Beyond the Knock Knock Door

by Scott Monk

  Cavalli sensed weakness and pounced. He caught Michael’s guard down, kicked his legs from under him and stabbed a heel into the fallen boy’s guts. As he point ed his sword at Michael’s throat, the courtyard hushed. Only the rain fell. Michael felt tears as he looked along the nicked blade to the captain’s conquering grin.

  ‘Hero of all heroes, are you, my liege?’ he asked. ‘The greatest swordsman in all the Seven Worlds of Wonder? Then what does that make me, Sir Michael? A fool?’

  The sword tip hovered as Michael searched those grey-purple eyes for mercy. Deep inside, something shadowy and cruel threatened to overpower the captain.

  Suddenly, armour scraped and clattered about the garrison. En masse, the young marines knelt and saluted with fists across their chests. His concentration broken, Captain Cavalli twisted round to discover why. Behind him, protected by umbrellas held by her servants, stood young Queen Oriana. Her stance was as fierce as the lightning.

  The captain dropped to one knee as Samantha rushed to aid her brother, Aurelio close behind. ‘Your Majesty, I did not –’

  ‘Captain Cavalli, why are my western and northern watchtowers unmanned?’

  ‘I –’

  ‘The crew of the Lord Lyndoch radioed my government on the emergency frequency no less than five minutes ago with news of giant waves heading for our shores. Why hasn’t the alarm been raised and your marines mobilised to deal with this threat?’

  ‘Begging your patience, Your Majesty, we were just enjoying some sport. We didn’t –’

  ‘What sport is worth risking the four million lives placed under your care, captain?’

  ‘None, Your Majesty.’

  She turned to the junior officer. ‘Sergeant. Take command of this situation. Captain Cavalli is relieved of his duty. I want all boats launched immediately and the barricades in place. I’d prefer to have Pacifico above the sea rather than at the bottom of it.’

  ‘You heard Her Majesty!’ the sergeant yelled at his marines. ‘Move!’

  A siren screamed from the top of the garrison as the young soldiers rushed down the steps towards the marina. It was answered by another siren, then another.

  ‘Mercy on my soldiers, Your Majesty,’ Cavalli said, head bowed. ‘The Prime Minister and I thought a show of arms would inspire our troops in the ways of the Hall. I know now it was folly and the fault rests entirely with me.’

  ‘That I already know, captain. You have shamed our city with your “sport”. Holding a sword to the neck of one of our most treasured guests insults us all. You will be punished, if indeed your hot-bloodedness hasn’t condemned us first. Prime Minister Pasquale, stand your ground!’

  He froze by the front gates. Pulling off his orange cap, he wrung it between his hands as he turned back to her. ‘Y-Yes, Your Majesty?’

  ‘Is this true? You share in this guilt?’

  ‘Please, Your Majesty, the young knight’s life was not threatened. Our good captain here gave his word. He wanted to test his arm against our friend, who himself agreed to the display. Isn’t that right, Sir Michael?’

  ‘Not like that,’ he heaved.

  ‘This is your second indiscretion, Prime Minister,’ Queen Oriana said. ‘I strongly advise you to avoid a third.’

  He bowed deeply, his robes jingling with bells.

  ‘Be gone – both of you. You’re confined to your quarters until I send for you. Let’s hope for both your sakes that the city is still standing beyond this hour.’

  Pasquale and Cavalli slunk away: the Prime Minister – pale and fretting; the captain – dark and scheming.

  The Queen wasn’t alone in her condemnation. Aurelio grabbed Cavalli’s arm as he left but was shrugged away. The teenage piper held on, stared at the marine with anger then had his hand forcefully prised away.

  Nearby, Samantha waited for Michael to regain his breath as more sirens wailed. ‘Finished being a human chopping board?’ she asked.

  ‘They tricked me, Sam. They wanted me to watch their training – not be a part of it. Cavalli told his men to lock the gates. Something’s not right with him. You have to teach me some kendo moves –’

  ‘So you can fight him? Ain’t gonna happen, Squirt.’

  Aurelio gave a puzzled look. ‘You can no longer fight, my liege?’ he asked, but was interrupted by Her Majesty.

  ‘Sir Michael, are you injured?’ The young Queen softened her voice and stood before him, holding her own umbrella. She’d dismissed her servants outside.

  ‘No, I’m okay. Thanks.’

  ‘My deepest apologies, friend, for my captain’s folly. His actions are inexcusable. I hope word of his indiscretion won’t leave these walls.’

  He nodded. ‘But I’d be happy never to see him again.’

  She glanced at the gates. ‘I understand. Cavalli is an excellent marine but a troubled one. When he was a child, a Scorned hunting party killed his father. I fear he still tastes that bitterness.’

  A freighter blasted over the garrison and cut her off.

  ‘We must leave,’ she said calmly. ‘Come. I have a personal transport ready to fly us above the storm. The giant waves won’t reach us there.’

  ‘But what about Luke? The people?’ Samantha asked. ‘Won’t the whole city be wiped out?’

  The streets were chaotic. Tourists sprinted to the marina as ships launched into the stratosphere. A squall howled across the emptying plazas and smashed together bobbing gondolas. Frightened Pacificans nailed up their windows and doors, while children huddled in their bedrooms.

  Aboard an intergalactic cruiser he’d fled to to escape his sister, Luke ran past lifeboats and deckchairs – and saw impending death. Three gigantic waves rolled towards the city, wide as the horizon. They threatened to smite the ninety islands flat.

  His earpiece received another emergency transmission: ‘Category one storm! Category one storm! All ships must leave Pacifico immediately!’

  The cruiser lurched below him. Its giant engines fired and the behemoth pulled free of the harbour. Shields began cocooning each deck before space flight. He had to fly!

  BOOM!

  Thunder scared the stranded tourists back into the city as the last ships vanished among the lightning. Heading into the squall, dozens of marines scrambled into boats and rowed towards the watchtowers. The first crews spiralled up the titans’ hollow middles and then, from one to the next, came a rapid stuttering like an anchor in free fall. Chains – held aloft by the giant hands – snapped taunt and the sea foamed and exploded. Suddenly, enormous concrete blocks surfaced between the titans and formed the beginnings of a barricade.

  More ringed the city as marines berthed and scaled the towers. However, a dozen walls weren’t enough. The massive waves would easily surge through the gaps. Spotting the other crews still fighting the conditions, Luke threw himself into the buffeting winds and tunnelled towards a stony king.

  He almost smacked into a wall as he powered full-throttle through an open window near the top. He tumbled on a landing then sat up, aware that a few centimetres to the left and he would have fallen into the tower’s hollow middle. More chains stretched from the crown to the sunken depths, and stairs spiralled around them. Forget walking! He jetted upwards and found six giant wooden levers poking from the floor.

  ‘The first one!’ a young marine yelled far below him, hurrying up the steps. ‘Pull the first one!’

  Luke did so. The lever was tight. Shouldering it with all his strength, the heavy chains suddenly whipped up and down on squealing pulleys as part of a counterweight system like an elevator. He rushed to the window on the right and saw a barricade surface between his titan and the next.

  ‘Now throw the locks!’ the marine ordered, closer this time.

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The second and third levers. You need to secure the barricades.’

  Again, he didn’t argue. He thumped them hard. From the middle of the watchtower, two giant bolts swung outwards and locked the barricades in place.
r />   ‘The waves!’ yelled another marine below. ‘They’re on top of us!’

  Luke grabbed the fourth lever and pulled. Again, the chains spun and rolled. The barrier on the left emerged when –

  ‘Too late!’

  The first massive wave slammed into the titans and barricades with an explosive force. It threw Luke off his feet and smacked him headfirst into a wall. Water gushed through the windows and drenched all hands. The next thing he remembered, a marine held him by the armpits to stop him being washed down the middle. ‘Secure yourself!’ he warned as his companions slammed the shutters. ‘The second wave’s about to hit!’

  It punched the blockade harder this time, as did the third. When the fourth and fifth crashed against the walls with less energy, the marines listened, counted the time between following impacts, then gingerly pushed open a top-hatch into the rain.

  From their vantage point on the crown, they surveyed the wreckage. To the left of them, houses on the nearest island drained with floodwaters and cafe tables slid from roofs where a barricade had been torn from its chains. A shaky jetty collapsed into the sea as follow-up waves pounded the shoreline with planks, seaweed and filth. A horse-and-cart bolted through the streets without its rider, and the first few doors cracked open as the brave wondered if their city was safe.

  Luke sagged against the edge until a marine grabbed him in a bear hug.

  ‘My friend! You’ve saved Pacifico!’

  20

  The city faced a new threat two mornings later. It wasn’t a freak storm or more giant waves, but bleary-eyed nobles in their silk dressing gowns. From their balconies, they shouted and shook their fists at hundreds of Scorned workmen, who scaled rooftops shouldering loads of new tiles or set about sawing planks for the new jetty. When the only answer was more hammering, the lords and ladies – looking anything but prim – slammed their French doors, promised to petition the Prime Minister then crawled back into bed.

  Several islands away, Michael sweltered in the morning heat as he waited by the Grand Canal with Samantha and Luke. Around them, a large crowd had gathered, taking holo-photos or calling out the Gold Knight’s name. He felt exposed without his hood but, thankfully, today he wasn’t the main attraction. Just like him, they expected the arrival of somebody far more important.

  The marine sergeant ordered his young soldiers to rope off the tourists as the goodwill evaporated and feet grew sore. Two quick-thinking harlequins – a green and a yellow – eased the tension by staging an impromptu show. They juggled throwing pins, the contents of a woman’s handbag and a trio of hapless turtles before distant cheers stole away their audience. Four white stallions adorned with starfish clomped towards the canal, pulling a sea snail carriage coated in gold. Michael felt his chest hitch as they reined to a stop, a door opened and Queen Oriana waved to her people.

  ‘Show off,’ Samantha whispered into Luke’s ear. Then, glimpsing inside the carriage, she asked, ‘So do you think it turns into a pumpkin after midnight?’

  ‘I don’t know about pumpkins,’ he said, ‘but look at Mikey’s face – it’s definitely turning beetroot!’

  Their brother blushed as Queen Oriana accepted his arm and alighted from the carriage. She wore a clownfish dress with high shoulders and seams that bristled with white and orange threads. A diamond necklace rested across her small bosom, and her purple hair bloomed upwards under a conch tiara. The five small amethysts freckling each cheek caught the sun as she smiled. It was clear to all who was the fairest in this land.

  ‘Thank you kindly,’ she said, waving for silence. ‘But it is not I who should accept your praise today, but our dear friend, Agent Luke of the Star Ranger Corp, whose quick thinking this week saved all our lives.’

  The people roared their approval as she lifted his hand in victory. She stepped aside and let him bask in the moment as they chanted his name. Bewildered, Samantha shook her head: if Michael was the colour of beetroot, then Luke was turning plum. ‘And I’m going bananas,’ she said.

  Michael led Queen Oriana to her royal ferry before joining her at the bow. Luke and Samantha were shown the stern of the black and gold boat, while the captain, crew and marines kept their own company in the central cabin.

  ‘Sit,’ the young queen said to Michael, patting the dozens of velvet cushions beside her. ‘Let us enjoy a morning free of politics and the worries of state.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’

  ‘And please, Sir Michael,’ she smiled, ‘now that we are away from my court, call me Oriana. Even royals seek to be treated as friends.’

  He blushed. ‘Okay, but as long as you just call me Michael.’

  Shouting children chased the royal ferry along the Grand Canal until they reached a footbridge. Oriana waved them goodbye as her party chugged on.

  ‘You look a little pale,’ she said, noticing him close his eyes. ‘Are you ill?’

  ‘Boats and I don’t get along,’ he said, squeezing a cushion. ‘My dad took me fishing once when I was seven. He rocked the sides to scare me as a joke. Except I fell in and drank half the river.’

  She pursed a smile. ‘Well, Michael, if the captain dares shake this boat, you and I shall both fall into the canal, and come sunset he will be hanging from the gallows.’

  Michael was horrified until she gently laughed. Soon, he joined in.

  More people cheered from windows as the ferry navigated a bend. ‘Long live Her Majesty! Long live Queen Oriana!’

  She waved back then savoured the smells of thyme, rosemary, oregano and basil wafting from balcony gardens. Schools of emperor red snapper, little spinefoots and scissortail sergeants drifted around them, as did a baby stingray and a pair of pineapple fish. Even a nosy seahorse hovered above her outstretched glove, fluttering its little fins.

  ‘Do all your fish fly?’ he asked.

  ‘Yours do not?’

  ‘No, they swim.’

  ‘But how do they breathe?’

  ‘Through slots behind their heads called gills. I don’t know how they work, but they help extract oxygen from the water.’

  The seahorse flew away. She blinked. ‘How strange. All those colourful creatures hidden for no one to see.’

  ‘I guess so. I’ve never thought about it that way.’

  A sunfish lazed by, soaking up the heat. It looked at them then rolled over on its belly. ‘Where are all your birds then?’ he asked.

  ‘You’ve seen a bird?’ she asked, grabbing his arm.

  ‘Of course. Thousands of them.’

  ‘Please, describe one for me.’

  He did something better. He opened his journal and drew parrots, eagles, owls, pigeons, penguins, emus and even the hawk that nested above his apartment. With each new picture, her eyes grew wider, like a child hearing her favourite fairytale.

  ‘Our world once had such beautiful creatures,’ she said, the excitement fading from her voice. ‘That was until they were stolen and held for ransom, which we refused to pay. As punishment, they’ve never been seen again.’

  ‘Stolen? Every single one? How?’

  She glanced at Samantha, who was thumping Luke with her hat in retaliation for hitting her with a cushion. ‘It’s best you ask your companion,’ Oriana said. ‘The way of the pirate is foreign to me.’

  He saw the ostrich feathers on his sister’s hat and under stood why many Pacificans snarled when she walked by.

  Flotsam and jetsam slapped against the walls of the Grand Canal and grew thicker as the captain carefully entered the harbour. In the shadow of the royal watchtowers, barges cleaned up the destruction left behind by the gigantic waves, while pumps continued draining still-flooded islands.

  ‘We are fortunate no lives were lost,’ she said, spotting a red gown rippling on the surface. ‘One-fifth of our gondolas are sunk; many houses are damaged; part of the water supply has been compromised; and the western eateries will need demolishing, but we shall rebuild. Repairing people’s trust may take more time, however.’

/>   Beside the moored cruise liners, tourists berated staff about stranding them during the emergency. Meanwhile, business was still business, and gaggles of new visitors disembarked, eager to explore the destruction.

  Queen Oriana glanced down at the sound of tearing paper. Michael pulled a page from his journal, ripped it into a square and began folding. ‘For you,’ he said, presenting her with the finished gift.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘An origami crane. It’s a bird that lives on my world.’

  ‘You come from Origami?’

  ‘No.’ He smiled. ‘Origami is the art of paper-folding, see? I learnt it at school.’

  She held it in her smooth glove until a sharp breeze gave it flight. She caught it again and laughed, the ten amethysts flashing on her cheeks. ‘Thank you. Thank you, kindly.’

  On the other side of the cabin, Luke snickered. ‘Did you see that? Mikey’s in love.’

  ‘He can’t be in love,’ Samantha said. ‘He’s only twelve.’

  ‘Hello, you’re twelve and in love with Rajan Sudhakar.’

  ‘Am not. And I never was, thank you very much. I pretended to be nice to him so I could copy his maths exam.’

  ‘He copied yours! And you both failed!’

  ‘Whatever. Anyway, Smarty Pants, how could I date a boy with less facial hair than me?’

  At the bow, Oriana and Michael turned at the wild laughter. ‘Your companions seem to be in good humour,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, and that’s what worries me.’

  The ferry headed for a northern island clearly different from the others. Devoid of buildings except for an enormous mansion, it was landscaped with thousands of rose bushes as well as hedge mazes, rotundas, statues and jets of water shaped like tunnels to walk under. ‘The royal retreat,’ she explained. ‘I must beg your indulgence on its size. The main house only has twenty-seven guestrooms.’

  As they powered towards the Island of Roses, they passed waterbuses, buoys, dolphins, gondolas, windsurfers and giant amphitheatres. A trio of elegant blue spaceships shaped like vertical boomerangs hummed overhead before splashing down into port.