by S. K. Holder
‘You’re reputable in your disregard for orders, Lomar, and if it were any other boy I would allow you the privilege,’ he paused. His gaze drifted to where Connor sat gaunt and bewildered. ‘This boy, however, comes with us.’
With that, Osaphar seized Connor by his waist and soared to the top of the trees.
He landed, with a slight bump, inside the enclosure. He set Connor down, propping him up against a tree.
Snow began to fall. Connor’s teeth chattered. He wasn’t afraid anymore. The cold had dulled his mind.
Osaphar said no more to him. He wrapped him in a sheet of animal fur and pressed a heated flask to his lips. The fur obliterated the cold sheet of air that swathed him. He downed the warm syrupy liquid, hardly tasting it. He cupped the flask in his hands and let the heat from it enter his body. He gazed expressionless at the others who sat astride their mounts like silver spectres. The snow melted the instant it touched their garments. Connor felt them watching him. A handful of the Silver Riders cast an idle glance in his direction, and then resumed their conversations.
He stole a glance at the hunched figure seated on the ground. In the soft flickering light, a little girl’s hazel eyes gazed back at him.
One of the Silver Riders swept the girl roughly off her feet and placed her upon his horse.
Connor stared at the empty space where he thought he had seen her. His vision was hazy. He rubbed his eyes, determined not to fall asleep. Someone snatched the flask out of his hand and lifted him onto a steel grey horse. He gripped the horse’s mane tight and sunk his legs into the animal’s flanks to stop himself from falling. A Silver Rider clambered up behind him to take the reins.
Snowflakes settled on Connor’s eyelids. He dipped his head, only to have it instantaneously lifted by a jolt from the horse as they galloped out of the enclosure.
The other riders followed. They rode hard as if spurred along by an urgency that could not be communicated in words.
Connor’s eyes fixed on a vision of blue. Every tree and the very ground on which the horses trampled was as blue as the ocean was deep; a watery and a fathomless blue. He felt giddy. His head lolled.
What did they give me to drink?
The blue forest vanished, replaced by perpetual darkness.
FIVE
Behind a set of steel doors, fifteen inches thick, lay the Stores. Forty-eight chambers of the Shardner’s secrets, concealed in boxes, vaults, and vats. Access is restricted to no more than fifty of the Shardner’s special staff. Skelos Dorm is somewhere on that list, though he does not consider it a privilege...
At the height of his career, Skelos had had his own Stores, spacious enough and rich enough to rival any in Baruch, and he did not need a guard to accompany him there.
The doors opened. Skelos and Vastra stepped off the steel welcome mat onto the cave floor. The chambers flanking them were four stories high. Skelos’s ears rang as the doors behind him clicked back into place. Locked. At the end of the passage was another set of steel doors and a glass cubicle. Inside the glass cubicle sat two ardent Administrators. It was their job to inspect the items leaving the Stores and record them in the logbook. Once the Administrators were satisfied everything was in order, they released the second set of steel doors. The doors that led to freedom or so Skelos hoped, for there was no other way out.
He was pleased to see there were no Plowmen[3]. He had not received their touch in a while. The guards believed that his age and weight prevented him from making any great escapes. So far, he had proven them right. It was better for them to think him infirm, than armed and dangerous.
Skelos dawdled outside the first barrel-vaulted chamber. With Vastra looking on, he had almost forgotten what he had come for. It was apparent to him that the guard had never seen inside the Stores. His eyes were flitting all over the place, awash with curiosity of what lay hidden behind each iron door, behind each dusty vault. Once Skelos found what he was really looking for, he would have to act quickly.
He kept on until he came to the chamber he was seeking. The chamber door was bolted, locked and chained. The sign on the door read RAINBOWS ROCK. PLEASE SEE THE STORE ADMINISTRATOR FOR ACCESS. Skelos’s jaw twitched then sagged. It was in there. He could sense it. Besides, he had overheard the guards talking about putting it in the most secure chamber in the Stores, the one that was always locked.
‘I can get a Store Administrator for you,’ said Vastra eager to speed things up. He shot off before Skelos could say whether he needed a Store Administrator or not. As it happened, it wasn’t an Administrator he needed, it was a bloody miracle.
Skelos rattled the chains in frustration, sending a thunderous echo through the chambers.
‘Shhh!’ hissed a voice. Skelos spun round to see Vastra striding towards him with one of the Stores Administrators. The Administrator’s cheeks were hollow enough to spoon tea out of and he was as thin as a plank of wood turned on its side. He wore glasses and a matted grey coat that precisely matched the colour and the state of his hair. Gyan. Skelos had encountered the irritating rodent no less than five times. Gyan was a stickler for detail and liked to ask a lot of questions and Skelos only liked questions if he was the one asking them.
‘What do you want with the Rock Skelos?’ asked the Store Administrator. ‘Wings don’t need Rainbows Rock.’
They called it Rainbows Rock in Narrigh. In his home planet of Odisiris, they called it Zichronite. He thought the word was too sophisticated for the races of Narrigh. No one fully comprehended the true nature of the Rock, though many had experienced its power and its wrath.
‘That’s what I’m going to find out,’ quipped Skelos. ‘I believe the Rock maybe of some use after all.’
Gyan prised a leather-bound book out of his pocket. How could Skelos forget: The Logbook.
‘Tuesday the twelfth of November,’ he read. ‘Skelos informs me that Rainbows Rock does not work on Herming Moth Wings. “I believe it may cause them to malfunction”, he said.’
Skelos blew out his cheeks. ‘I think I may have made an experimental error in the quantity.’
Gyan flicked to another page in the Logbook. ‘Wednesday, October 2nd. Skelos informs me that he has never in his life made a quantitative error in his experimental works. He also informs me that he has an intense dislike for Store Administrators, who as he put so eloquently, are lacking in intellect and have the social etiquette of pigs.’
Skelos shrugged, laughing inwardly. Yes. It would take a miracle all right.
Gyan closed his Logbook and deposited it back into his pocket. ‘You know I cannot allow you to take this Rock Skelos, so why bother asking? Surely you don’t want me to log that you’re carrying out unauthorised experiments?’ Gyan tapped at the pocket containing the Logbook. ‘The Shardner will not like it.’
‘Fool!’ Skelos hissed, unable to contain his anger any longer. ‘If it wasn’t for me, this place would be overrun with those foul beasts. What do you suppose I would do with the Rock? I’m under watch twenty-four hours a day. My progress is constantly checked by the hour. I’ve come here to procure urgent supplies for the good of the Kingdom. I drag this young man, who’s nearing the end of his shift, into the bargain, and you have the nerve to tell me what the Shardner will and will not like. Go and fetch the highest serving member, if it pleases you because I’m not moving until you open that door!’
Gyan looked as if he’d had a narrow escape with a poisonous dart. His face was the colour of strawberries. He stood there blinking, his mouth hanging open. He then whipped out his Logbook and slid a pen from its spine. He wagged his finger at Vastra. ‘You will be a witness to this young sir. This will all be documented, every last word. The Shardner will not be pleased.’ He leafed through the book, eagerly scouring for a blank page. ‘You people think you’re better than the rest of us, don’t you? I think not. Indeed, I think not.’ He found a blank page and scratched his head. ‘Now let’s see. What day is it?’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Belstien! Where are you? Ge
t over here. I need your-’
The Logbook was thrown into the air and the pen along with it. Gyan watched them fly and watched them fall in horrified silence. Weak-kneed and trembling with fear, he turned to the culprit.
Vastra’s eyes were slits. ‘What do you mean, you people?’
Gyan cowered. Backing into the chamber door and cupping his hands together as if praying for mercy, he squealed, ‘I was talking about scientists. I’m not referring to Citizens. I love Citizens. They’re so-so… robust.’
‘I agree,’ said Skelos, a smile sprouting on his lips. He was beginning to think having a fellow Citizen tagging along with him, no matter how inconsequential, was not such a bad thing. He was willing to ignore the insult regarding scientists. It was true; they did think they were better than everyone else. ‘Vastra, pick up the Store Administrator’s Logbook for him, will you. Let us prove to him we are not lacking in propriety.’
Vastra picked up Gyan’s pen and Logbook in a scowling, sulking manner that wasn’t a jolt close to propriety or readiness. He dangled the Logbook and pen in front of Gyan as if he were dangling a bone in front of a dog. Vastra snatched the pen and book from him as if he were a dog and stuffed the items in the deepest crevice he could find in his oversized pocket.
‘Open it,’ said Vastra, nodding at the unlocked door.
Gyan looked at the door then back at Skelos, his face a picture of bemusement. ‘This door?’
‘Yes, this door. Idiot.’
Gyan swallowed. ‘You must understand I cannot give Rainbows Rock out to just anyone. It is most valuable.’
Vastra eyebrows went up sharply. ‘More valuable than - say - your life?’
Gyan swallowed again, took a step back and bumped into Belstien’s portly belly, the second Store Administrator on duty. Belstien yawned and rubbed his eyelid. ‘What’s going on?’
Gyan didn’t bother to reply.
‘My shift ended twenty minutes ago,’ said Vastra. ‘I’ve got places I need to be.’
‘Right,’ said Belstien, fumbling for the bunch of keys clipped to his belt. He made his way over to the door, his three chins wobbling.
‘I’ll have to log it,’ said Gyan, breathing through his nose. ‘Questions will be asked.’
‘Never mind that Administrator,’ Vastra snarled. ‘The scientist is watched night and day, I’ll vouch for him.’
Skelos could hardly believe his good fortunate. He selected two fistfuls of Rock while Vastra and Belstien watched over him. The instrument he was looking for was so small, lost in the sea of rock fragments, he wondered if they would afford him the time to search for it.
Gyan stood in the antechamber, one arm folded across his chest. Gagging with rage, he still hadn’t managed to close his mouth. Skelos was thankful he had ceased his whingeing. Let me concentrate on what I’m looking for.
Vastra was eyeing the Rock as if it were gold for the taking, which it might as well have been. Belstien was so blearily eyed with sleep he could scarcely keep his eyes open. At one point he rested his head on his neck and let out a hearty snore.
It would be on the uppermost shelf, Skelos demised, a prediction that proved to be correct. One single Shaft with Rainbows Rock powder encased within it. He nudged some of the smaller rocks off the shelf below him. They clunked to the floor.
Gyan bustled in. Vastra was already bent over, gathering the Rock in his big hands. The Store Administrator was about to push him to one side and then appeared to think better of it. ‘Careful,’ he gasped. He took the Rock from Vastra and positioned it back on the shelf. ‘I shall have to log this. It’s counted you know. Twice daily, each little fragment.’
Skelos doubted it and Vastra doubted it even more it seemed. Skelos slipped the Shaft under his robe and spun round in time to see Vastra deposit a small fragment of the Rock up his own sleeve. ‘You done?’ he asked Skelos, almost respectfully.
Skelos felt for the metal case inside his robes. It contained a very potent Cloud Vapour. One whiff would knock a Citizen out cold and a few more men besides. He turned his back on Vastra to address Gyan. ‘If you don’t mind Store Administrator, I’d like to have a word with you in private. Is there somewhere we might go to talk?’
A ripple went through Gyan’s brows. ‘Talk?’ he spluttered. ‘In private? What could you possibly want to talk to me about? I hope you’re not going to try to bribe me, make me turn a blind eye to your misdemeanor. If that is the case, then I should let you know, you’re wasting your time.’ He poised pen in hand, Logbook at the ready.
‘No,’ said Skelos. He lowered his voice. ‘I have information that I would like to share with you. Confidential information regarding the experiment bestowed on me by the Shardner. Your input will be invaluable.’ Skelos flapped his hand in the second Store Administrator’s direction. ‘Or I could take Belstien if you prefer.’
‘Belstien is my subordinate,’ said Gyan, glaring at Belstien as if daring him to dispute otherwise. ‘I have a meeting room in which we can converse. Follow me.’ He stepped swiftly out of the door and began to walk up the gangway. ‘Lock the door will you Belstien and return to the cubicle when you’re done,’ he called over his shoulder to the stupefied Administrator.
Skelos followed Gyan and was irked to see Vastra tagging along beside them. He had rather hoped the guard would leave. Wishful thinking on his part.
SIX
Connor’s mind appeared to have disengaged itself from his body. A strange tranquillity had come over him. Fluorescent lights and gleaming silver flitted before his eyes. He dreamt of flying horses and whispering trees. A torrent of sounds, smells and apparitions tore at his senses: muddled words and rushing water, the smell of dead wood, dead meat and stale beer.
The liquid from the flask had jumbled his thoughts. He knew he had spoken to the Silver Rider upon whose horse he rode. The man had responded to him heartily. His chatter seemed endless, yet through all of it, Connor only managed to catch his name, Hiera.
Stop drinking the tea!
He didn’t want to stop drinking the tea. He felt no pain when he drank the tea. No fear. No sorrow.
‘Stop drinking the tea!’ The shrill voice drilled into his temples.
The flask fell, knocked out of his hands by the distorted shadow crouching over him.
‘Mum?’
‘Will you wake up!’
He felt a forceful grip on his arm. He couldn’t ignore the gravity of the words, but he couldn’t react to them either. He didn’t know how. His head lolled from side to side. The corners of his mouth went up into a lop-sided smile.
‘For goodness sake, will you wake up!’
Something was passed under his nose. He caught a whiff of a strong acid smell. He pulled a face and jerked his head back. Whatever it was swept up his nostrils and made his eyes sting. He twisted his mouth and snorted into the back of his hand. A vial of clear liquid was pressed to his lips.
‘Drink this.’
A mist rose from the vial, swirling thickly, floating in the murky light. His head started to swim. He seized the small wrist of the hand holding the vial. He wasn’t about to drink it. No way.
The person crouching over him, wrenched his jaw open with one hand and thrust the contents of the vial down his throat. A small hand squashed his lips together, preventing him from bringing the liquid back up again.
He smacked the hand away, shuddering as the liquid, which tasted like hot metal, burned in the pit of his stomach.
A girl of about ten slipped into view. She sat back on her heels, her hazel eyes searching his face. She wore her thick brown hair in pigtails, tied with blue ribbons to match her blue silk dress. She had a piece of fur wrapped around her shoulders.
He looked around him. He was slumped in the hollow of a tree. Its sturdy roots bonded above the soil, forming a knotted shelter. He saw there was room for one more at a squeeze, but the roots did not go up high enough for him to stand or move about comfortably.
‘I’m Amelia,’ said the gir
l.
Connor shot her a wary glance. She didn’t look as if she came from Narrigh or his world. ‘Where am I?’
‘In a Dacker tree.’
Wincing, he stretched out one leg. His toes grazed the inside of his boots as if they no longer fit. He checked the palm of his right hand again. The scar hadn’t spread. Apart from his headache returning, he didn’t feel much different from when he had woken up in the tree stump hollow, and that seemed like days ago. How long had he been cooped up like this? He rummaged around for his bag, sighing with relief when he discovered he was leaning on it.
Through an opening in the tree, he saw to his dismay, that he had not left the cold and forbidding forest behind or the company of the Silver Riders. Some huddled in Dacker tree hollows of their own, others paced a small clearing outside, crunching ice under their feet, sniffing the air expectantly and glaring off into the distance. What were they waiting for?
‘Where’s your friend?’ said Amelia. She continued to stare at him intently. ‘The other boy.’
‘You mean Riley? You saw him?’
‘I saw another boy, taller than you and better looking, out there when the Dal-Carrions attacked.’
Riley was not taller than him, nor did he think Riley was better looking. He hoped Riley wasn’t the boy he saw the flying beasts carry off in the forest.
He drew himself up on his knees. ‘Who are those men outside?’
Amelia took a sharp breath and removed the fur wrap from her shoulders. She spread it over her knees. ‘Those men are the Shardner’s Special Army. They gave you a Trance potion. I used a Revival potion to bring you round. We have to get out of the forest. We’re in danger.’
Connor’s skin prickled with a sense of foreboding. There came that sound again, the sound of rushing water. Instinct told him, it was not the roar of the ocean.
Amelia’s eyes flickered towards an opening in the frostbitten roots. Her face showed no fear or confusion.