Passages (Alternate Worlds Book 1)

by Taylor Leigh

Thedric gaped down at his fist. ‘That actually felt pretty good!’ He advanced on his brother. ‘Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to do that? Beat your little narrow face in, after all the things you’ve said? And who’s going to stop me now? We’re both going to die!’

  He struck Andrew again and Andrew threw himself at Thedric with two well-placed strikes, one to the side of the neck and one to the kidney. He kept his breathing and emotions as controlled as possible. Thedric shoved Andrew, wrapping his forearm round his brother’s throat and squeezed. Andrew, wheezing and mentally cursing his brother, slammed Thedric up against the wall and Thedric swore loudly.

  A horrible smash shattered everything. Thedric finally released Andrew and they both dashed to the far door.

  ‘They’re just outside,’ Andrew said, slightly hoarse. ‘Time to hide.’

  Thedric stared at Andrew. ‘Any place close?’ He was breathing hard, but whatever panic had taken hold of him earlier seemed to have vanished after their brief tussle. Andrew quietly congratulated himself.

  His brain ran through every passageway and secret cupboard within running distance of the spot they were in now. Several seemed promising. ‘Five. Follow me.’

  * * * * *

  Reginald kept his face hidden as he hugged the shadows outside the gladiator’s pen. He could hardly believe he was standing here. It was time, finally. In the sky above them, the stars glowed with a menacing finality. In one more night, they would align, and whatever force that held the Daemons at bay would be broken. The stones would connect and the doorway between Realms would be thrown wide. As he stared up at the sky now, he found it impossible to comprehend. The sky was so quiet and still, as it always was, yet two of the stars seemed to blink with a greater light, outshining the others.

  Messages had been sent, seeping throughout the lower layers, to the ears of soldiers, gatekeepers, every person who was tired of the oppression of the Denizens and wanted to do something about it. They were in surprising numbers.

  Tonight weapons were being sharpened and courage was being drawn. Throughout the lower layers and secret tunnels, people knew: blood was going to be spilled tonight. And it was starting with the gladiators.

  It had begun when a female fighter, a woman named Jasana who stood up against the Denizens, was to be executed as an example to the rest. Don’t step out of line, was clearly the message, and it was going to be carried out in the public square of the lowest layer.

  Not many guards had been placed round the outside of the Pen and he was counting on the fact they wouldn’t notice him or Arkron, who stood across from him in the shadows. The plan was that they would quietly join the gladiator group in their procession up to the spot of execution and hopefully along the way get in a word that the time had come. With all of the gladiators out in the open it was the best night for it.

  The iron gates swung open, and the Denizens scattered out, padding across the ground on their spindly legs. With whips and spears they ushered the gladiators forward like cattle. Reginald locked eyes with Arkron through the crowd and with a nod they both melted into the group.

  Marus was leading the way, shoulders back, strong, square jaw clenched. When his eyes caught Arkron’s he slowed his pace enough to be overtaken by the other fighters. Soon they were in the centre of the procession, surrounded by impressive, strong bodies. The gladiators did their best to shelter the three from prying eyes, effectively keeping them from notice of the Denizens.

  ‘What’s up?’ Marus asked grimly, leaning in close.

  ‘It’s happening tonight,’ Arkron said. ‘We’re taking back this city tonight.’

  Marus laughed humourlessly. ‘Good luck.’

  Arkron glowered. ‘Marus, now is the time! With all of you gladiators out in the open, with all of the townspeople about to watch one of their beloved fighters put to death, it’s the perfect time. You all are the ultimate celebrities. They will follow your lead.’

  Marus gazed up ahead; the city was glowing with a gentle yellow of hundreds of fires. It reminded Reginald of what he figured the Daemon’s city must look like.

  ‘In case you haven’t noticed,’ Marus muttered. ‘We have no weapons, we’re surrounded and we’re unorganised. Not exactly the best circumstances.’

  ‘And yet you’re still the best. You can do it, take out a few Denizens and you have weapons, and you won’t be alone. Come on, Marus, I need you. I promise once this starts there won’t be any stopping it. I’ll get weapons to you; I am working with Red Scorpion, after all.’

  Marus smiled thinly.

  Arkron gave him a look. ‘You do this and I’ll make it worth your while.’

  Marus actually burst out laughing then. ‘Is that a promise?’

  Arkron shrugged.

  He let out a growl and glanced at Reginald. ‘Fine. But if things seem like they’re going wrong, I’m getting me and my people out. I’ve still got that spaceship out there, you know.’

  Arkron’s eyebrows went up. ‘You leaving something half finished? How very uncharacteristic.’

  ‘Don’t try and guilt me. I’m looking out for these people first and foremost. I don’t care about his silly little throne.’ He gestured to Reginald.

  Reginald stiffened. ‘Oi! That’s not what this is about! This is about saving humanity from Daemons! It’s about saving the world!’

  Marus straightened. ‘Daemons? You failed to mention that little detail! What else aren’t you telling me?’

  Arkron rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘Calm down. They’re not here yet. But we need you to help us keep that from happening.’

  Marus chuckled. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that. And look where that got me, for the last ten years a gladiator in a miserable little city.’

  Arkron huffed. ‘You picked this mission for yourself. I could have taken you anywhere.’

  Marus grunted. ‘Yeah, well. I figured my personal daemons would follow me anywhere. Better to hide in plain sight.’

  Arkron moved in close and squeezed his arm gently. ‘Maybe when all of this is over they’ll go away.’

  Marus eyed her for a moment and Reginald looked down just quick enough to see Arkron slip a scimitar from under her robes to beneath his cloak. The gladiator drifted away from them then, nodding to others as he made his way back to the front.

  Arkron grabbed Reginald’s arm and muttered incoherently under her breath, pulling him towards the outer column of the gladiators. They broke away from the group but were not stopped even though Reginald could have sworn a Denizen stared directly at them.

  He waited until they were some distance away, hidden in the rocks, before he spoke. ‘How’d you do that? I thought they were going to catch us for sure!’

  Arkron shrugged. She held up her fingertips. They glowed with a gentle green light. ‘A little magic never hurt anyone. Distractor spell. Influences people to not look where they want to.’

  Reginald grinned. ‘Brilliant! You’ll have to teach me that someday.’

  Arkron patted him on the head. ‘Sorry, kid, you don’t have the genes. Now come on, we have to get into that city and to the public square. There’s an execution we have to witness, after all.’

  They made their way up the jagged, winding slope, keeping well away from the gladiators, and reached the outer city walls with little difficulty. Arkron quickly found one of the old smuggler tunnels, which was cleverly disguised as part of the rock face, and they both made it inside of the city with no trouble.

  For being so late, the city was surprisingly active. Obviously the news of the gladiator’s execution had spread and it seemed as if the entire adult population had stayed up for it. As Arkron and Reginald went, they watched for familiar faces they’d met on their many journeys to the city. People whom had agreed to fight. With each person they recognised, they told them to watch for the signal and then sent them off to tell more.

  Reginald told himself not to be too optimistic, there were a hundred ways their insane plans could go w
rong and if they were betrayed by just one person, the whole thing could come crashing down. Still, things seemed to be taking a turn for the better. Everyone’s hatred of the Denizens seemed to fuel a strange loyalty towards the movement against them.

  A loud bell sounded throughout the lowest layer and in one eerie movement, everyone turned to walk towards the sound, as if in a trance. Reginald watched, disturbed, as people gently pushed past him. The bell sounded again, hollow and mournful.

  Reginald saw something out of the corner of his eye and watched a sleek figure dart from rooftop to rooftop. He noticed several others around him. A chill ran through him. He recognised the red sashes they wore. The Red Scorpion were inside the city gates.

  Arkron took the lead; she must have spotted the figures as well. ‘Better hurry up,’ she said. ‘We don’t want to miss our date.’

  Reginald followed her, trying to come across as just as downtrodden and dazed as everyone else round him. His nerves were so jumpy, however, he wasn’t sure how well he blended in.

  The streets were dark, the buildings and canvases leaning into the alley. The very few fires that were lit along the road did more to increase the shadows than chase them away. It was a good spot to be ambushed and robbed. An even better spot to hide.

  He stopped, eyes flicking down one of the dark side streets. There was something back there, watching him. They were being followed. Reginald narrowed his eyes, trying to make any sense of a shape. His heart thudded heavily in his chest. Arkron was still walking away from him, unaware of their stalker. He couldn’t leave it. Any moment now, their pursuer could shout an alarm and ruin everything. Reginald had never been in a fight before, but he felt a resolve harden in him. Whoever was watching them couldn’t be allowed to live.

  Suddenly, as if guessing what he was thinking, the dark form surged forward. A Denizen darted out of the shadows straight at him. Reginald jumped back in alarm, swiping his sword out wide.

  ‘No, sir! It is me!’

  Reginald blinked rapidly, nerves still on fire. It was Crammell, and behind him stood several others of his species, all watching him with beady, yellow eyes.

  Reginald let out a huge breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. ‘What the hell were you trying to do? Get yourself killed?’ he kept his voice a low hiss. ‘I nearly took your head off.’

  Crammell shrugged his thin shoulders. ‘No sir, you not so good with sword.’

  Reginald rolled his eyes, puffing his breath. Arkron had finally stopped and was watching him impatiently from the end of the street. ‘What are you doing here? Who are these lot?’

  Crammell gestured to the others round him. ‘My friends, sir. They are here to fight. We want nothing to do with Daemons, sir. We only want to live in peace. We are people as well. If our species must survive by joining with Daemons or humans, we choose humans every time.’

  Reginald swallowed a heavy breath and broke into a grin. ‘Crammell, you’re amazing. But I don’t know how safe it is for you. Denizens are going to be targets tonight. People won’t be able to tell the difference between you and the enemy.’

  Crammell nodded. ‘Aye, we know. But our own kind won’t know either. We’ve survived this long.’

  Reginald debated for a moment. ‘All right. Stay out of sight, aye? I can hardly tell you apart myself.’

  He turned from the Denizens and jogged back towards Arkron, but Crammell tripped him up, grabbing his arm. ‘Please, sir, let Crammell go with you.’

  Reginald directed his eyes to the sky. ‘It’s going to be dangerous!’

  Crammell bobbed his head quickly. ‘Understood!’

  Reginald sighed. ‘All right. Don’t blame me if something bad happens.’

  He trudged back to Arkron, Crammell padding along beside him.

  The witch raised her thin eyebrows and gave him an amused look.

  Reginald shook his head. ‘Please, don’t say anything. Let’s just go.’

  The square was the same area that Reginald had been to earlier, where he’d spoken from the temple steps. The large bell he had rung was swinging now, the source of the sound they had heard throughout the streets. Up at the top of the steps were the Denizens. At their feet, on her knees, was the gladiator woman, Jasana, head lowered.

  One large Denizen stood off to one side. There was something wrong about the creature. He was too big, too strong. Reginald struggled to find what disturbed him, but couldn’t put a finger on it.

  Crammell leaned in close. ‘That be Sinsetun, sir.’

  Reginald felt a sliver of fear slide through him as he looked at the creature. He was tall, sharp teeth bared, hunched over so his whole body curled slightly. Another Denizen stood over Jasana, a large sword in his brown, leathery hands.

  The gladiators all crowded the foot of the steps, well-guarded. Surrounding them was a tired group of lower layer citizens and thin, bedraggled Denizens. Beyond that, a circle of strong, red-robed Denizen priests, and more palace guards, obviously there to keep the peace in case a riot erupted.

  Sinsetun stepped forward. ‘Good people!’ he shouted, voice gravelly. Reginald was surprised by the amount of hatred he felt for him. This being was the one responsible for whatever happened to Victoria, not to mention his aunt and father. ‘You have been through much,’ Sinsetun continued. ‘Times are hard. The unfortunate sickness of the Queen has left her too weak to rule. Her trust in me and my fellow brothers,’ he gestured round him, ‘has been a difficult adjustment for all, I know. But we must stand together! You must trust us that things will get better. And there’s only one way for that. You must stop up your ears! Stop listening to the foul language of those who despair, of criminals whom want nothing better than for violence and anarchy! That is not the way to peace, and it is not the way to live!

  ‘Now this woman, this serpent, is spreading lies to make you distrust us, to make you, good people, lose faith. I tell you, do not listen to this snake! We shall do what we always do to snakes: cut off her head so her tongue can wag no more!’

  Silence followed. Sinsetun stepped back and nodded to the executioner. The Denizen grinned and lifted the sword to the silence of the crowd. The curved sword glinted off the light of the torches. Reginald felt his heart pound faster. The sword started to swing down.

  There was a grunt and then something silver and curved arched through the air from the crowd, flipping end over end. It was a scimitar and it slammed directly into the executioner’s chest. The creature stumbled backwards, dropping his own sword and falling to the ground in a pool of black blood. At the same moment, someone from the gladiator crowd dashed up the temple steps and caught the executioner’s sword before it hit the ground. Marus swung round, his newly acquired sword sweeping with him to sever the head off of one of the Denizen guards. He held up his blade and glanced down at the crowd, eyes shining. ‘That’s your cue,’ he said with a wry grin.

  The square exploded into action, as if set off by an invisible fuse. Weapons from everywhere were drawn and the villagers turned on the few Denizens standing round the perimeter of the square. Red Scorpion soldiers with long, thin swords dropped from the roofs. The gladiators broke from their spot like water and attacked the Denizens with their bare hands, ripping weapons away and plunging them into any red robe-wearing flesh they could find. The Denizens of the lower layers fought against their own kind as well, forming small packs and throwing themselves at the priests. Palace guards froze in front of the angry hoard of people. They stood for a tense moment, regarding each other, then the guards turned and joined the mob, dashing off down the narrow streets after their fleeing prey.

  Crammell grabbed up a sword, dodging out of the way of oncoming violence, and made it to the temple. He swung up to the top of the bell and raised his voice, which melted into the crowd. ‘Denizens for freedom! Stop the tyranny!’

  Reginald swore. The little guy was going to get himself killed acting like this.

  Marus stood at the top of the steps, grinning. Reginald pulled his
own sword out from beneath his robes and he watched as Sinsetun, from behind Marus, snarled and leapt forward. Reginald shoved his way through the thick crowd, shouts drowned out by the cacophony around them.

  Sinsetun hit Marus squarely in the back and the two tumbled down the steps. Marus kicked Sinsetun hard in the ribs and the creature scrabbled backwards just as Reginald arrived. Sinsetun cast him one hateful look and then broke into a run, red robes whipping behind him. Reginald hauled Marus to his feet just as Arkron dashed up beside them. It was a miracle—or perhaps great credit to his skill, that Marus hadn’t been killed.

  ‘Where did he go?’

  Marus wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘Don’t know. He ran that way.’ He pointed up a sloping road.

  Arkron groaned. ‘He’s headed for the palace. Come on, we have to go. He can’t reach there alive. He’s going to try and open the portal. He’ll lead us right to it.’

  Crammell dropped down next to them. ‘He has the power to do it. The Darkness gifted him.’

  Arkron scowled. ‘I’ve heard it’s possible for Daemons to alter people’s DNA. They can’t do it themselves since they’re not physical beings, but Sinsetun might have the genes to open the portal.’

  Reginald rubbed his temples. ‘This is getting insane.’

  Assad jogged up to them, breathing hard. ‘We’ve got things under control down here, Marus. Go!’

  Crammell glanced to Assad. ‘We can work together. My soldiers are very clever!’

  Assad grinned. ‘Well, we could always use more help. We’ve got to push the priests to the city walls. We’ll keep them busy down here; you three go do the important stuff.’

  ‘Sounds like I’ve got a date.’ Marus flipped his sword casually. ‘Oh, I love it when they run!’

  Reginald took a deep breath and stared round the square, which was in a complete state of pandemonium. Assad gave him a shrug and trotted back into the fray, Crammell staggering after him. Reginald glanced back, Arkron and Marus were already running up the road. ‘Oi!’ he cried. ‘Wait for me…’ With another breath, Reginald gripped his sword tighter and raced after them.