by Clare Smith
By the time they reached the last step, it was light enough to see where he was putting his feet, so he followed the others into a small cavern which was lit with pale sunlight. Inside the dark tomb it had been difficult to estimate how much time had passed, but it must have been the whole night as now the brilliant, early morning sun had just started to rise above the sand coloured bluffs. It lit the cave where they stood, but left the valley outside the cave’s mouth in deep shadow.
He stepped up close to the others, but with the sun in his eyes it was difficult to see where they were, although he was pretty certain it wasn’t the place they had started out from. That was confirmed as soon as Effalla moved out of the way, and he found that instead of the sheer cliff face they had climbed, there was now a steep but navigable slope. Below the slope there was a stony pathway winding between the rocks which led downwards into a broad valley.
The place might not have been their starting point, but it was still horribly familiar. He could tell by the rounds of glowing embers and the half dozen darker shadows that they had come out somewhere they didn’t want to be. Effalla must have realised the same thing as he whispered a curse and ran as fast and as low as he could down the slope until he reached the pile of boulders which was furthest away from the guard’s camp.
The others followed him and, as he had no other option, he ran behind them hoping his luck would hold. Moving from boulder to boulder they edged their way around the valley, but when they were level with the guard’s camp, the sun finally made it over the top of the bluffs. Within seconds the concealing shadows had disappeared and the entire area was lit with brilliant sunshine.
It was impossible to stay hidden so Effalla made a run for it, hitching up the long robe he wore and running as if the hounds of Hades were after him. Banniff stayed where he was and watched from behind a boulder as the others followed behind, but he knew they had left it too late. There was a shout of alarm and a dozen or so guards who had been on sentry duty set off running at an angle to intercept the robber’s path.
Fear must have given the thieves extra speed as Effalla was already half way up the valley and Ekle had almost overtaken him. Benmotha wasn’t quite as fast and was still carrying his sack of treasure which slowed him down even more. When the foremost guard reached the robber he didn’t hesitate but swung his sword in an ark, making Benmotha’s body stumble forward and hit the ground hard whilst his head spun away in the other direction.
The execution didn’t cause the guard to break his stride but he ran on to where his brothers in arms had intercepted Effalla and Ekle. Banniff decided that now, whilst the guards were occupied, would be a good time to run in the opposite direction so he set off, keeping close to the ground. He only made it as far as the boulder at the bottom of the slope when the guards returned, dragging their prisoners behind them, and he knew that if he ran again he would be seen.
Instead he crouched down out of sight waiting for his chance to escape. From his position he couldn’t quite see what was going on, but then there was a hideous scream and one of the guards moved aside and flicked a bloody piece of flesh into the air from the point of his sword. He cared nothing for the robbers and knew that once they were away from here, they would have killed him, but all the same, being dismembered whilst you were still alive was no way for anyone to die.
There was another piercing scream and he turned away, sickened by what was being done to the men. It was the wrong thing to do as there was a sudden shout and when he looked back all the guards were staring in his direction. He wasn’t certain if they could see him, but it didn’t matter that much as one of them must have spotted movement amongst the rocks and was pointing at the boulder which he was hiding behind.
If he stayed where he was he would end up dying horribly but if he tried to escape by running across the valley they would still surely capture him, although he might be lucky and go down fighting. In the end there was only one thing he could do which would give him the slightest chance of leaving there alive, and that was to go back the way he had come and hope he could find another exit from the tomb before they caught him. He grabbed the sack with the skull inside, wrapped the drawstring around his wrist in case he dropped it, and ran as fast as he could back up the slope towards the mouth of the cave.
He had a head start on his pursuers, but behind him he could hear more shouting and the sound of men’s boots pounding across the ground and getting closer. With his breath coming in harsh gasps, he scrambled up the last few yards of the steep slope and shot inside the cave still running flat out. He headed for the narrow opening in the far corner, hoping to be through it before the guards saw where he went, but as the cave was lit by the sunlight streaming into the cave mouth, what hope he had of escaping discovery disappeared in an instant.
That couldn’t be helped as he was committed now and there was no way back except into the arms of those who were chasing him. Breathing in he squeezed through the narrow gap, pulled the bag with the skull through after him and raced down the roughly hewn stairs. Within half a dozen steps the light from the cave disappeared plunging him into darkness and he prayed that he wouldn’t miss his footing and tumble down them head first.
When he reached the bottom he collided with the stone wall into which he’d pushed Benmotha, but somehow managed to bounce back before he knocked himself out cold. This wall had an even narrower gap than the entrance from the cave and he knew it had to be somewhere to the right, but in the darkness he couldn’t find it. He spent valuable seconds trying to squeeze his fingers into cracks in the rock searching for the opening, and then realised that it had been on his right on the other side of the wall, so now it would be on his left.
Frantically he searched the other side of the wall and had only just found the narrow opening when the stairway was lit by torchlight, and a dozen guards pounded down the steps towards him. With an effort he squeezed his body through the gap, but the sack with the skull became jammed half way and wouldn’t budge. He didn’t want to leave the skull behind, but if it was a choice between that and his life then it would have to go.
He turned around and tried to release the drawstring from around his wrist, but it was as tight now as a noose around a dead man’s neck. From the way the thing was dragging at his wrist, he guessed that someone had hold of the sack on the other side and was trying to pull it and his arm back through. Desperately he braced his feet against the wall and gritted his teeth against the pain as the drawstring bit into his flesh, but it was no good; the floor was covered with the loose stone Ekle had prised from the wall and he was sliding forward.
In a last desperate attempt to free himself, he yanked his arm back with all his strength and cried out in surprise as his back hit the floor and the skull landed on his chest with its penetrating eyes looking straight at him. On the other side of the wall a man was screaming, and when he looked down at the skull, he could see blood and flesh on some of the long, white teeth. He almost laughed when he realised that the skull must have bitten the guard who had been holding it on the other side and had saved his life.
The moment of respite wasn’t going to last long though as another guard was already squeezing through the gap with a sword held out in front of him. Instantly he was on his feet again and running down the steep slope he’d climber earlier, but in the pitch darkness it was almost impossible to see where he was going. He thought that the stone block which had crushed Gazza must have been somewhere up ahead and was shocked when he ran into a solid wall with enough force to knock him over backwards.
Dazed, he stumbled back onto his feet and wiped the blood from his hand onto the bit of sacking he still had tied around his wrist. For a moment he thought it was his own blood and then realised that it had seeped from beneath the stone block in front of him. He could see the colour of the blood and the texture of the stone clearly now as less than a dozen paces behind him the tomb’s guards were rushing towards him with torches in one hand and swords in the other.
&n
bsp; The image of the two robbers being mutilated flashed through his mind, and he knew that the only way he could prevent himself from sharing the same fate was to die quickly and before the guards could reach him. He picked up the skull from the floor where he’d dropped it, screamed out the name of the god who protected him and smashed the skull into one of the precariously balanced boulders which hung over head. There was a loud hiss of running sand, a deep, booming rumble and the world collapsed on top of him.
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CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The Wrong Diagnosis
England and Fire Mountain
“Is he going to be all right?” Celia Danvers asked, rising shakily to her feet as the doctor walked into the room. Richard also stood, supporting her by the arm and feeling her shake with tiredness and emotion.
“Tobrin has a nasty bump on the side of his head but nothing is broken.” The doctor waived them back to their seats and then sat opposite them. “From what you have told me about his erratic behaviour before his attack on Mr Carter, I believe Tobrin has developed a form of schizophrenia. It is unusual for it to come on so rapidly or to appear in one so young, but it would explain the imaginary stalker, his lethargy and his unwarranted attack on his employer.”
“What about the change in his eyes?” asked Jim Carter who sat to one side with his arm in a sling.
The doctor frowned; the description the man had given didn’t make any sense. “His eyes are perfectly normal now, so what you thought you saw could have been due to the extreme stress of the situation.”
Still shaking her head the doctor turned back to the boy’s parents. “He is sedated now but we will keep him here for another twenty four hours to make sure there are no complications from the blow to his head. After that he will be moved to a secure psychiatric ward where he won’t be able to harm himself or anyone else and we’ll carry out further tests.”
“When will he be able to come home?” Celia asked on the verge of tears.
“I’m afraid not for some time. The police have agreed that he can be held in a secure ward whilst we assess his mental state, but once we have his condition stabilised they will want to take him into custody.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Jim, rising to his feet. “I’m not going to press charges.”
The doctor shook her head. “You don’t understand, the boy tried to kill you and attempted murder is a matter for the police.”
Celia began to cry and Richard did his best to comfort her.
“Don’t worry Celia, Richard, I’ll get a lawyer and we’ll sort this out. Tobrin’s sick not a murderer.” Jim turned back to the doctor. “Can we see him?”
“Yes, for a few minutes but he’s heavily sedated and won’t know who you are.” She stood and they followed her out of the office and into one of the small rooms nearby with white painted walls where Tobrin lay in a bed with high sides like a child’s cot.
They thought he was asleep, but he wasn’t. He’d been flying, exalting in the freedom of the skies and stretching his wings which had been held prisoner for so long, bound to his body inside his host. Now he was free and he could feel the muscle’s which worked his wings stretching and expanding as he soared through the air. As he banked around the air beneath his wings pushed against the membrane and a thermal lifted him upwards to soar over the thick forests which surrounded the mountain.
Below him he could see the treetops bend in the wind as he passed, and cascades of water sparkled in the sun as they tumbled over falls of rock at the mountain’s edge. His shadow raced beneath him and he beat his wings once more to increase his speed in a mad game to outrun it. As he swooped low, the reflection from his scales speckled the ground with colour and startled a mountain hare which leapt for cover.
He was powering up again now with the wind streaming along his body until he folded his wings, rolled and dived with his long tail streaming out behind him. There were deer down there which scattered at his approach, and saliva filled his mouth at the thought of red meat and hot blood between his jaws. He let them go though as a greater need overwhelmed his desire to kill and eat.
Someone was calling him, telling him it was time for him to be reunited with his brothers, and it was a call he couldn’t resist. With a sweep of his wings he powered upwards and banked around the mountainside searching for the one who had called his name. It wasn’t the name that his host wore, but his real name, given to him by the stars and he revelled in its beauty.
Now he could see the place where the caller waited and banked around, pushing through the swirling cloud which covered the mountain top, but something was wrong. There were other voices calling to him. One was his host, the being who held him prisoner, and he could feel the irresistible tug of the chains pulling him back. The other was weaker and far away, and had a name which he didn’t understand. He would have liked to have stayed, but he was fading now and only Tobrin was left.
Slowly he opened his eyes, blinked as the elongated pupils returned to normal, and then drifted off again to where no one could reach him. Yes, they thought he was asleep and couldn’t hear them, but he knew who they were all right. The one who cried was his mother, and he was sorry he’d caused her so much pain.
There were two men; the taller was the one who tried to replace the father he’d loved, and the other was his friend who he’d tried to kill. He was sorry he’d caused him so much pain too. The last was the one who had smothered his will, so that he couldn’t break free when his host had called him back, and if he could he would tear her with his talons and crush her between his jaws.
He listened to them for a while and let his mind wander over the events of the last few days. It was as if someone else had come into his life, and all the anger and fear that he’d felt had been theirs and not his own. They had been calling him too, whispering in his ear and urging him to leave everything behind and come to the lonely place where the caller waited for him.
If it had been possible he would have gone and left everything behind, but the way hadn’t been clear. The caller had done his best to guide him, and both the javelin and the curved sword with the dragon had pointed to the path he should follow, but they hadn’t been strong enough. What he needed was a connection which was much stronger, and only then would he be able to answer the call.
When the voices had gone away and the room was in silence, he opened his eyes again and knew what he had to do. Carefully he released the catches which held the side of the cot in place, eased the sides down so they wouldn’t make a clatter, and climbed out of bed swaying slightly but feeling remarkably calm. He was wearing some sort of gown made of paper which crinkled when he moved and was uncomfortable to wear, so he took it off hoping that his own clothes hadn’t been taken away.
His luck was in as he found them in a small locker inside the bathroom. They were a bit crumpled and there was a bloodstain on one sleeve, but they would have to do for now. Best of all, when he put his hand in his pocket he found the ten pound note he’d put there that morning after taking it from Richard’s wallet. In his other pocket he found both the key to Charnel House and his desk draw, and stood there for a while working out the details of his plan.
He wasn’t certain how difficult it was going to be getting out of the hospital without being caught, but it turned out to be quite simple. It must have been visiting time as there were lots of people about, so all he had to do was wait for a crowd to pass by and join them. Once he was outside he recognised where he was because the school he’d attended for just a few weeks was close by.
With the ten pounds he had in his pocket he could have probably caught a taxi most of the way home, which wasn’t where he wanted to go but was close enough. However, as he was likely to be missed very quickly, home would be the first place the police checked. Instead he hurried through the streets to the railway station and enquired at the ticket office how much it would cost to get to London.
He already knew that his money wouldn’t get him all the w
ay to the city so he bought a ticket for the stopping service, which would get him as far as Guilford. Then he left hoping that the man at the station would remember him when the police came asking questions and would tell them where he’d gone. After that it was just a matter of walking. He’d walked home from school enough times when he’d missed the school bus, so he knew the route fairly well, including some short cuts through the housing estates.
Then he’d been in a hurry to get home, but now the drugs they had given him slowed him down and he had to stop several times until the pain in his head subsided. By the time he’d reached the outskirts of the town where the countryside started it was pitch black, and every time a car passed by their headlights dazzled him. He realised that if the police were going to catch him the open road would be the most likely place, so he clambered over a wooden gate and set off across the fields.
Up until a few months ago he’d spent his life in a well lit city with solid pavements beneath his feet, so this was a new and strange environment. It surprised him though that he did so well, and only had a couple of mishaps when he fell into a ditch whilst following a hedge, and blundered into a herd of cows sheltering under a tree. He was also surprised that he knew which direction to go, but it was as if something was pulling him on.
Just past midnight he pushed through a gap between a hedge and a tree and found himself standing outside the tall metal gates of Charnel House. For a moment he just stopped and looked at them, knowing that once he was through the other side, his life would be forever changed and there would be no going back. He thought about his mother who he loved dearly and who would be devastated by his disappearance, and Richard and Jim who were doing their best to help him grow into a man.