‘What are you looking for?’ Melaleuca asked.
‘Foots prints,’ she replied. ‘To be precise, Con’s footprints. He drags his left leg, and he has boots on, which means ─ ’
‘Look for the footprints with a heavy right foot imprint and a dragging left foot,’ Ari said, as the Indian costume’s tracking skill surged through him.
Seconds passed and Lexington shouted, excited, ‘I see it here.’
The others joined her, looked, but only saw a mass of footprints, though Ari could see them once Lexington pointed it out to him.
They fanned out on Ari’s suggestion, forming a perimeter around her following Lexington as she picked her way along the track that Con had left.
‘It’s taking too long,’ Quixote said. ‘Let me put on the detective outfit and go find his house and then come back.’
‘Or lend me your wing-boots and I will go find it and come back,’ Lexington replied.
‘Alright then.’
He bent down, pretending to take them off and reached into his pocket; drew out another pair of winged boots and threw them at her.
With the boots on Lexington disappeared, reappeared, and disappeared again. She appeared for a second time, a look of disappointment on her face.
‘These are not speed boots. If anything they are reverse-relativity boots. You run at a normal pace but everything else goes slow.’
Melaleuca eyed the boots.
‘Uh huh. When Quixote carried us, it was a blur.’
Lexington pulled them off.
‘Here. You try.’
Melaleuca ripped around in them, before handing them to Ari for a quick turn. With the boots on, none of them ran fast, instead the world around them appeared to slow down, and even stop. A trip back to the mansion would have still taken 30 minutes, but in that time a mere second would have passed for everyone else.
Ari handed them back to Quixote, who stood there in his pair of speed boots. They impatiently waited for an explanation.
‘Oh did you want the actual speed boots?’ He said.
Lexington felt like slapping him.
‘There are two pairs?’
He pulled another pair from his pocket trying not to laugh.
‘Three actually. One has the wings going forward. These ones.’ He held up the boots they had just tried on. ‘And the ones with wings sticking out the side.’
He tapped his pair saying, ‘These are the ones I’ve been wearing. They make you run fast, BAM! There in a flash.’ He mimicked a fast run, grinning.
‘And the third pair?’ Ari asked.
‘Horrible boots. They have wings that go backwards. When you try and run fast you go incredible slow and everything speeds up.’
Melaleuca frowned at him.
‘Okay. Let’s play with the boots later. Quixote, take Lexington and find Con’s house. When you have, come back with her, then take me to Con’s house. Then carry Lexington and Ari to the Amphitheatre. Every five minutes or so I want you to run back and forth amongst us, checking on us. Got it?’
‘Aye aye captain.’
******
After being dropped off by Quixote Melaleuca finally crouched outside Con’s house. She pulled her bracelet off and knelt under his window. Reaching out to rap on it, she still had the ninja suit on. Pulling her arm back, she felt uneasy about appearing in front of him as a Marauder despite him knowing.
When Quixote returns I will get him to get my Vahn uniform.
I hope nothing distracts him.
*****
Swallowed up by its immenseness, Ari trod around the amphitheatre dressed as the soldier. He stepped down the stone steps, down and down and down and down, feeling the sides getting closer and closer and closer, until finally, after nearly ten minutes he stood on the bottom, in a small tight circle. Extending from a small gap in the circle he stood in, a large gap existed all the way to the southern top edge, ending in a massive wall, behind which the lake sat.
According to Con, the whispers said that many years ago the amphitheatre was used for public meetings and performances. But how could that be true? There was no room for anyone to stand, let alone perform.
Under foot dirt, leaves and twigs lay, though as he shuffled around an echo sounded back. Sweeping the dirt back revealed an iron grate and a drain of some sort - big enough for a person to fit down. A faint, low hum came from underneath the steps, as if machinery worked below.
If he had the detective costume and the archaeologist’s tools maybe it would make more sense.
I will poke around some more and get Quixote to bring Lexington back.
***
Quixote roared through the detention center making sure no one was there. He returned and reported it “all clear” to Lexington.
She snuck through the torture rooms, candle lantern in hand, and headed toward the cavern where she had found the door.
The wall lay before her exactly as she had left it. She put the archaeologist’s clothes on and with her trowel dug into the earth, pulling away the impacted clay.
***
Quixote materialized in front of Melaleuca.
‘Go back to the mansion and get my Vahn uniform,’ she said.
Moments later, he stood in the same spot with the brown uniform.
‘Thanks. Now check on the others.’
He left in a vapor.
Melaleuca knocked on the window several times until Con’s deformed face appeared. He opened the window, flushed with panic. ‘Get inside before you are seen.’
She clambered in, coming to rest on a rough wooden floor. In the gray light his room looked sparse; a small roll on the floor, no mattress, a small desk and a stand with clothes hanging on it.
‘How did you make it here?’ he asked, but thought better of his question. ‘I guess......that it is no challenge for a Marauder not to be spotted.’
‘I have come for your help.’
‘Aha, so you will enter and you need a ship.’
‘Yes. Will you do it?’
‘Of course. I would give my life to see the Marauders return.’
‘Deeply thankful. But let’s hope it does not come to that. Where do we get a ship from?’
‘Leave that to me. If you come by the HQ tomorrow I will tell you how to go about it. I need to talk to the others first.’
‘Not a word about our connection to the Marauders until I say so. Okay?’
***
By the time Quixote had turned up, Lexington had removed enough of the clay to reveal a door as high as she could reach, though more of the door was tucked away under the clay higher above her.
‘It looks like the one in the forest,’ Quixote said.
‘Mmmm, here is the same circle key hole too. Though, there appear to be no statues. And the eagle is just a small figure.’
‘I know!’
Quixote disappeared and appeared in a flash.
‘I can’t find the key to open the bracelet room-door. I thought we left it on the floor, but now it’s gone.’
Lexington had her small brush out, wiping away the dirt encrusted in the keyhole. She took her small trowel and hooked out a stone stuck in the engraving. The same small markings stared back up at her, a cow and an eagle, hidden from view - who knew for how long. Surrounding them lay the same markings from her lost medallion.
‘If I am not mistaken this door is thousands of years old, tens of thousands even, and I see more evidence for returning to find our parents.’
***
Quixote appeared in the room out of nowhere, causing Melaleuca to growl. His chameleon poncho kicked in, fading his body from sight, leaving his legs and head visible. He pulled his bracelet off and became normal Quixote again; wearing a shimmering cape and funny shoes.
Not batting an eyelid, Con smiled, though something disturbed Melaleuca about Con’s ease with Quixote.
‘Quixote. How’s the night’s prowling?’ Con asked.
‘Dark and quiet.’
‘Has
the Kidnapper struck again?’ Con asked.
‘Yes. Yes I think he has. I did not see him though.’
‘Good.’
‘What are you two talking about?’ Melaleuca asked.
They both hid their thoughts behind smirks, annoying her further. Even Melaleuca wished Quixote could be serious just for once. The words of Quixote’s mother again drifted back into her mind, the ones about Quixote being himself. Her immense trust in her mother gave the words a value that she could not yet see. So what if Con and Quixote had a little thing going, her gut instincts told her to allow it.
***
Small metal prods protruded out from the cold stone of the steps at regular intervals, puzzling Ari. At first he thought they had been old pegs that seats once had been attached to, but they felt extremely smooth to touch; highly polished and well maintained. Metal like this did not make or polish itself, and if, as the stories went, they were here from hundreds of years ago then the metal would have been weathered and tarnished.
He needed Lexington or at least the deductive abilities of her costume.
Where is Quixote?
He worked his way back up, and his foot hit something that clanked metallically. Kneeling he could make out a metal ring embedded on a chain. He tugged at it and to his surprise the steps rattled.
A trapdoor. But to where?
High above, he heard unknown voices. Faint silhouettes of people started stepping down into the amphitheatre holding between them an object with small beams of light emanating from it.
Quixote rose up out of the darkness, startling him.
‘Didn’t even see me.’
‘Knob. How’s about putting the cape around me as well, so those guys don’t see us.’
‘Or I could take us away.’
‘Stay. I want to see what they are doing.’
As they got closer, the object the people carried glowed like the silverquick Antavahni had produced. They stopped opposite them, yanking hard on another chain. Straining, they lifted a portion of the steps away and stepped into it.
Quixote picked up Ari and whizzed to the opening. Together, wrapped in the chameleon poncho, they peered inside.
Down many steps, they could just make out rows and rows of small lights blinking on and off on a panel of a large computer. Having only seen pictures of them in books and magazines they both gasped, awed at the sight.
‘Who’s there?’ a voice called out.
Quixote opened his mouth to cry out, but Ari clamped his hand over it, shaking his head and motioning for Quixote to get them out of there. Quixote carried them to the other side, covered them both and waited.
‘So glad I know you,’ Ari whispered. ‘If they don’t know we are here then we can still learn more.’
The men reappeared again, heaving the steps back in place. Carrying nothing, they climbed up the steps and disappeared over the top.
Quixote zipped them to the trapdoor again.
‘Let’s tear it open and see what is in there.’
Ari knelt and felt around the seam, discovering what he suspected was a seal on the door.
‘Wait. That will give away that someone has been here. I vote we find Lexington and Melaleuca. Explain this and then decide what to do next.’
‘Oh alright then. I will round them up.’
Within minutes, whether they liked it or not Quixote had dashed around and grabbed them all, returning them to the outskirts of town. They fell to their knees as their heads reeled with the suddenness and speed.
Melaleuca cradled her head in her hands.
‘Must...give us...warning.’
She centered herself and then said, ‘Con will get us a ship.’
Lexington rubbed her stomach, trying to settle the queasiness from the speed.
‘Where from?’
‘He did not say. I did not ask.’
‘We are supposed to trust no-one. What if he does not?’
‘I don’t trust him. I trust my decisions.’
‘Oh I see. Then, I hope we get time to look at it.’
Quixote slapped Lexington on the back.
‘Lex, the costumes will do it all for us.’
‘We don’t ─ ’
With a tiresome look even obvious in the darkness, Melaleuca held a hand up to silence them. She turned to Ari.
‘What did you find out about the amphitheatre?’
‘I don’t think the amphitheatre is an amphitheatre.’
He explained what he had found, the lack of a platform at the bottom, the grate, the polished rods, and the humming.
‘Then Quixote and I saw two men come down and open up a door. Inside, there looked like computers, lights, all sorts.’
Lexington threw some facts together in her mind.
‘Something mechanical is under the detention center. Remember Mohg moving those rocks aside and the warm air blasting up. It must come from somewhere. The bottom of the amphitheatre is probably at the same level.’
‘You mean...?’ Quixote asked.
‘Yes...’ Lexington replied.
‘…....another world underneath this land.’
She ignored his words.
‘...whoever controls New Wakefield must do so in secret from underneath the land. Perhaps they generate the wall of invisibility with gadgets hidden there.’
‘Focus,’ Melaleuca said. ‘There will be time after the Galelain to sort that out.’
Lexington pawed at Melaleuca with her almost plate-round eyes.
‘How does that fit with what I just found in the detention center? The door is thousands of years old, has the same key hole as the one in the hills and...and has a cow and an eagle on them, and the marking Mum said to watch out for.’
‘What were you doing in the detention room?’ Melaleuca asked.
‘What we are supposed to be doing. Pretending. I was curious. I was being me, asking why. Besides, if the door has been covered for thousands of years, then that makes what you discovered Ari something different.’
Ari scratched his head. ‘What makes you think it is so old and why can’t it be just a couple of chambers?’
‘A feeling.’
Melaleuca folded her arms, unable to resist.
‘Just a feeling? Surely you must have more than that to go on.’
Lexington’s face contorted in thought.
‘It’s strange. With the costumes on, I would have thought that logical deductions would rapidly fall into my lap, yet feelings, hints, suspicions lead me this way and that.’
Her voice sounded unsure.
‘Anyway I have good logic. There was a fine layer of volcanic dust between the clay I pulled off and the door. Volcanoes have not erupted around here for thousands of years.’
‘How do you know that?’ Quixote asked.
‘The layers of dirt in the detention center showed it to be true.’
Melaleuca took her hand and squeezed it a little.
‘That’s good Lex. Now, let’s focus on the Galelain, just for now. Afterwards, I am sure you will solve most the mysteries.’
‘Well, I do concur, but then let us just hurry up and compete in this silly competition.’
***
Overlord Sector, the High Overlord, sat on his high seat, the seat of power, adorned in ornate carvings of small figurines struggling and battling with animals and wrestling with people. Darkness shrouded his audience chambers save for a small lantern above his seat.
Head hanging down, Aunty Gertrude shuffled toward him along a threadbare carpet. She stopped half way and lay flat on the floor, spreading her arms and legs out like she was dead.
‘Who approaches to confess at this late hour?’
‘A humble servant of our way.’
‘Arise, approach and confess my daughter.’
Aunty Gertrude shambled forward until she stood before his raised chair, and then knelt on a small footstool before him.
‘Speak daughter of the ancient way, harbourer of the mysteries, hoarder o
f the yet-unrevealed truths, matron of the histories.’
She fidgeted, her eyes downcast, her face not at all its normal sourness, but worried and filled with questions.
‘My lord, I think I may have committed a grave error. I have come to offer myself for re-tribulation or even banishment.’
‘Banishment?’ High Overlord Sector said, surprised. ‘What is this serious offence?’
‘It’s the outsider children. I think allowing them to come here was a mistake. I fear they will not learn our ways and that they will instead destabilize our discipline. I have gravely erred on this.’
‘As ever your ways of truth speak volumes for your honour. You know well the penalty for such a mistake?’
‘Yes, My Lord, I do.’
The emotion of knowing her fate, and her pride in confessing, caused weakness and strength to mix inside her.
‘Perhaps you have a suggestion to remedy this?’ High Overlord Sector asked. ‘With your years of service, it is not out of the ordinary to...ahhhh...how shall we put it...suspend certain pathways of action.’
Yes, she thought, yes. With her downcast head, a hardened, tight-lipped grin flickered across her face; pleased that like a predictable chess game, the High Overlord Sector had asked the very thing she had hoped for.
Aunty Gertrude raised her stare upwards, bringing it to bear on the Overlord.
‘Yes, my ever vigilant Lord. Banish the outsiders from New Wakefield, forever, to the southern wasteland. Order and balance will be restored.’
‘Am I to believe that you are suggesting that the Marauders are here due to the presence of these outside children?’
‘The Marauders are the spirits of our long dead ancestors risen to warn us of straying.’
From out of the darkness behind the raised seat, feet shuffled followed by a voice.
‘The children will stay.’
Daquan stepped forward. On his fat body he wore a new cloak. It slunk off his shoulders and fell to the floor in aged, ancient glory of times past. As an Overlord now and Occupier of the chair of Ramathor, he bristled in the moment.
Vahn and the Bold Extraction, The Page 14