Blue Dome (The Blue Dome Series)

by Gill, J. G.

Demarge said nothing. He glanced at her with a mix of curiosity and disgust, as if she was an insect that had just flown in through the window.

  Freya drew her hands together and a ball of sparkling gold light sprung to life, hissing and crackling like a nest of electric snakes. Before Demarge could move, she flicked the missile from her fingertips, aiming it at his head. He glanced up, smiled, and raised his hand like a policeman stopping traffic. The light shattered instantly, prickling the walls with golden splinters.

  “Nobody tells me what to do,” he said.

  Demarge’s eyes shifted slowly from Freya, back to his victim pinned against the wall. He twisted his wrist once more, forcing a startled yelp out of Daden. Freya glared at Demarge, biting her tongue as she fought her instincts not to fire a further missile. She hated to admit it, but Demarge had gained the upper hand. At least for the time being.

  “Good, I think you’ve both got the message now.”

  Demarge unclenched his fist and Daden slumped to the ground, beads of waxy sweat pouring off his face. Freya leant down, snatched him under her arm, and hauled him to his feet. There was no time to think, she knew she had to get Daden to safety. Without stopping to glance back at Demarge, Freya grabbed Daden’s hand and dragged him up remaining steps of the staircase. They were moving so quickly that neither of them noticed that Demarge wasn’t following. As they finally rounded the last spiral and came to the final step, Freya and Daden were suddenly confronted by a solid oak door.

  “We won’t pass through that, the wood’s too dense,” said Freya.

  She quickly grabbed the door handle and threw her weight down on it but it was locked.

  “Quick, the light,” said Daden.

  A huddle of coppery sparks glimmered from Freya’s fingertips and snaked their way into the keyhole. There was a sharp clacking sound as the lock broke instantly. Freya slammed open the door and leapt onto the narrow mezzanine balcony that circled the base of the dome, high above the marble floor beneath. Had she or Daden glanced up they would have seen the huge, imposing figures of St Bartholomew performing various miracles, but paintings were the last things on their minds.

  “We need to get out of here and find the mine,” said Freya.

  Daden paused. Something wasn’t right.

  “Where’s Demarge?” he said uneasily.

  “I don’t know, perhaps we lost him,” said Freya, scanning the room for another door.

  “Demarge isn’t someone you just lose,” said Daden, laughing bitterly. It bothers me Freya, this is all too easy.”

  Freya barely seemed to hear. She was now standing in front of a wooden panel carved with an elaborate woodland scene. A thick handle was camouflaged among the foliage.

  “This has to be the door outside, there’s no other exit.” She began to wrench the door handle but again it was locked.

  “Freya, wait,” said Daden.

  It was too late, another flurry of coppery sparks had already flown into the keyhole. Within seconds, gales of wind were galloping inside the dome with a high-pitched whinny. Freya turned to Daden.

  “Come on,” she said, stepping through the door and onto the balcony outside.

  Daden peered out at the night sky, the dark purple mist churning restlessly like a giant tide. He stepped cautiously through the door and joined Freya, now surveying the Wiltdown neighbourhoods sleeping peacefully below.

  “The mine is over there,” she said, pointing vaguely to the north east of the city.

  “You may need a map.” A cold, familiar voice sliced through the bruised sky.

  Daden and Freya turned slowly to see Demarge approaching from around the side of the dome. His coat billowed in great, black plumes behind him, the emeralds at his throat gleaming in the light.

  Freya stepped backwards, her eyes urging Daden to follow. He ignored her, determined not to let Demarge get the better of him this time as a ball of red light blossomed in his cupped hands. Before Demarge could take another full step towards them, Daden hurled the missile. The red light streaked across the black sky as if someone was gutting the night. Caught off-guard, Demarge pirouetted awkwardly. The light slid past him, glancing off the metal railing and disintegrating into a million fiery embers. A thin spiral of black smoke curled up from the hem of his coat where one of the sparks had landed. His eyes flashed with fury.

  “You’ll pay for that.”

  Freya glared at him. “We are going to rescue the Shards, Demarge. There’s nothing you can do to stop us.”

  Demarge smiled as if Freya had just told him a slightly funny joke.

  “How incredibly arrogant,” he said. “Do you think can you stop me from simply killing them as well? Freya, you are here by my grace. Just as I will soon be in the Slipworld, enjoying your fine hospitality.”

  “That’s interesting Demarge, but we actually have things to do,” said Freya.

  Demarge took a small step backwards. “Funnily enough, so do I.”

  Suddenly, he threw his arms skyward. A jagged bolt of lightning exploded from each of his gloved hands, the first zigzagging its way towards the Aeons, while the second wrapped itself around the circumference of the balcony. The dome was now wearing a ring of neon white, with Freya and Daden caught in the middle of it. By the time they realised what Demarge had done it was too late – the lightning struck, disintegrating each of them into a hailstorm of red and gold light, emblazoning the purply-black night.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Daden could sense the fragments of himself fluttering in the wind, calling to one another. As the currents swirled and changed direction, pieces of light collided, blending to form larger and larger pieces. Within minutes a solitary ball of red light was pulsing like a heartbeat in the night’s dark chest. Around him, the tremors of rain clouds buffeted his body and he flattened himself into a disc to cut through the wind. The horizon ahead was a thick vein of dark purple, the sky bleeding into indigo as it rose to meet the moon.

  The night’s brewing for a storm, Daden thought grimly. It was going to be difficult enough carrying two dry mortals back to the Cathedral, let alone two that had become waterlogged with rain. He quickened his pace, wishing that Freya was flying alongside him.

  The tungsten mine loomed out of the earth ahead like a huge metal plate. As Daden approached, the atmosphere grew eerily still, as if there was some sort of force field protecting it from the wind. The shapes of the old miners’ huts were just visible below, the row of roofs like a strip of corrugated iron. Remembering what Hester had said, Daden began to descend, the disc of light slowly morphing into a starfish of arms and legs. By the time his foot touched the ground, Daden was completely back to his human form. He cupped his hands, the soft red glow made a make-shift torch which illuminated a black door in the side of the rock. He recognised it instantly as the door through which Min and Thomas must have passed, and approached it cautiously. Even in the gloom it was clear that the door wasn’t sitting squarely on its hinges, but hanging limply to one side. That alone was worrying.

  Daden crouched and rolled a ball of red light slowly towards the bottom of the wooden panels. It struck the door, oozing like a tide over the black paint and squeezing itself underneath. There was a loud metallic crack as the door heaved itself off its hinges, shuddering heavily to the ground. A solid wall of rocks glared defiantly at Daden. The horrible realisation struck him – Min and Thomas must be in there somewhere, buried under hundreds of tonnes of raw tungsten.

  Stepping away from the mine, Daden hurled a ball of red light at the doorway, shielding his face as the missile exploded against the wall and scattered chunks of sharp, bluish-grey rock all around him. The dust was still clearing as he glanced up to see he’d only made a small dent. At this rate it would take hours to clear the wall. He needed to find another way into the mountain, fast.

  Daden ran to the doorway and pressed his hands against the rock. The wall was solid and cold and he could feel the heaviness of the tungsten seep into his body. He closed his eyes an
d ran his fingers across the crater of the explosion, trying to sense Min and Thomas’s presence. Something extremely faint pulsed in his fingertips. The signal was so faint that at first he thought he was imagining it. But the harder he concentrated, blocking out all other noises or sensations, the clearer the signal became. His eyes snapped open.

  They’re in there, I can feel it.

  Daden began tearing at the gaps between the rocks. Some were as wide as his wrist, while others were barely the width of a straw. He chose one of the larger gaps and eased his hand into it. Then he started burrowing as fast as he could. Each time his hand hit a dead end he allowed his fingers to explore the sides of the rock, searching for cracks or fissures, anything that whispered the possibility of another gap. Eventually, he was able to rest his entire forearm in the nook. Concentrating his energy into his hand, Daden willed his body to slowly melt. First his hand, then his forearm, dissolved into a fluid stream of bright red light, forming a soft fringe around the base of his elbow. Then that too, slowly started to dissolve. Soon Daden’s entire arm had become a liquid rope of light, oozing deeper and deeper into the mountain.

  Min, Thomas, he called in thought.

  The red glow curled into the dark spaces between the rocks, as the particles of raw tungsten bore down on it. Daden’s entire body was now inside the mine and he could feel himself growing more and more sluggish. A small voice began to chew on his fears – unless he could find Min and Thomas quickly he would have to leave without them.

  Yes, but not yet, he snapped back. The thought of leaving them was unbearable. Daden called again, his thoughts bounding back to him. There was no sign of the Aeons anywhere. He called again. And again. By the sixth time. Daden knew he had to leave immediately, or risk losing any chance to leave at all.

  Yet, as he began retracing his route, each millimetre felt to Daden as if he was betraying everything he had even known. There was no way of telling how long it would be before the Aeons had another chance of finding Min and Thomas. He hoped they’d be able to forgive him.

  Then, just as he was approaching the door to the mine, Daden suddenly felt another twinge. Or, at least, thought he had. The sensation was so faint. He paused, as a second pulse tremored through the rock, then a third.

  Min? Thomas?

  Daden tried to concentrate on the sounds, but the weight of the tungsten was blurring his senses, as if he’d been plunged underwater. Then, very faintly, he was sure he’d heard something – a small whisper of thought clawing its way through the rubble. There were no words exactly, just a breath, but it was enough.

  I’m here, he called to them.

  Daden felt something to his right pulling him. In the distance, through the cracks in the rock, he could see a very pale bluish-green glow inching its way towards him like a creeping moss.

  Daden, it’s us, a small, weak voice whispered.

  Daden felt a jolt of elation surge through him.

  Wait there. I’m coming to get you!

  CHAPTER XXVII

  Troy yawned, one arm creeping slowly out of his sleeping bag, followed reluctantly by the other. As he wriggled from side to side the nylon sleeping bag worked its way down his body in folds, like a snake shedding its skin. Calix stared at him, almost forgetting to blink. Troy yawned again and dabbed gingerly at his left eye. The puffy socket was rimmed in metallic-blue. I could hear the air wheeze through Troy’s teeth as he recoiled in pain. He glanced up, his eyes widening as Calix came into focus.

  “C, Is that you?”

  “Yes!”

  Before Troy could say another word, Calix lurched across and flung her arms around him. “I can’t believe it, I thought you’d been caught!” she said, muffling the words as she buried her face in his neck.

  Sitting behind them, I could see Troy’s face crinkle, first into a smile, then into a pained wince.

  “Are…you okay?” I said.

  Calix sat back sharply, her eyes flitting quickly over Troy’s body.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you? Where are they, I’ll show them…”

  “No, no, no, it’s nothing, I’m fine,” said Troy quickly. He tried to sit up, before slumping promptly back down again.

  “It doesn’t look like you’re fine,” said Calix. She slid her hands under his armpits. “Here, let me help.”

  “Thanks,” said Troy, propping himself against the wall.

  “So what happened to you?” asked Calix.

  “A bunch of stuff, most of it bad. Ian got away though, so at least that’s something.” Troy smiled wryly. “How about you?”

  His eyes had a soft, melting look about them, the way my dad used to have when he spoke to my mother. Calix briefly told him the same story she’d told me in the park.

  “Trust you to be suspicious, C, but lucky you were. That guy’s a right nut-job,” said Troy.

  “You should meet his boss,” I said before I could stop myself. Calix and Troy looked up at me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” I said, mortified that I’d gone and put my great stonking boot right in the middle of their moment. I could feel my cheeks start to burn, as I made myself a mental note not to bowl into other people’s conversations in future.

  “This is Clare,” said Calix. “Kind of ran into her on the way here. She’s not great with snakes, but apart from that she’s all right.” She smirked at me before turning back to Troy. “Long story, will fill you in later.”

  Troy shifted his eyes from Calix to me and smiled. Man, what a smile. Between him and Thomas (the man-sized version, not the kid I went to school with), I was in serious Tongue-Tied Land. Calix stared at me for a second longer, smiling slyly as if she could read my mind, through and through, before turning back to Troy.

  “So did Stanley do this to you?” she said, gently running her fingers across the scabby gouges on his face.

  “Yeah, with a little help from his friends.” Troy shifted position, cradling his left side and wincing as he moved.

  “So they got you in the ribs then?” asked Calix.

  “Yeah. Think they might have broken one.”

  Calix made a ‘sheeshing’ sound. “I don’t get it. What did they want from you?”

  Troy shrugged. “Dunno really. They kept asking me about Bede’s sister. Saying that I was a friend of Bede’s so I must know where she was. I barely know Bede, let alone his sister.”

  “You just met her,” said Calix, turning to me again.

  Now I was really embarrassed. For some reason this poor guy, who I’d only just met, had ended up getting badly bashed because of some random connection to me and Bede. A connection that, right up until that point, I’d had no idea about. I shook my head in disbelief. It was all too crazy for words.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said. I still wasn’t entirely sure what I was apologising for, but it seemed the right thing to do. “Are you a friend of Bede’s?”

  “Yes and no. Like I said, I barely know him. He’s a friend of my cousin.”

  “Your ex-cousin,” Calix snorted. “So what’s this job you’re supposed to be doing?”

  Troy gave a sly smile. “Let’s just say I’m in the ‘catering business’.”

  Calix looked at him suspiciously.

  “You see those guys at the barbecue?” Troy nodded towards the group clustered around the burning drums. “It’s all knock-off meat.”

  “You don’t say?” said Calix. “And here I was, thinking they’d all gone down to the local supermarket on a day trip.” Troy ignored her sarcasm.

  “It’s all right though, isn’t it?” I said, suddenly feeling sick at the thought of having just eaten dodgy meat.

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” said Troy. “There’s a guy at the meat works who’s a mate of Legs. He gets us all the off-cuts and whatever else he can nick, and swaps them for cigarettes and stuff that Legs gets on the sly from another mate of his. Legs is kind of like a negotiator really.”

  “Right, well the only thing we need
to negotiate right now is getting you to a hospital,” said Calix.

  Troy shook his head, quickly and definitively. “Nah, Calix, I got to work.”

  “Are you kidding, look at the state of you.”

  I had to admit, Calix had a point. Great smile or not, Troy looked like a scarecrow whose legs might drop off at any moment.

  “Anyway,” Calix continued, “your friends have already left.”

  “I’ll catch them up,” said Troy.

  “C’mon, Troy. The world of sausages doesn’t need you tonight.”

  I knew that tone by now – Calix wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She leant down, scooped Troy under the arms and started to pull him up. At least, she tried to.

  After a few seconds it was pretty clear that Troy wasn’t going anywhere. Calix turned to me red-faced.

  “Well don’t just stand there!” she barked.

  “Oh, sorry, yeah of course,” I said stupidly as I grabbed one of Troy’s arms.

  “Man, you’re bossy,” he said, winking at Calix. She returned the comment with a look that was somewhere between a smile and a scowl.

  Troy staggered to his feet, leaning on me heavily. He was quite a bit taller than me, and surprisingly heavy for someone who looked so skinny. I felt my knees buckle slightly, but luckily managed to catch myself before he noticed.

  “We can get out by following the train tracks,” said Calix. “It’s got to be easier than trying to get out the way Clare and I came in.”

  Calix and I started to inch towards the edge of the platform with Troy sagging between our shoulders, staggering painfully.

  “Are you going to be able to get down okay?” said Calix.

  Troy peered down at the drop. “Yeah, should be all right” he said.

  Calix jumped off the platform, balanced herself on the rails and looked up at us.

  “C’mon, I’ll catch you,” she said.

  “Don’t want to be rude C, but you’d be knocked over trying to catch a cat, let alone me,” said Troy, smiling sceptically.

  Calix scowled. “I’m a lot stronger than I look, even if I’m not as tall as Clare.”