by Paul Kelly
In the evenings Yvonne would regale them all with some rubbish about the Voice of Time. Sitting in the darkened room, with the candles spluttering and Yvonne’s hushed voice whispering ancient tales about a secret voice that only speaks to chosen Seers, Sybil began to worry that she had strayed into a cult. Of course then she would realise that she was leaning back against a pile of magical grain. If she was in a cult, they knew their stuff.
A week passed and Elijah couldn’t take it any longer.
“I can’t keep training with you,” he told Solomon. The old Seer looked crestfallen and Elijah began to feel like he was kicking a puppy. He ploughed on regardless. “Truth is up there somewhere, scared and alone. I can’t hang around until the Future Storm get their tactics straight. I have to do something!”
“You must wait for the Voice to show you the way,” insisted Yvonne. “It will come to you, like it came to me, like it came to Solomon.”
“I don’t even know this damn Voice exists!” exploded Elijah. “I’ve been patient. It’s had its chance, but I’ve heard nothing for a week! Meanwhile, I know that Truth is up there in chains. I’m going to rescue her and I’m going to do it now.”
“You don’t even have a plan!” protested Solomon. “You go up there and they will do nothing but mow you down.”
“Maybe the Voice will protect me,” replied Elijah glibly.
At that, Yvonne’s eyes lit up. “Maybe it will…” she replied, seeming to have come to a decision.
“You can’t be serious, this is insane. Elijah, I have spent too much of my life hunting for you for impatience to be the death of you!”
“Well if I wait here any longer it’ll be old age that does us both in!” replied Elijah, frustration coursing through him. “Every minute I spend here is another minute she is spending in chains.”
“How are you even going to get out of here? Hm?” asked Solomon. “And what are you going to do when you get up there? There are Wyverns on every street corner, the whole city is built to find and kill Seers! Are you in such a rush to join your sister in the grave that you’ll join every suicide mission that presents itself?”
The room went deathly still.
“I didn’t mean…”
“My sister is not dead,” said Elijah, his words faint and pathetic even to his own ears.
“And I am going to rescue her.”
He turned and strode from the room.
Elijah fumbled his way through the tunnels, tripping over his own robe, his mind a mess of emotion. Was that what they really thought? That he was just fooling himself, clinging on to hope where there was none? But he couldn’t give up on her. Not now, not ever. He had abandoned her to the mercy of the mob. It was his fault she was in chains. He couldn’t leave her. He had to save her. He had to. Images of Truth welled up in his mind, her straight black hair framing her round, serious face. She had never given up on him. He remembered the day he had first found out he was a Seer. It had been a Tuesday. He’d been sitting in the kitchen with his father and Truth as the sounds of the Arrival rang out through the night. And his skin had started glowing. Truth had been five at the time, but even at that age, she’d known what it had meant. She’d known that the Guardians outside were hunting for him. And before his father had said anything, before Elijah himself had even begun to register it, she had taken him by the hand and led him into the room they shared. Together, they had crawled under the bed and with the glow of Elijah’s skin illuminating her pale face, Truth had laid one finger to her lips. “Let’s play hide and seek,” she had whispered.
It was the day Elijah’s life had changed forever. He’d been terrified. But his little sister had looked after him. She’d turned it into a game, which had somehow made the madness of it all manageable. But that wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was the older one. He was supposed to take care of her, to look after her, not the other way around.
“Elijah?” he turned around, emerging from his thoughts slowly, unwilling to face the reality of his circumstances. It was Sybil.
“Don’t go up there, Elijah,” she said. “They’ll kill you.”
“I have to. Truth is up there. She needs me. I have to be there for her.”
“You don’t even know your way out of these tunnels,” replied Sybil, her voice calm and reasonable. “Let alone how to get back to the Skylands.”
“I’ll show him,” answered Yvonne, appearing on Elijah’s left like a ghost in the night. “And there are Wyverns in every square. If you free one of them Elijah, it can take you to your sister.”
“You don’t even know if she’s alive,” argued Sybil, her voice strained.
“That is why I have to go up there. One way or another, I have to know the truth.”
Sybil bit her lip, looking like she wanted to say more, but instead she just turned away, leaving Elijah and Yvonne completely alone.
Chapter 18 – Ekriam
The air was dry underground and the smoke from the torches stung Elijah’s eyes. Yvonne’s walking stick echoed against the walls as they walked, lending an eerie rhythm to their journey. Slowly, she led them through the maze of passageways until they came to a rickety wooden ladder. Above it was a trap door.
“Go on then,” said Yvonne, waving her hand at the wooden hatch.
Elijah laid one hand on the ladder as if it might bite him. It wasn’t that he thought of himself as a cowardly person. It’s just it was a lot easier to put Truth’s needs first when his own needs weren’t staring him right in the face. Like his need to keep his tongue attached to the rest of his body.
“I didn’t say to pet the damn thing. Ladders are made for climbing. Get up there.”
Elijah laid another hand on the wooden frame. Then Yvonne began hitting his legs with her walking stick.
“Get up there, get up there, get up there!” she shouted like a demented parrot. “Show the Voice that you have faith!” Elijah scrambled up the ladder as fast as he could. There was no better cure for a fear of what might happen than a fear of what is currently happening. He threw open the hatch and found himself in a barn. He breathed a sigh of relief and levered himself up and out of the passage. Now he could spend a few minutes getting his bearings, getting the lay of the land and planning out exactly what Wyvern he wanted to steal. Maybe he could even create a distraction and take it without anyone noticing. There was clearly one close by. His skin was glowing already. He was still mulling his options over when the barn door was flung open and two Guardians walked in.
The Guardians just stopped and stared. One of them was holding a sandwich. The other was holding a flagon of ale. For a moment, Elijah began to entertain the possibility that maybe the Voice had blinded them to his glow and really they were just wondering what this random guy was doing at their favourite lunch spot. But they weren’t staring for long. Soon they were shouting and waving pointy bits of metal, the sandwich forgotten. It had looked like a nice sandwich too. Elijah backed away from them, putting a dozen feet of dust and straw between himself and the two burly men. Behind the two Guardians, the barn opened out onto a large square, paved in red bricks. In the centre of it stood a huge granite pillar. On top of the pillar stood a metal cage and within it sat a Wyvern which was shining just as brightly as Elijah. Brilliant. That was his ticket out of here. All he had to do was learn how to fly in the next ten seconds. The Guardians were just a couple of feet away now and Elijah decided that flying ambitions aside, just standing there wasn’t that good of an idea. He ran straight towards the Guardians, screaming a fierce war cry that came out just a bit too high-pitched to really be threatening. One of the Guardians raised an eyebrow and made to grab him, but the funny thing about wearing two tonnes of chainmail is that it tends to slow you down. Elijah dodged nimbly to his right and avoided both of them, sprinting into the centre of the plaza. He tried to climb the pillar, but it was smooth granite and too wide for him to get any sort of a grip on. He looked around himself frantically, panic sendi
ng the world into disarray. The timeline flashed in one corner of his vision, its bright colours calling to him. He could use it to collapse the pillar, but the fall could break the Wyvern’s wings. And if it did he would be all out of options. All around him, Guardians began spilling into the plaza from nearby alleys, attracted by the glowing Wyvern and the other’s shouts. That made up Elijah’s mind for him. He sprinted forward, shoving aside a cart of vegetables, aiming for an alley which no Guardians had yet emerged from. If he could just get away from the Wyvern, he could lose them.
Wrong alley. As soon as he entered, he saw three Guardians running heavily towards him, chainmail clanking. Elijah glanced over his shoulder, panic threatening to overwhelm him. Hundreds of Guardians were filling the plaza from all angles. There was no going back. He ran forward, neatly sidestepping the first Guardian, ducking under the arm of the second and taking a slash in the side from the third. He heard cloth tear and flesh rend. A searing pain shot through him and he shouted in anger. From the corner of his eye, he grabbed the timeline flinging it at the alley’s side. “The wall will fall!” he shouted, and it disintegrated. He dived through, away from the shocked Guardians, glad that there’d been no accompanying vision to disorientate him.
Behind him, Guardians began flooding through the gap in the wall. He sprinted left up another alley and suddenly found himself in another square, with another Wyvern shining brightly atop a pillar. It seemed to scream a warning and Elijah noticed that the creature had been beaten; its crystal skin was cracked and oozing a strange translucent blood. Then the Siren sliced through the air. It burst his eardrums and Elijah cried out in pain, but he had no time to cover his ears. After a week talking to Yvonne he now understood what that Siren really meant. It didn’t just signal the Arrival. Only Pulse-Masters could use it and it was they who were coming. He dived down another alleyway as a wall exploded in flames behind him, debris scattering everywhere. The alley was miraculously empty and Elijah sprinted through it, only to stop dead as he met a massive wall with the number eight inscribed on its stone surface. Atop it, two Guardians stood, carrying the reins of three cracked and oozing Wyverns. Elijah’s entire body exploded into light. In the centre of the wall stood a massive archway, locked shut by a black metal gate. Elijah looked behind him. Dozens of Guardians were flooding the alley, their crazed shouts echoing off its sides. Atop the wall, a white robed Pulse-Master joined the two Guardians, his eyes narrowed towards Elijah like a hawk. Which made Elijah prey. He was trapped. Sweat dripped down his forehead. He could feel his heart pounding out hot blood that seemed to burn his lungs. The air was cold and a stiff breeze cut his skin. He did not want to die here. Then the earth exploded beneath his feet.
The stone pavement erupted in a shower of earth and stone, flinging Elijah across it. He looked up dazed, adrenaline still chorusing through his veins. Around him, Guardians were shouting in panic as the gateway sank into the ground. Suddenly, dozens of soldiers and Seers started flooding out of the pavement. Fire descended from heaven, consuming the Guardians and the Pulse-Master atop the wall.
“Take the walls, seize the outer courtyards!” a familiar voice shouted. Elijah looked up, confused, staring at Ash.
“Did you come to save me?” he asked, breathless and confused.
Ash snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she turned away from him then, barking out orders as Seers and soldiers scrambled through the broken archway and into the courtyard. “Kill any who resist,” she shouted. “Ekriam now belongs to the Future Storm!”
Elijah was too relieved to process her words. He sat back on a mound of rubble, breathing hard. All around him, Seers and soldiers milled, with the soldiers forming into disciplined ranks as the Seers wandered aimlessly around the place. One fixed the archway before it collapsed on them while another destroyed the metal gate at its centre. Soldiers marched through it to be met by screams and shouts for help. Above him, Wyvern-riding Guardians flew frantically between the walls, alerting other guard posts. The clatter of bells rang through the air.
Suddenly, a riderless Wyvern arrived, just a few feet away from Elijah.
Battalions 1, 5 and 8 were successful, the familiar voice of Xanthius reported. 2, 3, 4 and 6 are still struggling.
Ash nodded. “Once we secure 9 we’ll send troops there,” she said. Then, abruptly, Xanthius took off and Ash began shouting again. “First, second and third division: leave sector 8 for battalion 8. There is a plan here people! Secure the eastern courtyard before they get a foothold. Come on!”
Elijah stood up, kicking rubble away as he did so. Now every city was at war. Finally, the Future Storm were getting somewhere. He staggered back down the alley and began to hunt for a Wyvern.
Back in the eastern courtyard, bodies littered the ground. Screams and shouts echoed from the granite walls as men and women fought and died. Blood and sweat and the stench of death filled the air. Elijah gritted his teeth, steeling himself against it. Above him, free Wyverns flew, snatching Guardians off the ground and tossing them from the air. Their bones made a sickening crunch when they fell. Few soldiers fought man to man. Most attacked the Guardians in groups, overwhelming them through sheer force of numbers. Others guarded Seers, surrounding them in a horseshoe which steadily rotated, sending death in all directions. It was not as simple as Elijah had imagined it. Everything was chaos.
‘At least it gets the job done,’ he thought, trying not to look at the faces of the dead strewn around him. He could taste death in the air. It was hot and rancid. The different fighting divisions were indistinguishable and Elijah edged warily between buildings, uncertain what to do. He felt dizzy in the courtyard, the stink and the screams were overwhelming. He lifted a hand to his forehead, feeling sweat there. He leaned back against the wall breathing heavily, trying to get his thoughts together. He’d come up here for a reason. He began to look around for a Wyvern, but they all seemed to be occupied with the business of dropping their former masters from the sky. He took a few deep breathes, finding the action harder than it had any right to be. He felt drained. It was then that he noticed the blood seeping out of his side, darkening his woollen robes. He stared at the blood, unable to comprehend it, before collapsing to the ground.
Sybil sat in a corner of Yvonne’s small, brick room and stared at the ceiling. Above her distant shouts and screams echoed their way to down to the small chamber. Opposite her, Solomon was giving her a nasty look. They sat in silence, having long since worn out the topic of whether she would betray them or not, which seemed to be the only small talk Solomon was willing to share with her. Neither of them had a clue what was going on above them, but if Sybil had to guess, it would be that the Future Storm had finally made their move. Damn terrorists were going to get Elijah killed.
“Solomon, get out some bandages and some water!” Yvonne’s voice barrelled into the room ahead of her. Solomon bolted upright as the elderly woman came sprinting through the door with a man Sybil did not recognise, the two of them cradling Elijah’s body between them.
“What’s going on?” Sybil asked, staring at the stricken Seer.
“Elijah was stabbed,” answered Yvonne shortly. “Quickly, clear the table.”
Sybil ran over to it, taking plates, the jar of meal and various writing utensils off it hastily. Panic filled her. He couldn’t be dead. She was the reason he’d gone up there. If he’d told her the truth about his sister, he never would have left. Yvonne and the blonde man she had walked in with carefully placed Elijah on the table. His face was white. Wordlessly, Solomon handed her some bandages. They wouldn’t work, Sybil knew. She could tell from his skin colour alone. The wound was too great.
Solomon hurried past her, emptying a jar of water into a basin and soaking a towel in it.
“First we clean the wound,” muttered Yvonne, ripping off Elijah’s woollen robe and pressing the towel against his side. “Then we hope he really did learn some faith.”
Sybil fell back against the brick wall b
ehind her. This couldn’t be happening. They were leaving the life of the only friend she had in the hands of a crazy mystical Voice. Panic filled her momentarily, but she pushed it down hard. She was a Student of the Drum. She did not feel emotions, never mind let them get the better of her. She shut her eyes, focusing on the situation at hand, visualising Elijah’s body. He’d lost a lot of blood, but if she could seal his wound, he would survive. She knew how to do it, it was complex but she wasn’t so poor at healing that it was beyond her. Saving a Seer’s life went against everything she had ever known, but everything she had ever known had been a lie. She knew that. And she was done pretending otherwise. She pushed herself forward, moving towards the table.