by Ben Yallop
‘Oh, you want to get down do you? Fine.’
Sam's arms flailed as Jak swung him down through the air to crash into the concrete floor. He felt his head connect with the ground and ricochet off. He must have lost consciousness for a moment for when he opened his eyes Jak was closer and Hadan was lying next to him, pinned to the floor as he was.
Sam tried to move and felt something sharp inside his chest complain. His head felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer and his whole body ached despite the adrenaline that flowed though him. He felt a trickle of blood run down his forehead, and then it met his eye causing him to blink as it stung his vision.
‘I had hoped you would be a better fight.’ said Jak.
Sam tried to move but could not. Again and again he pushed with all his might at the concrete floor beneath him trying to rise, but Jak held him firmly.
As he struggled he began to feel the pressure increase, a terrible force that threatened to crush him, to break every bone in his body. His entire frame seemed to scream in protest. Blood began to run from his nose.
Then Hadan stirred next to him on the floor, a dull moan escaped his lips and the pressure on Sam's body lessened, although he was still held immobile.
‘Ah yes, Hadan. Well, we have no need for you any more.’
Jak strode over to Hadan and bent so that his mouth was near Hadan's ear as if he was imparting a secret, yet he spoke loud enough for Sam to hear.
‘You see that doorway over there?’ A metallic claw indicated one of the archways, a line hummed within it. ‘Well, that particular line was certain death for the idiotic men that opened it. You see it leads to a point on the ocean floor, hundreds of metres beneath the surface. Anyone who went through found themselves immediately drowning in dark cold water, destined to become bones on the sea bed for ever, once the fish had eaten the jelly from their eyes and picked the flesh from their carcass.’
Jak straightened again and walked towards the portal. Hadan slid along behind him leaving a smear of blood on the smooth grey floor, pulled on an invisible string of presence.
‘Would you like to see it Hadan? Must be a nasty way to die.’
Jak stepped to one side and rested an arm on the edge of the archway as Hadan continued to slide towards it. Sam could see Hadan’s face. There was no fear there. Hadan looked him in the eye and smiled and nodded. Sam could only guess at the force of will that had allowed him that small gesture against the terrible power of Jak's control.
At that smile Sam felt some emotion inside him snap. He pushed and pushed against Jak's hold and shakily his arm moved. It felt like he was trying to lift a mountain but he managed to bring up an arm.
Jak's attention was still on Hadan who was almost at the entrance to the door. The line hummed.
‘Nooooooo!’ screamed Sam. ‘Arggggghhhh!’ He blindly sent as big a blast of presence as he could at the moment Hadan reached the door. There was a huge crash as the metallic archway collapsed. The force of Sam's push sent objects flying away, lights flickered on further into the room as debris span under the sensors, and the concrete wall cracked and popped. But when Sam looked up, and the dust cleared, Hadan was gone. Sam could see a number of archways lay in ruins but the young man who had fought so bravely beside him had been pushed through the portal and was gone.
Jak, who had been staggered by the blast, turned his full attention back to Sam.
‘Nice try, but too late.’ he said. His jaw clenched and Sam felt the incredible pressure return as Jak brought his full force to bear.
Sam felt anger burn white inside of him. And he felt the entire room. He felt the power of the lines buzzing all around him. The power of the lines. As he felt some of the smaller bones in his hands and feet begin to break and more blood flow from his nose Sam found new strength in his anger at Hadan's death. The power of the lines.
He gritted his teeth and began to push.
Kya caught the odd glimpse of the ongoing battle with Jak away down the room but every time she tried to get a proper look she had to parry another attack. Sometimes it seemed as though there was a wall of claws determined to bar her view. She quickly gave up; she had to concentrate on her own fight. The only attention she was able to spare was every now and then when she saw a ropen or garoul head in that direction. These she grabbed and pulled back towards her, anxious to keep them away from the real danger that Sam and Hadan were facing, even thought it meant more danger to her.
Weewalk fought beside her bravely. Despite his size and stocky build he was quick and deft and fought in a way that was clever and made best use of his skills. He had nowhere near as much power as Kya but he was just as effective, lifting small objects and driving them at the beasts that attacked them.
At one point he was able to get enough space to open a line and Kya was able to shove a dozen ropen through the portal before it closed again. This allowed them the luxury of not continuously having to watch for airborne attacks from the sharp beaks and talons of the ropen.
The garoul were fearsome and relentless. It was no wonder that the legend of the werewolf had generated such fear throughout the history of this world, thought Kya. They were vicious and agile, constantly snarling and biting and more intelligent than a true wolf. Their weakness was that they did not have the sense to co-ordinate their attacks and often snapped at each other when they got in the way. This allowed Kya some freedom to push and jump between them and deal with one or two at a time. She raked her sharp knife across bellies and snouts; she severed paws and sprayed red blood across floor and walls.
More difficult were the nandi. Their size made them much more formidable. Only three had entered at Jak's command but that was enough. Under their mangy fur dense muscle bunched as they sprang surprisingly quickly through the chaos. Kya's knife seemed to have little effect. Most of the time she was not even able to get close enough to attack them and for a while she concentrated on keeping her distance and trying to whittle down the number of garoul whilst, at the same time, keeping an eye on the brave kobold who fought beside her. Several times the intense training she had received from Tarak Everune saved her life, her reactions honed to a point where she almost saw attacks before they came and was able to dance through a mad lunge from a nandi or push and twist in the air, allowing her body to flow through narrow spaces as claws and teeth flashed around her.
But, she was not invincible and after what seemed like an hour of fighting, although it had likely only been a few minutes, she felt herself beginning to tire. Hot tight lines across her back told her that she had been raked by claws at some point, although she could not remember when.
She looked across to Weewalk and was again impressed by his determination and courage as he faced a nandi, one of his arms hanging limp. He moved quickly to once side, diving onto the floor with a grunt as a huge fist sailed past him. Broken glass, thrown by Weewalk's presence, flew at the nandi's eyes and it backed away, clawing at its face with a roar.
In a rage it began attacking the first thing it encountered, another nandi. Blinded, it lashed out at the other beast and the two became involved in their own battle, smashing through desks and chairs as they fought like mad dogs. Both were quickly bleeding heavily and soon enough only one could still walk. It limped away to nurse its wounds and Kya and Weewalk were happy to let it go.
Still lying on the floor, Sam thought he felt Jak's hold on him weaken. Was it weakening or did it just have less hold over him? He put one shaking arm out towards a line which still hummed in its metallic arch. He felt the power flood into his body and the arch exploded in a cloud of dust and debris like a smashed neon bulb. The line winked out. He pressed his other hand to his chest and he sensed his broken ribs. Concentrating for a moment he moved them so they no longer caused him as much pain.
Then, with more effort than he had ever expended in his life, he forced himself first to his knees and then he finally stood and faced Jak. Jak still had his arms stretched towards Sam, desperately trying to regain cont
rol over him, but Sam was no longer overly troubled by it. He allowed his anger at Hadan's death to fill him like a fire. He limped forwards a step then flung an arm toward another portal. Again he drew on its power and it exploded. He stood a little straighter. Again and again he absorbed the power of the lines as the doorways smashed around him.
Fear was now etched into the part of Jak's face which was visible under his mask. Sam focused his presence and plucked a television screen from the ceiling and threw it hard. He felt Jak try to push it back when it was halfway between them but Sam gave it a flick and it smashed through Jak's defences, crashing into his head and causing him to stagger. Sam drew on more power. More doors evaporated into dust.
Jak gathered himself and directed one last enormous strike at Sam. Everything in the room was pushed before the blast. Broken furniture and lumps of concrete and glass flew at Sam enveloping him in a storm of dust and debris. When it had rushed past him and the billowing grey dust had drifted away. Sam stood. Untouched. Immobile.
‘You killed my friend.’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘And I would again’, said Jak. ‘I'm the greatest assassin that ever lived.’ But there was doubt in his high-pitched cackle.
‘No,’ said Sam, shaking his head. ‘You’re no more than one of those beasts you allowed here.’ With that he extended a hand towards Jak and lifted him. He swung his hand and Jak flew screaming past Sam and down the long laboratory where he crashed into the nandi that towered over Kya and Weewalk threatening to crush them beneath its huge paws. The nandi recovered quickly, catching Jak in its teeth.
Sam turned then and saw the devastation behind him. Jak struggled against the teeth of the nandi. Sam raised his arms and a portal, as yet untouched, opened behind the beast and its struggling prey. Sam gave a nod to Kya, who quickly pulled Weewalk close, then he drew back his shoulders and pushed with every ounce of his power.
The last garoul and the nandi and Jak were pushed into the line and in a moment had vanished. The force of the blast carried debris on a wall of wind around the entire circular laboratory, bringing the lights on in a blaze of neon. A few moments later a rush of dust and grit blew past Sam from behind.
He looked to Kya and Weewalk. Kya had thrown a barrier of sorts around them and she sat on the floor, cradling the kobold between her legs, his bloody arm hanging limply, his hand resting on the floor before him. At last silence filled the room.
Sam turned his head to look at the pockmarked concrete ceiling.
‘Weewalk,’ he said, his voice wavering. ‘Hadan is dead. I’m sorry. I couldn’t save him.’
The kobold, his eyes shut tight, let out a wail which filled the space between them.
Sam walked the length of the circular laboratory and still found no conventional door. The only way in or out was through a line. No wonder the place had remained hidden and untouched since the last scientists had left. The room was a disaster area. Benches lay smashed into pieces; computer equipment fizzed and sparked over the bodies of the beasts that Jak had drawn here. A few lines remained in their archways. He tested them in turn. He now had some sort of sense where each led; maps began to form in his head. He came to the last doorway and sent his presence into it to sense where the line would lead to. He stopped in amazement, finding it difficult to believe what he had just discovered. Then with a shake of his head he walked around the room again, destroying each of the other doors in turn. He could not really say why he did this. He only wanted this place to be useless. It certainly felt useless to him. Each line popped away as he blew apart the archways. Power crackled on his fingertips. Men should never have tried to create their own lines. The project had been doomed from the start.
When the last door remained Sam walked to where Weewalk and Kya sat hunched and sniffing on the floor. Gently Sam encouraged them to their feet and guided them to the last line. He opened it and ushered them through. After one final look around the room he gathered their bags, picking up the lamp that Hadan had dropped when Jak attacked, and stepped through himself. That doorway would always remain open.
As with the other man-made lines this one bucked and threw them but they landed gently enough in a dark underground room. Sam lit the lamp and led them up a short corridor to another room.
‘We can rest here.’
They unrolled their blankets on the cold floor. Sam bid each of them to lie down and, as he had before, he sent his mind into their bodies curing the hurts he found there. Finally, he turned his mind inwards and cured his own pain, soothing away the stressed muscle and flesh until his body felt strangely numb because of the absence of it.
When he had finished Weewalk shuffled over. His face pale and concerned in the light of the fire.
‘Sam, the stories of the destruction of Montauk. It was you. You were the one. You are the one.' Weewalk shook his head 'Where do we go from here?’
‘We continue.’ said Sam simply. ‘I won't let Hadan's death be in vain. Some good must come from this whole thing.’
‘But we’re back where we started.’ said Kya, ‘We're no closer to Mu than we ever were.’
‘Actually, we're very close. There is another line nearby.’ said Sam, ‘A natural one which will take us away from here, to Tongue's Scar. I know where we need to go.’
‘Where?’ Weewalk asked confused. ‘Sam, you seem different somehow.’
‘I am different. I can feel presence everywhere.’ Sam looked around at the dark featureless room around him. ‘Do you remember what you once told me, my friend? Those with power must have spent time near lines in order to have amplified their powers. Well, Weewalk, I'm going home. Back to my grandfather's house. That's where the door has been all along. Our path must take us back to the start, back to the beginning. Out path has taken us full circle. The line is a circle.’
And so, on a cold winter's evening Sam led them from the tunnels in the woods near his house. The place where Weewalk had first taken him along a line. He soon found himself standing before the rubble of his former home.
This was where it had all begun for Samuel Hain. He stood with his back to the darkening woods behind him. The air was clear and the moon was shining brightly above. With a nod to himself Sam walked towards what had once been his home.
The building had all but collapsed. A few blackened walls remained standing but the house was essentially a pile of brick and charred wood. What few possessions might have remained seemed to have been removed. Sam was surprised by how small it looked when one could only see the foundations of what it had been. Living inside, it had seemed pretty large, but as tumbled brick and mortar it was small and sad. He stopped for a moment, standing at what used to be the front door. He looked down and caught sight of the wooden plaque on which his grandfather had carved the name of the house. ‘The End of the Line.’ Sam smiled to himself as he nudged at it with his foot. Then he stepped over the threshold and followed an imaginary path through the hall and to where the door to the cellar would once have stood. After a quick look around to check that no-one but Kya and Weewalk were watching he sent his mind into the tumbled stone and blackened wood and pushed it all aside piece by piece until he had uncovered the stairs into the cellar. Once the path was clear he descended into the darkness.
Holding up Hadan's old lamp he could see that this room had escaped relatively unscathed from the storm that had raged above. A few things had fallen through but nothing had caught fire. Most of the damage seemed to have been caused by smoke and the white walls had been painted a sooty grey.
Turning to look around as Weewalk and Kya came down the steps Sam felt a funny tickle at the back of his neck and he remembered how he had felt in this house. Scared of ghosts. It seemed as though one were here now. His grandfather perhaps or Hadan. He almost laughed then. It seemed absurd that he had been scared of something as intangible and insubstantial as a ghost. He knew now that there were real monsters out there. The legends of werewolves were true. Men should be more fearful of tooth and claw than sp
ectre and spook. The real danger was men like Ferus. That thought set his resolve and he turned towards the hole in the wall that he had grown up casting sideways glances at but had never really thought to question why it was there.
He hoisted himself up and climbed through the wall of the cellar of his childhood home. Hidden, just out of sight, he saw a ladder leading through a rough hole in the floor. He called to Kya and Weewalk to follow him as he descended, down into darkness as the hum and chime of the line below began to sing up at him, calling him towards its caress.
Tarak Everune wanted to pace his cell. He wanted to stand and walk, with his arms behind his back. It helped him think. But he didn't. He had to maintain the broken persona that he had so carefully crafted for Ferus over the last few years. He had to be a man without a presence. He had positioned all the pieces on the board as carefully as he could. Now there was just one more piece to deploy. The Polish man, Aleksy, whose mind he had been so quietly and subtly affecting. And he was almost in position. If Aleksy didn't distract the King at just the right time, so that Ferus was acting alone without the presence of the King, then all would be for naught. The rest? Well, Tarak told himself that he just had to wait and let the game play out in the hope that he had properly predicted where the checkmate would come. And so he just sat, aware that someone could be watching through some gap in the stone wall. Besides, his cell was extremely cold and he had been given only enough food to survive. He felt weak. His stomach ached. He thought about little else other than food. And so, he continued to sit, hunched over his knees. A broken man but perhaps only in appearance.