by Taylor Leigh
Unable to resist, Victoria paused by the entrance and peeked inside. She now saw with dismay what was responsible for the noise. She should have known. Andrew was propped up on a chair, bare footed and knees up under his chin, with a pile of books and paper surrounding him. He was dishevelled, undershirt wrinkled and hair wild. A large inkwell sat to his left and he was scribbling fervently in a volume in his hand. With a grunt he slammed the tome shut and scooped up a new one. He read the first page, muttered something and then ripped the page out, tossing it to the floor with a bored look. She was just entertaining the idea of going inside when Nan burst past her, shouting.
‘Andrew! What are you doing to that poor old book? Look at this mess you’ve made!’
Andrew did not look up at Nan, instead brandishing a large pen knife. ‘The information is wrong in it.’ He scanned the page in front of him. ‘I’m doing you all a favour.’ He cast Victoria a look. ‘You’re finally up, I see. How’s the hangover?’
Nan swiped the book out of his hand just as he began to rip at the page with a snarl. ‘You will stop that right now!’
His pale eyes flickered up to her, flashing dangerously. Nan turned on her heel, clearly unnerved by his stare and began gathering up the many books that littered the floor. ‘Don’t you know how much these things cost?’
‘Oh please, they hardly cost anything at all, SINCE I INVENTED THE PRINTING PRESS!’ Andrew shouted. He flopped down on his side, turning his back to them as he curled into a ball.
‘Get out there and do something useful, young man! Stop being so destructive! Going mad with you under this roof sometimes! Do you think the people of Academia will allow this type of behaviour?’
Andrew made no move. Nan let out a deep breath. She swept towards the door and finally cast Victoria a look. ‘Oh, bless you, dear.’ She cast a look back into the room. Andrew still hadn’t moved. ‘Maybe you can do something with him. Get him out of the lodge for a while. Keep him entertained.’ She strode off. ‘He makes such a mess when he’s moody.’
Victoria cautiously crept to him, sidestepping the marred books that strewn the floor. Andrew didn’t stir. She sighed and sat down on the armrest, near his head. Still no acknowledgement. She looked down at a book near her feet, The Taking Light. She picked it up and leafed through it. The book was full of scratched out lines and scribbles. Andrew must have written intensely in it, his handwriting was almost illegible.
‘So,’ she said after a long moment, when Andrew made no move to look at her. ‘You want to go do something?’
Andrew didn’t respond.
Victoria stared up at the wooden arched ceiling. She wracked her brain for a way to entice him to move. Without stimulation, he could lie in the same position for hours at a time on some days, completely lost to depression, and she wasn’t about to let him sink into it on a day like this. As much as Victoria hated to admit it, she’d become somewhat dependant on Andrew for her day. On days when he was lost to the world she felt lost as well, and she wandered around the village in a bored daze. ‘You could help with the search for that missing woman.’
Finally, Andrew stirred. He flopped over onto his back and looked up at her with glazed eyes. ‘Bah!’ He thought for a moment, frowning. ‘What woman?’
‘Some woman in the village went missing yesterday without a trace. Thedric and Molly are out searching. People are sailing around the lake and checking the wood. It’s been big news; I’m surprised you haven’t heard!’
Andrew shut his eyes; Victoria could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. ‘I’ve had more important things on my mind….’ She braced herself. Any moment he was going to say it was time to get to work on the history—or worse, state he was not moving from the sofa. His eyes popped open. ‘If we do go, you’ll have to let me bring an experiment I’m working on with me.’
Victoria smiled, relieved. ‘Sure, sure, that’s fine. It’ll probably be interesting.’
‘Yes…’ Andrew became lost in thought again. He rolled off the couch and was halfway to the door before Victoria realised he was gone. ‘Come on! If we leave this up to Thedric, it’ll be years before they find anything!’
Victoria was not comfortable on the lake. She still didn’t know how to swim and found the dark water frightening. The problem with Andrew was, he could talk her into something before she really realised he had. That was how she ended up on the deck of a small sailing ship, floating away from the shore and out towards the centre of Elk Lake.
She fought down her rising panic as she watched the black waves lap at the hull of the boat. Andrew had tied a device round her that he explained would keep her from sinking, with the encouragement, ‘Don’t worry, it works. I invented it.’
He was now busy strapping on a bulky leather suit. He hadn’t offered much explanation to Victoria before he had shoved the suit into her hands and set sail and as she watched him now, her unease only grew. Nothing about this looked safe.
‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ she asked, eyeing the welded glass helmet he was lifting up over his head.
‘Would you stop saying that? I designed this myself. It will work.’
‘I didn’t ask if it would work or not, I asked if it was a good idea. Seems daft going down there to the bottom, what if there is no bottom?’
Andrew paused to give her a trying look before he lowered the helmet over his head. ‘There’s a bottom. Elizabeth, our missing woman, was seen leaving the lake in a stolen sailing boat last night during the festival. The craft was too small for her to get very far that night so there’s only one place to look for her, and that’s by going down.’ His voice became muffled through the glass. ‘Swimming down there isn’t an option and I need to see it for myself.’
‘Seems like we should be searching the woods, like everyone else. Don’t think that I don’t realise this is just an excuse for you to try out that deadly contraption! I know the way your mind works.’
Andrew ignored her. ‘They’re wasting their time. Trust me; she’s out here, somewhere.’
Victoria rolled her eyes. ‘You know, when I said I wanted to see the lake, this isn’t what I had in mind.’
Andrew picked up a long hose and started screwing it to the top of his helmet. ‘Would you rather go back inside and work on our book? I know you’re just dying to explain Layer’s economy.’
Victoria gave him a sour look. ‘You sure you’ll be able to breathe down there?’
‘That’s what this hose is for,’ he said, voice a tad strained. ‘It should offer me an adequate amount of oxygen. I’ve set up a system that should circulate it enough. Just give it a few pumps every minute or so.’
‘Yeah, should.’ She watched Andrew sit down on the edge of the boat. ‘What do I do if something goes wrong?’
Andrew tossed a rope her direction. ‘Tug on this rope. Should bring me up. Just make sure we don’t stray too close to the shore. I want to stay out here.’ He offered her a somewhat wicked smile. ‘Enjoy the scenery!’
And with that, he dropped down into the water and out of sight.
Victoria made a face. ‘Probably should have asked him how to pilot this thing.’
The day was a warm one and Victoria soon found herself drowsy sitting under the familiar sun. She decided this was the best way to truly see the lake. A few sailing ships were leaving the marina, on their way out to the ocean for a day of fishing. The sailors waved to her on their way past.
Redwing blackbirds were warbling and bullfrogs croaked in the reed filled shores, claiming their territory. Large white swans lazily weaved among the reeds, whistling to each other. Horses in the field, already far away across the lake, whinnied greetings. The tiny waves lapped at the boat.
Victoria sighed and shut her eyes, giving in to the warmth as she pumped more oxygen to the hose. It was the first time she had been outside on Scottorr without feeling chilled to the bone. It was still nothing compared to the warmth of Scrabia, but the sun was the same and she welcomed it.
Her eyes popped open as the sun glared into them. She sat up dizzily, and a bit too quickly, causing the boat to rock. She looked around. The wind had picked up, bobbing the boat. Embarrassment that she wasn’t doing her job filled her as she gazed down at the rope in her hands and thought of Andrew. Pumping oxygen madly, she leant over the edge of the boat and peered down into the water. It was clear and she could see him still walking along the floor. A large turtle scuttled away from him. She sighed and sat back down. How long had she dozed off?
Her eyes flicked towards the shore. She was surprised by how far they had drifted. Andrew had once given her a lecture about the dangers of water currents and she saw the true nature of them now. They were close to the Druid side now, very close. She could see the blackbirds darting about in the reeds. An otter spun round and swam through the bulrushes. She sighed. Andrew was not going to be happy when he realised how far they’d drifted. She doubted he could tell down there.
A quwark! quwark! noise came from overhead and Victoria looked up. Two ravens flew past, headed for the Druid shore. She tracked them with her eyes and noticed several more circling the sky. She frowned and her eyes followed them down. It was a dark spot on the beach where they chose to land, considerably bare of reeds, nothing but muddy clay and dead plants. She could see a stream snaking its way from the wood down to the spot. Something else was lying there in the mud, something the ravens were clustered about, cawing loudly at each other over. She watched them pecking with a dull sense of realisation. Victoria gripped Andrew’s rope and tugged hard on it, feeling shaky.
He took his time to come to the surface, and when he did, Victoria could tell even through the glass that he was not pleased. He grabbed the edges of the boat and glowered up at her.
‘What is it?’ He noticed how far they were from the lodge side of the lake. ‘You let us drift this far?’ His voice was angry, though muted through the glass.
‘Never mind that! Look!’ She pointed towards what had caught her eye. Andrew twisted his head as best as he could to see what Victoria was pointing to. It was a body.
Chapter Twenty-One
Reginald was yet again bewildered by the places Arkron had taken him over the past three months. He’d explored caverns, walked through hollow lava tubes, struggled through spongy forests and climbed towering shrooms. He’d fought off hungry desert wolves, slept on open ground and met with the wild people of Scrabia. The slums of the plague victims and runaway slaves and the great wagons of the plunderers were his new home. From royal to common outsider, what would Victoria think of him now? The thought always made him smile as he glanced to the sky.
Everywhere he went he talked of a better life, of the Denizens that had forced them out of the city and of the people who could help them—the Red Scorpion. Some did not listen, but, what he found more surprising, many did. Men and women from all tribes were flocking to the Red Scorpion camp with renewed hope and a will to fight.
That was where Reginald was now.
The Red Scorpion camp was in the Badlands on the far side of the mountain range, hidden from the city’s view. The camp was pitched near an ugly swamp that stretched on to the horizon. The thick water was covered with such a thick layer of scum that Reginald doubted even the parched wildlife came to drink. The only thing in the area that seemed to be thriving was the giant shrooms that dotted the swamp as far as he could see. The place smelled, too, but it was something he had learned to grow used to.
Red Scorpion recruits were everywhere, practicing their fighting skills, bringing back their hauls of food and sharpening their weapons. Their numbers were growing daily and the basin they were living in, which had been so empty several weeks ago, was now a thriving community.
Reginald and Arkron made their way through the tent city and eventually came to the base of one of the huge shrooms on the edge of the swamp. The giant fungi looked like all the others on the outside, save for a long cable and pulley system attached to the side of it. Up at the top was a rounded doorway, which led, remarkably, to the vast, hollowed interior of the shroom, which was a maze of man-made rooms and levels, all hidden from outside eye. They stepped onto a lift platform and after Arkron jerked the release lever, the device ground to a start, wobbling worrisomely.
As the lift rose to the top of the shroom, Reginald and Arkron were instantly greeted by an assault on the ears. Animalistic, high-pitched shrieks and deep-throated, beastly roars emanated from the main chamber in violent echoes. As quiet as it had been lately, it was the last thing Reginald was expecting.
Exchanging a glance with Arkron, Reginald gripped his sword and went charging into the room. He didn’t know exactly what he was planning on doing once he got there, but the noise let him know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that someone was in trouble—and pain. It sounded like Savasa was being torn apart by that damn lion of hers.
As he and Arkron slid round the corner, however, Reginald saw Savasa completely fine and reclining in comfort on a rug. Still, the horrible noises persisted, coming from the corner of the room and as Reginald turned he had to fight down a morbid sense of fascination and horror.
A Denizen was responsible for the terrible cries, and Reginald couldn’t really blame him for the ruckus he was making, since he was clasped in the firm paws of Savasa’s lion. For a moment he could only stare. It was a disturbing sight to see the little creature being batted about like a beetle by a cat.
‘What’s this?’ Arkron asked curiously, hands on her hips.
Reginald watched, feeling nausea steadily rise in him. There was something wrong about the entire scene. Not just the poor creature’s suffering, but Arkron and Savasa’s complete detachment to it.
‘Spy,’ Savasa said tonelessly from her reclined position. ‘Found ‘im movin’ about de camp last night.’
The Denizen howled as the lion clubbed him, sending him flying. Before the creature could stand, the lion was on him again. ‘I’m not a spy!’ came his muffled cry from under a heavy paw.
Arkron huffed in disbelief and sauntered over to Savasa. ‘Got any information out of him yet?’
‘No,’ she grumbled. ‘’Asn’t been talking much.’
Reginald swallowed as he watched the lion clamp its paws down over the creature. He took a deep breath. ‘Stop this.’
Arkron and Savasa looked at him sharply. ‘What?’
‘Stop this. Now. This is torture.’
Arkron’s gaze grew cold. ‘We’re not playing games, Reginald. This is war, and war has an ugly side. You need to get that through your head.’
Reginald marched to the wall determinedly and grabbed a torch from its sconce, fighting down his frustration. ‘I don’t give a damn! It’s wrong! If we don’t have morals and standards, if we don’t have something worth fighting for, then we’re no different than them. I want nothing to do with a cause like that. We’ve got to be different! Otherwise, there is no point to any of this. You don’t stop this now, you lose your little spokesman, see how far you get then!’
He trudged towards the towering lion and the Denizen, which was now curled into a miserable, bleeding ball. The lion bared its teeth with a horrible snarl and lurched forward, claws sweeping out in a sharp arc. He dodged to the left and as the beast lost its balance, Reginald thrust the torch into its face with a loud shout, his knees weak beneath him.
The lion roared as the flames danced across its nose, pawing madly and took a step back, momentarily abandoning its toy. Quickly, shaking with terror, Reginald lunged in and grabbed the limp Denizen by the arms, pulling him out of reach of the animal. The beast watched with dangerous eyes, but, with its nose still a stinging reminder, didn’t chance the fire again. It let out a horrible, warning roar, however, which made Reginald retreat all the faster.
The Denizen groaned
in dizzy pain, no longer conscious as Reginald rested him on the rug. He doubled over for a moment, panting, aware of the two women watching him incredulously.
‘Go get a physician,’ Reginald growled angrily. No-one moved. ‘Now!’
Arkron swore and stepped forward. He watched her warily. ‘Calm down, I’m the best doctor you’ll find around here.’ She checked him over, voice quiet. ‘Why did you save him?’
Reginald turned away from her. ‘Because I don’t want to be like the other side. We need to be different; we need to have something worth fighting for. And he said he wasn’t a spy. Perhaps we should give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps we should hear him out. We don’t have to believe him. We just have to listen. He might have information and he might not. Like you said, there’s a lot of Denizens out there that aren’t priests. He could be what he says. All of those Denizens can’t be evil, you know that. If you’re worried about him, put him in the catacombs. Just make sure he’s not ill-treated.’
Arkron smiled faintly. ‘Well, Lord Regi, I’m impressed. You might not make such a bad king after all.’
He returned the smile. ‘We all have to start somewhere.’
A blade landed with a thunk, embedded into the rug between Reginald and the Denizen.
‘What the hell was that for?’ He whirled round to Savasa.
Savasa stood angrily. ‘I ‘andle de questioning around ‘ere. An I do not want yeh messing with my methods!’
Reginald glowered. ‘Well forgive me for disturbing you and your torture; if I may remind you, I have just as much a say in things around here as you! I’m your King!’
‘Do not use that against me! I serve no-one!’ She snapped something in a thick accent, and then stormed from the room, still ranting.
The Denizen moaned and opened its yellow eyes.