by Eli Ingle
Stepping outside the maze, he saw Rona, who looked red-eyed, but otherwise fine. The crowd applauded as he emerged.
“Congratulations,” the Ringmaster said. “You have done well. Please, step down here.”
The children moved to the edge of the ring as the grinding noise of machinery filled the air. The maze retracted into the floor as bars lifted around the edge of the circus ring.
“Now for the second challenge: a challenge of your strength! In real life, you may have no time to prepare. Nor do you now. Begin.”
A trapdoor opened and a huge mechanical tiger emerged. It snarled at them before strolling forward. Rigel could see the weight of it in the way it moved. Despite this, a mechanical tiger was not something to be particularly worried about. Taking the stance they had been taught at the Institute, the Light Ones prepared for its approach. The tiger belched fire at them. Yelping in surprise, Rigel dived sideways, tucking into a forward roll to soften the landing. Rona had dived in the opposite direction. The tiger, seeming to anticipate this, leapt at her. Rigel stretched out his hand and sent a bolt of white light at the creature; striking it along the flank. The tiger flew upwards before crashing into the other side of the ring.
Growling, the beast sent a torrent for fire towards Rigel. Taking advantage of the creature’s distraction, Rona hurried around to the right, jumped, and brought her foot into the side of its head. There was a sound like high-tension wires snapping and the tiger’s head lolled to the left.
Snarling, the animal retaliated, biting Rona. Metal teeth sunk into her shoulder. Crying out, she sent a flash of white light outwards, knocking the tiger back to the other side of the ring.
Landing on all fours, it roared and charged at Rigel. The boy, however, was ready for it, and as it dived, he ducked and blew out its underside with a crackling torrent of energy. The smoking remains flew high into the air. Cheers from the crowd greeted this manoeuvre.
The tiger twisted in mid-air and tried to shoot fire at them again. The move was clumsy, though, and the flames quickly dissipated into the air. Moving out of the way, Rigel watched as it plummeted back to the ground with a roar. Something inside must have snapped, as the tiger could no longer regain its feet. It sat there snarling and sending out plumes of gas. The ignition must have failed. It opened its mouth wide – presumably to try to burn them again – and Rona sent a line of white light down its throat. There was a rumbling inside it and the tiger exploded, sending pieces of metal and wire flying in all directions like hot shrapnel. The crowd cheered.
“Well,” said the Ringmaster, sounding disappointed. “Jolly good job. No-one has ever got past that before. I guess we must move onto the final challenge.”
A spotlight clunked and illuminated a cage hanging above the ring. Inside, Laurie, Erdiz and Jhoan were tied up.
The Ringmaster grinned and removed a white orb from the inside of its jacket. Rona groaned, her eyes bulging as she caught sight of it.
“Here is the key,” the Ringmaster said. “You may take it, or you may take your friends. If you choose the key, you will never see them again. If you choose your friends, you will never see the key again.”
“Our friends,” said Rigel without hesitation. Yes, they needed it, but they also needed a hundred other things. They would find a way to get it. He looked at Rona who was staring at the orb. “Rona?”
“Yes.”
“What?!” The Ringmaster’s grin had failed.
“Our friends. I can’t sacrifice them for something I don’t even understand.”
“No! No! You’re not supposed to choose that,” the Ringmaster screamed. Smoke was seeping out from under his jacket and his hands were tremoring.
“Give us our friends back,” Rona shouted.
The cage groaned and fell to the floor, the door swinging open. Something more alarming was happening to the Ringmaster, though: the smoke was getting thicker and his face was beginning to melt. He screamed, clutching at it, but flames burst through his eye sockets and the rest of him caught incredibly quickly. He dropped the orb but before it had fallen even halfway to the floor, Rona had dived and caught it, cradling it to her like a newborn baby.
Groaning filled the air. Looking up, Rigel realised with horror that the whole audience was catching ablaze.
“Let’s go,” said Laurie.
“We can’t just leave them!” complained Rigel.
“They’re robots, Rigel,” said Laurie. “No matter how intelligent or self-aware they are, at the end of the day, they’re not really alive. I’m not going to burn to death in a circus tent just when we’ve got what we came for.”
Dragging them by their coats, he pulled them towards the exit, Erdiz and Jhoan following behind them. A robot fell into the corridor, on fire and screaming. Jhoan kicked its head off and watched it fly over the seats, laughing as he did so.
The air was cool outside with streaks of pink across the horizon. Behind them, the tent began to catch fire. The robot that had printed their tickets was running lopsidedly towards the tent with a fire extinguisher under its arm.
Rigel turned around and looked back over the scene.
“What have we done?” he asked.
“It’s alright,” said Rona, still crooning over the orb. “It’s a defence mechanism. We set it up to destroy itself when we got what we came for. That way no-one else will find traces of what was kept here.”
“And what was kept here?” asked Rigel as they moved over to the cart. The acrid smell of burning slowly filled the air and drifts of smoke blew past them. As Rigel looked down at the orb, he saw it glowing with a pearlescent light. He could almost imagine that the orb looked pleased with itself.
“It’s a key, like we said,” replied Rona. “I don’t know what for yet!” she stammered, anticipating Rigel’s next question. “But all I know is that it’s important … and somewhere out there, there’s a temple waiting for you with your own key in it. You’ll know when we get near it. You’ll know just like I did.”
They arrived back at the cart and climbed aboard. Laurie fired up the engine as Erdiz pulled up the staircase and resumed her post at the steering wheel, a cigarette already burning between her lips.
“Let’s go further on ahead,” Laurie said, pushing the lever down and sending the cart away from the carnival. “I don’t want to be sleeping near all this smoke. We could travel through the night if you want and take turns driving, make good time.”
“You’re feeling hopeful,” commented Jhoan.
“Of course!” Laurie grinned. “Fantastic job on Rona and Rigel’s part! And we have what we need – or at least a part of it – and I’m optimistic that it won’t be long before we have the next piece of this puzzle. No-one is saying it’s going to be easy, but I think we can rest easy in the knowledge we did a good job and who knows, we may have the upper hand now.”
Rigel settled down in between the crates on the floor and stared at the Captain, feeling a mixture of dread and guilt. He remembered the emaciated Captain locked in the cage of some unknown location, years in the future, and wondered what the future really had in store for them and whether it really was going to be plain sailing from here on out.
He remembered his promise to the Laurie he saw in the mirror. Despite this, how would he go about telling the Captain? ‘Don’t want to alarm you, Laurie, but in the future you’ll be taken prisoner.’ ‘Morning Laurie, sorry to spoil your day but at some unknown time in the future you’ll be locked in a cage and tortured.’ Rigel knew he should tell him … but must he? Perhaps waiting to see if they would gain any future insight to the events that led up to it, then a warning would be appropriate. After all, how could Laurie anticipate an attack with no knowledge of what would happen, how it would happen or when?
Not entirely satisfied, but somewhat mollified, Rigel settled down, promising to tell what he knew if the time was right.
Chapter Seven
The Three, Zeph and their veru had
walked for several hours out of the dark mirror version of Kozenia and into the mountains. Scaling the peaks they had found a group of volcanoes. The veru led them to the base, where a perfectly circular opening waited for them. A stone border surrounded the opening with runes carved into the rock.
“Is this the place?” asked the Commander.
“Yes, sir,” replied the veru.
Heat and a dank, overwhelming smell were being emitted from the tunnel. To most people it would have been unbearable; indeed, Zeph appeared horrified by the opening and struggled to get away from it. To the Three and their veru, the smell was unremarkable, verging on pleasant.
“How long will it take us to get there?” asked Frivlok, a hungry look in his eyes.
“I couldn’t say, sir,” the veru snuffled.
“How surprising,” commented the Commander. Frivlok flashed him a sideways warning glance. The Commander quietened.
The air was heavy. The group stood vigilant at the entrance, none of them making the first move.
“Onwards,” said Frivlok.
“Home,” said Zeph. Frivlok paused, turning to look at the boy. This was the only thing he had said since his resurrection.
“What did you say?”
“Home.” The boy was trembling, tears leaking from his eyes. “Home.”
“Oh, you’re a long way from home, child,” smiled Frivlok. “And we have longer to travel still.” He twisted his hand and a line of black smoke melted around Zeph’s neck and formed a line between it and the veru’s hand. A moment later, a shackle and chain appeared there, linking them together. “Now walk.”
The procession moved into the tunnels, the air growing thicker as they progressed. A velvety darkness enveloped them. To the Three, the darkness meant nothing; their vision was untouched. The veru appeared to see it as gloomy but accessible. Zeph, however, could see nothing, as highlighted by the yelps he made as every few steps he bumped into a wall or tripped over a loose slab on the floor.
The tunnel walls were perfectly smooth, marred only by the ancient carvings of runes dotted along the way. Frivlok could have read them but had no interest in doing so. His boots clicked against the floor as they progressed forwards.
The further they travelled, the hotter the tunnel became. Zeph was sweating heavily and his laboured breathing became raspy as his body lost water. Since he no longer spoke, he could not ask for water, although his mind screamed the word. Frivlok ploughed on ahead, oblivious to his needs – he would have ignored them regardless.
A dim orange light began to fill the tunnel after several hours. It gradually grew brighter until a disc of orange light showed an opening at the far end. Frivlok increased his pace. The Commander followed suit, his huge legs keeping up easily. The Shapeshifter glided along, faster than the group, as he was uninhibited by the physical restraints the others had to endure. Only Zeph lagged behind, staggering with each step as his rasping breath failed to sustain him. Already weak from his resurrection, the lack of water and overwhelming heat (now verging on fifty degrees Celsius) meant he could barely stand. The veru was eager to keep up with its masters but chained to Zeph it was far behind, hopping to remain level with its masters and yelping as the chain that bound it and the fallen Light One pulled back on its wrist, digging into the leathery skin.
Arriving at the opening, Frivlok looked out to realise they were in the heart of the volcano. A railing-less obsidian walkway floated out over the pit of lava far below, stopping in the middle. From there, an imposing staircase spiralled down towards the lava, in whose centre was a strange swirling mass.
Gliding along the walkway and down the stairs, the Three had no difficulty with their balance and arrived at the bottom. A square platform made of a crystalline violet stone was resting at the bottom, nestled just above the boiling pit of lava. In the middle lay a swirling mass of green particles. Scrawled in graffiti-like red paint was the word “Endirin”, over and over again. This was the place.
Zeph was still halfway down the stairs, no body-water left to sweat, gasping and woozy as he took each step one at a time. The veru had long since learnt to try to pull ahead and was patiently waiting for him to descend.
Frivlok glanced up at the staircase and shook his head to see the sorry progress the fallen Light One was making.
“Pathetic really, isn’t it?” he asked his companions. “To think we used to struggle to fight against those things. Look how easily they fall.”
The Commander grunted, sounding amused for the first time in a long while. “What do you plan to do with the sewer creature now we have arrived?”
Frivlok did not answer, only grinned. The Commander grinned back.
Finally, the two stragglers arrived at the portal. Zeph collapsed onto the crystalline floor, gasping for breath, his breath making that horrible rattling, rasping noise.
“Get up,” Frivlok commanded. “I said get up!”
Despite his fear, Zeph literally could not move. Had he been in his right mind he would have known he was close to death, but all his language had gone and the visions of clear, cold water flowing through his mind were driving him insane, as he no longer had the language to express what he needed to live.
“We have arrived, it seems,” said Frivlok. “And I must admit I was sceptical of you, veru. But you have done well.”
The veru bobbed its head up and down, looking extremely pleased to have done something worthwhile. Respect from its Gods! The other creatures of the Dark Realm must surely take it in now!
Frivlok’s gaze drifted over to Zeph. “I see you are flagging, O Light One,” he sneered. “Perhaps you would like some water?”
Zeph’s eyes snapped open and he nodded, the motion driving bolts through his head. He began screaming in that rhythmic way again: “Huuuuuh. Huuuuuh. Huuuuuh.”
“Very well, to gain your co-operation I will give you water,” said Frivlok. Zeph nodded furiously again, wincing at the pain of his dehydrated body. Frivlok waved his hand, making a huge jug of cold water appeared in front of the boy. Zeph dived for it but screamed as his hand passed right through it. The Commander laughed at the apparition.
“Nicely done,” he commented.
“Indeed,” replied Frivlok, “but we are not quite done. Child, to get the water, I want you to do something for me.”
Zeph stared at Frivlok, unable to speak, his wide eyes saying only one thing: Anything.
“Kill the veru.”
If possible, the child’s eyes grew wider. The Commander and Shapeshifter paused for a moment as they stared at Frivlok, and then grinned. What a trick!
“S-s-s-s-sir?!” babbled the veru, terrified.
“I do commend you on your work, veru,” commented Frivlok, examining his fingernails, “but did you really think you were coming back from this mission? You know too much and we can’t have that. Additionally, you would become something of a popular figure – the first veru to be accepted into normal society. We cannot upset the natural order of things. So you must die.”
“But sir! Please!”
“Enough.” The word was quiet and cold. More menancing than if it had been shouted.
The veru tried to jump up the staircase but was yanked back by the chain that bound it to Zeph. The creature was skittering and whining, making strange noises and trying to pull against its restraint, but it was no use. Its claws scratched against the ground but gained no purchase on the crystal floor.
“Kill it, Zeph, and get your water.”
The boy shook his head.
“Then you will die.”
Again, he shook it.
“Do you think that will save you?” asked Frivlok. “Now I have resurrected you, you are bound to me. You could die a thousand times and you will return to my side. You can die a thousand deaths of dehydration and worse and live to repeat the experience. Why bother? The veru is nothing. A scavenger. It lives on the edges of the city, rejected by all and eating the scraps of rubbi
sh we leave behind. You were a Light One who fought the Darkness. It is but one small part of it, but a part nonetheless. So kill it and take your reward. The first good deed you will do.”
“No!” screamed the veru. “No! We can escape together, boy! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! Please! I beg of you! Please don’t kill me!”
“Silence,” said Frivlok. The veru ignored this, much to Frivlok’s surprise, and continued to babble about mercy. “Kill it and be done.”
Zeph was swatting at the apparition of water as though this would make it appear. After his third attempt, he made a horrified groan and began crawling towards the veru, his fingers pulling him along the floor, a wheezing grunt of effort with every inch. The veru screamed and used every measure of loose chain to pull itself away from Zeph. As the child progressed, it moved further, until it was on the stairs. Frivlok smiled, a bubble of pleasure welling in his chest. Zeph uttered a horrific scream and grabbed the chain, pulling it hand over hand until the veru was dragged, scrambling and screaming, towards him.
It begged for mercy. Zeph sat on its chest. It bit and scratched him. He did not notice. It began to cry. He did not care. He wrapped his hands around its leathery neck and squeezed.
It was over.
Almost expended, Zeph was unable to cry. But his body moved in dry sobs as he began his hoarse wails of misery. Frivlok breathed in the air and smiled.
“Enjoy your water.”
The boy scrambled over to the jug and downed it in three long gulps. He paused a moment and then vomited the clear liquid back up again. It pooled on the floor and slid into the lava, evaporating before it hit. The jug refilled and he drank again, slower this time.
“Good,” said Frivlok. “Very good. I imagine you are also hungry?”
Zeph nodded. He looked expectantly beside the self-refilling jug of water.
“Oh, but why should I conjure food for you? When you have a perfectly good meal chained to you?”