by Ben Yallop
'It is you. We were told that you would come.' said the green man.
'You were? By who?'
'The Secret Keeper came. He said you would follow one day. I must tell the others. Please, follow me.' He turned and walked towards a door.
For the first time Kya was able to get a proper look at the figure.
His skin was entirely green. His head was shaved bald and he wore a mixture of green and brown clothing of a style that she had never seen before. Around his neck were a number of beaded necklaces and similar trinkets hung from his ears.
As they crossed to the door Kya also looked around at the building. The hut was round, with wooden walls and although simply made it was richly decorated with fabrics and tapestries hanging from the high ceiling. A fire in the centre of the space provided a little light, the smoke moving out through a narrow hole in the roof above it. Kya could see low pieces of furniture that looked like beds around the edge of the round room, interspersed with chests and cabinets. Behind her, an empty doorway, shaped by three large pieces of stone, seemed to indicate where the line hummed behind her. There was a smell of spices in the air and peering into a nearby bowl she could see what looked like a dish of green beans in some sort of broth. It appeared as though she had interrupted a meal.
‘I am sorry for the welcome.' said the man over his shoulder. 'We do not see many visitors here and nothing good ever came out of that door. That is why it is guarded. Once a black-robed Riven came through and started killing immediately using presence to tear men apart. Over fifty died before we were able to stop him. To make matters worse we are in mourning as something terrible has just happened here.’
‘What?’ asked Kya.
The man stopped and turned to face her, with his back to the door. ‘Two of our children were playing nearby when they heard a strange sound and they both disappeared. It seems as though a line of some sort opened up and they entered it not realising what it was. Before anyone could stop them the hole had closed again and is gone. It is unlikely that they will ever be found. They will have entered the other world but the chances of them arriving somewhere that is safe are slim. There is a lot of grief in the village. We Green Men have never known the barrier to act in this way before. We are worried that the barrier is being affected by something, or someone. The Great Line to the other world has always been stable, at least for as long as we have protected it. But we have never known another line to just appear near our village before. But I have already said too much. Come, the elders will want to meet you.’
He opened the door and Kya stepped into a world of an eerie light. It was as if the sun was still in the sky but had been hidden somehow, as if during an eclipse. She turned and looked up but could not see the source of the strange light. The noise of crickets filled the warm air as they walked over short grass towards a large group of the green-skinned people. Many were dressed in warrior garb and carried spears but there were women and children too. They were deep in conversation and did not seem to have noticed Kya approach.
Kya had the chance to study the strange new land and saw that behind the hut was a wide body of water, although it could not be water as it glowed with a faint phosphorescence that made it seem brighter than the grass that grew at its edges.
‘You’ve probably never seen anything like this place.’ said the green man as they approached the edge of the people. He pointed with an arm. ‘In that direction the land is in permanent sun. It's a harsh lifeless place of endless heat, a desert of shifting sands. To the other side the land is in perpetual darkness and it is a place of savage beasts. Little grows there but glowing mushrooms and plants that take their energy from the ground rather than the sun. We Green Men must guard constantly against those borders to keep our families safe. No-one has ever crossed either expanse and returned to tell of it.’
They stopped at the edge of the group and now the people saw Kya and gasped in surprise. They parted for one of the warriors who had been at the centre of the group. This man was clearly quite old and particularly short. As he approached Kya's guide bowed low and Kya followed suit.
“Welcome daughter.' said the man 'We have been expecting your arrival. I am afraid that you reach us at a time of grief and uncertainty. But, I presume you will not wish to delay. Please follow me.'
Kya's guide bowed to her and set off back to his post, but the rest of the village followed her and the elderly man at a distance, whispering to each other.
Kya's guide led her past some more huts toward a small wooded hill. As they approached two round stone columns appeared from between the trees, one at either side of a narrow path. As they passed between the worn pillars the whispering crowd fell back so that Kya and the elderly man continued alone, up the hill. It was not long before they came to a slope that led down and Kya was led along a path to a huge set of metallic doors set into the side of the hill and covered in an elaborate swirling filigree. They stopped before it and Kya looked up at the gates.
'The lock has been designed in such a way that two people with presence are needed' said the green man. 'One person is not enough. I am the only one with presence in my village so therefore I always require a visitor to open this door. Similarly, a single visitor could not open it alone.'
'How many times has it been opened?' asked Kya.
'Once.' said the man. 'Come, place your hand here.'
He indicated a space and Kya pressed her hand against the cold metal. The man did the same in another spot on the other door. Kya sent her mind into the internal workings of the door, feeling the green man do the same. She was amazed to find how complex the inner mechanism was and it took some minutes for them to work the lock open. They worked together, one holding a hidden section apart while the other pulled or pushed at some catch. Then with a final click the lock was open and the doors swung inwards.
A domed brick tunnel led into the darkness of the inside of the hill. The green man produced a flint and had soon lit two torches that sat in a sconce on the wall. Together they walked down the passageway.
It was not long before the tunnel ended and they faced a dark open space. The green man let go of the flaming torch he held and using his presence lifted it out into the darkness. Looking into its light Kya could not see anything beyond but then the flame caught something else and with a whoosh a line of fire suddenly spread around a system of chandeliers that hung overhead and then the room was illuminated.
Before them lay the largest room Kya had ever seen. She could not see the sides or the ends. But that was partly because of the shelves. The room was full of rows upon rows of shelves and each shelf was full of thousands upon thousands of books. They stretched in every direction. Fascinated Kya walked towards the nearest row and touched the spine of the books there carefully. They were written in a language she did not understand. The letters were familiar but the words meant nothing. The first word on the spine of the first book was 'Philosophiæ'. Kya puzzled over the last letter. She had never seen that before. She looked to the next book 'Harmonice Mundi'. Something about harmony perhaps? The green man's voice was startlingly loud in the quiet echoing room.
'A great store of knowledge.' he said. 'But there is something else here besides old books. That which you seek. A Great Line to the other world. Come.'
He led Kya along the centre of the room, down a wide aisle between two enormous racks of books, all the while Kya staring in wonder at the room around her. Eventually they reached a round space from which the rows of books led away like the spokes of a cartwheel.
'Here, the line.' said the man.
Kya could hear it, sense it, humming. The sound seemed to reach her mind without travelling through her ears. She looked around at the books again. How she would have loved to have stayed and searched for secrets amongst them. But time was not her ally. She sent her presence into the line and pulled it open.
She turned then to the green man 'Thank you.' she said.
'You are welcome.' he said 'I hope in happier time
s you will be able to return from the other world and visit us again.'
Kya smiled and took one last look at the books. 'I hope so too.'
Then she stepped into the Great Line and vanished.
She appeared at the crest of a hill, underneath a cloudy sky and a monument of some kind. A square pillar made from a pale grey stone stretched high above her. Looking at its very top she could see a blue-green dome which sat at the summit like a crown. Around her, in a circle, was a stone wall. She left the circle through a black iron gate and found herself on a grassy plain, not dissimilar to that across which she had so recently been pursued, albeit this seemed to be smaller. Ahead of her, down a steep bank lay a large town. Rows of box-shaped houses ran in long lines in various directions. The Great Line did not seem to have brought her somewhere particularly great, but there was no doubt that she was in the new world. She had been told to find Fort Amhurst, a small castle of some sort which lay nearby. Choosing a direction almost at random she set off.
Aleksy felt a veil lift from his mind like mists evaporating from a pond. It was like waking up slowly, as though his head was being turned on by a dimmer switch, but he hadn't been asleep. He blinked a few times, and tried to think about where he was but he felt extraordinarily tired and it was hard to hold a coherent thought.
He was still in his cell but a vague memory told him that he hadn't been in here recently. As his tired brain began to function more normally dull aches and pains began to filter through and memories of, he concentrated, memories of working with a pickaxe, hacking at rock, each blow sending a painful vibration though his hands and along his body. He looked down at his torso. He was naked to the waist; a sheen of sweat covered a muscular chest underneath patches of dirt and grime. He looked at his body more closely. It was thin but his muscles were bunched under the skin in a way they had not been before. What was going on? How long had he been insensible in this hell that his body should be so changed? He moved a hand to poke at his stomach muscles but as he moved his arm he felt a sting and tightness across his back. Cautiously reaching a hand behind him he gingerly touched his lower back. He could feel rough cuts there and he winced as his fingers explored what he couldn't see. When he brought his hand back before him he could see blood on his fingertips, dark against his pale hand in the dim light. His hands hurt too. Blisters dotted his palms and the soft area at the base of his thumbs was raw and weeping.
With another grimace Aleksy forced himself to his feet. His body felt as though it was made from lead, every movement was an effort. Turning he was startled to see movement. He was not alone in his cell.
A shape, huddled in a corner, began to form itself into a person. It was another man, grimier and thinner than Aleksy but similarly stripped to the waist. Where Aleksy was barefoot this man seemed to have fashioned himself a pair of shoes of sorts from something that looked like old leather and rag. A shaggy beard and long tangled hair made him look mad and wild but when he had forced himself into a sitting position he seemed fairly normal. The man pushed his hair from his eyes and stretched his filthy legs ahead of him in a stretch before crossing them at the ankles and making himself comfortable. He gave Aleksy a careful look as he scratched at his beard.
‘It would seem that we are momentarily free of our mental capture. A changing of the guard. Do you speak English?’
Aleksy nodded and putting his hand to his own face was surprised to find a heavy stubble there.
‘Excellent. How long have you been here? Do you have any news or messages?’
Aleksy shook his head.
‘Come on man, speak. We don’t have long before presence robs us of our clarity. Who are you?’
‘Aleksy. I, I don’t know where I am or how long I've been here. Am I, am I dead? Is this hell?’
‘Ah, a new chap, eh?’ said the man ‘Thought so. Well, at least it will be good to have someone to talk to I suppose. Alec was it?'
'Alek-see' said Aleksy.
'Alek-see. Hmmm. Well, my name is James Worson, but everyone here calls me Worsen. I can tell you that you are not dead, but, I'm afraid, you are not far wrong when you speak of hell.’
Worsen rose and crossed to the featureless bars and peered out into the gloomy corridor.
‘Anyone else awake?’ he called.
When there was no answer he turned back to Aleksy. ‘Always takes a while for folks to wake up. I'm surprised that you were awake first. You must have a certain mental fortitude. Well, Aleksy, you wish to know what on earth is going on?’
Aleksy nodded.
‘Well, the first revelation is that what is going on is not going on on earth, if you follow. We are currently hundreds of metres below a temple called the Rivenrok Complex and we are slaves to its residents. Whatever you were before, you are now a miner. We dig for crystals. Where and when were you captured?’
‘London.’ said Aleksy ‘I was underground.’
Just then several quiet voices floated down the corridor and Worsen turned his attention back to beyond the bars.
‘Who's awake?’ he called softly.
A series of voices floated back, voicing names. Aleksy heard men and women call out, a mixture of accents. When it was quiet again Worsen called his own name before adding ‘and Aleksy, new man.’
He turned to Aleksy again. ‘There are usually new names but the old names get shorter. We're missing many people today, or tonight, whatever time it is. It sounds like we’re down to a single Stonehenge hippie.’ He gave a grim laugh then called ‘Any sign of Middie?’
A deep gruff voice came back through the darkness. ‘I'm here, Worsen. Took me a little time to find my voice, that's all. Who's the new guy?’
Worsen beckoned Aleksy forward. When he reached the bars Aleksy looked out but could see little in the faint light. The other cells must be to the sides he thought.
‘My name is Aleksy. I am a labourer on the London Underground. I was in a tunnel when I saw a flash and I went to look. Then there was someone there I think. I was pushed into a, a hole of some sort. I ended up in this cell but I must have been here a long time. I don’t remember.’ He rubbed his heavily stubbled chin.
‘And when were you taken Aleksy?’ came Middie's voice.
‘I don’t know.’
‘He doesn't understand, Middie.’ came a woman's voice.
‘I haven’t had time.’ interjected Worsen.
‘Well, friend Aleksy,’ came Middie's gruff voice. ‘You are in a place that exists separately from our world. This place is run by a race of men called the Riven. They’re magicians of sorts. They use telekinesis, telepathy and general brutality to keep a hold on this place but they’re increasingly seeking to force their way into our world. Your world. There are pathways, lines, between our worlds and every now and then they cross over to collect a few slaves. Sometimes one or two, sometimes a whole bunch. You’ve probably heard of their actions, although you haven’t realisssss...’
Middie's voice tailed off and Aleksy felt a thought come to him although he couldn't focus upon it. It was distant.
Worsen whispered in his ear. ‘They’re coming back. They must be changing shifts. Good luck.’
As the pressure of the thought in his head began to build Aleksy watched Worsen stiffen until he stood, immobile and slack jawed as though his mind had been removed. Aleksy felt his own mind grow increasingly clouded and panicking he fought against the presence that threatened to overwhelm him. He felt the pressure ease a little and had a vague impression of surprise before the pressure returned, much more intensely this time. He continued to try to keep his mind clear but the force seeking its way into his head was relentless. He felt angry and again pushed as hard as he could but the effort was exhausting. His last thought was that he would not let them beat him. He tried to shout out but the sound died on his lips and he slipped into a waking unconsciousness. He did not see the black robed figure stop before his cell and peer at him curiously. He did not see the thick iron bars bend as though made of cloth, pul
led apart like a curtain. He did not see the black hood fall back from a misshapen and ugly face but then a little of his mind leaked back in and, although he could not move, Aleksy was startled to see a face so close to his own. Aleksy's mind was still present but he was unable to even flinch when the horror before him showed him a whip and began to lash his back.
Chapter Eight
Sam stared in terror at the beast before him. It had the build of a lean, but muscular man, standing on two legs. It wore no clothes but shaggy, matted grey fur covered its body. Its face was human but dog like too with a muzzle and round eyes. Werewolf. The word came into Sam's mind like a punch to the stomach. It snarled, revealing yellow canine teeth and then dropped onto all fours looking at Sam and the others in turn. It seemed to quickly decide on Sam and its muscles tensed ready to spring.
Weewalk darted in front of Sam and as the creature pounced he threw up his hands. The beast seemed to hit an invisible wall. For a moment it froze in the air, then Weewalk's shoulders slumped and the animal dropped to the ground again, getting ready to spring.
Sam had thrown his arms over his head, sure he was about to be killed. As he straightened again he saw, from the corner of his eye, that Hadan had moved into the kitchen area. There was a clatter of cutlery and then Hadan cried Weewalk's name.
The tiny bearded kobold tensed again, the muscles in his neck drawing taught, his face set in a grim expression. Sam could feel the atmosphere in the room change and the little man seemed to become a source of light and focus whilst everything else became dim. Time seemed to slow. Weewalk stood immobile with his arms out, his fingers splayed and his yellow dress moving softly in a breeze from the door. Hadan had grabbed handfuls of knives and forks and now he threw them towards the beast and time seemed to reassert itself on the room. The animal did not move. Hadan had not thrown the metal with much force and, although some of the pieces were sharp, none looked capable of inflicting any real damage from Hadan's underarm throw. Then a strange thing happened. Weewalk moved his arms and the blades which had, a split second earlier, been tumbling in a lazy arc through the air, suddenly twisted and sped up, darting towards the creature like a swarm of angry wasps. The animal yelped and tried to dodge but too late. Several of the knives struck it in the face. Weewalk moved his arms again, more implements turned and swung around to attack from behind, a squadron of little fighter planes.