by Jon Mayhew
‘No,’ Dakkar said, his chest tightening as he thought back to the day he’d first met Oginski. ‘We were being chased. But I knew Count Oginski was going to meet me.’
‘My name is Oginski! I was going to meet you!’ Cryptos barked. ‘I sent my men to collect you but my brother beat me to it. Your father never intended him to mentor you – it was me he expected you to meet.’
Dakkar looked from Cryptos to Oginski, who lowered his gaze to the floor.
‘I couldn’t bear to see you twisted by his philosophy,’ Oginski said, his voice barely a whisper. ‘When I heard through my contacts that your father was sending you to Cryptos, I knew I had to act.’
‘You see, Dakkar, your father wants you to be a strong, single-minded ruler. I’ve watched you grow up and I spotted your potential many years ago,’ Cryptos said. ‘I offered to mentor you, to train you in the arts of intrigue and espionage, to become a weapon to liberate not just your own nation but all nations of the world. Your father thought I would train you to become the next Rajah of Bundelkhand but I would make you so much more. I would make you my heir, the next Count Cryptos.’
A thousand questions tore at Dakkar. The last four years of trusting Oginski, of growing to respect him, flew through his mind. How could Oginski lie to me like that? Does my father want me to be like Cryptos? Deep in his heart, Dakkar knew what his father was capable of.
‘There’s only one question you have to ask yourself, Dakkar,’ Oginski said, not meeting his gaze. ‘Are you a monster?’
‘I disagree,’ Cryptos said, meshing his fingers together and resting them under his chin. ‘You have to ask yourself about your duty to obey your father. You have to ask yourself how great can you be?’ Cryptos clapped his hands and the guards grabbed Dakkar’s arms. ‘Enough. You will retrieve the Eye of Neptune for me or Georgia Fulton will pay the price. Take them back to their rooms to think on what has been said.’
The guards half carried, half dragged the struggling Dakkar out of the room with Cryptos’s parting words ringing in his ears.
‘You have a choice to make, Prince of Bundelkhand,’ he called after Dakkar. ‘Cryptos or Oginski. Duty or deception. Life or death.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Decision
Sleep didn’t come easily to Dakkar. The lock had been replaced with a bolt on the outside and a guard leaned heavily on the door. Dakkar could hear him shifting position every now and then.
As he lay in his room, Dakkar’s stomach felt heavy and his mind wound round and round over the same thoughts, like one of Oginski’s clockwork engines. How could Oginski have kidnapped him and tricked him into believing that he was Dakkar’s mentor for all those years? Oginski was surely as devious as Cryptos. And was he as ruthless? He remembered the two men who had attacked him in Liverpool. Oginski had dealt with them with singular efficiency.
He remembered his father looking down on him on that last day. ‘You are going to learn how to be a leader of men,’ his father had said. Dakkar could see his sunken eyes, the long, grey beard barely concealing the pinched cheekbones. ‘You will be taught by the best, by a nobleman who has known our hardships.’
His father meant Cryptos. His father wanted him to become a force for destruction, but Oginski had other ideas.
The morning brought Cryptos to Dakkar’s door. He stood tall and gaunt, a high, bejewelled collar round his neck.
‘Before we embark on this voyage,’ he said, rubbing his hands together, ‘I’ve taken Oginski and Fulton off fitting out my Nautilus and tasked them with modifying the Liberty. As you will be the captain of the craft, I think it’s only sensible that you’re involved in these developments.’
‘Whatever you say,’ Dakkar muttered dully. His head ached and he felt tired.
‘Just remember that any foolish trickery will result in the death of your friend,’ Cryptos said, laying a cold hand on Dakkar’s shoulder as they walked out into the corridor. ‘Watch my brother. Is he truly any different to me? Would you defy your father to follow him?’
Dakkar shrugged Cryptos’s hand away and followed the guards down to the cavern where the Liberty lay, dwarfed by the mighty Nautilus. Despite his tormented thoughts, Dakkar still marvelled at the huge sub.
The Liberty was dangling from a winch above Oginski and Fulton’s heads when Dakkar arrived. The two men looked pale and drawn. Clearly neither of them had slept well either.
‘Once I have the Eye of Neptune,’ Cryptos said, pointing at the Nautilus, ‘and it is installed in this craft, she will be ready. She will be invincible!’
Cryptos swept away, laughing, leaving Dakkar standing face to face with Oginski.
‘Ah, Dakkar,’ Oginski said, clearing his throat. ‘We need to attach some kind of lifting device to the front of the submersible.’
‘We favour pincers of some description, if we can manufacture them,’ Fulton added, pushing his spectacles up his nose.
Discussing the practicalities of the modifications to the Liberty distracted Dakkar, and for a while he forgot about his dilemma. Cryptos’s island fortress proved to be well equipped and Dakkar found himself in a cavernous forge holding strips of glowing red iron with tongs while Oginski hammered them into shape.
‘I did think about telling you the truth,’ Oginski grunted between hammer blows. ‘But I feared your reaction. I couldn’t risk you defecting to Cryptos.’
‘But why me?’ Dakkar asked, shifting the iron to a better position for Oginski to bash.
‘Kazmer and I were in India when you were born,’ Oginski said, pausing at the anvil for a moment. ‘It wasn’t long after the Siege of Seringapatam,’ he continued, plunging the metal into water and grimacing at the steam that hissed up into his face. ‘We’d been supplying the Sultan Tipu with rockets to fight the English but it had come to nought. Your father sheltered us when the English won and Kazmer recognised a kindred spirit in him.’
‘My father? Like Cryptos?’ Dakkar growled. ‘Never.’
‘Search your heart, Dakkar,’ Oginski said softly, then rammed another strip into the burning hot coals. ‘Your father is a brutal man. Like many of us, he has had to fight from the moment he could stand.’
‘So Cryptos and my father made a deal?’ Dakkar said, getting ready to pluck the iron from the coals.
‘When you were old enough, Kazmer was to take you and mould you into a living weapon,’ Oginski said, resuming his hammering. He fashioned the iron into a sharp point and held it up as if to illustrate what he was saying. ‘Your father had taught you the martial arts of fist, spear and sword. Your time in the English schools hardened your heart against its people. Kazmer was to show you the ways of your enemies. The Europeans.’
‘So that I could purge them from my land,’ Dakkar finished. ‘That doesn’t seem a bad thing.’
‘But the Brothers Oginski grow old,’ the count said. ‘They seek new blood as their plots and schemes come to fruition. Having seen you as a child, I couldn’t let them corrupt you.’
Dakkar fell silent, mulling over what Oginski had said.
The day wore on and the work became fatiguing. Dakkar worried about Georgia. He watched Robert Fulton as the man sweated and struggled to assemble the metal arms. A team of Qualar lent their strength to the work but Dakkar could see that Fulton fretted too.
A leaden weight lay somewhere in Dakkar’s stomach. He’d found Oginski, only to discover deception. Dakkar couldn’t meet Oginski’s eye.
‘You could have told me,’ he said to Oginski. ‘You didn’t have to keep all this from me.’
‘You were ten years old, Dakkar,’ Oginski replied. ‘You ran away so many times anyway. Would you really have understood if I had told you that I was guiding you down a more peaceful path?’
‘Probably not, and perhaps for good reason. Look where it’s got us!’ Dakkar snorted. ‘I thought about this last night and it seems to me that the only way to beat Cryptos is to be like Cryptos . . .’
Day and night were hard to
distinguish in this underground world but sore muscles and heavy eyelids told Dakkar that he had worked a full, hard day. His head ached with thinking but he had come to a decision when Cryptos appeared to appraise the work.
‘Things always look worse before they improve,’ he said with a thin smile, tilting his head.
The Liberty looked a mess. Oginski had drilled holes in the bow of the craft to allow the arms to be controlled from within.
‘I’ve made a decision,’ Dakkar said.
Oginski and Fulton froze.
Cryptos raised one thin eyebrow. ‘Have you now?’ he murmured.
‘I will join you,’ Dakkar said.
‘Dakkar, no!’ Oginski gasped. ‘Think about what you’re saying!’
‘It’s no good,’ Dakkar said. ‘My mind is made up. Count Cryptos, I will become your apprentice.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Mole
‘Dakkar, you don’t know what you’re doing!’ Oginski said, his face pale and serious.
‘I know exactly what I’m doing,’ Dakkar spat. ‘You tricked me. You tried to change me and you would have turned me against my own father if you’d had your way.’
Cryptos remained silent, standing with his hands crossed, like a vicar awaiting his flock at the church door.
‘I only did what I did to save you from the evil and destruction that this man peddles,’ Oginski pleaded.
‘You deceived me,’ Dakkar said. ‘I realise now that my true path is with Cryptos.’
Oginski glared at Dakkar in disbelief.
‘You have chosen well,’ Cryptos said, clapping his hands together.
Dakkar gritted his teeth as Cryptos put a bony arm round his shoulder.
‘Dakkar, don’t do this!’ Oginski cried, leaping forward. Qualar guards grabbed him and pulled him back. ‘Don’t become a monster.’
‘Come, you must rest, and then tomorrow I shall show you such wonders!’ Cryptos said, and ushered Dakkar from the cavern.
‘Dakkar! Come back!’ Oginski called after him.
Dakkar closed his eyes and allowed himself to be led away.
When he reached his room, which was no longer locked, Dakkar lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He could still hear Oginski’s pleas, but this was the only way. If he could persuade Cryptos that he really had decided to be his apprentice, then he had a greater chance of defeating him. It meant deceiving Oginski, however. Dakkar sighed and, slowly, sleep took him.
Whether it was exhaustion, Dakkar didn’t know, but he awoke the following morning having slept like the dead. He opened his eyes a crack and jumped up, realising that he was not alone.
A Qualar stood to attention at the foot of the bed. He wore breeches and a shirt of green silk. His milky eyes stared ahead. Only his gills moved, opening and closing in the side of his neck.
‘Forgive the intrusion, your highness,’ he said in a gasping voice. ‘But I was sent by Count Cryptos to act as your manservant.’
‘Excellent,’ Dakkar said, bemused by the sight of the strange fish-man. ‘And what shall I call you?’
‘My name is Olszar,’ the fish-man said, holding his chin up, ‘Shoal Lord of Qualarium.’
‘You’re a king?’ Dakkar said, staring at the Qualar.
The fish-man’s head fell. ‘Once I was,’ he said. ‘Now I serve Cryptos and . . . and you.’
Olszar isn’t happy with Cryptos – that’s clear, Dakkar thought, pursing his lips. ‘Have you eaten?’
Olszar shook his head. ‘I was directed by Cryptos to bring your food first,’ he said, waving a hand over a platter of fruit, baked fish and bread. ‘And these clothes.’ He pointed to a fine suit of black linen that lay across the foot of the bed.
‘Then sit, Olszar,’ Dakkar said, pulling up a chair. ‘And, once I’m dressed, you can tell me how Count Cryptos came to rule your world.’
‘I’m not permitted to be too familiar with you,’ Olszar said, watching Dakkar’s face intently.
‘I won’t tell Cryptos,’ Dakkar said, dragging the shirt and suit on. It was fine material, light and cool in the stuffy underground environment. He sat at the table and gestured for Olszar to join him.
‘I’m not sure it is wise,’ Olszar muttered, bowing.
‘You can trust me,’ Dakkar said, holding Olszar’s gaze.
Olszar gave a short nod and joined him at the table. ‘It’s a sad tale. The Qualar are a mighty race,’ Olszar said, settling on the chair and glancing at the door. ‘From the blue city of Qualarium, the Qualar hunt across the ocean bed. We take the harvest we need from the sea. We keep away from the eyes of men.’
‘But what happened?’ Dakkar asked, offering him the fish. ‘How did Cryptos find you?’
‘We found him,’ Olszar said with a shake of his scaly head. ‘His ship sank in battle. A Qualar hunter found him and saved him from drowning. At first he charmed us, taking in the wonders of our world with bewildered amazement. Then he began to question our warriors and hunters. Why hadn’t they taken the land world too? Why did we hide away?’
‘And why do you hide away?’ Dakkar said, chewing thoughtfully on some fruit.
‘Forgive me,’ Olszar said, something close to a grin crossing his face, ‘but humans are mad. They kill and torture each other. They are full of pointless suffering.’
Dakkar nodded. ‘You may be right.’
‘Cryptos whispered words of greed and evil in our ears. He divided us,’ Olszar said. His face dropped. ‘He found our spawning chambers where we store and protect our unhatched young. He threatened to destroy them.’
‘If there are so many Qualar, can’t you rise up?’ Dakkar said. ‘Can’t you overthrow Cryptos?’
‘A shoal divided cannot escape the shark,’ Olszar sighed, his gills fanning the air. ‘As long as there are Qualar who carry spears for him and as long as he can destroy our spawning chambers, we are lost. Those who side with Cryptos bring him creatures from the deepest regions of the sea. He breeds and grows them to gigantic proportions. They shepherd and control them for him. Such were the creatures that attacked you.’
‘Cryptos has bred land animals too,’ Dakkar said. ‘I saw a huge ape.’
‘He made those himself,’ Olszar replied.
Dakkar sat in silence for a moment, chewing a crust of bread.
‘I should not be talking of this,’ Olszar said, his voice laden with worry. ‘You have chosen to be this man’s apprentice.’
‘I have,’ Dakkar said, nodding. ‘But you have nothing to fear from me.’
Olszar furrowed his scaly brow in confusion and was about to speak, when the door flew open.
Cryptos stood, eyeing the seated pair. Three human guards stood behind him carrying rifles.
‘My prince,’ he said with a tight smile, ‘one shouldn’t be overfamiliar with the servants. They might get ideas above their station.’
‘I was just learning about the history of the Qualar,’ Dakkar said, holding Cryptos’s gaze. ‘I see nothing wrong in that. A good ruler understands his subjects.’
‘Noble sentiments, Dakkar,’ Cryptos said. ‘But their fear is all that is required for now. Olszar, leave us.’
‘No, I would have him stay,’ Dakkar said, leaping to his feet. ‘He’s my servant after all.’
A scowl flashed across Cryptos’s face. ‘You are quite the petulant one,’ he said, regaining his composure.
‘I learn quickly,’ Dakkar said, putting his hands on his hips. ‘You said I should be single-minded. Well, I am.’
For a moment, Cryptos stared warily at Dakkar and then he laughed. ‘Very well,’ he said, clapping his hands. ‘Olszar can join us.’ But his face hardened as he spoke to the Qualar. ‘Just remember you are no longer Shoal Lord.’
Olszar lowered his head.
Cryptos led them out of the room and along the corridor into which Dakkar had first crept.
‘This island has been my fortress for some time now,’ Cryptos said, tracing his finger along the wall. ‘It’s
a warren of tunnels.’
‘It’s a wonder the whole thing doesn’t collapse,’ Dakkar muttered, peering down one of the many side tunnels as they passed.
‘You’re right to wonder.’ Cryptos smiled. ‘I suspended excavations after a few unfortunate cave-ins.’
They stopped at a huge door. The guards pushed it open and Cryptos began to step through but Olszar hung back.
‘Please,’ he croaked, bowing his head even lower. ‘Don’t make me go in here. I cannot bear to see my people suffering in this way.’
Dakkar looked past Cryptos to see the chamber with the huge machine. Hundreds of Qualar laboured and suffered in there. He swallowed hard as he looked at Olszar’s tortured face.
‘Enough,’ Cryptos snapped. ‘They are no longer your people, Olszar. Don’t forget that. Now follow.’
From up above, Dakkar hadn’t fully appreciated the hardships of the chamber. Now, up close, it looked like a scene from Dante’s Inferno. Men, grimy and stripped to the waist, mingled with Qualar, all gasping and panting as they smashed at the glassy rock with picks and hammers. Others dragged plates of steel across the ground to the scaffold that enmeshed the colossal machine. Steam boiled from the cracks in the rock wall, making men and Qualar alike curse and spit. High above, the circle of the main vent tormented them with a glimpse of far-off daylight.
‘I think you’ve already met the taskmaster,’ Cryptos said, pointing to the centre of the crush. ‘This is my right-hand man, Mr Phoebus Blight.’
Dakkar stifled a gasp, recognising the familiar hunched figure who shuffled along the lines of staggering men, lashing out at any slackers with a riding crop.
‘The m-man at the village,’ Dakkar stammered, then he glared at Cryptos. ‘He was with you at the castle.’
Phoebus Blight raised his tricorne hat at Dakkar and gave a mocking welcome bow and a crooked grin. Then he fell to beating the unfortunate slaves again.
‘He doesn’t talk much,’ Cryptos said, picking some dirt from under his long fingernails. ‘Not since I had his tongue ripped out. His loyalty seems to grow the more I mistreat him.’