She was surprised when Andrew stopped dead and she had to pull her mind from her dark thoughts to realise why he’d halted. He was staring at a wall. The passage had simply ended. No door, no branching tunnel, no other way to go besides a flat piece of rock.
Victoria let out a frustrated breath. ‘Well, now what? I swear he came down here! He had to have gone somewhere! Did we miss a turn?’
Andrew’s scowl deepened. ‘Not that I am aware of…’
Victoria shuddered. Had they passed Noel at some point in the darkness? Was he behind them now? Following?
Andrew snarled unhappily. He pushed the torch into her hands and dropped down to a crouch to study the floor, which was sprinkled with light sand.
‘What is it?’ Victoria asked.
‘Footprints; here, bring the light.’
Victoria obeyed and spotted the one set of footprints other than their own. ‘These are fresh. I’d assume about Noel’s size…’
He spun about. Frowning.
‘They don’t leave,’ Victoria realised, seeing what Andrew had.
He nodded. ‘Noel didn’t leave this spot…’ He clenched his teeth. ‘Where did he go?’ He tilted his head back to look up. Nothing.
Victoria was just as puzzled, but something else drew her attention away from the prints.
Footsteps were echoing down the hall. Someone was coming.
Andrew whirled round to look at her. ‘Unlace your dress,’ he hissed.
‘What? No! Why?’ she cried as quietly as she could.
Andrew waved her protests away and unbuttoned his top enough to yank it over his head. ‘Just do as I say!’ he snapped. He ran fingers through his hair, making it go wilder.
Victoria swore and started doing as he asked. ‘This is ridiculous!’
‘Quiet!’ Andrew barked at her. ‘Now, keep silent and follow my lead.’
Victoria glowered sourly. The footsteps grew nearer and a second later a man, dressed in palace garb, rounded the corner. She yelped, unable to help herself and wrapped her arms quickly across her unlaced front. Upon seeing Andrew and Victoria in the state they were in, he swore and backed the way he’d come.
His head dipped shyly round the corner. ‘Oi! What are you doing down here?’
Andrew clamped a hand over his mouth and smiled sheepishly. He cast Victoria a look. ‘Well, this is embarrassing! We didn’t know anyone came this way!’
The man glared at them suspiciously. ‘This corridor is off-limits!’
‘Interesting,’ Andrew muttered quietly. Then he grimaced, flashing the man a charming, mortified smile. ‘Exactly,’ he said easily. ‘We were just looking for a little…you know, privacy. Everyone’s been after us all day and we just wanted to be alone for a while.’ He gazed at Victoria sappily. She could do nothing but stare, murderous thoughts running through her mind.
The man nodded. ‘Right, understandable enough, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re going to have to find somewhere else for this sort of thing.’
Andrew nodded again, still beaming in a childish way. ‘Of course, sorry again! I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t, er, you know…mention this to anybody?’
The man smirked. ‘Yeah, sure.’ He gave them both a slight wave and then marched back the way he’d come.
Andrew waited a good thirty seconds before he moved. He pulled his shirt back over his head and started muttering.
‘What the hell was that all about?’ Victoria hissed in anger.
‘Calm down and lace yourself back up.’
Victoria swallowed her frustration and went to work on the front of her dress.
When she’d finished she found Andrew staring thoughtfully at the way the man had retreated. ‘Interesting…’ he muttered again.
‘What?’
‘You said this was an abandoned corridor, the lack of footprints is enough proof of that, and yet all of a sudden this hallway becomes one of the most popular sites in the entire palace.’
Victoria shrugged. ‘Well, maybe someone informed the palace guards that Noel was sneaking about down here.’
‘No,’ Andrew said slowly, ‘no, he wasn’t a palace guard.’
Victoria frowned. ‘Yes he was. Didn’t you see his clothing?’
Andrew shook his head. ‘He’s a Myrmidon. I wonder how many of them there are…how many have infiltrated the palace…’
Victoria narrowed her eyes. ‘How do you know?’
Andrew huffed. ‘Oh, please. Child’s play. Didn’t you see his uniform? Yes, it was a guard’s but it wasn’t properly worn. Knots were improperly tied, sash was adjusted wrong, turban was incorrectly wrapped. And then of course, the most obvious.’
‘Obvious?’
‘The slight yellow dusting on his trousers, the bloodshot eyes and the slight blackened ting around his lips—so spore user. And the tattoo on his wrist.’
Victoria groaned. ‘Wonderful. We’ve got to tell Reginald.’
Andrew gave her a strange look. ‘Why? He has no problem with them.’ He spun back round to the wall. ‘Now…why is everyone so keen on coming here, aye?’
Andrew went over the stone in the meticulous way he always looked at everything, but after a good fifteen minutes he finally stepped away, frustrated and defeated. It did not put him in a good mood.
‘Well, there is nothing more I can do here. Come on, we’re wasting time.’
He spun round and started back, fuming. Victoria hurried to keep up with his long strides. Andrew didn’t stop till he was back at Victoria’s room. There, he swept up his notebook and stuffed it into a rucksack before dressing hurriedly.
‘Uh, what are you doing?’
Andrew glanced over to her, distracted. ‘I need to see Samantha Turner.’
His sudden change took her off guard. ‘But what about Noel? The Myrmidons?’
Andrew shook his head tersely. ‘I need to think. Need to get away from the palace, work on something else…’
Victoria grabbed her boots. ‘We’re not going to be able to keep getting away with this. People aren’t allowed out of the city gates.’
‘At the moment I would say it’s considerably safer than the palace.’ He pulled a thick coat on. ‘I put Marus on the task of keeping an eye on Noel. Clearly he’s not invested himself in it, but perhaps he will still prove reliable.’
Victoria nodded. ‘Well, I’m coming, too. Last thing I want is to be trapped in this madhouse all by myself. Rather talk to impossible girls from the future than that.’
Andrew caught her arm. ‘No, I’m sorry, Victoria, but I need you to remain here.’
Her shoulders slumped. ‘How come?’
Andrew turned his eyes briefly away. ‘Because what is happening here in the palace isn’t right. Something is off and I can’t keep my eyes on everything. You need to find out what your mother is up to.’ He dipped in quickly and kissed her; a surprise. ‘Stay safe. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘But—’
But there was nothing more to say. Andrew was already gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Sam stepped cautiously out of the shelter of the building, keeping her eyes fixed on the black landscape. Her insides crawled. She felt like she’d just stepped into a cave, instead of out into the open. The inky sky weighed in heavily over her, pressing down like a hand, suffocating. Watching. The clear, fresh air had gone; now it was stuffy, hot. It made her wonder which was the illusion and which was not.
The pounding at the door had stopped several hours ago, and with nothing left to do but use the small bit of courage her conversation with Tollin had given her, she knew she had to explore.
She had a better look at the sky. What the hell had happened? Was this some regular occurrence? Had the Realm somehow…broken? She raised her torch to shine against the black. The light reflected back to her weakly, not at all like a night sky.
She hesitantly made it down the steps, not knowing what to do now. There was no power, no hologram helper,
no way to speak with Andrew—and even though Tollin had somehow managed to call, that seemed to have drained the last of the reserves this place had.
As much as she hated to acknowledge the fact: something had cut the power here, and if she didn’t figure out how to turn it back on, she was going to be trapped in the dark, possibly for ever, till whatever menace there was broke through the doors and Tollin would never be saved.
That, obviously, wasn’t an option.
From her previous exploration of the island she had found no trace of generators or anything that looked remotely like a power supply. But, then again, she’d not explored every bit of the island. There was one building she’d avoided. Now, her eyes slid in reluctance to the dark tower.
Sam swallowed. She hadn’t wanted to go down there. Perhaps it was her own paranoia but there was just something wrong with that mismatched shape. And yet, it seemed to be the only sensible place for the power to be.
Sam couldn’t see any foul thing lurking in plain sight round the island, so unless it was hiding just beneath the surface of the water, she had nothing to fear. For now, anyhow.
She jogged across the pink path, steps crunching; it practically glowed in the darkness, being the only colour left; pale and ghostly. By the time she reached the tower, her torch was slippery in her clammy hands; her heart fluttering too rapidly.
The structure looked no different than it had. Not that she really expected it to. It simply blended in seamlessly with the black behind it; its white clock face looming out like some spirit mask. Sam let her light shine over every bit it could land on. Nothing lunged out at her.
It was a reluctant climb up the few steps and along the walkway over the inky, still water; her light darting this way and that about small chamber before she slipped inside. Difficult to hear anything now, if there was anything to hear, for her blood was pounding so loud in her ears it blocked out all else.
Sam edged near the tube protruding out of the floor and, after hesitating for several long moments, flicked her torch’s light down into its yawning mouth. Metal grating floor, she saw first, rusted, slightly damp. A panel of some sort; some cables, and then, just out of her view, halfway stuffed under a ledge, something pale and white. It was such a contrast to everything else she saw that she pulled back in alarm, breath caught.
But nothing stirred, no sound. Sam wet her lips before once again leaning over. The white thing did not move. Nothing did.
Sam swallowed. There really was nothing to be afraid of. Save for that small wariness nagging at the back of her mind.
Letting out a breath and, stiffly, feeling her limbs locking in fear, Sam reached up to the curving handles of the ladder. She hoisted herself up and over and, wobbling above the pit, started down, her torch light bouncing wildly with each rattling step.
As Sam went down the rungs, she became aware of just how surprisingly hot it was. She would have expected such a place, submerged as it was, to be cool, damp, but this was growing to be a sauna. It did fill her with some small ounce of hope. For if it was so hot down there, perhaps there was some power source. She could be on the right track after all.
Sam landed as lightly as she was capable of on the metal floor and held her breath, along with the ladder rungs, for a long moment, ready to make a quick escape right back up the way she’d come if necessary.
She didn’t seem to need to, for nothing came towards her.
Down in the black heat, her breath came shallower. She felt a little lightheaded as she sniffed the air. Oh, gods; what was that? Not a particularly bad scent. But something. Something familiar, yet not. She wrinkled her nose and turned round, shining her light into the gloom.
The room held a tall ceiling with thick pipes and cables running the top of it. Three fairly narrow branches, all lined with those same pipes, ran away from her. Just across from her was a pedestal with a rounded glass dome and a slider set on its side. It was similar to the glass orb the hologram had been in and there was always the chance it could work.
Sam darted over to it, and for lack of clear instructions, tried sliding the lever back and forth. Nothing. The glass stayed dark.
‘Should have expected as much, I suppose,’ she grumbled unhappily, turning round.
She flicked her torch light back down the halls, and again that white thing caught the light. Sam scowled at it curiously. There was more of the stuff, she noticed, scattered all the way down the hall.
‘Hullo…’ Sam stepped forward cautiously towards it, and as she neared, the light brought it out more clearly. It was a bone. A massive, old bone. Perhaps from a leg.
Sam swallowed hard, hearing her throat click. That couldn’t be good. Nervously, she turned her light here and there. A few of the pipes were compressed, crushed in, some places torn completely free further down the hall. The aftermath of a struggle?
Sam stepped into the hall, nerves on alert, and followed after the trail of carnage. It was odd, to be sure. Some of the bones were huge, animal things, while others were much smaller, disturbingly human.
She tripped and stepped over these till she came to the end only to yelp in surprise as she nearly stumbled into a body—five standing bodies. It took all that was in her to not go racing back the way she’d come before her head cleared. She let out nervous giggle. They were…robots, of some sort. Shiny, bronze creations of beauty with gears and a quiet, relaxing tick.
‘What are you?’ Sam asked, hesitantly touching one’s sleek, flat head. It made no move whatsoever. No acknowledgement of her existence. She frowned a little.
An idea hit her. Could these things be responsible for trying to break into her sanctuary? So far on the island Sam had seen no other sign of life besides those crabs and by the look of these things, in size and strength and numbers, these could certainly be the culprits. Now, however, they were dead still.
They were sort of creepy, standing there like that, but they didn’t seem very threatening. Perhaps whatever had made them go mental hadn’t taken over yet.
Cautiously, Sam turned away, focusing her attention to the other points of the room. Dials and knobs and levers of every sort imaginable covered the walls. Sam spun round in a circle, gaping at her find. What could they possibly all do? She didn’t see how she could ever hope to sort it all out. The only hope she had was that, thanks to the dust and rust, it didn’t any of them had been used in a very long time.
One particular lever caught her eye. A great red one, much larger than the rest, and jutting out directly before her, pointed towards the floor. Sam studied it. A symbol of a line was the direction the lever was set and at the other end was a circle. There was a fresh shaving of rust at the base, she thought. Sam ran her tongue over her lips.
‘Well, that’s certainly the most promising thing I’ve seen.’ She clamped her torch between her teeth and grasped the lever with both hands, threw all of her weight into it, let out a frustrated groan and pushed. The lever ground angrily and then, in one fluid, easy movement, suddenly sprang up, throwing Sam forward in surprise.
She hit the panel with a grunt, and staggered back just as a loud, encouraging hum came from within the room and behind the metal walls. The thrum grew louder and then with a spat of static, the lights blindingly, gloriously, came on.
Sam let out a laugh and grinned. ‘Brilliant!’
She wished she had Tollin here to give her one of his bone-crushing hugs he always had ready for moments like this.
With the sudden power, Sam now felt very small.
And the light brought with it a sense of dread. She wasn’t the only live thing anymore. Not at all. For as she turned, she heard, echoing from the room she’d only just left, the sound of voices. Two. And both men.
Sam froze, clicking off her torch. The reverberations off the walls and the hum of the lights made it impossible to discern any real words, but the two, whoever they were, sounded very cross.
She crept back the way she’d come, picking her way over the scattered bones, doing her
best to keep out of sight, till she saw who—or rather what—was responsible for the chatter. It was the orb device she’d fiddled with when she’d first climbed down. She must have activated it, and when the power had returned, it had started up where she’d set it to.
Sam smiled a little, both in relief and amusement at her fear.
She crossed to the device and tried the handle again, sliding it round. It, like some sort of video recorder, went speeding the two men chatting in reverse. She stopped it when they first stepped into the room and let it play.
It was the room she was in now, yet it looked much better than it did at the moment, not nearly as banged up. At the angle she was at, it was difficult to see the two men clearly, but she could make out enough.
One was older, but still stood tall, with greying hair and a warrior’s stance. He wore long, embroidered black robes and held himself with confidence. The other man was younger, with curling blond hair, strong features and, even at this blurry angle, was agonisingly attractive.
‘It’s a mistake, what you’ve done,’ the younger said, clearly in the middle of a conversation she’d missed.
The older man crossed his arms across his chest and fixed him with a hard look. ‘The Council has passed its judgement, Noel, and it is well time that you’ve accepted it. What’s done is done. And the Realms are safer for it.’
Noel scoffed. ‘How could you all so willingly betray the one who gave you life? I have never seen such spinelessness. Since when did our race turn into cowards?’
The elder man snapped his teeth and lunged in close. ‘How dare you speak to your Elder in such a way? I have lived centuries longer than you. Know your place.’
A low rumble had started in the back of Noel’s throat; warning, like a dog. ‘Perhaps it’s time you learnt yours. Things are changing, old man, new powers are rising.’ Noel stood tall, bearing down on the other man. ‘Father knew that. Father would have brought us forward into a new Age. And if you and the Council, with all of your antiquated views hadn’t betrayed him we would be there already! To imprison such a mind as that!’
Welcome Home (Alternate Worlds Book 3) Page 20