Frivlok (Appointments on Plum Street Book 2)

by Eli Ingle

  Chapter Eight

  The whole event – the veru leading them, chaining it to Zeph and then the subsequent murder – had been calculated by Frivlok well in advance. He knew that to begin twisting the former Light One into a Hell Child, he must manipulate and torment him until his mind became warped and unstable. At the point where his identity began to waver, it would be malleable and easy to mould anew. The Commander and Shapeshifter did not much care about how orchestrated the whole thing had been. They fed off the dark energy produced by fear, misery and hatred, so the whole fiasco had been like a shot of energy to them. They despised the veru, so for them it was a win–win situation.

  The group stayed in the volcano long enough for Zeph to be forced to eat the veru. The misery of his indecisive thoughts beforehand, mixed with the revulsion he felt at what he was doing, provided a cocktail of energy for the Three.

  The Dark Realm had its own energy that had kept them alive for many thousands of years, but it was nothing compared to what they were experiencing now. And this was just one small event from one person. If the effect of spreading misery and suffering was amplified to a small town or even a city, the Three would become almost as powerful as they had been in the Dark Wars.

  A crunch of gristle removed Frivlok from his thoughts. Zeph was eating the veru again, chewing on its leg like an animal. Flaps of leathery skin hung off the creature where the child had bitten through. As he ate the flesh underneath, Zeph made noises that seemed to be a mix of desperate hunger and revulsion. Tears were pouring down his cheeks but he did not stop. Frivlok breathed deeply again and felt that warm bloom of pleasure in his chest. As much as he was enjoying the misery – and as much as he needed the energy – he knew they still had a long way to travel.

  When Zeph sat back down on the floor, black grease smeared around his mouth, Frivlok turned his attention to the portal.

  “We move onwards now,” he said. His companions nodded, readying themselves by adjusting clothes and moving towards the edge of the phosphorus light. Zeph made a grunting noise and pulled at his chain. Frivlok regarded him coldly. Zeph repeated the gesture and looked at Frivlok, unable to speak, but clearly saying something:

  Get this thing off me.

  “I don’t think so,” replied Frivlok. “We have ways to go yet and we don’t want you getting hungry.”

  Zeph stared at him with abject horror. Frivlok smiled. “Atta-boy.”

  The group stood around the edge of the portal, staring into its mysterious depths.

  “Permission to go first, sir?” asked the Commander.

  “Granted.” Frivlok was, in fact, hoping that someone else would make the offer. He knew that it would lead to where they wished to go, but on the off-chance something went wrong? Well, that was what subordinates were for.

  The Commander stepped neatly off the edge and fell through the green swirling mist. A glassy whoooooump filled the air and he was gone.

  “Can you hear me, sir?” the Commander called, his voice echoing as though he were in a large cave.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve arrived and in good shape. You are safe to step through.”

  Frivlok nodded to the Shapeshifter, who nodded back. Stooping down, Frivlok pulled the chain that bound Zeph and the dead veru and threw the carcass into the portal. With a horrified yelp, Zeph was pulled after it and went through. Perhaps unsure of how his insubstantial form would hold up to travelling through a portal, or perhaps because he was tired of his current form, the Shapeshifter melted into a snake and slithered off the platform and into the green light. Frivlok stepped off behind him and fell.

  The sensation was strange, like falling into a cold wind, turning upside down and then realising his feet were planted on solid ground. He had arrived. That was quick.

  Looking around, Frivlok knew at once they were in the right place. The metallic tang in the air was stronger than on the other planets he had visited. They were on what most people would have seen as a viewing platform on a mountain. Grey mist swirled around them, half concealing the carved figures of snarling wolves and owls that stared down at the portal. No path led to where they were standing, making the place almost inaccessible. Frivlok took a deep breath of the cold air, swirling his tongue around it. His eyes strayed to the West and, although he could not see it, he knew their destination was that way.

  “You sense it?” the Commander asked. Frivlok gave a flicker of a grin. It pleased him when they were all on the same level of understanding. But it had perhaps not been quite so apparent since the old days. He nodded.

  “Over there. Somewhere,” he replied. The Commander nodded. The Shapeshifter had returned to his previous form and stared out over the horizon. “Come.”

  The group began walking, picking their path between the rocks on the mountain. Zeph clambered to his feet and began walking. He uttered small cries of horror as he pulled the corpse of the veru along with him. While light, and lighter still since he had begun eating it, the creature’s body was cumbersome and bumped along the path, getting stuck on rocks until after a while the boy gave a wail of misery and sat down on the floor. Frivlok turned on his heels and stared at the fallen Light One.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. He knew full well what the boy was doing but he asked anyway. Still unable to speak, the boy just stared at him, then at the veru, and then back at him. “Well you’re stuck with it,” spat Frivlok. “Carry it or we’ll tie it to you.” Zeph stuttered with tears again and picked up the creature’s body, holding it like a parent would hold a sleeping child. Frivlok smiled. “There you go. And it’ll only get lighter the hungrier you are, if you know what I mean. Now, walk.”

  The journey resumed, the Three keeping in almost perfect alignment whilst Zeph trailed behind. His small form and the awkwardness of carrying the veru made it difficult for him to traverse the mountain.

  Yet onwards they walked, away from the portal and into the foggy mountains.

  Chapter Nine

  Shifts had been organised to drive the cart through the night. Rigel ended up getting the three to six shift but he did not really mind – there was a certain peace he felt looking out across the landscape as he drove them across it.

  When it was his turn, he sat on the bench at the front, wrapped in a blanket with his feet propped up against the edge. There was very little he had to do by way of driving: it was a straight flat road ahead and they just needed to maintain a constant speed, so the job mostly involved making sure they were not going to fall into a ditch or anything like that … and as there were no ditches either, he did not really have to do anything. He enjoyed being alone with his thoughts and the still early morning air was pleasantly cool.

  Towards the end of his shift, the sun began to rise, first turning everything grey and then a bloody pink. The lightbulb stars remained vigilant against the dawn but once the sun had appeared over the horizon they dutifully extinguished themselves all at once.

  At six o’clock, he woke Jhoan up to take over his shift. Yawning, he went back to his bed and lay down, falling asleep almost straight away.

  Later that morning, he was woken up when the cart was drawn to a halt. Steam blasted out of the boiler and wafted over them, making their skin sticky with the heat and vapour. Opening his eyes, he sat up and rumpled his hair, yawning widely as he looked around. Wafting the steam away, he stood up and stretched, trying to work out where they were. The haze cleared slightly as the landscape came into focus. It was the same barren wasteland that they had been travelling over for the past few days. Whilst it was not inspiring and had a gloominess to it, Rigel also found comfort in the familiarity of it, and it was certainly an improvement on the carnival.

  “Come on, you stupid.” Laurie was cursing to himself, his head in the boiler.

  “Morning,” called Rigel.

  The Captain looked up. He was wearing goggles that had condensed on the outside and his face had gone pink with the steam. Another jet hissed out
, narrowly missing his ear.

  “Morning,” he replied, sounding distracted.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just trying to fix one of these valves,” said the Captain.

  “Alright. Well, I’ll let you get on with it then.”

  Dressing, Rigel stepped over the sleeping bodies of Rona, Erdiz and Jhoan before lowering the steps and clambering down. He walked around the cart several times to stretch his legs before stopping at the water butt for a drink. When that was done and there were still no signs of movement, he lit a fire and began cooking some breakfast. The smell must have roused the others as it was not long before they had got up and sat round the fire, eagerly waiting for the food.

  Laurie stopped just long enough to eat but then returned to the work at hand. Rigel set the others to cleaning up once they had finished, seeing as he had done all the preparation.

  When the others had finished scrubbing the pots and were sitting around the back. Rigel hopped down to join them.

  They fell into silence, looking out over the landscape again. The peace was only occasionally interrupted by a hiss of steam or the sound of Laurie swearing when he burnt himself on it.

  Finally, he must have finished fixing it as he came round the back, lifting his goggles up and smiling.

  “Done it! I think … we might as well get going anyway. We’re not doing any good just sat around here.”

  Climbing up the stairs, they lifted them again and secured the rope before sitting down. Laurie stood at the front and pressed the lever down slowly. Steam hissed again but it was quieter this time as it only leaked out around the piston. With a heavy whoosh, the cart began to move forwards, much faster this time.

  “It worked!” he cried, sounding delighted. “It’s saving water and making us faster. Watch this!”

  Laurie pressed the lever all the way down, the cart roared forwards, the piston pumping so fast it was nearly a blur. Rigel fell down to the bottom of the cart with the new force.

  “Steady on!” called Erdiz as she fell off the side and landed ungracefully on the bottom of the cart.

  Laurie laughed and kept it where it was. The cart roared across the slate, leaving a trail of dust floating in the air behind it.

  “We’ll be there in a week at this rate, never mind two!” said the Captain, his foot resting on the front bench.

  “That’s all very good and well,” said Erdiz, crawling towards the front. “But have you ever heard about capacity?”

  “What?” asked Laurie, sounding annoyed that his moment was being interrupted.

  “You’re running the engine at one-hundred percent capacity. If you carry on like that, you’ll probably wear it out and it will be nearly impossible to fix it. You should always run a machine at ninety percent capacity. That way you’re keeping it in good shape but you’ve got the option of going faster if you need to … come on Laurie, don’t break it!”

  “Oh alright,” Laurie grumbled, pulling the lever up. The cart slowed down to a more acceptable pace.

  “It’s still a lot faster than it was before,” Erdiz said.

  “That’s true …”

  Erdiz patted him on the shoulder before moving to the back of the cart. Rigel returned to looking out over the side and was joined a moment later by Rona. Staring out over the landscape, he wondered why there was so little of anything. Most places on every planet had barren areas – Earth certainly had enough – but there was always something else around: a distant mountain, a lake, anything …. Here there really was nothing.

  The next few days passed uneventfully. They ate, drank and drove. The engine never stopped so they took shifts driving it – although driving mostly consisted of sitting there and making sure it did not either blow up or run out of steam.

  When not on duty, Rona would spend a lot of her time crooning over the orb they had retrieved from the carnival. Rigel could never quite quell the pang of jealousy he felt when he saw her doing this. It made him wish for his own and wonder where they were going to find it.

  As they travelled, Rigel noticed that the landscape was slowly beginning to alter. The change was subtle at first and he barely noticed it, but after a few days the differences were more apparent and Rona drew his attention to them.

  “Look,” she said, pointing over the edge. “The ground looks different over there.”

  Peering through the field glasses, they saw that the ground was becoming slightly rockier, with bumps and ridges on the ground. As they got closer, they realised that it even had potholes in some areas.

  Arriving at the edge of this new landscape, Laurie shut down the engine and let the cart finally roll to a stop. The piston hissed noisily before settling down. The equipment clanked as it cooled.

  Lowering the steps, they climbed down and went over to inspect the new ground. There almost seemed to be an edge to it, as if someone had drawn a line on the ground and added the texture up to it. After that, it changed to the smooth slate that they were used to.

  “That’s weird,” said Rigel, bending down to examine it better. “This line is almost like a cut-off point. Here, can you see? Look at that ridge, where the line is, it’s cut down the middle. And that hole – there’s only half a hole!”

  “That is weird,” agreed Rona, poking the floor.

  “I’m more concerned about the cart,” said Laurie, looking out over the new line of territory they would have to cross.

  “The suspension will be up to the job,” Jhoan said, looking under the cart.

  “Yes,” agreed the Captain, “but we’ll take it slower from here on.”

  Climbing back aboard, Laurie fired up the engine and they began travelling across the new landscape. Erdiz took a turn at the accelerator lever whilst Jhoan steered.

  They drove onwards across the new landscape.

  Chapter Ten

  Frivlok’s hand traced over the rough grey stone. The air was cool and the day was nearly over. The last purple streams blotted the horizon while velvety darkness settled around them. Their destination lay six miles ahead of them, nestled down in the crook between two mountains, a faint glow illuminating the area. Frivlok was silent and deep in thought.

  Since their arrival back in this place, he had not been flooded with memories as he had been expecting. Instead, a flood of feelings had overwhelmed him. Despite what Rigel and Rona might have thought, Frivlok did feel emotion, although rage and sadistic pleasure were usually at the forefront. There was a strange sense of homecoming he felt as they arrived through the portal. He could not put his finger on this. Mixed with this was a sense of unease as there were no memories of the place they were walking. Finally, he felt a sense of anticipation as he looked down at the illuminated area below. They had no idea what was coming.

  The village – for that’s what it was – formed the only memory they had of the place. For in the village was the key to restoring their power.

  As the last blushes of colour drained from the sky, Frivlok shook off his thoughts and stood. His companions did the same without consciously thinking about it.

  “It seems fitting, don’t you think, that we should arrive under nightfall?” Frivlok mused. “Come. A long night awaits us.”

  The group stepped forward and began the long journey down the winding mountain path. Zeph’s spirit seemed to have all but evaporated after his murder of their veru, and he followed meekly behind them.

  Stepping through the arched stone gate into the village, Frivlok looked around as he felt a faint buzz of electricity and the taste of copper on his tongue. As soon as he stood inside the village, the feeling all but evaporated. Small cottages lined the street, each with its own small, neatly tended garden. Several houses were in darkness but the rest were lit. The faint smells of cooking food drifted out of open windows, followed by the occasional strand of conversation or laughter. Frivlok smiled as he looked about. Oh, how they had no idea what was about to happen to them.

  Th
e church (if you could really call it that) stood in the middle at the end of the street, dominating the view with its towering black steeple. The design was at odds with the rest of the cosy village. Black claws of stone emerged from either side of its floor to create an insectile oval with a tower at the far end. Frivlok’s company walked up to the front door.

  “Sir?” began the Commander.

  “I don’t know,” replied Frivlok, for once acknowledging some form of weakness, albeit small. “I remember nothing. All I know is that we need to speak to our man here.”

  “Our man?” wheezed the Shapeshifter.

  “I said I don’t know,” Frivlok said curtly, stepping forward and knocking on the door.

  The sounds of life were still faintly apparent from the houses, but inside the church, there was only silence. Frivlok knocked again, louder this time. A light appeared from within. Growing impatient, Frivlok banged on the door with his fist.

  “I’m coming!” a voice shouted. “Zero forgive your impatience!” There was a rattling sound of a key slotting into a lock and turning. “Can’t a man have a few hours of peace to read and have his dinner? My good—”

  The door swung open and an elderly man wearing a leather waistcoat over a black shirt stood in the doorway. At the sight of Frivlok and his group, his jaw dropped open. “Zero below. It cannot be!”

  Frivlok felt a faint twinge of apprehension and recognition, but could not place it.

  The old man was still staring at them.

  “My Lord?” he asked.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rigel’s dreams that night were filled with suffocating blackness. In The Darkness, five purple eyes bloomed.

  “Rigel! Get up.” Someone’s boot nudged his ribs. He rolled over angrily and attempted to hit them. A strong hand grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his feet. “Good morning to you too,” said Jhoan.

  It felt as though lead weights were pressing against the backs of his eyeballs and he could barely stand up.