’m not. This cave here is quite obviously some form of prehistoric temple, left over from pre-Neolithic times. In my opinion, these cave paintings simply copy what is all around us in this chamber. Ancient tribal stuff. They probably sacrificed humans here—if, of course, the water couldn’t heal them.’
‘Please tell me you’re joking.’
Isabella laughed. ‘The fact that we survived is down to luck,’ she continued. ‘Pure and simple L— U—C— K,’ which she spat out, letter by letter.
Daisy glanced towards Archie for support. ‘Luck? What about my hearing?’
‘The fact that you can hear stuff like lightning forming is possibly a freak acoustic accident with your eardrum that belongs to you and you alone, Daisy. My initial thoughts are that it comes from heading a football too much—’
‘Heading? I don’t really do heading—’
‘Yes, you do! Of course, you do! You’re a soccer player.’
Daisy reeled. ‘What about your hands?’
Isabella looked affronted. ‘The fact that the lightning hit my hands must be an oddity of particle dynamics which can, and will, be explained. I’m quite sure it has something to do with not only the mineral content in the soil the huge quantity caked over them just prior to the strike.’
Daisy stared at her sister with her mouth open. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she spat. Her eyes lit up. ‘Then how come, Einstein, Archie managed to pull out a tree yesterday and dangled it over the bank of the track?’
Isabella didn’t even flinch. ‘Archie’s strength was obviously from sheer determination at helping out his dear twin sister,’ she smiled, her eyes narrow. ‘And, of course this was greatly facilitated by the fact that the tree roots were entirely saturated—so it came away with ease. I’m sure I could have done exactly the same in his circumstances.’
‘But you didn’t see the size of it!’ Daisy roared.
‘I know I didn’t but face it, kids, you both have a bit of a reputation for these kinds of stories—’
A snort shot out of Daisy’s nostrils. ‘But you admit the storm and all those things you’ve just mentioned were true!’
‘A-ha!’ Isabella said. ‘As far as this goes, we have only your word. There are no other witnesses are there,’ she looked around, ‘apart from you two, and Old Man Wood.’
Daisy gasped, her red eyes blazing with fury.
Archie stepped in. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Isabella,’ he said. ‘What about the healing water?’
‘Easy, Archie. We’re in a hillside rich with complex blends of minerals and ancient volcanic dusts with, as yet, unknown healing properties that must have percolated up through core heat activity to make the pool.’
‘And Archie’s hair?’ Daisy added.
Isabella hesitated. ‘Science can almost certainly answer that too. Probably something to do with the molecular properties of his follicles, the chemicals in his hair and the amount of product he uses in relation to the electrical charge from the lightning bolt which struck him.’
‘But I don’t use hair stuff—’
‘Yes, you do!’ Isabella stormed.
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘Daisy stole it ages ago, didn’t you?’
Daisy nodded.
‘Everything must be explained rationally!’ Isabella yelled. ‘The kind of things we experienced do not happen by chance!’
A rather awkward silence ensued, while Isabella’s voice echo faded away until only the gently bubbling of the pool returned to earshot.
Archie took a deep breath.
‘Thing is, Isabella, none of us know what’s going on,’ he said, as sweetly as he could.
Isabella squatted on to the floor and burst into tears. ‘I will not believe any of this has happened! None of it can be true, even though you make it sound like it has.’
Daisy knelt down and draped a comforting arm around Isabella’s shoulder. ‘If it’s any consolation, sis, a scientific explanation probably does exist for all these things. But science measures things that are known. If they’re unknown, science attempts to understand, or prove, how the mysterious things in the world are known, in order to rationally configure how they exist. Therefore, it can’t prove things that aren’t understood or unknown yet, can it?’
Everyone stared at her.
Archie’s eyes zig-zagged as he tried to figure out what she’d said. ‘Jeez. When did you turn into a geek?’
‘Shut up, Archie,’ the girls said in unison.
‘Look, Bells,’ Daisy said, ‘one way or another, we’re going to have to figure out what’s going on. Coincidence or not, science or not, magic or not. Whatever it takes, okay?’ she gave her sister a kiss on the cheek. ‘My guess, from looking at these wall pictures, is that we’ve got to find a giant stone book or tablet somewhere. So, when we get out of here, all we have to do is find a supersized book.’
‘And you know what they say about giant books?’ Archie said.
The girls looked at him blankly.
‘Masses of words!’ he replied.
Isabella tried incredibly hard not to smile but eventually she wiped her nose and gave Archie a playful shove, before hugging her sister. ‘I never thought you could be so smart, Daisy. I’m sorry about calling you stupid.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Daisy replied. ‘Made it all up to make you feel better.’
Isabella stared at her sister, not entirely sure whether to bash her or not.
While Isabella and Archie teased each other about Archie’s book joke, Daisy ran to one of the pictures, studied it for a short while and quietly slipped to the far end of the cavern.
‘I’ve found something,’ she yelled over, excitement in her voice.
The others looked up.
‘It better be good,’ Archie replied, nonchalantly.
‘It is. It’s this invention commonly known as "stairs",’ she said.
‘I’ve looked already,’ he said, ‘and there aren’t any.’
But when they looked in her direction again, she wasn’t there.
Bonus! Chapter 3: Isabella’s Challenge
Never in his wildest dreams had Cain’s black-bearded elfin servant, Schmerger, imagined that Cain would come alive. For the few hours that Cain had been back in the palace, his servant sensed the power of the man, the presence and the fabled aura of Cain’s imperious majesty and power.
In no time, news was spreading across Cain’s planet of Havilah that their leader had returned and already, there was hope that this strange ruler, dormant as a helpless spirit for thousands of years, might finally be able to restore the planet to greatness once more.
Schmerger wondered if it was fate.
Havilaria City, the capital of Havilah, once the melting pot of all the worlds, once a bustling and lively place where vices were ignored, ruthlessness admired, and riches abounded. In all the worlds, this great city—one of excitement and opportunity—was enjoyed by all but the most pious of individuals. Even under Cains careful rule, fun and pleasure epitomised living here, hand in hand with the dangers it invariably bred.
After Cain’s capture, after his trial by the council of One Hundred, and after his sentence to death by burning, his spirit had remained here in exile forever on this planet. Helpless, as nothing more than a ghost, Cain watched as the city deteriorated until it groaned in decay. His once vibrant world had slipped, over millennia, into ruin.
The new Cain, Schmerger thought, had reappeared as a half-ghost with the outline of a human boy, a teenager he supposed, with fat lips and a head of thick human hair and crammed full of vigour. Cain had combined with this youth to form a body that was made up entirely of re-generating black and grey ash leaving a mess behind him at his every turn which made the old servant wince. At first, he wondered if this really was Havilah’s estranged, master? But, as Schmerger came to terms with the dynamism and fervour of his revived master, there was little doubting it.
Cain had returned, albeit without his magic or without his legendary power but with a sharpness, a brilliance and an edge of a man who meant to restore his land to splendour once more.
For the first time in aeons, Cain had the ability to rule and his demands were ceaseless. The messages he gave endless. Dictates to all the tribes and the species of Havilah ran through so many scrolls that Schmerger ordered his scribes to break into the archives and white-wash old scrolls from the vast storage caverns within the hillside so they could be re-used.
Cain had demanded immediate allegiance from the ancient human tribes, the elves, the ogres and the giants. His method was clear. He was back and he demanded nothing less than loyalty, or death.
Schmerger knew this action was borne on a wave of fanatical hope and fear rather than any real physical threat. Speed was of the essence.
Schmerger was an old elfin type, with a neat, long black beard, thick greying eyebrows and a nose that stretched pointedly outwards. He needed a break. After years of inactivity, the sudden demands for action had caught him, like everyone else, unawares.
Schmerger, elated by the sudden rush of work, felt invigorated; the new Master had requirements no-one could have foreseen; a kitchen; cooks; a well for fresh human water; flushing latrines; a soft bed.
Once, long ago, all of these had existed. Now Schmerger summoned the old maps and instructions for human inhabitation. And he had called upon the elven community to attend, to serve. Without hesitation and to his relief, they came from every nook and cranny of Havilaria, elves, desperate for change, attended his hourly meeting points. Under Schmerger’s watchful eye, they studied the old scrolls and set about reconstructing the palace for their new Master. Teams of workers began what he called the ‘Great Cleansing’ of the palace.
Already, Schmerger’s bandy legs ached from marching after this strange ashen creature and his scrawny fingers throbbed from making endless notes, and his brain verged on overload. For the first time in years, Cain had the energy to rule Havilah as the great nation it once was. He demanded writing paper and had set about dictating edicts and demands of loyalty from the distant tribes, dotted throughout the lands.
The servant closed the huge door to the great chamber where Cain, in this new ashen form, lay resting atop a soft, giant bed that stretched for twenty paces in each direction. Schmerger bowed low as he entered, noting how his master’s body lay collapsed, he thought, with tiredness.
Schmerger, took in the mess where ash had freely fallen off the new Cain, even as he slept. The amount of cleaning up after his master, he sensed, was going to multiply hugely. Already, he didn’t have the staff. And the sheets on this bed in particular were notoriously difficult to wash and iron at the best of times.
Cain felt an arm stretch out wide and bend briefly before flexing at the elbow and relaxing. Cain realised the boy within him was directing their limb without him and the feeling was thrilling, intoxicating even.
This blending or, he supposed, fusing of spirit, blood, and flesh, had happened so fast that he hadn’t known if the boy would survive. Nothing like the gelling of a spirit and a boy had ever happened before. Now he had, once again, an extraordinary feeling of being. Was this sensation the same for the boy? Did the boy realise he might control both of them without his interference?
Up until this moment, Cain had purposefully forced every movement upon the boy because he needed to be in command. The spirit knew full well that time had taken its toll on every area of his planet and, up until a short while ago, Cain had been unable to do anything about it. That was going to change, and fast.
Their hand moved—without his aiding—to their face where it made to scratch their nose. Ash crumpled off and drifted to the floor, more ash growing back in its place. Cain couldn’t have imagined how wonderful it was to have a nose again, even if looked like rather a big, fat nose, and even if his sense of smell was tainted by the constant tang of soot.
Better still was actually seeing again, even if his distorted vision was like looking through opaque glass.
Admiring his hazy outline in a mirror, he’d seen the ashen outline of both the boy and himself. Thick, swept back hair, larger lips than he remembered and, curiously, empty, ashen eye sockets, which lacked eyeballs. Nevertheless, he had a form of vision and he’d been nothing short of astonished to gaze upon his shapely, strong legs, large biceps, and his thick neck.
Seeing, was so much better than relying on his sixth sense; this understanding of energy that he had, over millennia, come to rely upon.
Cain waited as the arm fell back to its place beside their new body. As it did, he reached in with his energy and manipulated the boy’s fingers. He chuckled. They moved—at his bidding!
The ghost allowed himself to smile, noticing how he could feel the corners of his mouth curling up ever so slightly. He marvelled at his huge stroke of fortune but also wondered, quietly, if he would ever quite get used to this curious union.
Cain’s thoughts turned to the three children. These three children were the Heirs of Eden, meaning that they would be the ones who represented all human life on Earth to prove that humankind’s evolution over time had worked.
Cain could still not believe that such a momentous task had been given to children. When men lived to be a thousand years, he thought, children of this age would be considered little more than babes. Cain smirked. Maybe, in this eon, humans simply grew up and developed faster. If Earth’s fate rested in the hands of youth, he mused, then it would not be long before he himself might rule over the whole universe. Had the energies of the universe gone awry? Was humanity on Earth so desperate?
He had the strange creature called Asgard to thank for alerting him to this predicament. Asgard was a dreamspinners, one of the elders o
f an ancient, mysterious species that spun dreams to all living things. Dreamspinners lived suspended in the universe, watching over Earth, Havilah and the other planets from any point in the vast wilderness of space.
Asgard’s elongated alien-like spider-like form was marked by long, wiry, arms and six legs. He had a bulbous head with cavernous oval black eyes, and a churning hole of electric light where an abdomen would otherwise be. Asgard called this light his ‘maghole.’
This magical creature had approached Cain out of his own disbelief over the choice of Heirs of Eden. Cain smiled at this huge stroke of fortune. He had used Asgard’s maghole to travel to all corners of the universe, bringing an end to his exile on Havilah after thousands of years. Who would have thought it possible?
What a remarkable turn of events. After so long stuck on crumbling Havilah, Cain realised he might now call the shots and exercise his authority on Earth.
Things hadn’t gone entirely to plan. The laughably simple, yet brilliant idea of joining his body together with the boy Heirs of Eden, Archie, had, to his astonishment, come within a fraction of this reality. How close to universal domination he had been? But Cain knew that so long as he had the ability to travel anywhere he wanted through Asgard’s maghole, and with Earth’s demise almost inevitable, there would be other opportunities.
Cain stretched an arm out on the bed, noticing how a finger fell away and crumpled onto the sheets re-forming in an instant. He mulled over the sequence of yesterday’s events.
Archie de Lowe, that scrawny boy, one of the three Heirs of Eden with a power the child did not even recognise had deceived him as the storm broke. He had swapped with his friend, Kemp, who was the boy residing inside Cain now, and run off, cheating death. But he knew that fusing with any human was better than having no human at all.
Even so, these three young Heirs of Eden were hard to fathom. While the surrounding area on Earth where they lived had been ravaged by rain and mudslides, these young Heirs of Eden had survived.
Cain’s mood turned darker, a rage building.