Don’t forget the drawbridge and the moat. We’re turning this place into a medieval fort.
Lincoln clambered down with great vigour despite his frail, shaking limbs, waving away Latif’s attempts to help with blustering dismissal. He popped onto the ground beside her and took a bow.
Evelyn allowed herself a weakness. She hugged him close and tight. There was no sense keeping up her veil any longer. They were all the same now; there would be no special dignity for the elders when that army arrived.
He seemed surprised, his busy eyebrows disappearing into the thick steel-coloured mane atop his head, but he held her until she let go.
“It won’t make any difference, will it?” she said.
“Not a damn bit.” He smiled, and there was none of the pretence of the eccentric about him now. He turned with her to stare at the milling droves, each of whom bore intense expressions of concentration. “But it doesn’t matter. We can’t just sit and wait for those bastards to come get us. We have to do something. Busy hands make a clean conscience.”
She was quiet. Real, childish fear stirred deep inside her at the thought of what was coming. She saw a flash of what this place would look like soon enough: pockmarked by bullet holes, blackened by fire, strewn with bodies. Even if they survived, things were going to get real ugly before they got better. “Maybe the messengers will bring others. Maybe there are a few still out there who’ll come to help.”
He nodded and looped his arm around her shoulders as though the two of them were newlyweds overlooking their new homestead. “Maybe.” He sighed. “Maybe.”
He squeezed her hand tight, and they stood that way for some time.
TENTH INTERLUDE
The ground opened up without warning, vanishing into a rabbit hole aperture at least ten feet wide. James yanked on his mount’s reins to keep from falling in, and called for Alex to hold. The itch in his legs pulsed, crawling as though he had a sack full of worms in his trousers. His heart was racing.
“This is it,” he muttered.
He sensed Alex’s eyes on him from behind, burning into the back of his head. He said something but he sounded so far away, so very far—obscured by a rushing noise that seemed to rise up from the ground and wrap James in a pall of sonorous whining. He blinked, feeling drunk but unable to stop himself, climbing down from his mount and moving toward the hole. By the time he reached its lip he was almost scrabbling like a man dying of thirst diving for water. But then Alex gripped him roughly around the shoulders. “What the hell’s gotten into you? I said not to go near it.”
“I have to! Let me go, Alex. Let me go, I have to go inside!”
That doesn’t sound like me, he thought. But he couldn’t help himself.
He needed to get down there. He needed to. There was no choice in the matter. If he waited any longer, then the itch would drive him mad. Already it was bubbling up out of his legs and into his abdomen, leaping ever higher toward his chest. It was a kind of fever, a madness, it was …
“Destiny,” he cried, struggling free of Alex’s grip. “It’s my destiny. You have to let me go down there. All this time you’ve filled my head with all those stories about how I can change things and help people and really make a difference—well here it is, this is what I’m meant for.” His mouth kept running like a spooked horse, and there was a desperate, dreamy note to it he didn’t recognise. “This is where I belong, not running around playing castles with all those fools and farmers!”
“James.” Alex stepped around the side of him and James was sobered by the blankness in his face. “James, what’s wrong with you? This isn’t you.”
“It is me, and I have to go down there.” It was obvious. Couldn’t he see? Why was he standing in the way like that? Alex was hurting him, being in the way, ensuring that the itch plagued him, like a splinter in the brain. Anger spiked sudden and unstoppable, and he flung his arms into the air with a bellow of frustration. “I have to!”
“Why?”
“I … don’t … know!” he screamed.
Alex blinked and looked around at the fog-strewn moorland. “This is nuts. You can’t know what’s down there.”
James fumed. “I knew this place was here. Explain that.”
“I can’t. I just know that something’s wrong.”
“You don’t know. I know. It’s me who’s got the fork in the road in front of him: either I’m about to have a complete meltdown, or I’m about to do something really fucking important.”
“I can’t risk losing you.”
“You have the others,” James spat.
“The others can’t complete the mission like you can.”
James barked a harsh laugh. “For a moment I thought you were saying you loved me.”
“Of course I love you.” Alex’s lips tightened and his brow furrowed in anger. He was blushing. “I’m here, aren’t I? Did I not just ride day and night through the bloody wilds on this wild goose chase just to make sure you didn’t get your stupid self killed?”
“You came because you couldn’t let your prize monkey slip through your fingers, Alex. That’s the way it’s always been. You’ve given me and the others everything we could ever want, and I wouldn’t trade my life for anything, but let’s not forget that you love the fairy tale in your imagination more than you could ever love any of us.”
Suddenly, the air between them was different. The closeness had shifted. It wasn’t the two of them standing in the foreign land, but James alone standing in a place that tormented him by its very being, and Alex standing in his way, keeping the answers over the horizon.
Stop while you’re ahead, James. You don’t mean this. It’s just this crazy place.
But he couldn’t stop. And there was something in Alex’s face that looked broken, fractured so deep that all the fight had been knocked out of him. Without a word, he stepped aside. “It’s your life, James,” he muttered. He couldn’t meet his eye. He sighed, and squared his shoulders, looking off toward the horizon. “I don’t believe in all this crap about visions and special powers. I believe in people, the dirt and the sky, science and the real world. But I don’t have a choice, sometimes. We live in a world we can’t explain, and I’ve seen enough strange things to know that there’s more going on.
“My life is about changing what I know I can change. If I don’t, there’s a chance nobody else will, and I can’t let that happen. And I know you have the same way about you—it’s a rare thing, so rare that I don’t assume there are others like us out there. We can save what we’re so close to losing. It’s in our grasp.
“But like I said, it’s your life. I never wanted to make a slave of you.”
James wanted to reach out and grasp him, to tell him that he knew, to thank him for being the one to drag so many up out of the dirt. But the itch was still ablaze, and there was so much anger welling up in him that he took a step back instead. “You make slaves of everyone, Alex. We both do. That’s who we are. We see things through, and we don’t care who gets caught in our wake.” He swallowed. “I don’t know if that’s what I want to be.”
Alex was quiet for a long while. The fog of Radden Moor curled around their ankles and the whistling wind blew the crisp scent of wildflowers through the chasm that had erupted between them.
Alex nodded slowly, as though seeing him anew. “Go down. You have to go. But I’m not going with you. All this mystic puff might play a part in all this, but I don’t have time to scratch around clues and chase mysteries. Maybe this is something, and maybe it’s just crazy—for all I know you really do remember this place. You were just a baby, but it’s possible. So go.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about something else here?”
“Don’t play games, James. That girl and you …”
James’s heart hammered. “Beth. Her name is Beth.”
Alex shook his head. “You can’t afford these distractions. We have things to do, big things, and you need to keep your focus. You’re so clo
se to greatness. You can’t give in now.”
“I love her, Alex. And loving somebody isn’t giving in; it’s part of being alive. I don’t want to live like that—”
He managed to bite back the last bit with extreme effort, but still it echoed in his head.
I don’t want to end up like you.
“Like you said, you have a destiny. If you keep along this path, you’ll be turning your back on it, and on me.” For the first time that James could remember since he had ousted Paul, the zealot who had tried to kill James so many years ago, Alex was angry. Fury radiated from his eyes, and his jaw squared with leaping muscles.
He shook his head. “You come all this way and you want to do this now?”
“Go, James. Get it over with. Get it out of your system. We have business to do back home.”
James cursed and stepped into the hole. It sloped down precipitously. He had expected it to really be like a rabbit hole, all soft earth and hanging roots and wriggling worms. But instead it widened out into a tunnel of mixed grey and obsidian stone, tall enough to walk at a stoop.
He stopped on the verge of where the grass gave way to bare rock, and turned back to Alex.
Alex wasn’t looking at him. He had retreated a short distance away and was staring at the distant ruins of Radden with his hands in his pockets, shirt tails caught in the breeze. James felt a sinking sensation, and couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed for the worse between them.
He ducked down into darkness and, steeling himself, descended into the Earth. It was pitch dark here and he had to feel his way along walls slimy with moss, slipping on the sharp gradient every few steps and cursing, but ahead he could see an amber glow. He didn’t have to look closer to know that it was the light of burning flames; these were the tunnels he had seen in his vision back at the farmstead, alight with bracketed torches.
He stumbled down, feeling more alone by the moment. He hadn’t bet on going this far without Alex.
All his life he had been by Alex’s side, preparing and learning all he could, training for the day when he would have to carry the banner of their cause. Had he just thrown it all away to tumble down a rabbit hole?
He shivered as he remembered the green book Alex had given him when he had been a boy. The gold-leaf title was emblazoned on his memory: Alice in Wonderland. They had read that book cover to cover more times than he cared to imagine. That was the night Alex had first told him about his destiny, when they had begun their journey together.
Now it ends with another idiot tumbling down a hole in the ground. How bloody poetic.
The darkness didn’t last long. The slope evened out and he passed the first of the torches, its light blinding even though he had been on the surface only a short while ago; he realised how thin and empty the blue-grey light that spilled over Radden County was. Now that the gradient had vanished, he could see all along the tunnel’s length, and in the distance he could make out a brighter space, an opening that sent his already racing heart into overdrive.
All thoughts of Alex melted away as he pulled himself along. He wasn’t walking anymore—the itch in his legs had taken over completely. He was being hauled along like a puppet on strings.
This must be what the pigeons feel like. It feels like flying.
The air was growing colder with each moment. Despite the flaming torches lining the walls in such an enclosed space, he was shivering in moments, not from the macabre surroundings, but from the chill. His breath puffed in vapour before his eyes, and he heard the crackle of ice crystals forming on his clothes.
By now he was almost sure he was flying. He couldn’t feel his legs moving at all.
The cavern was only feet away, and beyond, he sensed movement. Something was in there waiting for him. He was moving so fast and there was no stopping it, and he endured momentary panic, windmilling his arms. But there was no forestalling it now. He had arrived.
The tunnel ended and he passed into a cave the size of a small cottage. The light here came from old wax candles which burned with an acrid odour, and the walls were smooth and pure black. Delphic inscriptions had been carved into them in undulating messy lines; not the beauteous work of some ancient scribe, but more like the last scratchings of a thousand trapped madmen.
The cavern was cold and bright, empty bar a single hardwood desk at its centre, inset with a brass crest the size of a bicycle wheel, depicting a swinging pendulum. And sat there, upon a leather stool with his feet perched casually up on the desk top, was Him.
The man from his vision. The man with the dark marks under his eyes. He was staring at James with the expression of a wolf that has cornered its prey. He almost expected him to lick his lips with relish. As James emerged from the tunnel, He spread his arms wide and gestured to a free stool in front of the desk. “Mr Chadwick, at last,” he said.
His voice was smooth and seductive, and James felt sick at the sound of it. How easy it would be to fall under its sweet spell.
He blinked. The itch had gone, suddenly and totally. His knees almost buckled, and he stumbled forward toward the desk.
Is this it, then? Have I really gone mad?
“No, not mad,” the man said, grinning such that a mouthful of shining sharp teeth glowed in the light. “You’ve woken up, is all. Now you’re seeing, really seeing.”
Did he just read my mind?
“Don’t let it fool you. It’s just a parlour trick,” the man said. His eyes glimmered with amusement.
James stepped closer, drawn forward by his mesmerising gaze. “Who are you?”
“I’m so glad you asked that, because I love this part.” He kicked his feet off the desk and stood up, tracing its edge and running his fingertips over the brass crest. His hands took flight over his head and he began gesticulating grandly, his voice lyrical and otherworldly. “I am no one thing. I’ve walked alien forests in a cloak of tar, bringing darkness to purple skies, and those between the trees called me Nightfall. Elsewhere I’ve walked the coast of an endless ocean in the guise of a wolf. Over mountaintops made islands by the thickest clouds, I’ve flown as the Raven. The eons have given me many names. I am Shadow, I am the Eventide, I am the Shroud and the Veil, Jet and Sable, Obsidian and Sloe. Of all things touched by darkness, take your pick, for all have known my hand.”
He came to stand in front of James and took a low bow. “You may call me Fol, and I need your help,” he finished.
James stared dumbly. “My help?”
“I’m on a mission.” He placed a long-nailed alabaster hand on James’s shoulder. “I’ve been waiting years for you to finally wake up.”
James grimaced. The hand on his shoulder was cold, colder even than the arctic air of the cavern. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. James’s breath puffed up between them. When the man replied, his breath did not.
“Quite.” He gestured to the desk and the stool before it. “Step into my office, take a seat.” He seemed perpetually amused, but James didn’t get the joke. He sat without resistance, resigned to the absurdity of it all.
The man sighed as he propped his feet back up on the desk and relaxed back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “It’s not often I get to put my feet up,” he said. Then the amused twinkle in his eyes flashed out like a candle extinguished. “I’ve been watching you and yours since things around here hit the fan. I’ve seen what your blond-haired friend has done with a bad lot. You only see a few like that in a long stretch. I knew I could trust him to keep you breathing until you were ready.”
“You’re talking about Alex?”
“Don’t worry yourself. He doesn’t know any more about me than you. In fact, you’re the world expert on all things Fol as of now.”
“Lucky me.”
Fol barked. “And he has a sense of humour! Things aren’t all bad, after all.”
James couldn’t help twitching. His laughter wasn’t comforting at all, but unsettling. He wasn’t sure whether Fol was abou
t to clap him on the back or stab him to death. He had that way about him, endearing yet dangerous. And what of all this, anyway? How could any of it be real? The torches in the tunnel seemed to burn without fail, and the air in here was colder than he would have thought possible.
“I’m either crazy, or …”
“Or there’s something else been going on all this time that nobody told you about,” Fol said, his lip thrust mockingly.
James shook his head. “Or something else nobody else knew about,” he muttered.
Fol seemed pleased. “You’re sharper than you look, Wonderboy. No wonder you’re the one I need.”
“Stop stalling,” James snapped. “I’m here. I’m not raving about how stupid and crazy all this is because I’m keeping it bottled. But if I’m here for some reason then tell me now, or I’m out of here.” The anger came thick and fast, stemming from newfound desperation to get back to Beth. The itch had been smothering those feelings, and now the itch was gone he couldn’t believe he had really left her. He had left her.
Fol held up his hands. “Fair’s fair.” He dropped his feet from the table once more and leaned forward over the desk. Again, his fingers traced the crest of the pendulum, and James’s heart skipped a beat when he focused on it. Then Fol took a breath and nodded as though having made a decision. “Things are broken,” he said.
James waited for more, but Fol was staring at him hard. “Broken?”
“That’s right. Big things. We’re talking cosmic-scale shitstorm, here.” He jerked his head to the tunnel. “You might have noticed things aren’t quite as they should be. Six billion missing people tends to give most people an inkling of that.”
James sat up straighter. “You know what happened at the End?”
Fol shook his head, his sharp teeth glinting as he grinned in derision. “Can’t believe you people call it the End. This is just the beginning, boy. Things are set to get a hell of a lot worse. And not just for this place. Things are setting to go to hell just about everywhere.”
Brink (The Ruin Saga Book 2) Page 36