Approaching Storm (Alternate Worlds Book 2)

by Taylor Leigh

  Sam nodded. The tower bell gonged loudly, indicating the end of lunch. Sam and her friends stood and broke from each other, already falling back into the well regulated flow of the day. Sam walked away from the table, clenching her fists at her sides. Sorry. But there’s someone I have to meet. Tonight. This is ending tonight.

  Chapter Six

  It all made clear, terrifying sense. The Traveller was real. He was ancient, and mythical and alive. And she’d met him. And he was searching for the very thing wrapped around her finger. He wanted to find it. She was positive the ring would use all its power to stop them from finding each other. But she still had time, she still had her will, and knowing she wasn’t crazy had done wonders for her resolve. She was going to do whatever it took to find the Traveller—tonight.

  Her main concern was with the thought of whatever punishment the entity would impose on her for disobeying it. She was on dangerous ground, but living as a prisoner until the ring—and whatever resided inside of it—fulfilled whatever goal it had in mind was no longer an option. She was dealing with something evil, something beyond a lost spirit, and it wanted something from her.

  After fighting the crowd to get out of the building, Sam was spilled onto the street and was left to silently wrestle with her thoughts on her walk back.

  It was a surprisingly pleasant night for Scrabia. The air was cool and the sky was a clear blue, just beginning to turn the colours of twilight. Scottorr was looming overhead; it gave a strange sense to the atmosphere, heavy, prickling. She walked like one condemned, trying to appreciate everything around her. After tonight, Sam wasn’t sure if she’d ever see such sights again.

  When she, an hour later, finally trudged into Bone Ridge Estate and made it up the stone steps of her house the sun was just touching the jagged horizon. Pinpricks of stars not obscured by Scottorr were just beginning to shine.

  Once Sam made it to the comfort of her room, she wearily tossed her bag to the ground. Since school had ended, she had grown increasingly more exhausted; it now made her sway. There was no doubt in her mind that there was nothing natural about it. She cast a look to her unmade bed and very much wanted to lie down. Her muscles trembled. It wanted her to sleep. The thing was trying to stop her from leaving. Sam clenched her teeth. Caffeine. That’s what she needed.

  She wanted to rush out the door straight away, but she had no plan. What would she say to him when she found him? Would she need anything with her? Where would she go? She didn’t know where to begin. Her gaze drifted towards the window. Yes, he was out there somewhere, but it would not be easy to find him. And there was every possibility that she would not come back alive.

  So, she struggled to steady her nerves. Nothing could be done right now. Her plan was to leave directly for the Night District, but at this hour, there would be no-one there to find. Nothing to do now but steady her jittery nerves. Sam grabbed one of her school books, doubting it would help but it was better than the confusing Scrabian shows they aired.

  She flipped through the pages, inattentive, when out of the corner of her eye a word flashed by with heart-wrenching familiarity. Desperately she turned back, eyes wildly scanning the page to land on a small box of text.

  Hero Archetypes:

  There are many examples of heroes throughout the history and literature of Scrabia. Some are ordinary men, others brave warriors, others, gods. Ordinary men, such as King Reginald, Queen Victoria and Murhiim the Shepherd became great by being thrust into circumstances that caused them to rise to the occasion. Warriors, like Marus the Great, will be remembered for their outstanding feats in battle, some of which are more than likely exaggerated in Epics to create characters who become more than mere soldiers. The final category of heroes in Scrabian literature is those that were said to the descendants of gods. Characters that fall into this category are much more well-known to history and are completely fictional, since their feats were beyond which any human could accomplish. Familiar names such as Hashiba of the Sun, the Traveller and Kazuul of the Underworld filled ancient stories with their great deeds. Though fictional, the characters had a great influence over those who believed them, influencing many decisions, and credited for many more.

  That was it. One tiny little block in a textbook, mentioning him as a fictional character of ancient times. That was all it said. Nothing more. She flipped to the index in desperation, but his name did not appear again.

  Descendent of a god. Well, that would explain why he was still walking round present-day Layers, would it not? And, perhaps, why the evil entity trapped in the ring was so afraid of him. Because he had power. If only the book had had more on him.

  Sam slammed the book shut with a little more force than was warranted and glanced up at the timepiece on the wall. Fifteen minutes had gone by since she’d first opened the book. Fifteen tiny minutes. She groaned out loud and flopped down on the sofa.

  ‘You see now that it’s pointless, don’t you?’ the voice purred quietly.

  Sam pressed her palms to her eyes. ‘Shut up. He’s real and I am going to find him and be rid of you, once and for all!’

  ‘Must you be reminded again what shall happen if you disobey? There is so much more you can suffer than bad dreams or shallow scratches.’

  A trembling in Sam’s jaw began. Her mouth clenched against her will, grating, creaking as her teeth smashed together in blinding pain. Her nostrils flared as Sam sucked in an enraged breath. Her jaw would break, her teeth would crack. She could almost feel the splitting in her skull. At long last, slowly, the sensation relaxed.

  Sam fought to remain calm, but her own anger was growing. Still, her voice shook embarrassingly. ‘All right! I know what you can do! But you’ve not killing me for a reason. You need me. I’m not going to do anything until you tell me what you want. Go ahead and hurt me, I’ll not be bullied.’

  The thing in her head growled in anger. ‘You speak of what you do not understand. Soon this world will be painted in Darkness. You and all shall be ours.’

  Sam bit her bottom lip irritably. ‘Whatever, just get to the point.’

  It hesitated, then rumbled, ‘We cannot move on our own, cannot survive. You are our vessel to help us reach our goal.’

  Sam glowered. ‘So that’s what all this is about. You drew me in because you needed a cabby. Because as powerful as you claim to be, you can’t bloody move.’

  Rage filled the creature. ‘You will be silent!’

  Sam crossed her arms impatiently. ‘So where is it that you all need to go so desperately?’

  A long pause. ‘You will take us outside the city to reach a destination. There’s a temple—’

  Sam sat up straighter. Smirked. ‘Well there’s your first problem. There is no way out of the city!’

  ‘Silence! We will show you the way! Once you have taken us there we will give you further instructions.’

  Sam shifted. ‘And what exactly is all of this about?’

  ‘In time. In time.’

  It left in a dark cloud, leaving Sam once again alone.

  Darkness was growing outside but Sam still did not move. She didn’t know what to do. Could the powers inside the ring force her to walk to its destination? She mulled over the vague demands of the thing. Whatever part she had to play, it would not be pleasant. She wasn’t just the transportation for this thing. It wanted her for something else. There was probably some horrible part of a ritual that she’d have to partake in, having to spill her own blood or something.

  Her mind worked overtime. If the Traveller was hunting for the ring it was because he wanted to stop whatever was inside of it. He’d failed. Now, Sam was responsible. She couldn’t let him down.

  There was still hope of finding him. If he was clever at all he’d probably jump to the conclusion that someone possibly had the ring. After all, she was one of a handful affiliated with the property it was on and if he knew the ring was gone then it made sense someone who owned, or was connected to the land, would have it. And that certai
nly was a much smaller list. Sam twisted on the sofa to gaze at the door. What she would give to see him come striding through the door at that moment.

  He didn’t come.

  She grew restless in the growing shadows. For the past three hours she had done nothing wait and fret, hardly aware of anything besides her aching ring finger.

  She pushed herself up and glanced round the unfamiliar room. For the first time she became conscious of how quiet it was. The usual house noise that always hummed unnoticed in her brain was gone, sucked away. The air systems, the icebox, even the timepiece on the wall were all gone. She glanced up at the time, but the second hand still ticked by at its usual pace.

  An uncomfortable feeling slowly crawled up her. A feeling like eyes fixed on her spine. It wasn’t happy. Not in the slightest.

  She sighed out loud, trying to break through the stillness but immediately regretted it. Her voice disturbed the quiet almost deafeningly. She stood up and hurried towards the nearest light switch, desperate to illuminate the silence.

  A noise stopped her halfway across the dark carpeted floor.

  It was a quiet noise. A chattering, clicking, vibrating noise.

  The sound of an insect.

  A large, hungry insect.

  From directly behind her.

  Sam spun about in fright, hands swatting at the back of her shirt. Nothing.

  Another chattering, slobbering click echoed around her. She slapped the light on, readying herself for anything to spring at her.

  When her eyes finally did agree to adjust to the bright glow, they were already darting about to find the noise. There was nothing there to be seen. Gritting her teeth, Sam wrapped her arms about herself. She was getting properly scared.

  It wasn’t fair! She already knew she had to obey them, so why continue like this? Why torture her constantly? Next thing she knew, dishes would start flying round the kitchen.

  ‘Leave me alone! I’m already your prisoner! Just let me alone for a while!’

  Nothing.

  She squared her shoulders, silently wishing if she acted brave she would begin to feel it. It didn’t do much good. Sam glanced back up at the timepiece, it would have to do.

  She dashed up the stairs to her room and grabbed the most practical clothes she had, pulled on her trainers and then went tearing back down the stairs.

  Sam gripped the doorknob but paused. She turned back around and searched through the kitchen till she found an impressive knife and a torch. Sam flicked the torch on and off to make sure it worked and then took a deep breath. This was it.

  ‘Bye,’ she whispered to the quiet house, hoping against hope it wouldn’t be her last time here.

  Sam slipped down the front steps and melted into the night. She walked at clipped pace along her street, dodging from shadow to shadow. It was past transportation curfew. Those that weren’t in the Night District were all in their homes, for the most part. The steps of an approaching neighbourhood patroller echoed down the pavement. Sam couldn’t risk answering questions. At the end of the street she saw the jagged outline of the massive ribcage marking the beginning of the community. She made a desperate dash for it and didn’t stop till she was under the shelter of the bone. So far, so good.

  The night was loud compared to the house. The wind from the far desert wind moaned a constant background noise and another hundred sounds echoed around her. It was eerily deserted. The lights of a shuttle flashed overhead as it flew citizens from one city to another. The energy barrier glowed a pink-red colour in the dark light. She still didn’t know how was she going to get past that.

  Sam took off at a jog, and soon left her street behind her. She followed the downward sloping road of her familiar school route, without any real plan or direction. She briefly wondered when her father would be home. Sam hated the thought of him coming back to an empty house. It would have been nice to see him one last time.

  Scottorr had risen high in the sky, casting long shadows across the ground and for the first time in her life, Sam was cursing the planet.

  A group of teenagers let out a loud whooping laugh from one road Sam passed. She quickened her pace at the sound, much more worried about running into someone she knew than fulfilling whatever dark errand lay ahead of her.

  All in all, it was a lonely night. The soft breeze and abandoned street made the city look as dead as she felt. The only life she could see were the blue scarabs fluttering around the intermittent lamps. Her feet moved beneath her almost without her telling.

  Sam wasn’t sure when it became apparent to her that she was not headed where she’d intended. She wasn’t guiding her path. The thing in the ring was. This was not her mission to find the Traveller. This was the entity’s doing. And as she focused on the sensation, it became all the more peculiar. She could feel which way to turn as she walked, as if pulled by some huge, invisible magnet.

  She moved down through the layers of the city at a clipped jog, keeping her head down and trying to go by unnoticed.

  The creature in her mind was silent except when it gave her the directions with the terseness of a knife pressed to her back. It made Sam feel queasy. This must be how prisoners felt as they walked to the gallows, she thought.

  She kept her blurry eyes peeled, desperate for any sign of the Traveller on the streets. This time, if she saw him, she would scream no matter how much it hurt her. She’d rather die on the pavement in his arms than finish this condemned walk. Unfortunately, it wasn’t looking like that was going to become an option.

  After half an hour of jogging, Sam found herself surprised where she had ended up. It was the same alley in the Night District that she’d run down days earlier in her excitement of seeing the Traveller.

  If she needed any more confirmation that the Traveller and the entity were connected, this was it. Here she was, staring back up at the towering wall of the mountain at the end of the narrow lane. The thing guiding her mentally revealed the next direction to her. She glanced to her right, to a little corner, tucked behind several boulders and old bins. Sam squeezed by, not really wanting to, with some trouble. There was more space than there first appeared, as well as several dusty, well-worn prints on the ground. So, she wasn’t the first to come across this place. Others had arrived and judging by the prints, hadn’t turn round and left. She couldn’t tell how old the prints were, but some of them—if not all of them—had to be the Traveller’s, right?

  She had some morbid fascination as she watched how elegantly the thing was able to manipulate her. Her hand, by will other than her own, pushed down on a smooth rock, no different than the others, and watched in wonder as, with a shudder and a grinding, an outline formed around the boulders. A door. Shaking with uncontrolled excitement, Sam threw her weight against it and the stone grated open.

  Sam wasn’t sure if she was surprised or if she was just so easily accepting now that of course there was a secret passage leading into the mountain, and of course the Traveller and this thing would know about it.

  Sam sighed. ‘Perfect.’

  She flicked on her small torch. It hardly seemed sufficient for the darkness beyond, but it would have to do.

  Her pulse was going faster than she thought physically possible as she crept along painfully slow; pausing for a lifetime each time she took a step. Dark tunnels under the mountain couldn’t have nice things in them. Yet no shadows jumped out at her and the musty air seemed undisturbed. Sam told herself to relax. Nothing was going to happen to her. Not yet.

  After what felt like several ages, the tunnel widened out and Sam came stumbled into a cavernous space. Despite her fear she couldn’t help but gape at it in awe. The inside of the mountain had been carved out into an ornate chamber. Great pillars and vaulting ceilings disappeared into the gloom above her. Other halls, much larger and more interesting than her own dipped in their own ways, out of sight. At the far end of the hall was a yawning, narrow doorway, sitting at the top of many steps. She turned round, mouth gaping.

&n
bsp; ‘Blimey!’

  ‘Once we’re inside,’ the voice said for the first time in hours. ‘Then you’ll find the device. Soon this will all be over. You should feel honoured, your part to play is so very important. And once we’re free we’ll make sure the Traveller never gets hold of you.’

  Sam gnawed on her lower lip, far beyond the point of terror at their threats. ‘Thanks,’ she said drily. ‘You still haven’t told me what I have to do.’

  ‘All in good time,’ it purred.

  She stumbled as her shin hit the first stone step and had to bite her lip to keep from swearing. In all the years this place had remained hidden, the sand had managed to seep in and change the way it all was set. It took her several slow seconds to tell herself that she had just tripped, nothing had grabbed her. Her heart was pounding so hard now she thought it might burst out of her throat. Kicking her foot forward she managed to find the next few steps and soon arrived at the top step of the imposing doorway. She cowered there for a moment. Towering, vaguely human statues glowered down at her, supporting the ceiling. The very stone seemed to eek evil. Stars knew what had gone on in there. Human sacrifices, no doubt.

  Sam stepped through the door in a daze. She hardly felt her feet touch the ground as she strode down the stone hall. She could have walked it in the darkness, closed her eyes, the picture of her destination was so clear in her mind. She knew what she’d see as the hallway ended even before she reached it.

  A narrow room yawned before her, with stone ceilings disappearing in the gloom and the gentle flutter of batwings. The air pressed in around her. It was a silent, heavy oppression of hundreds of tonnes of mountain above her. It was like opening up a tomb and stepping inside, breathing in years of time. Others had clearly been here. Oddly enough, several industrial looking spot lamps, turned off, sat in the corners of the room. A table with materials sat to one side and several barricades were set up in one far corner.

  In the very centre of the room was a hulking, arching shape. Tall enough for her to easily walk under. Thick, spidery fingers branched from the top of the arch, running up into the darkened ceiling above, ropy, like cables. Running along each side of the device were panels of a glinting material, like the dusty insides of a crashed spaceship. Just to the right stood a pedestal, containing a darkened orb of some shiny stone. It was this strange object that drew Sam in.