Children of Swan: The Land of Taron, Vol 3: (A Space Fantasy Adventure)

by Coral Walker

  “Dad! Jack!” Bo cried, sticking one hand out of the cage in a futile attempt to reach them.

  The cage was only a few yards away, and Jack could see the creases in his little palm.

  He could jump, he could jump that far ... he could get them down ... no matter what they can stay together ...

  The thought leapt into his mind and without delay he acted upon it. Breathing tightly, he started walking beneath the cage, following it closely.

  Gliding past the centre of the pit, the cage was heading towards the other tower. A loud droning sound came from somewhere underneath the floor, but he dismissed it. Just two more steps, he calculated. Suddenly he heard Dad shout, “Jack, come back!”

  Dad sounded desperate and urgent, and he sensed it too — the smell of danger. But where? Without warning, he stumbled and felt it at once — the floor was moving, and he was moving with it. In a flash the cage was beyond his reach. He turned sharply towards Dad, dazed and unsteady on his feet.

  The whole floor seemed to be spinning, faster and faster. But no ... not the central part, not where Dad was standing.

  Something was moving underneath his feet, and the floor became uneven, destabilising him. Looking down, he could see that the floor was no longer inanimate metal, but had come alive with thousands of hexagons, each of which, as if it had a mind of its own, was moving individually, raising or lowering, adjusting to a specific height.

  “Run, Jack, run!” Dad shouted and started to run himself.

  Jack staggered and was almost tripped by some hexagons that rose above the others. Bracing one hand against the floor, he avoided falling. But the hexagon beneath his hand was sliding away. Quickly he switched hands and watched in amazement as the hexagon that his hand was on slotted into a hexagon next to it and vanished. In its place was a hole.

  It was not just that hexagon, but all the hexagons. They were no long moving upwards and downwards but had started moving sideways, slotting in each other and filling the floor with hexagon-shaped holes. The holes were constantly changing, and their size was growing rapidly.

  Two yards away, Dad was running along the edge of the central circle, which was unaffected by the spinning floor. He kept a steady speed to stay parallel with him.

  “Jump! Jump!” he shouted, and held out his arm.

  Jack teetered and wobbled on top of the remaining hexagons. When they became sparse, and the hole in front of him opened up like the jaws of a beast, he threw himself forward towards Dad. Dad grasped the clothes at his chest and gave him a mighty pull. Together they crashed onto the floor.

  For a moment he panted hoarsely, dazzled by what he had seen. He caught sight of the last bit of the spinning floor, shrinking rapidly, disappearing beneath the central circle he and Dad were on, leaving a yawning chasm between the central disc and the wall.

  +++

  The disc they were on was small, ten yards across was an optimistic estimate.

  Dad gasped in astonishment. Below them was a deep drop into a rocky pit with every inch of the ground covered with repulsive, slithering brown bodies.

  “A bokwa hole,” murmured Dad. “It’s why this location was chosen for the New Temple of Justice — the rocky ground is full of holes and caverns making a perfect playground for bokwas. Lord Shusha has always been passionate about using bokwas for the justice system, to devour the most abominable criminals.”

  He paused to give a sigh and when he started again, his voice was filled with irony, “I even gave him my support, never for the smallest instant thinking that my own children and I would be the first ones to put it to use.”

  “My good people,” the King spoke. Surrounded by lords with golden collars and guards with feathered caps, he looked imposing on top of the rostrum of gold and blue.

  “As you have witnessed, I’ve tried everything to save Prince Marcus’ soul from the consequences of his sin. I was so ready to forgive him and embrace him, if only he would save himself by slitting the throat of Princess Zeleanda.”

  He paused for a split second before resuming with a thunderous cry, “But he refused!”

  “How come he’s your brother, Dad,” whispered Jack, frowning.

  He felt an odd glance from Dad.

  “I mean ... it seems he hates you ... really hates you.”

  Dad said nothing.

  “You must have grown up together. Did you quarrel as Brianna and I do?” Jack inquired, sensing the anomaly.

  Dad sighed and looked down at him, “Perhaps it would be better if we had squabbled like you and Brianna. I hardly knew Mapolos. Most of the time we were apart from each other. I was always busy, with strict and demanding schedules. Learning to be a king was a colossal amount of work.”

  The King’s voice boomed out again, emphatic and firm, “My good people, things that have to be done must be done, no matter how our heart trembles with pity. Prince Marcus’ refusal to end Princess Zeleanda’s life with his own hands has left us with no choice — in the name of the gods, Prince Marcus and his unlawful family must be condemned to death.”

  Jack’s heart skipped a beat as the word ‘death’ resonated in the pit. For a long while now, he hadn’t been too far away from it, but hearing it loud and clear was still eerie and shocking.

  “Do you regret your choice, Dad?” Jack muttered, tasting the bitterness of his own tone. “You should be up there; you should be King.”

  Keeping silent, Dad placed a hand on his shoulder.

  The King’s voice again shook the air, “To my surprise, my good counsellors have requested that Princess Zeleanda’s life be spared.”

  The hand on Jack’s shoulder shuddered. There was a cacophony of noise from the crowd seated on the terraces, a mixture of anger and anticipation.

  “It is not a pardon, my people,” the King bellowed, “but a punishment worse than death. Suffering, think about it, at every moment of her life.”

  As the crowd calmed down, the King’s voice softened a little, “See the wisdom of this, my good people. By keeping the Princess of Rion in the palm of our hands, we strike directly into every Rionean’s heart. We will force them to their knees and enslave them all. What could be better than that?”

  The King punched his fist in the air, and the crowd responded with deafening cheers.

  Spreading his hands flat in front of him, the King calmed the crowd, and then he lowered his head and fixed his gaze on Dad for a second or two. His face widened into a meaningful grin, and he spoke again, “As for Prince Marcus, my counsellors have come up with a wise plan. ‘A pardon,’ they said, since it is the first day of a new king. Hundreds of pardons have been sent out to the prisons and dungeons, why shouldn’t there be one for my brother?”

  “Listen, Marcus, my brother. Here’s the pardon, the chance for you to save your life as well as one of your children — take it. In the middle of the disc, you are standing on, a box is hidden beneath the floor. Open it and you will see two swords waiting for you and your son.”

  “Take the sword and fight, both of you. The winner — the sole survivor, either you or Jack, will be pardoned and walk out of here with one of the children in the cage, Brianna or Bo. Your chance, Marcus, take it or not, it’s up to you.”

  For a while, it seemed to Jack that the floor was spinning again. He glanced up at Dad, who was breathing as hoarsely as he was. A few steps from them, Jack could vaguely see a rectangular shape on the floor that was slightly darker than the rest. A concavity that was just big enough to get a hand in must conceal a handle.

  “Don’t think you can stand there forever,” the King spoke again, his face beaming with a mocking glow. He brandished a tablet he took from Lord Shusha. “Button, remember, my good brother? Once it’s pressed the cage with your children in will start to fall, and how fast it falls depends on the fight. The fiercer the fight is, the slower it falls; the less you fight, the faster it drops. If, by the time it reaches the bottom of the bokwa hole, a winner has not yet been declared, I am afraid that neither your
life nor Jack’s will be spared. The bokwas will have a good feast.”

  With a dramatic gesture, he raised both his hands. A plaintive melody rose into the air, captivating and moody, and then the whole place went eerily quiet. All of a sudden, a band of trumpets sounded and turned the melody into a powerful anthem.

  +++

  Bo screamed as the cage made a sudden drop. Brianna drew him quickly into her arms.

  Jack and Dad sprang to their feet as one man and ran towards the hidden box. By the time the lid of the box was kicked shut, each of them was standing with a shining sword in their hands, staring into each other’s faces.

  Jack’s head was drumming and spinning, and Dad, with arched brows and gasping lips, looked equally bewildered.

  The ground started rotating, and it brought the cage into their sight. It must have been dropping ever since the fight had been announced. Their moments of wavering and staring had caused the cage to drop at a speed faster than they had expected, and it was now level with the floor they were standing on.

  At that speed it was only a matter of minutes before the cage hit the bottom of the bokwa hole — the fight must start!

  “Jack,” called Dad, and a subtle smile floated on his haggard face. “You asked me whether I have regrets. Why should I, Jack? I have the best family I could ever have hoped for.” With that, he charged forward, sweeping the sword towards Jack’s left shoulder.

  His speed took Jack by surprise, but he reacted well, sidestepping the blow and hitting back with a flick of his wrist. The sharp edge of the sword was heading towards Dad’s arm.

  To his utter dismay, Dad was reckless and didn’t try to dodge, but instead, tilted his body clumsily into the path of the sword.

  In his haste to divert the sword, Jack’s body jerked in frustration and he almost lost his balance. The tip of the sword slashed past Dad’s arm. Teetering a few steps backward, he regained his feet. “You could’ve ducked, Dad!” he cried, trembling momentarily with shock.

  “I’m ... just ...” Dad muttered, gulping, “tired.”

  “They’re falling again, Dad. We must carry on. I’ll attack this time. Make sure you defend yourself!”

  With a clang, Dad parried the blow that was aimed at his head. The blades of the swords zinged against each other, their wintry light flickering on Dad’s face. Dad’s translucent eyes were gazing into his, entreating. “Jack, I’ve made up my mind — I want you to live,” he said.

  With a mighty shove, Jack sent Dad staggering backwards towards the edge. “No, Dad, there must be another way!” he shouted and charged forward wielding his sword.

  Dad blocked his impetuous assault just in time by holding his sword upright in front of his face. “Listen, Jack.” Dad’s eyes flared with intensity and the white shimmering sword reflected in them like an omen. “There isn’t another way. Instead of us all dying, survive if you can.”

  “How can I?” cried Jack shivering, “who am I supposed to choose, Bo or Brianna?”

  “Brianna.” Without a blink, Dad let the name slip.

  “Why Brianna?” Jack muttered, eyes widening in bewilderment.

  “You and Brianna are blood siblings, and you should live together.”

  “Blood or not, Brianna will not live without Bo, and neither will I!” Jack howled, feeling the piercing pain in his heart.

  There was a stunned look on Dad’s face. For a second or two, he stood there as if hypnotised. Without warning he charged forward and snarled as he brandished his sword ferociously at him. “You do as I say, Jack. I am your father!”

  Blows and parries followed one after another. He was no longer his father, but a keen-eyed swordsman. For every strike that Jack fended off, he came back with one fiercer.

  Jack, although his limbs were still light and agile, felt his mind fill with resentment, thick and heavy. How could Dad even think of that — wanting him and Brianna to live, simply because they were blood-related?

  The rancour took its toll. The sword seemed too heavy, and his body was too sluggish. When the next blow came, he was too slow with his sword and was left no choice but to tilt his body awkwardly sideways to evade the blow. The sword was heading sharply towards his shoulder. When he was quite certain it would hit him, the sword changed its course abruptly, jerking backwards before sweeping down again, except now the flat side of the blade was facing down. It struck him across his chest with a loud thump, sending him slumping backwards to the floor.

  He groaned and winced as his chest was numbed momentarily from the pain. The tip of Dad’s sword was pointing at his chest.

  “Kill him, kill him!” the audience roared.

  Jack’s gaze wended its way to Dad’s eyes. For a moment, Dad’s eyes were clear and simple, and Jack saw in their shimmering and glistening the world it held — the world they shared and loved.

  But in a blink, the look glazed over and the world, bright and real a moment ago, vanishing from his gaze. Left in its place were shadows and thick mists.

  “It’s finished. Jack, this is good-bye.” Dad’s lips trembled as he drew back his sword. Without a further glance, he strode away and didn’t stop until he was inches away from the edge of the chasm. The rope for the cage was coming their way. Vaguely Jack heard Bo’s cry from far below. At the sound of the cry, Dad’s lone figure wobbled.

  Promptly, Jack sat up, jolted by a thought that dashed into his mind. Before he fully comprehended it, his hand had already grasped the sword. With all his might he threw it.

  “Dad!” he shouted out the warning.

  Dad turned and jerked his body to one side. The sword flew past him and headed into the chasm. The thick rope of the cage was now right behind Dad. Without further ado, Jack rolled to his feet and burst into a sprint. He saw Dad was waving at him looking stunned and leaped, a couple of yards from him.

  Instantly, he was in the air.

  19

  Stuck

  Jack aimed for the long rope and caught hold of it in mid-jump. The rope was rougher than he expected, burning and chafing his palms as he slid down it. Nevertheless, he dropped all the way to the top of the cage. Before examining the cage and greeting Brianna and Bo with his typical grin, he looked up — Dad wasn’t there anymore.

  For a while he was baffled, and his heart clenched with the anxiety of not knowing. To his relief he saw him the next instant, running rapidly towards the edge.

  Dad was a little clumsy on his feet when he jumped. Though he propelled himself far enough to reach the rope, he didn’t get a good grip on it. He dropped precipitately for a second, but somehow managed to get the rope firmly in his clutches after a few tumbles.

  Dad grimaced and glanced down at Jack. They scarcely met each other’s eyes before the cage jerked and plummeted. Down it went, smashing into the ground with a deafening bang, knocking Jack off his feet.

  Brianna and Bo were screaming below him. Bokwas swarmed into the cage — so many of them. Using their hands and feet, Brianna and Bo quickly scrambled up the side of the cage. The bars were too smooth for bokwas to scale, but still a handful of foolhardy ones, with tails coiled and claws clamped, were trying to get at them.

  “Did you see the sword?” Jack shouted to Brianna and Bo, who were hanging on like monkeys below him.

  “There!” they answered together.

  Following their glance, he caught a gleam of metal beneath layers of bokwas. Without a second thought, he leaped and side-flipped in the air to land flat, his back ramming into the bokwa-carpeted ground.

  Bokwas, squealing with strange whines, sprang away all around him, momentarily leaving him a small clearing. Frowning in disgust, he flicked away the squashed bokwas and picked up the sword underneath. Close by, Dad’s sword was twinkling.

  “Catch, Dad,” he said, tossing the sword towards Dad, who had slid off the rope and was now standing on top of the cage.

  Dad caught the sword with ease and replied with a grin. “Thanks, Jack, can you keep the bokwas clear of Bo and Brianna? I’l
l see if I can force the cage open.” That said, he crouched down on one knee and jammed the tip of the sword into the hasp of the large padlock.

  Wielding the sword in his hand, Jack charged and slashed a path through the bokwas back to the cage. For a spell he swung the sword continuously, sending bokwas flying all around him. But soon he was panting and gasping. Keeping the bokwas away from the cage was easier said than done, he reflected ruefully, and looked around. There were too many of them. No matter how strenuously he wielded his sword, they kept coming back, new ones replacing the dead and wounded.

  A sooty, russet-spotted bokwa, more muscular than the others slithered up one of the bars and was now creeping up on Bo. Bo, terrified at the sight of it, hastily scaled the cage bars to reach the higher ones at the top. One of his hands, that must have been sweaty and tired, slackened its grip, and instantly he was dangling by one hand. The bokwa advanced more, almost at the level of his chest. Hissing with its head arched like a bow, it seemed ready to spring at any instant. Brianna hissed loudly at the bokwa and desperately shuffled her hands along the bars in an attempt to reach Bo. The sinewy bokwa recoiled at her show of aggression, but it was too late for Bo.

  With a sharp cry, Bo fell. At once, a handful of bokwas that had remained at the bottom of the cage leaped upon him. Many more followed. In a blaze of fury, Brianna was at Bo’s side. She plunged down and was scarcely on her feet before she bent down, yanked a handful of bokwas off Bo’s torso and hurled them away with all her might. They thumped into the cage bars head-on and raised a noisy disturbance among the others in the cage. Hastily they took to their heels. When Brianna turned back with a fearsome look, there was only one slender bokwa still left on Bo’s leg. She snatched its tail and tore it off Bo. The moments that followed were hilarious, to Jack at least, and he would recall it many times afterwards, not a single time without feeling terribly amused.