Oh, how he hated this Realm. Hated it with a burning, fiery hatred he had for very few things. It had taken him fifty years, but he’d finally figured it out. There was something about this Realm; like a carnivorous plant, sitting in the background, unnoticed; and he, the little insect simply tottering about, not noticing it was very slowly being digested.
Tollin still didn’t know what that thing was that was digesting him, but he knew it was there now. Too many times he had awoken from sleep, only to feel it slinking back into the shadows from where it had been cocooning round his body, violating him, looking for a way in. Always watching.
He shivered and hunched his shoulders, coiling into a tighter ball. Almost immediately the groggy yearning to sleep welled up in him. He pinched at his skin to fight it off.
‘Twenty more to go…’ he mumbled, wincing at another stab of pain.
Fear crept round the edges of his consciousness and a little unhappy groan he couldn’t stop broke free. Tollin kept his eyes straight ahead, desperate to avoid the sense of the darkness cupping in above him.
* * * * *
When Andrew awoke, it was much later. That much was certain, judging by the light he could see cast against the wall. He attempted to lift his head from the desk, but found, with a spike of alarm, that he could not. His body refused to comply.
A moment of panic washed over him. The thing, the dark thing had done this—No. He was a fool to think that. Yet…Could this be punishment for not assisting it? Because what good did leaving him limp and useless, do for it? He couldn’t find the bloody artefact, whatever it was, in the state he was in now. Did it just intend to leave him like this till he relented?
Andrew could not even sense the entity now. He wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to let the thing know he had surrendered.
From his position he could just see the hall. Victoria’s room was right there. So close. Yet even if she had been there simply taking a breath made him realise that calling out wasn’t an option. He was completely cut off.
So he was forced to wait.
The minutes ticked by. Andrew growled at the desk. Ramses had sent this to him, somehow. Like some…curse. Not that such things existed. But either Ramses or Noel had somehow convinced this darkness to emerge from where he’d tamped it down within himself to overrun him.
And still, there was that artefact, whatever it was. The thing that kept on pulsing away in Andrew’s head, somewhere in the palace, waiting to be found. Waiting to be used.
And here he was, unable to move, unable to find it, unable to do a damn thing.
He wasn’t sure how long he was there, back aching from the position it had thrown him in, feeling humiliated and bored and maddened. The time crawled by. His only marking was the light on the wall. And it moved much farther than he’d ever have liked it to move. Ah, Victoria. I’m so sorry…
‘We’ve waited too long! It’s clear he needs this decided for him!’ A voice echoed down the hall and Andrew’s stomach knit up. Lucinda!
Whoever she was talking to said something he couldn’t catch.
‘He’s been given enough time. His heart is colder than I anticipated. He isn’t going to step forward without some help.’
Her voice had neared his room, and it was there it cut short.
Humiliation and defensiveness bristled within him. Having her see him like this, he could think of nothing worse. How incredibly degrading.
Out of the corner of his eye Andrew could just see Lucinda walk with deliberate calmness into the room. His spine tightened warily, but his muscles wouldn’t respond. Even the slight movement of clenching his fists was completely stolen from him. He had to settle for mentally.
‘Well, well. What have we here?’ A pause. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ she asked, slightly drunk, to her companions.
They must have offered some non-audible reply because Andrew didn’t catch it.
He listened as their footsteps neared. Every nerve in his body told him to stand, to face them. He felt like he was carved from stone; his limbs were weighted down with lead.
They paused, whispering for a moment. Andrew’s jaw clenched, just about the only action he was capable of. The degradation of the situation was worse than he had imagined. After this, Lucinda would never take him seriously again; never see him as a threat. He would be nothing but a weak, pathetic thing for her to look at. Of course he had other worries, yet his pride still managed to find room to be bruised.
Rage blinded him.
Lucinda’s teasing face dropped into view. Her thick lips pulled up into a sneer. ‘Can you hear me?’
Andrew’s breath escaped in an aggressive huff. It was all he could do.
Lucinda laughed, amused. She turned to one of the guards. ‘It would seem he’s made our job much easier.’
One of the men muttered something Andrew couldn’t hear.
‘Perhaps he’s faking,’ the queen mused.
A guard shoved his meaty elbow into Andrew’s shoulder and he pitched backwards. Andrew felt the stab of panic rise in his stomach as he began to fall, unable to stop himself; fortunately the same offender grabbed him again to haul him back to his sitting position.
Andrew’s breathing came more rapidly. He fought to control it, hating his natural instincts betraying him. He had no power, no control over this situation. The least he could do was show he wasn’t bothered by their teasing. Wasn’t afraid. His eyes always unnerved people. People didn’t like how cold they were. He made sure Lucinda was aware of just how much hate he felt towards her. The eyes were the window to the soul, or lack of, and Andrew felt murderous.
Lucinda was no different than others. He felt slightly smug as she averted her eyes.
She stood swiftly and the trails of beads and embroidery left his line of sight; her hands pressed into his shoulders in a rough massage, nails digging in.
‘I’ve made it easy for you. You will go to our fellow philosopher, Ramses, out of a warmed heart, unable to bear my daughter’s captivity any longer,’ she said, her voice a low hush. She continued working his neck. ‘Then you’ll take the tunnels and guide them to the relic. Simple enough, isn’t it? Since you’re so unwilling to participate on your own…Perhaps once you see what Ramses is working on you will be more willing to help.’
Andrew’s ears pricked up.
Lucinda continued. ‘I want him taken down to the Bone Vault. Offer him up. It is time this pathetic show came to an end…’ She squeezed his neck tighter before shoving him away. He went tipping till he was grabbed. ‘Take him! Now!’ her voice rose shrilly.
Andrew felt as his arms were roughly yanked behind his back and tied. Rather a useless gesture, considering the condition he was in. At least they left his feet unbound, and had made no effort to search his person. That could come as a blessing later on. A hood was pulled over his head and Andrew was left in stuffy darkness, feeling much like a tamed falcon.
The world outside was muffled and confusing yet Andrew struggled to orient himself; to focus on the direction he was being hauled rather than the state of his breathing. It was an indirect route leading him from the castle, lots of flights of stairs, lots of narrow passageways where every move they made echoed. Andrew did his best to memorise the route. If this was a secret way out of the castle, one of the tunnels, then he could think of no end of uses for it. Assuming he got out alive, of course.
When they did finally push through an old door and to the outside world, even through Andrew’s hood, he could tell that they were not in the city. Brilliant.
It was gradual, as they went, that Andrew began to feel a returning of movement to his limbs. Ever so slight, yet it was a start. He concentrated on his muscles, willing them to strengthen.
He was dragged a bit farther, the guard cursing, when, quite suddenly, he and his captor were knocked down. Andrew was able to wiggle away just far enough as a rough scuffling erupted from behind.
‘Scum!’
Andrew’s pulse quickened. He recogn
ised that voice! For the moment he ignored it, instead focusing on his strengthening muscles, readying himself for the one window he knew he’d have. He was at a strong disadvantage, but he wasn’t about to be taken again.
The sounds of the scuffle abated. Andrew felt hands grip his shoulders. He was ready. He lurched backward, throwing his weight into the guard, at the same moment he spun, bringing his elbow hard into the man’s jaw. Unfortunately, being caught in the darkness took its toll and he tripped over his feet in the deep sand. It sent him tumbling backwards down a rocky hill of sand.
The guard shouted and once again Andrew was hauled to his feet. He fought back madly, until he felt the sharp point of a knife at his back.
‘Hold still!’ the voice commanded.
For once, he obeyed.
The knife slipped between his wrists and his bonds were cut. Then the hood was pulled from his head and Andrew blinked against the harsh, bright landscape of the desert. He whirled round and came face to face with Marus.
Marus held up his hands defensively, warding off a strike. ‘Easy!’ he swore. ‘You’re a bloody nightmare!’
Andrew narrowed his eyes against the bothersome light. ‘You certainly took your time!’
Marus looked a bit ill. ‘I did what I could, mate…How long have you been out?’
Andrew impatiently did a mental estimation. ‘Perhaps half a day. I don’t know.’
Marus passed a hand through his hair, causing it to fall back in locks across his furrowed brow. ‘They’ve set a date for Victoria.’
The words didn’t compute. ‘I don’t understand.’
Marus gave him almost a pitying look. ‘The Myrmidons…they said they’ve waited long enough. They’re going to execute her at noon tomorrow. They don’t know that the queen is sending you over, obviously.’
Andrew’s world suddenly snapped into clear focus. The only thing he could see was this new, horrible fact before him. ‘What?’ He could feel his eyes going wide, wild. ‘Why?’
Marus rubbed the back of his head. ‘Her mother is a witch. But I don’t think she expected it; it was just after we found you. Some of the Myrmidons were whispering about it, conspiring to bring you to Ramses as slow as possible. Couldn’t just let you go after overhearing that. From what they were saying, Ramses is under the impression you’ll be more cooperative if you have nothing left to lose.’
His words meant nothing to Andrew. He hardly even heard them. Andrew only saw red. He took a step towards Marus. ‘Fool!’
Marus backed up at Andrew’s approach. ‘What else was I supposed to do? The queen wouldn’t give a toss if I told her!’
Andrew lurched forward and grabbed Marus by the front of his cloak. Marus was certainly stronger than him but he didn’t resist. His legs went slack beneath him. ‘You, the greatest fighter this planet has ever seen, you were supposed to be watching her! And yet Noel was allowed to swoop off with her!’
Marus’s eyes darted, unable to meet Andrew’s. ‘I—I didn’t have a choice! You’ve seen that—that beast!’
Andrew’s grip tightened. He clenched his teeth into an animalistic snarl. ‘You claim to be the same as Noel.’
Marus froze. Andrew hadn’t really even thought on the total significance of what that meant till he said it aloud. His hold slackened slightly.
‘You’re the same species as Noel…’
Marus swallowed heavily. ‘Whatever you’re implying—’
Andrew shoved Marus away from him. ‘You said it yourself! You’re from the same world as Noel! And he’s a beast! If you are truly the same as him then you have that power as well! And you didn’t use it to save Victoria!’
Marus shook his head quickly. ‘You’re making assumptions.’
Andrew narrowed his eyes. The heat of the cursed desert was only worsening his mood. ‘You could have saved her,’ he groaned, ‘you were just more concerned about keeping your little secret, weren’t you?’
Marus bristled. A growl escaped his lips that Andrew definitely did not consider human.
‘You could probably defeat Noel on your own if you were inclined to!’ He pulled a disgusted face. ‘You’re just too damn lazy.’ He was hoping to get a reaction out of the gladiator. Some sign. Something to make him show his true colours.
Marus squared his shoulders. He was clearly growing angry now. Andrew could see that. His words were working. ‘I am not lazy! I did what I could. You weren’t there, you can’t know—’
‘Oh, enough!’ Andrew hissed. ‘This is getting us nowhere! Where have they taken Victoria? The Bone Vault? You make up for your failures by helping me now. We have to get her back.’
Marus gaped. ‘Are you insane?’
Andrew pulled his firearm out and pointed it at Marus’s skull. Being limp had at least made his captors lazy about searching him. Marus seemed to recognise exactly what it was for he raised his hands submissively.
‘Yes,’ he purred. ‘I’m certainly getting there. Don’t force me to reach that point.’
‘Okay! Okay,’ Marus swore. ‘Bloody hell. You cannot be serious! The place is well guarded, you have to know that! The only way you’re going to get her out is if you offer yourself up for ransom! And I don’t even think that will do it, all things considered!’
‘Not an option!’
Marus swore. ‘You’re an idiot! There are only two of us, and they have a bloody dragon!’
Andrew started walking. It was a long way to the Bone Vault: all the way round the city and across the desert. If only he could use the path through the mountain. But that was an even farther walk now. He heard Marus cursing as he hurried after him.
‘It will take us all night to walk! You’ve lost your mind!’
‘Then we had better make good time! Her life depends on it!’
Andrew’s legs burned from the exertion of the constant trudging through sand. The ground beneath him was hot and kept giving way, betraying him. He stumbled drunkenly onwards. How nice it would be to fly. Yet holding a gun at Marus didn’t seem likely in making that a reality.
He hadn’t dressed for the desert and cursed the circumstances. From above the sun’s rays beat down, scorching his skin, which was so unused to this hot, dry air. The glare from the sand nearly blinded him and Andrew found himself wishing he’d invented something like the snow goggles of his home world to protect his eyes.
Marus dutifully tagged along after him. Why, Andrew wasn’t so sure. Marus had no reason, shown no devotion towards him, so why was he now? Guilt was often a wonderful motivator.
The bright, hateful sun eventually sank lower in the sky, much slower than Andrew would have liked, and by the time they had rounded the city and were half way to the Bone Vault, it was finally dark. Marus’s eyes glinted in the dim light, confirming Andrew’s suspicions that he wasn’t exactly human.
There was a tremendous roar behind them. Andrew’s head snapped back and he watched as the great bat-like form of Noel lifted from the city walls and went swooping over the desert towards them. Quickly, Andrew grabbed Marus by the arm and pulled him behind a large boulder as the beast went sweeping low over the ground; its huge wings stirring up the sand into small storms with each beat. Then it tilted its body and circled, before dropping out of sight amidst the bones.
‘Well,’ Marus growled in Andrew’s ear, ‘that certainly complicates things.’
Andrew’s eyes darted back and forth; fervently wishing he could see the vault better. He didn’t like the way things were turning. Still, he’d come this far and he had no other option. Andrew pushed himself away from his cover and set out again.
When at last they reached the Bone Vault, it was dark and the blue-white orb of Scottorr was shrouded in a haze of dust and smoke.
Andrew stopped at the edge of the pit and stared out at the milky whiteness: a jagged sea of cream, punctuated here and there by some sharp curved claw or rib jabbing up out of the pit. He gazed at the mass of bones in fascination. What an odd phenomenon. What caused all creatu
res on this world to stagger towards this one pit to die? Was it some magnetic pull in the earth? The same pull that caused birds to flock and herds to run and whales to journey across the ocean to mate? Fascinating.
He wondered, if he stayed on this planet long enough, which—considering his health—might not be much longer, would he stagger down here as well, to die among the skeletons.
The yip-yowling of a pack of desert hounds echoed from somewhere nearby.
He dropped down onto a pelvic bone the size of a large dining table, distantly wondering what ancient creature could have left it behind, and started across the uneven surface. Marus landed next to him and the bone groaned slightly in its resting place. Thousands of years of other bones shifted beneath it unsettlingly.
Andrew cast Marus a sharp look. ‘Do try and be careful. I’m not too keen on adding my bones to the pile.’
His brain distractedly puzzled, as he scrabbled over skeleton after skeleton, if there was something in the desert air that kept them from dissolving to dust.
It was a slow journey, struggling over the constantly shifting heaps. Andrew could not see more than a few paces before him, making him wish he’d brought his compass—being turned around in a place where all looked the same was not a pleasant prospect. All he had to go by was the sight of Noel’s landing, near the foot of the mountain. He kept his feet moving in that direction, each step filling his belly with just a bit more apprehension.
Gradually, the yellow light of lamps began to spill across the shadowy bones. Andrew slipped inside the giant skull of some long-extinct creature and peered out the eye socket. Before him was another deep pit: bones blasted away and blacked, revealing a structure of bone that must have been buried for centuries. Just as deep and old as the time room. Halfway down the exposed wall of stone bubbled a curved window, the colour of blood; and at the foot of the wall stood an arched doorway.
Andrew’s eyes darted. He could see shadowy forms moving about behind the glass. He counted three. Who knew how many more were inside. Noel was nowhere in sight.
Welcome Home (Alternate Worlds Book 3) Page 27