Extropia

by Robin Bootle

  ‘Edward, please.’ Ivandell arrived beside him. ‘The Weary Woods are an unfriendly place at the best of times!’

  ‘I have to try.’ He kept his eyes fixed on the mist, expecting that it might form a tentacle and haul him in at any moment. ‘If I turn, pull me out and we go east.’

  He stepped into the mist and instinctively held his breath. The warm, dry air of the field was gone, replaced with the dank of the dark woods. He’d been expecting to feel some kind of heat or cold, some kind of sting. But there was nothing. The mist had evaporated, creating a bubble of clean air only a yard or so in every direction. He could see it lapping at his feet. But now for the real test.

  He closed his eyes and thought of Ivandell, and asked himself why Ivandell was there.

  The first thing that entered his mind was Ivandell’s face, a knife clenched between his teeth and smiling wickedly. But that wasn’t real. That was his dream; a dream born of the mist. He shook his head, resetting his thoughts. Ivandell is your ally, he told himself, programmed by Dad and his faith in the Skylar to help you.

  ‘I can feel it.’ He turned to the others. ‘But as long as we remember those thoughts aren’t real, we can make it.’

  ‘Edward, the mist can turn you forever, infecting your mind and then your body, making you a slave to Dēofol, one of his Greys, bent to do his bidding.’

  ‘Edward, I really don’t think this is a good idea.’ Elizabeth sounded genuinely afraid.

  And so was he. It was terrifying to be surrounded on all sides by something so venomous. ‘Ivandell has a bottle of fuel. It’s more than enough for us to get through the woods, right?’

  Ivandell grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘What use is fuel if we are all dead?’

  Edward looked at Elizabeth, acutely aware it wasn’t the first time he was forcing her hand. ‘I have to go this way, but you don’t. I know what you’ll say, that you can’t hang around while I go off alone. But you can, do you understand? Whatever you do, it can’t be for me. You have to promise me, okay?’

  ‘I promise,’ she said, but inside he knew he was leaving her little choice. But what else was he supposed to do? There was no way for the NCCU to treat James while inside his port. Every day wasted was a day risking James’s life.

  He took another step into the forest. Behind him he heard their feet enter the sludgy ground. Then they were by his side, the three of them walking only a foot or two apart from one another. He couldn’t see more than twenty yards ahead, and now they would be trusting Ivandell’s inbuilt knowledge of the land to lead the way. A yard in every direction, a blanket of mist hung as if waiting for one of them to slip up or for one of them to drop their torch.

  The Weary Woods, Ivandell had called them. Weary to the people of Extropia because of the sorrow that lay buried beneath the treetops. But there was another place, Edward guessed, that Dad must have been thinking of when he’d designed this place: Wreay Woods, a small stretch of forest near their summer house, its name twisted to fit the setting of Extropia.

  They’d been there the week they’d found out that Mum wasn’t going to make it. And worse, that there was a way to save her but the doctors couldn’t afford the equipment. Neither could Dad. He could remember seeing the change in Dad, from one day hopeful to the next broken. He began to blame himself for not having worked harder in the past, enabling them to have more money. He would flip from one minute staring grimly into nothingness to being overly upbeat, and constantly on the brink of tears. Everyone had been emotional, of course, but Edward’s anger had been boiling over – with the world and with Dad, even though he’d known it wasn’t Dad’s fault.

  Discharged from hospital, Mum had asked to go to Windermere while she still could. Dad had spent the week trying to get them to do everything together. Edward knew now it was because Dad had wanted every moment to count, to be a new and lasting, happy memory. But all it had done was drive Edward insane, making him just want to curl up and be alone.

  It had all come out in a row over nothing as they trekked through Wreay Woods. Dad had wanted to show him a kingfisher perched above a pond. Edward had exploded and stomped off, leaving Dad in tears. Mum had just watched, a look of resignation in her eyes that had haunted him ever since.

  Even as he’d walked off he knew he’d ruined their last holiday together. If only he’d stopped then and there, maybe his anger wouldn’t have kept building. Maybe he wouldn’t have pushed Dad and James away forever, he thought, as he had so often.

  He tilted his head towards the treetops, hoping that his surroundings might distract him from his misery. Barely visible through the creeping mist, the trees seemed to loom over him, as if taking an interest in him as he passed. Even the birds seemed to be going crazy, tweeting and cooing relentlessly as though trying to scare him away.

  He thought about practising his magic, but he knew it would exhaust him, and here that was simply too dangerous. He needed to be alert and on his feet.

  He studied the others, checking for any sign that the mist might be taking over. Both of them seemed okay, from behind at least. Both of their torches were held high near their faces. Ivandell’s head never seemed to stay still, always scanning back and forth through the woods. It was like he was looking for something, constantly focusing in on particular spots in the trees.

  Edward’s spine straightened in alarm. What if Ivandell wasn’t looking for something, but someone?

  Ivandell had been so desperate to try to take them towards Dēofol’s camp. Were they being led that way now? He was their only way of knowing which way they were going and for all they knew, he had steadily swung them around to face east.

  But why would he? suggested a quiet voice in the back of his head.

  For a year, Edward had survived by not trusting anyone. So why was he now willing to trust this game character? What did they know about him? That he had followed them out of the mine. That someone might have followed them last night into the woods as they searched for food. But why? For what motive?

  It didn’t take long for the story of Ivandell’s son to burst into Edward’s head. Dēofol had Ivandell’s son. What better trade for his return than to hand over the boy from the prophecy? A tidal wave of panic overwhelmed his mind. He lifted his torch as he dashed to warn Elizabeth.

  At once the paranoia subsided. Nearer his head, the flame of his torch was cleansing his mind. You idiot, he screamed at himself. Ivandell could already have hurt you a hundred times if he’d wanted to.

  He pulled his rucksack around to his front and reached for his flask, unscrewing the top as he walked. He took a swig, savouring the cool water as it slid down his throat. He studied the others once more. If he had so easily been ready to turn on Ivandell, then how were they faring? ‘How’s everyone doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Not great.’ Elizabeth only half-turned her head. ‘I don’t think I want to talk about it.’

  Ivandell didn’t look back. ‘She is right. We must keep our thoughts to ourselves. Otherwise we risk spiralling into misery and aggression. Stay quiet, and stay strong.’

  Edward kept walking, but dropped back a few paces. If he couldn’t talk then he could at least keep an eye on them from behind. Maybe Elizabeth was right. He didn’t want to know what she was thinking but he definitely wanted to know if her thoughts spiralled out of control.

  * * *

  The mist and the leaves had now almost fully blotted out the daylight, leaving only a twilight like the moments after sunset. He hooked his hood over his head to shield the mist from his view as much as possible. The less he could see of it the better, the less it would weigh on his mind. He kept his torch close to his face, his eyes locked on those in front.

  From time to time he heard twigs snapping and rustling in the leaves. At first he was too exhausted even to look to see if anything was there. This was a forest and no doubt full of animals.
But then the cracking sounds grew louder.

  He stopped to look back, unable to shake the feeling that someone was following them. The trunks and roots of the trees seemed to be moving, as though crawling after him. And between them, the darkness had come to life, the mist dancing, snatching, whispering.

  Spooked, he turned back to the others, and couldn’t believe how far away they were already. They were twenty yards ahead, and barely visible.

  ‘Wait!’ He skipped to catch up. ‘Wait!’ he called again, but they didn’t seem to hear. He broke into a run. A few yards later he tripped on a fallen branch. He didn’t even look at the ground to break his fall. His eyes were focused exclusively on the torch in his hand. His arm crashed down, spraying drips of flaming fuel. Ahead, he heard the rumble of laughter and imagined them turning to point at him, amused at his misfortune. He yelled, ‘Stop it!’ and looked up, only to see they were several yards apart, their heads down, still trudging onwards.

  Only then did Elizabeth turn to see what had happened. ‘Stop what?’

  ‘Nothing… I…’ Had he heard something, or was the mist playing more tricks on him? ‘I thought I heard you laughing.’

  ‘Get a hold of yourself,’ Elizabeth barked, then continued walking.

  He went to push himself back to his feet but his arms and legs felt so drained. Elizabeth’s harsh retort was doing nothing to urge him on. He collapsed back to the forest floor, letting the side of his face press into the soft moss and the wet leaves below. A drop of water from the branches above landed on his cheek, refreshing and cool.

  His whole body began to relax. His legs were finally being released from their constant aching. He closed his eyes and thought about sleeping. When he woke, the mist would be gone. It had to pass eventually, surely?

  Another rumble reached his ear, deep and somehow peaceful, soothing him further into his lethargy.

  A cool drop splashed the back of his neck, quickly followed by another.

  A voice screamed inside his head.

  Rain!

  13

  Hunted

  He jumped to his feet. Another drip on his forehead stung like a slash from a poisoned knife. He wiped it with his fingers and pulled it close to his eyes. Clear, cool water.

  ‘Guys!’ he called after them. ‘Can anyone else feel that?’ He looked towards the sky but all he could see was a blanket of red, hovering much closer than before. He lifted his torch above his head to ward it away, only then noticing his flame was dying out.

  ‘Ivandell! Your fuel!’ But Ivandell just kept walking, oblivious to his own withering flame. Edward chased him up the slope. ‘Ivandell! We need more fuel! It’s about to rain!’

  Slowly, Ivandell turned to face him like a man disturbed from deep thought, annoyed and still to register what it was Edward had said. His eyes focused on his flame, confused at first, and then widening. ‘By the Skylar! Elizabeth, we must stop!’ He dropped to his knees and opened his bag.

  Elizabeth’s own torch was almost extinguished, allowing swirling tentacles of mist to whip out and caress her skin. And the impact of it was written on her once pretty face, now scrunched up in the beginnings of a snarl.

  ‘Quickly, Ivandell.’ Edward spoke as calmly as he could, wary of setting light to the burning rage in her eyes.

  A raindrop landed squarely on her forehead, followed by a flash of lightning that lit up her face as she glared at Ivandell. Edward’s torch hissed as a drop of water buried itself in his flame. Like a wall of sound the rain surged towards them, increasing in clarity and pitch as it hammered on the leaves to the north. ‘Ivandell, quickly!’

  ‘We never should have come here!’ yelled Elizabeth.

  ‘Elizabeth.’ He nudged her elbow upwards, lifting her torch. ‘Bring the flame closer to your face. Ivandell has more fuel. We’re going to be okay.’

  She looked at her torch, and her lips curled at each end, but there was nothing happy in her crooked smile, only fear and confusion as she battled to fight whatever was going on in her mind.

  He stepped towards her, so close he could feel her breath on his nose and his lips. His flame flickered beside her cheeks and he saw her anger turn to fear, the thoughts that had been running through her mind easing away but leaving their mark.

  ‘We’re going to be okay,’ he said. The rain was heavy now, gathering in the leaves and landing in weighty drops that dampened his hood, his sleeves and his torch. ‘Ivandell! Quickly! Your fuel!’

  ‘Why?’ Ivandell pulled his bottle to one side, shielding it like it was his baby.

  ‘Ivandell, please!’ he begged, knowing already that Ivandell’s flame had faded too far. And with it, his capacity for reason. He took one last look at Elizabeth. Her head twitched in a subtle nod, as if some part of her knew what he was about to do. ‘Hold on in there,’ he said, ‘I won’t be long, I promise.’ His gaze lingered a moment longer. Then he spun, lunging towards Ivandell and reaching for the fuel.

  The sludgy leaves beneath his feet gave way, sending him tumbling towards the floor. His fading torch scalded Ivandell’s chest on the way through. Ivandell yelped. The world seemed to slow as the bottle of fuel flew through the air. It crashed against the hard bark of a tree, the sound of shattering glass like a death knell in Edward’s ears.

  Elizabeth’s face erupted in anger. ‘Look what you’ve done!’ She swung her fist.

  Edward’s cheekbone exploded in pain and he flew back onto the wet forest floor. He clung to what was left of his torch as his free hand went to cup his jaw.

  She whisked her sword clean out of its sheath. ‘You’re the one who got us into this mess! It’s you and your bloody brother who are going to get us all killed!’

  He edged back, the tip of her sword aiming squarely at his eyes. Her chest heaved with each breath. In her other hand was her torch, entirely extinguished. ‘Please, Elizabeth.’ He forced his crossed eyes away from the tip of her sword. ‘I’m sorry I brought you this way. I should have listened to you, after everything you’ve done for me. But please, let’s just relight your torch.’

  She grinned, the rain streaming down the clotted waves of her drenched red hair. She lifted her sword in the air.

  ‘Please, Elizabeth!’ he cried, his forearm shielding his head.

  But the blow never came. He heard a roar and looked up as Ivandell’s great arms tackled her to the ground, knocking her sword from her grasp.

  ‘We never should have trusted you!’ she grunted, smothered under Ivandell’s weight as she grappled for her sword. Ivandell’s eyes too were full of hatred, his hand pressing her face into the forest mush below. ‘We can’t trust any of you … bloody programs!’

  ‘Stop it, both of you!’ Edward yelled. Her sword was almost within her grasp, and in moments it would be piercing Ivandell’s side. ‘Please, Elizabeth, no!’

  His own flame was little more than a flickering candle now; the last remaining beacon of his sanity. He stepped towards them, hoping to bring his flame near enough to give them both a moment’s clarity. As he moved, it dwindled further, and the fight beyond faded further into a fog of red.

  Soon the rage would take him too, he knew. He drew his dagger and let it slip to the ground. He closed his eyes, trying to fill his mind with positive thoughts.

  A gust of wind swept up from the forest floor, filling his nostrils with the purifying smell of fuel. His eyes flew open, flicking at once to the tree where Ivandell’s bottle of fuel had smashed.

  He dived towards it, landing with a shard of broken glass staring him in the eye. He stretched out his arm, dabbing the last of his flame to the ground.

  An explosion of heat and light forced him to roll away. Quickly the fire spread, sending the mist retreating high into the upper branches.

  * * *

  Ivandell eased himself off Elizabeth. The rain ran down th
e sides of her face. She closed her eyes and her sword dropped from her limp wrist. Her arm moved to cover her eyes, and her shoulders began to shudder in rhythm with her sobs.

  ‘What has happened today is not your doing, Elizabeth, nor mine,’ Ivandell reassured her. ‘It is the mist. I was as lost as you.’

  For a moment, Edward kept his distance, unable to shake the image of her coming for him. Ordinarily, he would have turned and run a mile. But it hadn’t been her. He took a deep breath, repeating that last thought in his head as he approached. ‘It’s my fault.’ Edward knelt beside her. ‘I made you come this way.’

  ‘What’s done is done.’ Ivandell dabbed the burn on his chest with a cloth taken from his bag. ‘We have remembered who we are. And we are alive. Now we must focus. I, for one, do not plan to die here.’

  ‘But what are we going to do?’ asked Edward. ‘The mist is as strong as ever. That fire won’t last in the rain.’

  ‘The rain will pass. And the mist too. Even Dēofol’s power has its limits. Until then, let us make certain this fire cannot go out.’

  Ivandell collected their flasks, unscrewed their tops and wedged them carefully between a number of logs. From the forest he gathered the largest leaves he could find and formed them into cones to gather the pouring rain. He handed Edward the last of the fox, then set about scouring the nearby forest for useable wood.

  Edward stayed with Elizabeth, his sense of guilt impossible to shake. He’d been so eager to get to James he could have got them all killed. The way she felt now should have been his burden, not hers. He lifted her head away from the damp floor, making her sit up. ‘Here.’ He offered her a few chunks of meat. She didn’t even shake her head. She just sat there, her head in her hands, refusing to let him see her eyes.