‘They were supposed to be the paragon of all other species. But their baseness…I did not anticipate that. How could I? It is a shame that something so formless and ineloquent would take their place as dominate species. But my children had to learn! If you understood my true nature you would be on your knees worshipping me!’
A flare from the sun below sent all of the crystals glowing with an electric hum. It cast an eerie shade along the walls. One of the glassy shards near his feet shimmered to life, and Tollin was struck with a novel idea: if it could store energy, it could be a sort of battery, couldn’t it? He hardly had time to puzzle on it before it swept it up, frightened by Craven.
Wildly, his mind ticked through scenarios. Craven was blocking the way out; attempting to run would be suicide. The only exits were through the black shaft above, which was off—no way Tollin could get out that way without Craven plucking him down—and below, which was a straight drop to the sun—if he wasn’t lost, drifting in space.
A darker thought went through his head. In a struggle, would it be possible to simply…push Craven? Out into space. Simply let him float away…
Tollin’s eyes shifted to the gaping pit and the horrible black space beyond. It was a cruel fate. One he wouldn’t wish on anyone. But…if it was a matter of defending himself…Tollin’s stomach still twisted at the idea. He didn’t want it to come to that.
Unfortunately, Craven seemed to have arrived at the same idea. In a drunken lunge, he dove.
Tollin spun, bringing his heel round to crack the creature across the face. Craven hit the ground heavily, crashing against one of the carved crystals. Once recovered, he let out an animalistic snarl and went coiling up like some snake, gathering for another attack.
And then Craven went very still. His head gave a little jerk to one side; his eyes widened. It was as if the very silence of this place was somehow weaving its way into his head. ‘Your lifespan stretches ages past that of man…’
Tollin felt his nerves twitch. ‘Yes…’
Craven shuffled a little closer. ‘It is waiting for you to die,’ he lamented. ‘It wants you to die. It’s been waiting for generations…starving for you.’ His head tilted a little more. ‘It would be a great service to offer you up…one would argue it is my responsibility…’
Tollin’s mind spun in confusion. What wanted him? A greater sense of paranoia punched through him. He shuddered. ‘Keep well back.’
Craven did not listen, but moved nearer. That quivering stillness continued to snake into his ears. ‘And yet it protests me. It must be the natural turn of things that dissolves you…it is not my place. It must be slow,’ he still crept closer, ‘acidic…for it wants to seep into you.’ He twitched a bit. ‘But I do not see why I cannot speed up the process…’ His muscles began to roll.
Tollin cast about. Every way was blocked, save for—he glanced down and froze. One of those smaller satellites of rock was just now passing below.
With heart pounding he looked back to Craven. Certainly wasn’t the best idea, but what choice did he have, and what other chance would he get?
‘Well, this has been thrilling, but I think I’ve had enough exercise for one day.’
Craven snarled in confusion.
Tollin counted the seconds. He had to be sure there was no way Craven would be able to follow. ‘I’ll see you.’
And then he jumped.
There was a sort of terror in freefalling through space, watching as his landing rapidly retreated from beneath him. Added to that, Craven’s terrible scream of rage from above.
He landed harder than he wished and the rock listed alarmingly, threatening to throw him. Tollin scrabbled for a handhold and clung for dear life as the rock wobbled back to its centre.
With a breath he finally had a chance to look round at his surroundings. It chilled him. He was adrift in utter blackness. Below him, the blue sun stretched and tossed before him like some balled up ocean.
Fascinating.
Tilting his head back, Tollin frowned at the bottom of the castle. He had fallen a good six metres to the little satellite; and, moving at a much faster rate than the palace, was privileged to a panorama view of the outer walls. Well, the lower half of them, at least.
Seeing the island from this vantage point did expose the one rather awkward bit to Tollin’s whole escape plan: there was nowhere to go.
Another rock went spinning above his head a good three metres or so. Tollin glanced round. There was a whole field of them! Floating bits of the castle drifting round and round at different speeds, all the way up into the white clouds in a never ending journey.
With a good deal of luck, some incredible balancing acts and some well-timed jumps, he just might be able to reach the superficial safety of his small island.
From above there was a horrible commotion: Craven was casting about in the shaft, tearing things to bits. Tollin felt his blood clot at the sound. One of agony and rage and hatred all thrown together.
Ignoring it, he squared his jaw and bunched his muscles, waiting for another satellite to float by. Yes. He needed to be free from here, and quickly. And then…well…then he needed to think.
After an exhausting, unnerving bit of acrobatics Tollin managed to spring to his little island. Without rest, on wobbly legs he scrambled towards the knocked-together remains of the transmitter. He was out of ideas and absolutely out of time.
One thing his imprisonment had given him time for was an idea of what to do. And, if he was totally honest, it was rather simple. Simple because he had been through it already. Oh, how he hated time. Andrew O’Neill was the key. If there was anyone in history that could help Samantha Turner, it would be him.
The charged crystal he’d swept up was nowhere near enough power to fix the machine—but it just might be enough to support a connection Sam might establish. He had no way of calibrating a correct time, but he’d waited as long as he could—seventy years—he could only pray it was late enough. Hell, maybe he’d even be able to stop himself. What would happen to him then?
Tollin plugged the glassy shard in and sparks went spitting every direction. He jumped back as the cracked viewscreen turned to a sickly colour and then, with much protest, an image of another room sizzled to life. Oh, how familiar it was! Tollin’s chest ached. It would be so easy to simply step through…
And there she was! Her back was to him, she was bent over the control panel, just as he remembered her so long ago…
With heart pounding in his chest, Tollin smoothed his hair, dusted his clothes, and, realising that this was his one and only chance to save himself—and of course Sam—stepped forward and tapped on the glass.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Noel was supposed to be tearing the city apart, but he wasn’t and Andrew’s temper was growing worse. The great dragon was sitting on the wall and staring with some horrible knowing towards his window. Though the distance was vast, Andrew was still annoyed by the glowing eyes watching him.
He’d been put through too much and each grain of sand that fell from the timepiece cause him to cringe. He pulled Marus away from the bed where Victoria still lay and lowered his voice. ‘I have to go.’
Marus shook himself, clearly not paying attention. ‘What? Where? Go where?’
Andrew clenched his teeth. Really, could Marus not keep up with such a simple trail of thought?
He looked the dragon in the eye. ‘I have to find what they’re all so desperate to find. They think I can find it. They’re waiting for me to find it. Do you see that beast out there? I have to find it and deliver it to them or he’s going to swoop in hear and knock these walls down.’
Marus coughed. ‘Are you out of your mind? Have you already forgotten what we’ve been through tonight?’
Andrew’s scowl deepened. ‘No, I haven’t. And it’s only going to worsen unless I do something about it.’
Marus crossed his large arms across his chest. ‘And you think you can actually accomplish something by handing over
exactly what they want?’
‘No of course not, but what we no longer have is the luxury of time.’ Sudden, distant clarity burst in Andrew’s mind and he spun for the door. The tug in his gut he’d sensed since his conversation with the dark thing was back, if vague.
Marus hurried after him as Andrew pushed from the room.
‘Where are you going now?’
‘To find Reginald!’
Marus scowled. ‘What can Reginald possibly do?’
Andrew quickened his pace. ‘He knows. What it is. Where it’s hidden. That key thing! I’ll convince him to talk.’
Marus raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Why are humans all so unstable?’ He looked down at Andrew, keeping his pace easily. ‘There’s really nothing so great about that ruddy old stone!’
Andrew pulled up short. ‘You know it?’
Marus swore. ‘I guess—not that I care. Sahabra or whatever the hell it’s called. Don’t tell me you’re fanatical about that thing, too. You’re not even from this planet! It won’t do anything! For anyone!’
Andrew ignored the comment. ‘Why is everyone so, as you say, “fanatical” about it?’
Marus let out a deep breath. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose its most attractive feature is that it can be a gateway to other dimensions.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t look at me like that. I wish it was as crazy as it sounds.’
Andrew let out an irritable breath. Why had everything turned upside down since he’d met Tollin and been thrown in with his merry gang of idiots? He started walking again.
‘So that’s what they’re after! They want to open a doorway to a different…what did you call it? Dimension? And they somehow believe I can operate it, no doubt with the power of the time room!’
Marus was giving him a somewhat odd look. He finally let out a weary sigh. ‘I’m the only sane one round here, aren’t I?’
Andrew turned down a hall. At this hour, Reginald should be in bed, if not for the dragon outside. He was more than likely holding some meeting in his room—possibly even bed—if any of Andrew’s observations over the last few months were any pattern to go by.
He arrived at the king’s bedchambers and was relieved to see the two guards posted out front. Reginald was there.
‘Let us in. I need to see the king.’
The guards didn’t move.
Marus pushed past Andrew and gave the guards a disarming grin. ‘He’s with me. I promise no harm will come to our dear leader. Not up to anything nefarious. Maybe just a bit erotic.’
Andrew shot him a look.
Marus cleared his throat. ‘Okay, just business. Real business. Nothing…interesting.’
There was some silent deliberation between the two but Andrew could already tell they would let them in. Marus had…a way with people.
The doors were thrown open and Reginald shot upright from the bath he’d fallen asleep in with impressive speed, sloshing water. A pile of papers fluttered to the floor from the nearby table. ‘What?’ He stared. ‘Andrew?’
Marus flashed a charming smile. ‘Hi!’
Ignoring all, Andrew whipped his firearm from his coat and pointed it levelly at the king’s head. Marus groaned. But Reginald’s processing was taking an agonisingly slow time for Andrew’s patience.
‘What do the Myrmidons want? What are they after?’ he demanded. ‘You’ve lied to me long enough about your ignorance and you’ve put your cousin is in danger! Now tell me about what they’re after or I will kill you!’
‘What?’ Reginald gaped again. He took several long seconds. ‘How should I know what they’re after?’
Andrew clenched his teeth in irritation, waving his weapon a bit. ‘Because it’s clearly in the vaults here! Whatever it is is inside, that’s why they infiltrated the palace in the first place! That’s why Noel has been snooping around! You and Arkron know what it is. And you keeping it hidden is a death sentence to everyone in this city!’
Reginald slid out of the tub, grabbing for a robe. Andrew peevishly ignored Marus’s blatant interest in the king’s action.
‘They won’t find it,’ Reginald said, raising his eyes to meet Andrew’s. ‘And ever if they did, they couldn’t use it.’ He looked to Marus, seeming somewhat desperate for reassurance on that point.
Marus simply rubbed the back of his head. ‘I don’t know what they’re planning. I’m just along for the ride.’
‘I think you’ve made that painfully clear,’ Andrew said drily.
The palace suddenly shook and the edges of Reginald’s large curtained window flared with orange light. A terrible roar echoed overhead.
‘Ah, he’s growing impatient,’ Marus said. ‘If you ask me, I’d say it’s time to abandon ship.’
‘What?’ Reginald cried, stumbling as Andrew shoved him into the hall in a forced march. ‘Where would we go?’
Marus shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know about you, but I could go for a nice beach, or a star resort, maybe a nightclub under the ocean.’
Andrew scowled. ‘If you are implying abandoning this world for another dimension you can think again.’
Marus grumbled. ‘I don’t think I asked your permission, Traveller. I see no reason to stick around for the inevitable destruction of this place. I don’t have a dog in this fight.’
‘Well, go on then!’ Andrew snapped, tired of listening. As if he wouldn’t like to simply leave, hop over to another dimension—or even better, back to home…
Marus made no move to leave yet continued to tag along beside him.
Another terrible roar came from outside. The hall ahead of them was suddenly engulfed with angry flames as fire burst through the narrow window.
Andrew spun on Reginald, pressing the barrel of his weapon to the king’s temple. ‘Don’t tell me you’re so thick as to think that they won’t find that stone or whatever the hell it is because it’s hidden in the vault! Do you really think these weak walls can keep a creature like that out? The only reason it’s not breaking down the doors is because it would rather us just hand it over and save it the trouble.’
Reginald let out a deep breath. ‘You need to speak Arkron.’
Marus relaxed. ‘Finally some sense.’
Begrudgingly, Andrew led the way back to the witch. He could find no reason to argue. Victoria was still much the same, but she did appear to be in as less pain as he’d last seen her. Whatever Arkron had done seemed to have helped.
‘The Myrmidons are after a stone called Sahabra hidden in the vaults. And you’ve been keeping it hidden from me!’ Andrew said the moment he entered.
‘Oh good, you know about that, do you?’ Arkron said drily, looking none too pleased with the fact.
Andrew wondered why. Was there really something to it? His mind raced. ‘Explain what it does. Tell me what we have hidden that is so important to them. What is Sahabra?’ He lowered his weapon.
Arkron sighed. ‘It has the potential to connect with other Realms. There is another piece we’ve hidden in the form of a ring, but they clearly only know about the stone. Still, I don’t know why a dragon like Noel would be interested. He should have the ability to Realm Jump. I suppose we must conclude he cannot.’
Andrew raked his hands through his hair. ‘Well, why aren’t you doing anything about it? You’ve known this whole time who the Myrmidons are, what they are after. That’s why—’ Andrew stopped himself short.
Arkron rolled her eyes. ‘No. I’m not working for them.’
Andrew wasn’t sure why, but he believed her. For now anyway, it made things simpler. ‘Well, I’m not either! But they’re not giving me much choice in the matter, are they?’
‘Because you’re not playing their friend any more,’ Arkron drawled.
He started to pace. ‘W—well, yes! But it wasn’t much of a choice when I was their friend, was it? That is precisely why we have to move—now!’
Arkron gave him an almost sympathetic look. ‘There’s nothing to worry about!’
Andrew crossed his arms. ‘Oh, really? Well then, I suppose we can all just relax and go back to bed and ignore the bloody dragon outside!’
The palace trembled ever so slightly.
Arkron sighed. ‘I didn’t mean that. I just meant that we don’t have to worry about them getting their hands on the stone. They can’t operate it on their own.’
Andrew’s mind went tracing over the wires and rivets that held the arch and chair together.
‘What if,’ he said very slowly, ‘they had somehow contrived some sort of device which could be integrated with the stone? And…if they had someone…Oh, I don’t know, like the Traveller, who could operate it?’
Arkron waved a hand. ‘But you’re not the Traveller.’
Andrew smiled grimly. ‘Maybe not. But they seem to think otherwise.’ And he had gotten some sort of reaction from it, hadn’t he? He had some connection with that device.
Arkron shook her head. ‘You’re a medium, Andrew, that doesn’t mean you can open Realms. Now what device are you talking about?’
Andrew gave a brief description of what he’d seen.
Reginald nearly exploded. ‘You’ve been keeping all that from me? You swore!’
Andrew rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter now!’
Marus butted in. ‘If I’m not mistaken, they’ve got it hooked up to some sort of electricity. I have no idea how they managed that.’
Arkron frowned. ‘They must have cannibalised some of that abandoned technology.’
Reginald swallowed. ‘You mean to tell me someone else is trying to let Daemons through to this Realm? I thought you said that couldn’t happen for another five-hundred years!’
Arkron rolled her eyes again. ‘Well, that was before they started constructing a bleeding time machine, isn’t it?’ She paused in thought. ‘I doubt they are interested in Daemons. They’re just curious—mind you, terrible—humans. They’ve learnt of other worlds—most likely through some of those ancient texts in their lair, and they want in. Perhaps they even found plans for their device in some of those texts. But it can’t work. It can’t! They’re not clever enough; and Andrew can’t jump Realms—despite what they think. He couldn’t make it work.’
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