by Logan Joss
‘Shh,’ she whispered. ‘She’s in the store. On one of the lower levels. Follow me.’
Trevor had no idea who this woman was or why she appeared to be helping him, but, seeing no better course of action, he followed her anyway. She led him to a door that opened out onto the rear courtyard.
‘Over there,’ she said, pointing to the large outbuilding that he had seen through the gate before. ‘Now hurry. You’ll need to be quick.’
Trevor hesitated on the doorstep. The courtyard was overlooked on three sides by the wings of the villa. What if someone saw him?
But the maid pushed him outside. ‘Go!’ she insisted and closed the door behind him.
He had no choice now. Steeling his nerves, he ran across the courtyard to the store and turned the handle. It was open. He ducked inside with relief and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside. He stood against the door, his heart thumping in his chest as he tried to calm his rapid breathing. Ahead of him, a spiral staircase led downwards, spilling out a pool of silver light from the floors below. He crept towards it, listening for any signs of movement. Everything seemed quiet, so he tiptoed down, taking each step with great care until he reached the floor below.
Light from scattered firestone lanterns reflected off rows and rows of wine bottles, giving the unnerving appearance of hundreds of eyes watching him. With a shudder, he looked past them to the cold glow of light coming from under a door at the end. The muffled sounds of voices drifted towards him but, although he held his breath and strained his ears to listen, he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He was concentrating so hard that he nearly jumped out of his skin as the door was thrown open and a man stormed out. He backed up into the shadows of the staircase and watched as the man slammed the door behind him and paced up and down, evidently annoyed, the heels of his boots ringing on the wooden floor and their golden buckles glinting menacingly.
‘Sklõff!’ Trevor muttered under his breath as a wave of relief washed over him, mixed with a sense of trepidation. He retreated further down the stairs, out of sight.
The bottom floor was even more dimly lit and he could make out nothing more than a few indistinct shapes. Hoping to find something he could use as a weapon or even some food, he took a firestone lantern off the wall behind him and went to investigate. The ground here was made of stone and he could feel the cold seeping up through his trainers. As he stepped further into the room, he could see it was divided into alcoves, each with an arched entrance and filled with barrels and crates of various sizes. He put the lantern down and started pulling lids off some of the crates. Inside one were lots of cylindrical objects that felt smooth, like they were made of metal, and in another were miniature barrels filled with a powder that smelled like fireworks, sharp and metallic. In the third were some round objects; he picked one up and turned it over in his hands. It felt like a bowling ball but was lighter and had a short piece of string coming out from one side. A bomb, he thought and put it back down quickly.
Sweeping the lantern around, he noticed that one of the alcoves at the end of the room had a door on it. He crept over and tried the latch. As the door swung open, he was startled by scraping sounds and muffled squeaks coming from the darkness beyond. He held the lantern out in front of him and gasped in shock. Sitting bound and gagged on the floor was a woman who was dressed like one of the household staff. She shuffled towards him, her eyes wide and pleading. Trevor looked at her more closely and took a step back in alarm. It was the same maid who had helped him only minutes before. But that was impossible. Not believing his own eyes, he leaned in to take a second look.
At that moment, the sound of smashing glass echoed down from the floor above and drew Trevor’s attention back to Sklõff and Mèlli in the room upstairs.
‘I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you. I promise.’ He closed the door to the alcove, put the lantern down and crept back up the spiral staircase.
Sklõff stood still, his ear pressed against the door as if he were listening to what was going on inside. Trevor stood on tiptoe and peered over the top of the steps, his heart pounding. Suddenly, Sklõff threw the door open and burst into the room. There was another man inside and he and Sklõff seemed to be discussing something, but Trevor couldn’t tell if Mèlli was there. He craned his neck to watch. It wasn’t long before Sklõff turned and strode purposefully back out again, heading directly towards the stairs. Trevor ducked down and hid. He heard the sound of scuttling footsteps.
‘As you have all that you need, I was wondering whether I may take the body…once the child has passed, of course,’ a man’s voice said.
‘The body? Why on Ëlamár would you want the body?’
Trevor pressed himself as far back as possible into the shadows as the men climbed the steps above him. They paused at the top.
‘Or perhaps I shouldn’t ask,’ Sklõff continued dismissively.
‘Actually, I’ve been dabbling with re-animation,’ the man said in a groveling tone.
‘Take her. As long as she’s dead I don’t care what you do with her.’
The door slammed behind them as they left.
Trevor waited with baited breath for a moment, worried that they would return, then crept back up to the middle floor. Cautiously, he tiptoed along the corridor, ducking in between racks of wine and listening for any sounds coming from the room at the end. But all was quiet. He reached the door and pushed it open slowly, his arms trembling and his body poised to run.
His heart leaped into his mouth when he saw her. She was lying on a table in the middle of the room, her skin pale and her eyes closed. She looked so fragile, so helpless.
‘Mèlli,’ he gasped as he ran to her. ‘It’s me, Trevor. Come on, we’ve got to get out of here. They could be back at any moment.’ He started untying the straps on her arms and legs, taking care when he saw that they were covered with cuts and bruises. ‘Oh my god, Mèlli, what has he done to you?’
Mèlli didn’t respond. He tapped her cheek. ‘Wake up. We need to go.’
It was then that he noticed the tubes dripping multi-colored liquids into her arm. He pulled them out and ripped a strip from the bottom of his tunic to tie around her arm as a bandage.
‘You need to wake up Mèlli, we need to get out of here before they come back.’ He tapped her cheek again, a little firmer this time, but still she lay motionless.
Feeling desperate, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. ‘Please Mèlli wake up…wake up,’ he pleaded. He lowered his head to her chest to listen for the beat of her heart, but all he could hear was his own, thumping uncontrollably in his head.
‘No, Mèlli, no,’ he sobbed, heartbroken, as he felt his strength and resolve collapse inside him. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time. I tried. Please believe me, I tried.’
He slid his arms under her shoulders and pulled her up until she was resting tightly against his chest. ‘I’m sorry that I didn’t protect you when we were on the Harpy’s Song. I just sat there. And when I heard what he said, that you were a girl, I couldn’t believe it. Now it’s too late.’
He held her tighter and rocked her gently, his heart breaking.
‘The funny thing is, I think I always knew. And when you kissed me, I liked it—and that scared me. But none of that matters now. I wish I could have told you. If only I was braver.’
He pressed his cheek up against hers and let the tears flow painfully.
He felt a touch on his arm.
‘Trevor?’
He lifted his head, hardly believing his own ears. ‘Mèlli?’
‘Aren’t you dead?’ Mèlli opened her eyes, those bright cornflower blue eyes, just for a moment, and looked at him. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Then she groaned and slumped back against his chest.
‘I’m getting you out of here,’ Trevor said with relief and a renewed sense of urgency. He pulled her towards him and slid her off t
he table, but in her unconscious state she was heavier than he expected and his legs buckled beneath him, sending them both to the floor in a tangled heap. He struggled out from beneath her and hooked his arms under her shoulders to try and pull her along.
They had just reached the door when a gruff voice came from behind them. ‘Oi, you!’
Trevor turned around and saw two of Sklõff’s crewmen standing by the stairs. In a panic, he grabbed the first thing that came to hand—a long wooden broom—and held it out in defense.
‘What ya gonna do with that, sweep us up?’ the man chuckled but was cut off in mid-sentence as his comrade struck him over the head with a cudgel. He collapsed to the floor unconscious.
Trevor stood frozen with shock, his mouth open and his makeshift weapon still hovering before him redundantly.
The man walked calmly towards him and took the broom from his hands. ‘We need to be quick,’ he said. ‘Sklõff is rallying his men. He means to leave for Borreós before nightfall.’
He took a step towards Mèlli but Trevor stood in his way.
‘Who are you?’ Trevor said, totally confused.
‘We haven’t time for that now.’ He pushed Trevor aside and paused for a moment, bending down and gently touching a hand to Mèlli’s cheek, before pulling her out from the doorway. ‘We’re going to need a distraction, or you’ll not make it out of the city alive with Sklõff’s men after you,’ he said as he grabbed some bottles of spirits and threw them into the room, smashing them against the wall. ‘I’d get back if I were you.’
He took another bottle and smashed the top off, tore a piece of rag from the unconscious man’s clothing and stuffed it inside, then lit it with a pipe flint. He threw it into the room and, with a whoosh, it was ablaze.
Calmly, he scooped Mèlli up, threw her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing and headed for the stairs.
Trevor followed behind him, looking back over his shoulder as the whole room was engulfed in flames, but as he reached the steps he stopped. ‘Wait.’
‘What is it?’ the man said from the top of the stairs.
‘There’s someone in here. Downstairs.’
‘Oh, I forgot about her. What of it?’
‘We can’t leave her in here. This place is going up.’
A look of bewilderment spread across the man’s face. ‘She would have let your friend die.’
‘Well, I can’t let her die.’
‘Do what you need to do. I’ll get her to safety.’
Trevor ran back down the stairs to the bottom level and grabbed the firestone lantern from where he’d left it. He opened the door to the alcove and put the lantern down inside. The woman started to squeal again as he drew Mèlli’s pocket knife from the bag across his chest.
‘Don’t worry, I’m getting you out of here.’ He cut the bindings around her wrists and ankles and she wriggled free, pulling the gag from her mouth.
Wisps of smoke started to pour down between the floorboards.
‘Run!’ Trevor said.
He followed her up the stairs and through the doorway into the courtyard, just as the flames ripped up through the floor of the grain store and burst open the shutters, licking at the air outside. In his haste he stumbled and fell, the grit of the courtyard scraping his hands and knees. As he looked up he could see men like statues, motionless as they stared in shock towards the burning building. Some carried sacks and boxes, others pulled handcarts, but all were still.
He struggled to his feet, the heat growing behind him, and started to run for the rear gate. Suddenly all was in motion as the men dropped what they were doing to fight the fire.
‘That’s him!’ a shrill voice shouted above the chaos. ‘He’s the one! He’s getting away!’
Trevor looked back over his shoulder and saw the woman that he had just released pointing at him. Next to her stood Sklõff. The fear that washed through Trevor at the sight of him was nothing compared to how he felt when he saw who was standing next to him. It was the man who had helped him with Mèlli. How could he have been so foolish? He had let that stranger carry her away into the hands of her captor. All at once, he was consumed by an overwhelming sense of loss and a terrible rage and his instinct was to lash out at these men before him.
‘Come on!’ A voice coming from the direction of the gate made Trevor turn around.
There was Mèlli, lying unconscious on a wooden barrowcart, being pushed by the man who had rescued her.
‘What are you waiting for?’ the man called.
Trevor squinted hard, thinking his eyes were deceiving him and glanced back at the man beside Sklõff. They were identical.
Without a second thought, he ran to Mèlli as fast as he could. He could hear Sklõff yelling behind him. ‘Grab him you fools, he’s—’
But before he could finish, there was a sound like the crack of lighting and an almighty bass rumble resonated through the ground. The fire had reached the ammunitions floor. Trevor swung around, just in time to see Sklõff launched into the air by an enormous ball of flame.
He reached the gate and took the handles of the barrowcart, shooting the man a questioning glance.
‘Run. Don’t look back and don’t stop until you get out of the city,’ he urged.
‘But what about you?’
‘I am not your concern. Now go!’
As Trevor and Mèlli made their escape, the man who had helped them took his last look at the burning wreckage of Sklõff’s outhouse and gave a smile of satisfaction. Taking a step forward, he jumped into the air and became a bird.
33
A Friend In Need
TREVOR RAN AS fast as he could down the service road, out past the golden gates of the villa and down the ramp which led into the park he had come through earlier. Retracing his steps, he weaved the cart quickly between concerned bystanders who had, only moments before, been going about their business in the late morning sun. Now they had all stopped to stare at the flames and clouds of billowing smoke that were erupting from the tier above.
‘Is that Jakren’s house?’ one lady said.
‘No. I think it’s Sklõff’s,’ her friend replied with whispered awe.
The very mention of Sklõff’s name sent a shiver of fear down Trevor’s spine and he fought the urge to look back. Suddenly he felt very conspicuous, pushing what appeared to be a body through this public place, so he veered off the path and concealed himself in amongst some large bushes. He shook Mèlli’s shoulder to try and rouse her. ‘Mèlli, Mèlli, wake up.’
‘Uhh…’ came the response. But she didn’t move.
It was then that Trevor noticed Mèlli was lying on a piece of sackcloth. With a tug, he started to pull it out from beneath her. ‘I’m just going to cover you over, Mèlli, it won’t be for long. Just let me know if you get too hot,’ he said guiltily as he tucked her arms and legs into the cart to disguise her shape and covered her over with the cloth. Feeling less suspicious, he rejoined the path through the park, trying to walk more naturally now.
The park extended all the way to the front of the level where it was bordered by a narrow, cobbled road that ran along its entire length. Servants pulled rickshaws up and down, carrying wealthy women and their pampered pets. Trevor crossed the road and paused for a moment to survey his surroundings, leaning out over the low wall at the top of the cliff that dropped down to the level below.
The man who had helped them back at the villa had told him to get out of the city. But how could he get out? And where should he go? The only place he knew was rus, and that was far away on the other side of an ocean. He scanned the different levels of the city as they lay spread out before him and tried to work out where to head to.
From up here, he could see how vast the levels were. He had been so focused on getting to Mèlli before that he hadn’t even stopped to look behind him. Each level was the size of a small town and equally busy with people going about the business of the day. The yurts of the bazaar far below him were one sprawling mass
of color, from which the tumultuous sounds of traders and their eager customers drifted towards him on the warm air. Further still, the shoreline, which had been shrouded in shadow when he arrived, was now bathed in sunlight. And beyond that, the towering island loomed, its dark cliffs spotted with the pale pink shapes of nesting seabirds. He could see the steady stream of tenders flying up and down carrying their cargo between the bazaar and the harbordrome. The skies above were busy too, teeming with galleons of all shapes and sizes arriving and departing.
With a burst of inspiration, he knew where he had to go.
His eyes followed the road that led away from the suspension bridge and traced its path as it split into three. He had taken the lower fork that morning but saw now that the upper one wound around the edge of the city and formed a perimeter road that joined with cobbled tracks at the front of each level. Without another thought, he lifted the handles of the barrowcart and hurried along the bumpy street towards it.
Suddenly the air filled with the wailing sound of sirens, echoing off the cliffs of the city. Trevor stopped dead. From down below, a flotilla of barges was heading towards him. They were all painted bright green; some were fitted with a large barrel accompanied by men holding hoses and others were full of people in uniforms of the same bright green. Oh no, he thought, the emergency services. He feared that it wouldn’t be long before everyone was looking for him and the perimeter road no longer seemed like an option—it was too open and vulnerable and they’d easily be able to spot him there. Instead, he took one of the snaking ramps which led down to the relative safety of the back streets of the level below.