The man shook his head slowly, looking tired. ‘Ah, Noel…what has happened to you? You are just like him.’
‘I am more like him than you know.’
Sam couldn’t see Noel’s face, but something about it caused the other man to step back. His expression went slack and pale with fear. ‘Noel…You stand down! Any more dissension from you and you will share his fate!’
Sam was so absorbed in the conversation; she didn’t notice the clatter of metallic feet till the robots were already rushing past her. Sam jumped out of the way with a startled yelp, but they paid her no mind; instead, they were all climbing up the ladder.
‘Oi! Where are you lot rushing off to?’ she demanded the last of them. It didn’t even look her way. ‘Going to try and break into another building?’
She switched off the recording, despite her curiosity, and, once the last of the bots had gone, went to scrambling up after them.
The island was still dark, yet with the power restored, it wasn’t as terrifying, though the lamps did little good to push back the dark. This dark didn’t seem the kind to be intimidated by light. It just moulded round it.
She let out a breath. So much was happening on this seemingly dead island it made her uncomfortable.
The robots were all marching across the path to the far right of the island. It was when they reached the shoreline, just against the inky black water, they all stopped, standing at attention in a long, glittery line.
Sam frowned as she watched them. What on earth was all that about? She flipped her torch beam down the way and tried to see what had captured their attention so. Nothing on the shore she could see…Sam turned her light out to the water, and what she saw turned her insides into jelly.
There was something coming. Some big creature moving through the water in great leaps. She frowned as she watched it, a growing dread starting in her. The creature had long, flat arms, or fins, of some sort, and a great, spiked head. A long, snake-like tail whipped behind it.
Sam worked out what it was too slowly.
It was a bloody dragon of all things! And it was flying through the water, using its wings as flippers and jumping like some terrible fish. The creature was absolutely massive, she could see that even from this distance, and it was headed straight for the island.
It must have smelt me, Sam realised in horror. She knew all too well just how acute dragon sense was and wherever this beast had been, it had caught her.
Without another glance at the monster—or its welcoming party—Sam broke into a stumbling, terrified run back towards the main temple; gasping in panic as she staggered up the marble stairs and slipping across the entrance. Once there she slammed the doors closed and barred them, then stood on shaking legs for a moment, listening, frightened.
This building wouldn’t stand a chance against a dragon. How much time did she really have before it made shore? She ran a shaky hand through her hair.
‘Ah, there you are, finally.’ A familiar voice broke down the hall.
Sam sprinted towards the viewscreen, sliding to a halt to see Andrew O’Neill standing impatient and wonderful with arms crossed and scowling face. She let out a weak breath of relief, it didn’t last too long. The dragon would be here any moment.
Andrew’s brows came down. ‘What’s happened?’
Sam bit her lip. ‘I uh…have had some problems here. And I think I’m about to have a visitor.’ She winced at how her voice trembled.
Andrew’s expression became confused but not nearly concerned enough for Sam’s liking. ‘Do you have time to speak to me? I have been waiting.’
His thin fingers went flipping through a rough-bound notebook.
Sam pursed her lips, mentally calculating just how close the dragon could be to the shore. She probably only had minutes. ‘Not sure if I’ll have another chance…’
Andrew, much to her disappointment, seemed to take this as his opportunity to talk, and not worry about her. ‘Excellent. Now, in the time you’ve been off doing stars knows what, I’ve been working.’
Sam wrinkled her nose. ‘Yeah, and?’
Andrew looked a little ruffled. ‘And I believe I have translated the message for the Realm your friend is trapped in. The one scrawled on that crystal of yours.’
Despite the approaching danger Sam’s heart gave a wild leap. ‘Have you really? Brilliant! What is it? Tell me!’
Andrew puffed himself up with prideful pleasure. ‘Yes. It came to me that I have been introduced to the language before. It was simply the process of puzzling out the characters I didn’t know. Time consuming, yes, but I am fairly confident that I have worked it out now.’
An ominous rumble from down the beach echoed up to her. Sam’s insides clenched tightly. She was just about out of time. ‘Yeah, great. So what’s it say?’
She needed to free Tollin and get out as quickly as possible. Before that beast broke down the door.
Andrew bristled a little at her impatience and closed the notebook with a snap!
Sam nearly tore her hair. ‘Please, Andrew, please just tell me. I need to know—now!’
He turned, took two paces, then returned. She almost didn’t hear him as he began to recite till his smooth, monotone roll was several notes in. ‘From what I can understand, the text reads as follows: “The gate will not open save for the will of a Guardian of the Realms.” And that is about the size of it.’
Sam scowled. Damn it, that was no help at all! ‘Guardian of the Realms? Where the hell am I supposed to find one of those on this rock?’ Her voice had taken on a high, near hysterical note, she was dismally aware of.
Andrew shook his head. ‘I don’t know. That’s all it says. Looks like it’s all on you to open. Sorry.’
Hot tears blurred her eyes. It wasn’t fair! She was never going to see Tollin again. She chewed on her bottom lip till pain spiked through. ‘Then…he’s gone…gone for ever…’
A loud boom! came from the door—a knock. The dragon was here.
Andrew’s eyes shifted up to look at her. ‘Sounds like you have company.’
Sam swallowed hard and turned for the door, heart punching into her throat. ‘Yeah…think I do.’
Chapter Sixteen
Andrew hadn’t been gone half a day when Assad unceremoniously ducked his head in. His eyes were shining in such a nervously excited way it sent her stomach tight.
‘What’s going on?’
Assad licked his lips. ‘Think you had better have a look.’ Without permission, he trotted across her room and dipped his head the direction of the balcony.
Now that he’d brought her attention to it, Victoria became aware of a growing commotion. She pushed herself up from her reading and darted to the window; not liking what she saw.
‘Marus found Noel.’ Assad gave her a look.
Marus had indeed found Noel; now they were below with quite an audience of palace regulars, and, beyond, flocked by as many curious citizens that could see through the bars of the gates. Ramses was there as well, with his acolytes and Lucinda; their flags and symbols strewn over every available space possible, as if advertising their presence.
Someone somewhere whistled.
The two men were facing off like dogs in a pit and Victoria felt a dreadful knot form tighter in her belly. Marus was a fighter by trade but something about the situation still made her uncomfortable.
Yet while Noel and Marus were the centre of attention, it was Ramses who was doing the speaking. The words floated up.
‘The time of change is upon us. A time of inexplicable things ushering us into a new age. An age of power. An age of gods.’
Some muttering.
Marus shifted warily.
‘We have been given a great opportunity. Now, see what we have before us: Noel, fallen from the stars and here as a witness what new power is right at our door.’
Dramatically, he stepped to one side yet Noel remained unmoving. Victoria couldn’t see his expression from her distance but his stance didn’t
give her any impression of pleasure.
Ramses struck his staff hit against the stone. Noel glowered; then turned, very slowly, to fix his attention on Marus. He did not move, far as Victoria could see, yet there was a shift about him, much like the coiling of a snake.
Marus looked ready to bolt, but seemed unable to. Discouragingly, he dropped to his knees. The man hadn’t touched him, but inexplicably Marus was down.
Victoria stared. ‘What’s he done?’
Assad groaned. ‘Something’s wrong.’
‘We have to go.’ Victoria couldn’t imagine the repercussions towards Andrew if Noel had worked out he’d put Marus on to tail him. But it was a long way down to the courtyard, with so many staircases and halls, by the time they got there they could completely miss whatever was about to happen.
Assad must have thought the same. He grabbed her arm. ‘Too dangerous. Stay here.’ He winced at the impropriety. ‘Please?’
Victoria had long ago dismissed properness. She stood, torn, before relenting. He was right. What could she do? She slumped back to the railing.
Noel was circling Marus now, like a big cat; his muscles rolling beneath his light tunic, discernible even at the distance. Marus was submissive, on his knees, head bent. If he was watching Noel, it was only in the meekest way possible. As Noel moved, he would make a subtle gesture here or there, perhaps mutter a word and as if an obedient dog, Marus would respond. It was more than humiliating to watch the man crawling about like an animal.
Very abruptly Marus stopped dead. He struggled for a moment, then lurched to his feet drunkenly. Noel didn’t react as Marus wildly dove for a great, flaring basin of fire which stood to the side. With a grunt, and more strength then any man should have, he hurled it at Noel.
Noel didn’t move, didn’t twitch as the huge basin crashed at his feet in a flare of angry coals and flames. Those near spectators stepped back with cries of surprise as Noel’s clothing caught and went up in a hot inferno.
Marus took one look at the engulfing flames and sank back to his knees, neither impressed or proud of what he’d done, just as resigned as before.
Somehow, in the blaze, Noel was somehow still alive, for his hands slowly rose from his sides, flames licking grotesquely at his flesh. No-one made any move to help. Yet what could they possibly do? He was burning alive. Already gone.
‘Enough!’ the man roared. The first sound he’d made. And to her amazement, in one quick rush the flames were gone. The fire swept along Noel’s skin; sucked away, the life taken from it completely.
She knew she was gaping like an idiot. ‘Did you see—’
Assad puffed his breath. ‘Yes. I saw.’ He looked a little pale.
But what was all the more shocking was Noel. There was not a mark on him. His skin was still smouldering with the heat, but not even a rosy glow coloured his tanned muscles. He stood tall now, proud, beneath the heavy moon. A dying star traced overhead and as his eyes swept the crowd, they flicked up to the balcony where Victoria was transfixed. He smiled.
His eyes were glinting. Not like those of a man’s, but like those of a sand hound, reflecting back the light. And as impossible as it was, she could only describe him as not right.
The people were frozen, either in awe or fear—or a combination of both, more likely. Marus did not look up; still crouched where he’d been, almost as if his act had been one commanded.
‘What is your name?’ Ramses purred, expression emotionless over the display he’d just paid witness to.
‘Noel,’ the man answered blandly, eyes reflecting gold in the red light.
Ramses circled him slowly, crimson robe brushing against the stone. ‘Are you man?’
Noel’s chin went up. ‘No.’
The staff touched Noel’s cheek, pushed it to one side. ‘And who do you serve?’
There was the briefest of pauses from Noel. Some wave of resentment washed through him, then out with a slow breath. ‘I serve the people, of course.’
Ramses smiled: a thin, indulgent smile of one who was happy with something a pet had just done. ‘This power you have, Noel, what is it?’
Noel let out a low rumble. ‘It is out there, waiting.’
A few people glanced to each other uneasily.
Ramses chuckled. He spread his hands wide and addressed his audience. Lucinda was staring like some hungry jackal. ‘You see? There is a power. A power beyond all you could have dreamt of. And we can take it.’ The Myrmidon flag flapped in the wind. ‘Because you will help us, won’t you, Noel?’
Noel dipped his head low. ‘It is what I was sent here for.’
With a bow, Ramses and Lucinda and the others not barred by the gates stepped from Victoria’s view into the shadows of the palace. Every hand was stretched out towards him.
Layers had found its new god.
* * * * *
Andrew’s abruptly ended conversation with Samantha Turner had not gone as well as he would have preferred, but if she insisted on having her own problems then there wasn’t much he could do about it. There was, however, something much more interesting about the time room.
Most notably: Someone had been there.
And it was a sized foot he recognised.
Noel.
Andrew slowly traced the prints to the far, unadorned wall. How he had gotten in was what concerned him, for there were no prints near the entrance. It was simply as if Noel had appeared out of nowhere, from the air to this room.
Noel had had a look around, seemed afraid to have touched anything, and had left just as mysteriously.
Andrew didn’t have much hope for continuing his conversation with Samantha Turner, and with all that was happening back at the palace, he knew he shouldn’t linger. Yet…he couldn’t just leave.
He followed the low wall, scowling. He’d missed something, overlooked it in his excitement with everything else. And as much as it irritated him, Noel had found it.
He paused where Noel’s footprints were their most dense and focused on the wall. Could it be similar to how he’d found his way into this room in the first place? Hesitantly, Andrew stretched out a hand and let his fingers tap.
It certainly felt solid. Wrinkling his brows he then pressed forward with a little more force.
Nothing. Damn!
He stepped back again. There clearly was something he’d missed, evident by Noel’s presence. The trouble was just getting to it. Simply looking down he could see the sand had drained away somewhere, telling of another room, perhaps one even grander than the one he was in now. It made his stomach churn. He could be missing the obvious.
Then he spotted it. It was hardly anything to spot, but with his growing desperation, it was all he had. A small nick on the wall, almost a curved letter of some ancient language. Without another thought he pressed his thumb to it.
The wall let out a hiss of release and then it was sliding up, slowly, reluctantly. Cold blackness rolled out to meet him.
So, Noel had come from here. Andrew was sure of it. The means of his disappearance now made sense: there was a passage through the mountain. Some hidden door he didn’t yet know how to open.
It was madness to consider following without adequate light. Or guards. Or a plan. Stars knew what was lurking in there, and after Noel’s suspicious behaviour, it was certainly foolhardy.
No matter.
Andrew cast one last look around, then ducked into the shadows.
His torch did little to relieve the gloom, and once the door slid shut behind him he truly was in the dark. It didn’t much bother him. And after a moment of debate, he struck off the only way he could go.
In the black, with no noise but his breathing, the flickering of the flames and the fall of his feet it would have been easy to let his imagination run away with him—if he were prone to such things, which he was not—for there was some sense of ancientness to the place; some sense of waiting, that coiled round him; it was not at all pleasant.
He felt it inside, too. It had bee
n welling up more and more recently. Ever since his incident with the spores. An anger, a hunger, a wildness that didn’t want to answer to any rules or morals. It twisted inside of him, uncomfortable with the cramped space his restraint lent it. Soon it would override his control. Soon it would break free.
The path did not veer for a long time and it was only when Andrew assumed he was somewhere near the Bone Vault he was met by any obstacle: a massive pile of rubble. At one time it must have completely blocked the tunnel, yet somehow Noel had managed to shift some of it; and with some struggling, Andrew was able to scramble over.
Once on the other side he could only pause. The path had split and it tore him about which direction to take. This new way would not take him to the palace, but it would take him somewhere out buried beneath the bones. He swept his torch along the floor. Noel’s tracks travelled both ways. In fact, there were many tracks.
Indecisive, Andrew edged to the branching tunnel.
From above there came a sudden shaky, deep vibration and Andrew’s head snapped up. The torch faintly illuminated some snaking metal rope, coiled and covered with dust. It was from this the hum came, and continued down the hall. Some sort of cable? More interestingly, it ran back the way of the time room. He hadn’t noticed in the dark. Could there really be more to the entire structure?
Andrew thought he caught the echo of voices and with an unhappy growl, slunk back to the rubble pile and scrabbled over. He tossed his torch to the floor, hating the light it still cast but only praying it wouldn’t be noticed, and peeked over the top of the rocks.
Several figures were ghosting from the gloom, torches aloft, deep in conversation. With a morbid thrill, Andrew realised it was Ramses and several of his acolytes.
‘What a glorious sound that is!’ Ramses swung his hand towards the roping cables. ‘We will no longer need the gods! We will be the gods!’
One of the more weasely looking fellows trotted forwards. ‘You are getting ahead of yourself, I think, Ramses. You are still missing the two most important pieces of your little puzzle.’
Welcome Home (Alternate Worlds Book 3) Page 21