THE POWER AND THE FURY

by James Erith

  Nothing.

  He screwed his eyes up. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been down here. From the corner of his eye he spotted a piece of stone protruding from the wall. Maybe that was it. He pushed it.

  Again, nothing.

  He left his hand there as he tapped his forehead on the wall in utter frustration. The stone moved! He pulled it further and heard a soft click. He twisted the metal ring on the door and the latch came free. He was in.

  Inside, it looked exactly like a room which had been forgotten about for centuries. It smelled of dust and linseed oil. Old Man Wood brushed past the cobwebs that drooped from the ceiling and shone his helmet torch around. There, lying on shelves surrounding the walls, were hundreds upon hundreds of glass bottles and jars filled with liquids, each one covered in a thick layer of dust.

  Starting at one end, he picked each one up and blew the dust off to reveal the writing which was neatly etched into the glass. Names like, Spindle Sap, Ogre Blood, Wood Ox, Willow Potion and Oak Spit. He hoped like mad that when he saw it, he’d know.

  A flood of memories rushed in, almost overwhelming him. These were his bottles. HIS! From a time … well, from a time he’d lost, a time he’d forgotten. He continued along the row, reading out the names as he went until he found what he was looking for. Three full bottles with the words “Resplendix Mix” pronounced in bold writing on each. He pulled one off the shelf and brushed it down. In the torchlight, the colour was like liquid gold, and as it moved, little sparkles of light, like diamonds, danced within it.

  His heart was beating like mad. Maybe he really could save them. He shoved the bottle into his pocket and rushed out of the room.

  Old Man Wood closed the back door and was instantly set upon by the water. He breathed a sigh of relief that he’d found the hard hat with the light to protect his bald head.

  Every step he took involved wading through shin-deep water. What was the best way to the bottom of the cliff, he wondered. He scratched his chin. The lane from the house was acting like a drain, so the road was impassable. Maybe he could lower a rope from the ruin and let himself down. He felt the coils bound around his torso. But he knew the rope wasn’t long enough and what if he was swept off the top? No, it would have to be across country, though the woods and then somehow up and onto the ledge.

  He’d need a lot of luck and he’d need to hurry.

  33

  Cain Returns

  After the euphoric sensation of the icy power sluicing through his every sinew, Kemp experienced a pain like he had never felt before. His whole body raged with fire, the burning excruciating but, as he dissolved into Cain, Kemp kept repeating his name and his birthday, and his mother’s and father’s names and his school and his favourite colours and everything happy that he could ever remember.

  The last thing he remembered was diving head-first towards the electric body of a weird spidery creature and then being sucked into a void. He must have passed out.

  When he opened his eyes it was as though he was seeing through a grey filter. He could see shapes and objects, but nothing clearly; no detail.

  He sensed he was lying on a bed. He shut his eyes, and tried to see if he could lose the pain – a constant, driving, nagging ache. He could sense that he was in a body that was gently rising and falling – his body – but it was surrounded by something else. Ash? Soot?

  Cain was sleeping. He was sure of it. Kemp felt woozy and weak, and utterly helpless. Nothing he did seemed to make any difference. He had no control, but maybe he could use this time to think – as himself – while Cain slept.

  Now Cain was stirring. Suddenly Kemp felt his entire body taken over and his brain and eyes and everything seemed to be fading away, like a gas lamp being extinguished.

  For the first time in ages, Cain woke feeling like a different person.

  What a wonder, he thought, rubbing his non-existent eyes. Sleep. I had forgotten how invigorating it is. I feel marvellous and now I’m hungry. That boy inside me needs sustaining.

  ‘Food!’ he yelled out. ‘Schmerger, I require food. WHERE IS MY FOOD?’

  From the door, Cain could make out a shape which stopped at a respectable distance and bowed. ‘Your Lordship,’ the bent figure of Schmerger said, ‘you haven’t eaten for thousands of years. Are you yourself today?’

  Cain picked himself off the bed and marched up to the servant. ‘I require food, immediately; a huge feast.’

  The servant had a look of shock and confusion on his usually featureless face. ‘There is no kitchen,’ he replied.

  ‘NO KITCHEN?! What kind of palace is this?’

  Schmerger was completely taken by surprise. ‘May I be bold and say that ever since I was assigned to your highness, there has never been a kitchen. Your highness banned them.’

  Cain thrust out his arm, picked the man up by the throat and threw him at a table which splintered over the floor. ‘Is that so?’

  The servant held his throat and, in shock, wondered how Cain had acquired his new-found strength.

  Cain drew up to him. ‘How and where do you eat, Schmerger? Show me.’

  The servant bowed and led the ghost down the wide main staircase through a corridor and several doors before entering a small room.

  Cain followed, delighted that for once he could see outlines of people and rooms and his bed and even his dim profile in the mirror. And though it was a shame he couldn’t see with any detail, it was a great deal better than nothing at all.

  Schmerger picked up a wicker basket. ‘From Mrs Schmerger, Sire.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Cain quizzed, ‘what is in it?’

  Schmerger thought this was quite ridiculous. ‘It was my lunch, Sire,’ he lied. ‘There is no more.’

  ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ Cain said as he thrust his hand into the basket. He pulled out something black and stodgy and, without hesitation, stuffed it in his mouth. For the first time in ages he chewed, although he had to admit it wasn’t really for him. Aside from a tingle in his mouth, it tasted like soot. But he was sure the boy found it favourable.

  Schmerger backed out of the room, trembling, leaving it to Cain.

  Cain pulled another piece of food and popped it in his mouth. This time, it crunched and splintered. Cain spat it out. ‘Schmerger,’ he yelled, ‘what is that?’

  ‘It is the leg of a bird,’ the servant said. ‘One does not ordinarily eat the bones.’

  Cain crashed his fist down on the table. ‘What is there to drink?’

  ‘There is nothing but water, Sire,’ Schmerger said. ‘Your Majesty has never had a requirement for any.’

  ‘I do now. Bring me some this instant. I have a thirst.’ Cain marched out of the room. ‘Let me see this palace of mine. Bring the drink to me, and more food.’

  Cain crashed through the doors and found himself at the foot of the grand staircase. Then he had an idea. ‘Dreamspinner, dreamspinner, dreamspinner,’ he called out. It was their agreed way of contact.

  Moments later Asgard appeared, his maghole tingling as usual with electrical current.

  For the first time, Cain could just about make out his outline. ‘Let us see how the Heirs of Eden are surviving. And let me try and persuade Archie to come with me.’

  Asgard opened the hole and Cain bent down and dived through.

  Asgard took him to the big log that straddled the track and, as he emerged, he surveyed the scene. Cain was frankly amazed that the Heirs of Eden were still hanging on to life.

  They looked desperate, pathetic. He could tell their struggle was nearly over. Their bodies could not take much more of a pounding. And where was the old man? Ha! He didn’t even know what was going on. Sad. Truly.

  Cain realised that this was possibly his last chance to tempt Archie to go with him. He could lose the one inside him and have Archie instead. In one easy step it would resolve this theatre, this charade, that these puny Heirs of Eden might survive.

  He would put them out of their misery.


  Everything would be resolved.

  34

  Holding On

  Archie stared at his watch: gone four. When was sunset, five, half five?

  He crawled over to Daisy and cradled her in his arms. ‘Come on, Daisy,’ he whispered as he sheltered her face. ‘Don’t give up on me. There’s only a little while to go, you know. And I’m going to keep you alive, if it’s the last thing I do.’ He put his cold hands on her face. He was cold but she was icy.

  Gently, he massaged her heart, he didn’t know why, but it just seemed the right thing to do. ‘Please, Daisy, you’ve got to come back. Don’t you dare back out now; I don’t know what I’d do without you. And if you go, we’ve all had it; everyone, not just us.’ Her eyes flickered and he saw the corners of her cut lips turn up.

  Thank goodness, he thought, a spark of life.

  He’d keep talking and somehow he had to keep her listening. ‘Right, here’s what we’re going to do,’ he said, quite aware that there was probably no way she could hear him. ‘I’m going to pick you up and start carrying you over these rocks and stuff, OK?’

  Very gently, he picked her up and tried to find a foothold in the debris. He took one step and then another, swaying each time to keep his balance. Every so often he studied her face to make sure she was still with him and carried on, leaping from one rock to the next, disregarding the rain, disregarding his own discomfort, worrying only about each step and the wellbeing of his sister.

  As he climbed, he carried on talking. He talked about what was going to happen and how safe they were going to be in only a little while and anything else he could think of. When he ran out of things to say, he started singing. The first song that came into his head was a song their mother taught them when they were young. With chattering teeth, he sang it as best as he could. When he forgot the words, he hummed it, his voice shaking with cold.

  After a few minutes of this, Daisy’s eyes flashed open. He looked down at her and smiled, trying to hold back his tears and continued his humming. But he could feel her tensing. Now her eyes were wide open, as though telling him something. What was it? Her eyes rolled back.

  Archie tensed. Oh no. It can’t be.

  NOT ANOTHER ONE!

  Instantly, Archie threw Daisy over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, which helped to centre his balance. He reached the top of a boulder and tried to see beyond it, but there was nothing but the steady veil of rain. ‘Daisy!’ he cried out, ‘I’ve got to jump and I don’t know where we’ll end up. If this goes badly, just remember that I love you.’ He had no more time.

  Archie sucked in as much air as he could and closed his eyes. He bent his knees and jumped as high and as far as he possibly could – into the dark unknown.

  Isabella could remember it well. It was her first skiing trip, high up in the Alps a couple of years ago, and the day had been beautifully hot with a bright blue sky. At lunch, she stripped off her jacket, threw off her hat and ditched her long johns giving them all to her mother who crammed them into her rucksack. Then they’d jumped on a chairlift that headed right to the top of the mountain. Halfway up, it stopped and swung in the air. They stayed like that for ages – an hour, maybe more. Then the weather changed.

  First the clouds blew in, followed by an icy, biting wind and after that, snow. She sat there freezing, with nothing but her father’s arm around her to protect her while, in the seat behind, her mother was holding the bag with her clothes in. An hour later as they skied off, every bone in her body, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, ached with cold. She remembered how it took two hot chocolates before she could move her jaw enough to say anything. What she would give for a hot chocolate now.

  What had her father said? Keep moving, girl. That was it. And if you can’t keep moving, hug someone. Hug them nice and tight. A warm feeling filled her as she remembered how Archie thought this was the perfect excuse to go round hugging people and everyone had thought him rather cute, even Daisy.

  Isabella tried to smile although her jaw was impossibly cold. Even though she was under the cover of the boulder and out of the rain, she had been still for some time and the cold had begun to creep into her, just as roots burrow into soil.

  She needed to move. Using her hands as a guide along the face of the stone, she felt for jagged bits or protruding rock so that she might get a decent foothold. She found one, lifted herself up and then felt for another further up. She’d done enough climbing to know that planning a route up and making sure one’s feet were stable was the key. The problem was that she couldn’t see and there was so much water and she was so numb that she couldn’t feel if her grip was true or not. She slipped back and landed with a wet thud on the ground. Isabella shook her hands vigorously in front of her and slowly the blood began to return. She jogged on the spot, her wet trousers sticking to her legs, and rolled her head on her shoulders. She needed to search further along.

  Once again she followed the face of the rock, guided by her hands, her legs now knee-deep in the water. A little further on – to her right this time – she found the perfect spot: an outcrop of stone concealed by bushes.

  Moving them aside, she found not one but two easy steps. She pulled herself up, placing her foot carefully on the first and making sure it was solid. Then, hugging the rock, she tested her weight slowly on the next. It felt solid, like a step, and she wondered if it had been purposely carved out of the rocks.

  Her arms searched around in the rain trying to find another. She found it and levered herself up. She did the same again, noting that the steps curved around the rock face. She found another, and then another, and as she reached out for another, she realised she was on a flat ledge.

  With the rain driving at her, she had lost her sense of direction. She sat on the ledge trying to fathom the angle of the steps in relation to the rock face. She crawled on her hands and knees in the direction of the cliff face, scanning for any sudden gaps or boulders. Aside from pebbles, it felt smooth. She crawled on further before she realised the rain was subsiding a little. Then it stopped altogether. She was under the cliff face itself! She wiped the water from her face, and leaned into a big, round rock behind her. Isabella felt strangely elated, as if she’d completed a task.

  In the dim light she could make out that what she was leaning on was a huge round rock. She examined it and figured that it sat directly under the cliff face. The question was, how would she get out from here? The logical answer was to head out to the right – above which their cottage sat. But she wasn’t sure if it was such a clever idea. The light was failing fast and the rain wasn’t letting up. Maybe she’d have to stay put until the morning. At least she’d be dry and safe from the water. It couldn’t rise this far, could it?

  And anyway, what had Archie said right at the start? That the storm would go at them until sunset, or something like that. She dismissed it, stood up and stretched her back.

  And then they came out of the sky.

  She hardly had a chance to react – just to duck down.

  Two lightning bolts smashed into the rocks near to where she’d just been.

  Oh my God. What if there’s one for each of us! Were those for Archie and Daisy? In a heartbeat she knew exactly what she had to do and she threw herself off the ledge. As she went, a huge bolt spat out of the sky and smashed into the exact spot she’d been standing on.

  Isabella tumbled into the water, her heart beating like crazy. She sank down as low as she could go, amazed at how much the water had risen. But Isabella knew that this section of water was secured by the boulders of the landslide.

  It was now a deep pool, where the current wouldn’t whisk her away.

  She stayed underneath as long as her lungs could hold her, hugging the cliff face as splinters of rock and stone punched the pool like deadly shrapnel.

  35

  The Boat Heads Out

  ‘Oh, ARK!’ Sue exclaimed. ‘As in, Joan of Arc.’

  Gus nodded. ‘Blimey. At long last. Remind me
never to partner you in a pub quiz. Ever.’

  ‘You mean,’ Sue said, ‘you’ve actually been to a pub quiz?’

  ‘Of course; every Friday night with my dad.’

  ‘Really? My parents never do that kind of thing. What’s it like?’

  Gus wondered if he should make it sound really exciting. ‘Well, it’s OK. Actually it’s quite nerdy – you’d probably do pretty well.’

  Sue’s eyes sparkled. Gus was full of surprises. Just goes to show, she thought, you really can’t tell a book by its cover. ‘So what subjects are you good at?’

  Gus pulled his brainiest face, which made him look pretty stupid. ‘Particle physics, geography, English history from 1066, current world affairs and, er, yeah, modern American history.’

  ‘You’re joking me!’

  ‘Try me. Go on,’ Gus said, looking like a dog after a bone.

  Sue didn’t know what to think. She screwed up her face as though deep in thought and asked: ‘Which President of the United States of America wrote the American Declaration of Independence?’

  Gus scratched his chin and made lots of quite odd-looking faces. ‘Abraham Lincoln—’

  ‘Ha, wrong—’

  ‘Won the Civil War,’ Gus continued, ignoring her. ‘Thomas Jefferson was the main author of the Declaration of Independence.’ He tried very hard not to smile. But he did raise his eyebrows. And they were very big eyebrows.

  Sue couldn’t believe it. ‘Correct,’ she said, trying to think of another question. ‘Name the English monarch who came after William Rufus?’