Passages (Alternate Worlds Book 1)

by Taylor Leigh

  Andrew’s eyes burned. ‘How will she know we’re not savage if you continue to talk that way? Saying things like that makes us look all the more uncivilised, which is certainly something we do not need!’

  Victorian realised a good impression could be the difference between how these people would for ever look at her. She curtsied; surprised she actually remembered her manners. ‘Pleased to meet you, ma’am.’

  ‘How charming! Not as wild as I would have suspected.’

  ‘More charming than you,’ Andrew grumbled to himself.

  ‘Welcome, dearie! My name is Matilda. Wonderful to meet one of Tollin’s companions.’

  ‘Ah, Matilda,’ Tollin said. ‘The generous hostess, as always.’

  Matilda blushed yet again. ‘We are happy to welcome you back in our lodge.’

  Tollin leaned forward, hands deeply buried in his coat pockets. ‘And I’m happy to be back!’ He spun round, taking in a deep breath. ‘Hard to get over just how fresh everything here smells. Being on Scrabia,’ he waved his hands up towards his nose, as if trying to push more air in. ‘Feels like you’re breathing in dust.’

  ‘If we don’t get inside in the next minute, we’ll be breathing in rain,’ Andrew said, eying the sky.

  ‘Lot of rubbish,’ Nan muttered, turning for the door. It was all she said by way of greeting. Victoria got the impression the woman had no patience for the family she served. She wasn’t sure she blamed her.

  It was then that the sky rumbled with thunder and the rain began to fall in a torrent. The group dashed behind the old woman, all laughter and chatter. Tollin grabbed her hand with a wry grin, pulling Victoria into her new, strange world.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘This is mental!’ Reginald cried as he pushed through the thick crowd in the lowest layer of the city. The smell of sweat, rising dust and animals made his head swim. He asked himself for the hundredth time why he’d allowed himself to get involved with this. It was, of course, because saying no to Red Scorpion didn’t seem like a very viable option. So here he was.

  ‘Oh, stop your complaining,’ Arkron said wearily from behind her red veil. Her pale eyes darted about in alertness as she discreetly guided him by the elbow towards the outer wall of the city. They’d stolen over in a spot where the city ran up against one of the huge rock ranges. It was just a frightening climb, a stomach-lurching jump and they were in. Quite simple, really. Arkron seemed to know every in and out of the city and in no time they were mixed up in the throng of people.

  ‘I’m serious!’ Reginald continued. ‘Me, coming here, back to the city where the Denizens want to kill me! What if someone spots me, I’ll be reported! Doesn’t seem like the best way for me to prove myself!’

  ‘Calm down. Most of the population doesn’t know about what’s going on up in the palace. The cover story is that the Queen and your father are both ill and the Denizens are filling in temporarily. Victoria’s disappearance is being spun as a tragedy and they’ve probably said you’ve run away. They aren’t broadcasting the fact that you’re an outlaw, not yet at least. And even if they do, you’re not important enough for anyone to recognise your face. The manky little province you’re from is hardly on the map and no-one down here knows about it—or cares.’

  ‘What’s wrong with my province? I still don’t think this is a good idea. Guards patrol down here and they may be on the lookout.’

  ‘Well, if you’d put your hood up maybe you wouldn’t worry so much.’

  Reginald sheepishly pulled the dark hood up, glancing about furtively. Everyone around them was similarly dressed and taking no mind to those around them. He figured, over all, they blended in rather well. ‘I don’t see this meeting going over very well. If this person is the head keeper of the gate doesn’t that mean he’s a government official? If he hears me talking about Red Scorpion he’ll report me in a heartbeat. I know how these people work, they’re ruthless.’ He stepped round a large pile of dung and hurried to catch up with Arkron, who was marching determinedly towards her goal.

  ‘You’d be surprised by how many Red Scorpion supporters there are. Just because most of Layers fought against them doesn’t mean they didn’t agree with their principles. The gate keeper is a rumoured sympathiser.’ Arkron stopped and pointed to a slanting, red brick tower that loomed over everything in the square. It was set in the high wall right next to the huge, solid black metal gates. ‘This is as far as I go. The Red Scorpion needs to know if they can trust you and this is an important assignment they’ve given. If you don’t secure the keeper’s allegiance then there will be no-one to open the gates to the army when the time comes. Going in over walls and through tunnels isn’t going to work for an army like Red Scorpion. A lot is riding on this. Don’t let me down.’

  Reginald started towards the tower slowly. ‘Yeah, right. Thanks for the encouraging words. What happens if I don’t?’

  Arkron’s eyes were dark behind her veil. ‘Let’s not dwell on that thought.’

  Reginald made his way up to the tower, leaving Arkron standing in the shade of one of the street vendor stalls. The main gate was the same one that Victoria had been pushed out of a few days before. It was connected to the main road which ran all the way down from the castle, looping through each layer. It was the main way for everyone not travelling by airship to leave and enter the city. Columns of slaves marched under its arch each morning and evening, throngs of spectators swarmed through its gates down to the arena and religious processions passed its walls on special occasions. The gates had stood for hundreds of years. The thought of using it to bring enemies into the city felt like a betrayal of everything he knew. After this, if it did indeed all work out, there was no going back.

  The main gate could only be opened from the tower and the keeper inside was responsible for opening and shutting it. A large cranking mechanism, which could only be started by a key the man wore round his neck, unlocked the machine so the keeper could crank it. He held the keys to every gate, and required all of them to be requested in advance before use. It was an important responsibility. Reginald had his doubts the man would be willing to give that up.

  The only way Reginald could see up into the tower was a rickety wooded ladder which ran up to a tiny hole in the tower’s side. A rope with a bell hung down to the foot of the ladder and it was this rope that he grasped and rang. It took several long moments of ringing before a much wrinkled, irritated face poked its head out of the hole.

  ‘What ye want?’ the old keeper shouted.

  Reginald shielded his eyes against the sun. ‘I’m here to see the keeper! I’ve got to discuss something with him!’

  ‘Yeah? Yeh and the rest of the world! Go away!’ The man disappeared.

  Reginald ran the bell again, feeling the back of his neck prickle. Things weren’t going well. He could only imagine what Red Scorpion would do to him if he failed. He doubted it was anything pleasant.

  ‘What?’ the keeper roared in a gravelly voice. ‘I told yeh, go away!’

  ‘Not until you talk to me! Just let me come up!’

  ‘Fine, ger up here, but be quick ‘bout it. Can’t have civilians millin’ about.’

  Reginald smiled to himself and gripped the wobbly ladder. When he pulled himself up into the room he immediately wished he’d asked the keeper to come down. It smelled awful. Though the tower had large windows on every side, striped cloth was lowered over them, keeping most of the stale air in. By the smell and suspicious look of a bucket under the grimy sleep cot, Reginald assumed the man never left the tower. He couldn’t help but press his sleeve to his nose as his eyes begin to water.

  ‘Well, yeh come up here to have a look round, or did yeh actually have something worth saying?’ the man growled.

  Reginald turned to the man. He looked even worse up close. Greasy hair that had obviously not been washed in years stuck out in odd directions. His eyes were almost glued together by a thick layer of crust. White stubble peppered his chin and his tunic and trouser
s were stiff as parchment from filth.

  ‘I’m, eh, with a new group, you see,’ Reginald stammered, making it up as he went. The Red Scorpion and Arkron hadn’t bothered giving him much of a script. How exactly was one supposed to broach the subject of betraying your leadership and opening the gates to a bunch of criminals? ‘And our group is interested in your treatment and satisfaction by your, erm, superiors.’

  The man gave him a dubious look and wiped a trail of snot across his tunic sleeve. ‘What?’

  ‘Are you happy at your job? Do you think the accommodations you’ve been provided are, eh,’ he looked round the filthy room again, trying to not wrinkle his nose. ‘Adequate?’

  The man leant in close and Reginald could smell his foul breath. ‘I’m thinking yeh better leave, young sir.’

  Reginald shrank back, partly to escape the smell. ‘Right. Well, hope you have a—’

  A loud horn blew a blast and the man and Reginald both dashed to the windows facing the desert. A troop of Denizens were approaching. The man muttered and fumbled with his keys, fit one of them into a large mechanism made of gears, turned it and then grasped a large handle. He started to crank the handle and a loud rattling sound filled the tower. Slowly the giant gate began to swing open.

  Reginald watched in morbid fascination as the troop walked beneath them. There were four priests, all carrying whips, which they cracked across the backs of the smaller Denizens of their race. These Denizens staggered, both from the cruel weapons, but also from their load. They were carrying a great covered crate.

  Reginald frowned. Now what could that be?

  One of the Denizens staggered, almost bringing the box crashing to the ground. In the sunlight, Reginald caught the brilliant glint of red flash briefly as the crate wobbled about. As the priests roared in anger, the Denizen managed to right the crate again and it passed into the shadows, losing its tantalising gleam from within. He watched it go, feeling an inexplicable ripple of worry spread inside of him. What the hell was in that thing?

  ‘More of ‘em coming every day.’ The man spat on the ground as he watched them pass, sticky eyes narrowed.

  Reginald studied his face, turning away from the curious sight. ‘You don’t like them?’ he asked cautiously.

  The man glowered at him. ‘I thought I told yeh to leave. No, I don’t like ‘em. More of ‘em coming in day after day from the desert. Like they’ve got whole hives of ‘em out there. And with the Queen sick and all, making matters worse. Denizens thinking they can just run amuck. They’re like plague rats. Don’t belong here, that’s all I’m saying.’

  Reginald licked his lips. ‘If there were a way to get rid of them, would you be for it?’

  The man watched him. ‘For it? Depends what it is, I suppose. What yeh getting at, boy?’

  Reginald moved in close, though they were metres above any other ears that could hear them. ‘Have you heard of Red Scorpion?’

  The man’s eyes widened. ‘Red Scorpion? Who hasn’t? They’re extinct though. Got banished and destroyed out in the desert. Fought against them, back in my prime. Can’t say I was happy about it, though.’

  ‘What if I told you they were still alive, and that they want to liberate the city from the Denizens?’

  The man let out a thick, phlegm filled laugh. ‘I’d say yeh were off your rocker. They tried that last time, see how well it worked out!’ He leant in closer. ‘Is this the truth?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Reginald fished in his robe and pulled out a metal token with a scorpion on one side. ‘They’re out there, and they’ve got an army. My name is Reginald and I’m the Queen’s nephew. I was supposed to be married to Lady Victoria. Maybe you remember seeing us down here just a few days ago when she was sent out into the wilderness? The Denizens have taken over the palace and they’re trying to kill me. The Red Scorpion wants to help. They want to retake the city and get rid of these alien slavers once and for all. I’m here because we can’t do it without your help.’

  The man coughed. ‘That’s quite a story there, young sir. Yeh want me to open up the gates for the Red Scorpion and let them take over this city? That’d be treason, yeh know.’

  Reginald regarded him steadily. ‘Treason would be allowing these creatures to overtake our city and destroy it. Which is exactly what they’re doing.’

  ‘I’d be sentenced to death, if they found out…’

  Reginald nodded. ‘I understand that there are risks. If things don’t go according to plan you won’t be implicated in any way. You’ll just forget the whole thing. Can we count on you?’

  The man rubbed his chin. ‘Well…if what yeh saying is true, then I’d be doing my Queen a great disservice by not letting yeh in. I used to be a part of Scorpion, a long time ago…before the war. Yeah, yeh can count me in.’ He waggled his finger. ‘But if things go wrong, I know nothing.’

  ‘Of course!’ Reginald bowed. ‘Thank you. We’ll be in touch soon.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ the man rolled his eyes, waving him away. ‘Young kids…’

  Reginald slid down the ladder, unable to wipe the huge grin off of his face. He raced across the crowded square to where Arkron was standing and grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘I did it! I actually did it! He agreed! He’s going to let us in!’ He punched the sky, unable to contain his excitement.

  Arkron smiled thinly, visibly peeved at being roughed about by him. ‘Fantastic. Now, let’s go find something to eat. I’m starving.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Red World above was half-shrouded in clouds but Flynn could still count spotty pieces of constellations past the glowing golden ribbons in the sky. He was with the best of his clan, waiting the rain out and hoping for elk. They had been hunting for a week but game was scarce; ever since the daemon of the forest, the Blaiden’s god, had been let loose. Its path of destruction was frightening everything away. Flynn didn’t know where it had come from, or why it was here, but he knew it was evil. Though he’d only seen the monster in glimpses through the trees, he could tell it was unnatural. It stank of something wrong and it moved with an all too intelligent cunning.

  He pulled his eyes away from the red sky and his morbid thoughts and glanced back at the fire. Story glanced up at him from across the blaze. Her grey eyes shone with unspoken disappointment from the day’s failed hunt. He flattened his lips in a silent acknowledgement to her. They both were feeling the gnawing sense of unease. He was sure the rest of the clan was feeling it as well. They were just as in-tune with the forest as he and Story were and the signs weren’t good. There was something spreading, like a poison, and it was powerful.

  Out of the corner of his eye Flynn saw a tremble of movement and his attention flicked back behind Story’s shoulder. He froze. They weren’t alone. Something giant was peeling away from the trees, like a phantom. Story saw his eyes and jerked round just as five Blaiden ghosted from the forest, tall, naked and silent.

  Out of the darkness they came. So savage and wolfish in the firelight, Flynn was not sure he’d be able to tell the difference between beast and man. Red wolf pelts were draped over their shoulders but besides that they wore nothing but weapons, despite the chill in the air. Fierce tattoos, like fur, marked every inch of their skin and their eyes held a wild gleam. They were a fearsome sight to behold. Every creature in the forest feared them. They would be dead if they didn’t.

  A tall man, clearly the leader, covered in scars and markings, stepped forward. Flynn, with dread, recognised him. It was Drugai. The leader of the Blaiden. Flynn felt his stomach turn over with fear and hatred. These men were not welcome here.

  One of Flynn’s men made that point as he jumped to his feet and launched himself at Drugai, knife ready. The Blaiden’s arm whipped out towards the man. There was a splash of crimson and he fell. Drugai did not even break stride. Flynn’s eyes darted towards Story and she dropped down to the whimpering, wounded Druid. Flynn tried to steady the pounding of his heart and adopted a face of stone. There was no fighting their way o
ut of this.

  Drugai cracked his neck and smiled down at Flynn through black lips. ‘Ah,’ his voice was deeper than Flynn had thought it would be. ‘Flynn, young leader of the Druids. We meet at last.’

  Flynn breathed deeply, heart hammering. He hoped Drugai wouldn’t notice how quickly the pulse was pounding in his neck. He tilted his head forward and spread his hands out, offering the visitors a seat round the fire. ‘Drugai. This is unexpected. You are certainly a journey from your mountain.’ What he really wanted to say was something along the lines of, ‘Why are you on our territory? Get out!’

  Drugai grinned. ‘We’ve journeyed here for one purpose, to see you! We wanted to pay our neighbour’s new leader a little visit.’

  ‘Sure took your time,’ Story snapped. ‘He’s been clan leader for three winters!’

  Drugai ignored her. ‘We Blaiden and Druids have never been on the best terms. Your father’s prejudices have been passed down generation to generation, and, unfortunately, as you know, there have been misunderstandings between our clans for centuries.’

  Drugai and the others crouched, but did not sit. He regarded Flynn for a long time, but stayed silent. The noises of night and the crackling fire were the only sound. Flynn wondered if they could hear his heart. He wanted to look to Story, ask her to stand by his side, but didn’t dare break contact with the Blaiden’s hypnotic yellow stare. A slight tinge of red coloured the corners of Drugai’s mouth. Flynn felt his stomach turn over when he realised it must be blood.

  ‘So,’ Flynn said at last. ‘Considering our stressed history, what is the true meaning for this uncharacteristic visit from the mighty Wolf Clan?’

  Drugai leant back slightly on his heels. ‘It is good to know who one’s enemies—and friends—are, young Flynn.’

  Flynn nodded, puzzled. ‘I agree.’

  ‘Our clans have had our differences and we’ve dealt with them accordingly.’