“No!” Pil whispered harshly.
Damian reached out automatically and grabbed the ruff of Brixton’s shirt, pulling him back.
“What the —” he spluttered indignantly. “Lemme go!”
Pil came quickly around and hit Brixton hard in the stomach. Brixton doubled over, gasping for air.
“Quiet,” Pil whispered harshly. “Shut up, Bells!”
Everyone went silent again, even Brixton, though he raised his eyes hatefully to Pil’s, a threat clear on his face. But it was no use; the noise had stopped. Pil looked up at them all staring expectantly down at him.
“I’m going to check this out,” said Pil.
“Pil, don’t you think I should go with you?” said Dirk, concerned.
Pil shook his head. “I’m faster. We don’t know what’s out there; I ought to check. I’ll be right back.”
Without another word, Pil ran off in the direction of the noise. Whatever was out there he had to keep his friends safe. He ran like a silent shadow, sliding quickly and yet noiselessly through the trees.
He had his sword drawn, though he hadn’t remembered drawing it. After a quick glance at its glossy black surface, he felt a sudden sick urge to throw it away. He wasn’t quite sure why it had happened, but he thought it had something to do with how easily it had killed. He was jealous of it, how could it kill and feel nothing, remain just as sharp, just as dangerous. He put the thought away and concentrated on listening. There was no more noise, but he knew roughly where it had come from. If he kept going this way, he ought to run right into it.
There was movement up ahead, the flicker of several bodies sitting on the forest floor. Pil stopped mid-step and then continued more slowly, his heart beating very fast. There were several people sitting just up ahead of him, halfway covered by brush and shadow. Pil hid as one of the figures began talking quietly.
“Could’a sworn I heard something,” said a man’s deep voice from the shadows.
“Nothing now,” said another. “Though, that worries me; we haven’t seen a thing in days.”
Pil’s heart beat faster as he recognized the second speaker. It was Harlem Havok! Pil moved automatically; he was out in the open and nearly about to start running towards the figures when another man spoke.
“Well, that’s a good sign,” said a growl of a voice. “They might still be alive, then.”
“Aw, don’t say that, Baer.” This voice was lazy and kinder. “Your own kid’s out there, you know.”
It was Baer Bells! What would happen if he ran in there and accused Baer of treason? What would happen if he asked to bring back a Fairy, and to tell them that the only survivors had been him and a few others?
No matter what Pil had said, he knew Brixton had been quite right — this looked bad, even to him. But he had to go; this was their only chance. He would have to play the victim and convince them. With his mind made up, Pil walked forward into the heavily shaded glade.
His eyes instantly adjusted to the shade as he approached the figures. Pil only had time to recognize their strange outfits: large dark-leaved hoods and then, in a whirl of motion, they were on their feet. Pil hadn’t seen them move but suddenly he was surrounded by half a dozen hooded figures, all pointing weapons at him.
“Wait,” Pil stuttered, taking a half-step back and raising his hands. But already one of the men was lowering his hood.
“Pil Persins?” asked Harlem Havok, uncertainly stepping forward. “You look…different.”
20
Traitor
The tension in the glade dissipated immediately. The men all lowered their hoods except for one; and there standing before him were Baer Bells, Dot, Zane, Avalon Astro the Stratedite Captain, and Harlem Havok.
“What happened? Where are the others?” asked Harlem, starting forward and putting his twin knives away.
“Wait —” said Baer, pulling Harlem back, his face grim. “How do you know that’s really Persins? We should check —”
“It is me,” said Pil aggressively.
Harlem released himself from Baer and walked over to Pil. “Where are the others? Who survived?”
“They’re back there,” said Pil, pointing through the forest. “There are eight of us…” said Pil, thinking of Damian.
Harlem looked surprised. “Eight — eight of you? But how…”
“I’ll explain later,” said Pil, quickly glancing at Baer. “But first you have to promise me you’ll listen to what I have to say before we go to them.”
Harlem raised his white brows but said nothing.
“Look, we — there’s someone I need to bring back with us, but —”
But Pil was cut off as Harlem’s face went white, he went rigid as though in sudden pain and shock, and then he fell harshly to his knees. Pil jumped back and raised his sword as Harlem fell on his face.
One by one the men began to fall; Baer fell, his face half-turned, his eyes wide; then Dot, who looked shocked and white; and Zane, who had begun to raise his bow, an arrow notched. They all fell flat with a gentle thud, all except one. The man whose hood still covered his face remained standing, still hidden in the dark; a gauntlet was now on his hand, each finger curved and pointed wickedly.
“What did you do?” Pil yelled, raising his sword to the cloaked man. “Who are you?”
There was a gentle laughter, crazed and unrestrained. Pil stared into the dark hole beneath the hood. A chill went down his spine as the man laughed and Pil knew instinctively that this person was dangerous. He needed to kill him, he needed to kill him quickly, but his body wouldn’t move.
“Who am I?” said the man. “But you know me, Pil… you know me.”
Pil’s mind raced. The voice was familiar, but who — or what was this person? The gauntlet shone darkly; there was something wrong with it, it was radiating darkness and yet it was almost invisible. Somehow Pil could see both the hand and the armor.
“I don’t know you,” said Pil. “What did you do to them? Are they — are they dead?”
The man gave a gentle chuckle. “No, not dead. Not yet.” He moved — more quickly than Pil’s eyes could follow. In an instant, he was next to Baer Bells, a sword in his hand. There was a flash of steel and the blade sunk into Baer’s meaty back with a repulsive noise.
“What —” began Pil, taking a half-step forward — his heart had stopped. “Ah-ah-ah,” said the man, raising a hand in warning. With a quick pull, the sword freed itself from Baer's flesh, along with dark stain. “Don’t go moving or I’ll keep going, Pil. We need to talk. It has been far too long…”
“Who are you?” yelled Pil with a fierceness he didn’t feel.
The man raised himself up. “I? I am an envoy of my master — a servant of the Castaway King…”
“The — what?” Pil stuttered, but a gentle breeze blew over him at the words. A cold feeling swept over him, a heavy feeling. The Castaway King. It fell on his ears like a weight. “Who is that?”
“You don’t know?” said the hidden man slyly. “He is the reason you are here — the reason you are not dead and the reason so many are.”
“I — I don’t understand.” Pil was sweating now; there was an unnatural chill in the air.
“No, you would not, not yet.” The man was enjoying himself now. “This is only the beginning — the beginning of his reign.
“It was he who made the gold sparks. He who made the Exidite come on this unlikely mission. He who ordered the Bahbeq to annihilate the squadron of Elfin and allowed you to survive it. He who made the great Harlem Havok leave his precious hiding spot in the light of day.”
“Who are you?” Pil asked again. A dark mood had clutched him; he was no longer afraid.
The man said nothing. He moved the gauntlet-covered hand to his head and lowered his hood. It took Pil a second to place him; his face was transformed with undisguised glee. Underneath the hood was Taydum Todford, the Lieutenant of the Scout squad, Pil’s friend. Todd was smiling insanely, his face rushed with
a crazed expression.
“Todd…” said Pil slowly. “I thought —”
“Thought I was dead?” said Todd with a loud and harsh laugh. “No, Pil, you are dead — I am very much alive.”
“But why? Tiberius, everyone —” Pil was shaking with anger. He knew he needed to act, to kill; but he had to know why.
“It was regrettable, I admit,” said Todd seriously. “Tiberius was kind to me — I went back afterward and buried him properly… But my King has a plan, and it was a necessary sacrifice.”
“What plan? Who is the Castaway King?” Todd only smiled. “You’ll know soon enough, I am sure. It took me years to find him, but you will all know soon enough.”
It was that insane smile that made Pil move. All he could think of was Todd smiling while talking so casually about Tiberius. He had not watched him die, did not have to see the life seep from his eyes.
Before Pil knew what he was doing, he leapt forward, sword swinging in a furious arc. And then, with a crash, Pil fell to the floor. A sharp pain like fire had flared suddenly up inside him, locking up his muscles and his mind. Just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone, and Pil was left gasping for air on the ground in front of Todd as his eyesight came sharply back into focus.
“Don’t be so hasty, Pil,” said Todd, taking in a deep breath. “Can’t two friends enjoy the nice outside air before fighting to the death? I know you have longed to be out in the light, longed to be free… I can give you that freedom, you know. I can save you.”
Pil coughed and shook fiercely. “What was that — what did you do?”
“There is still so much you don’t know, Pil,” said Todd, looking down at him with a friendly smile. “You could join us — join the winning side, forget about Harlem — forget about the Exidite.”
Pil laughed mirthlessly. “Join you?” He got to his knees, still shaking. “You are no one — a traitor; what do you have that I want?”
Todd’s face darkened. “The King could give you many things.” Todd kicked out hard and connected with Pil’s temple. “He is all-knowing — all-powerful —”
Pil fell back, his head ringing. He scrambled up and tried to grab his sword, which had fallen out of his hands. But again, Todd’s foot came down — kicking his hand away.
“You should join him,” said Todd. “You won’t have a choice soon.” Todd kicked out again almost casually and hit Pil hard in the chest.
Pil fell back, coughing, the wind knocked from him. “Why are you doing this?” Pil gasped. “You have family in Westleton — friends in the Exidite.”
Todd laughed maniacally. “Family? Friends? I am an outcast to my family, Persins, an outcast to my friends. Prestige,” he spat the word out like a curse. “Those filthy families will all be destroyed — they don’t care about anything except their own greed. They think they are better than everyone who isn’t involved in their frivolous politics. What does it matter who marries who? What does money matter — can you eat or breathe money? No, they all deserve what’s coming to them — especially my family.”
Pil suddenly leapt up, dodging a kick aimed at his face; he rolled and grabbed his sword.
“I don’t care,” Pil shouted furiously as he got to his feet. “I don’t care about your daddy issues, or whatever — I won’t let you kill anyone else.” Pil had run in without realizing it, his mind a blur of fury. He was a foot away from Todd when a fierce pain radiated through him yet again, forcing him painfully back onto the ground.
“Fine,” said Todd, emotionless, and he raised his sword and brought it down harshly towards Pil’s neck.
There was a spur of movement and the sickening noise of steal hitting bone. Pils view was blocked as something dropped heavily down in front of him.
Damian had fallen from the sky in the way of the sword and was now lying on the forest floor, his front torn open and lost in a mess of blood. He was quite still. Pil’s vision blurred at the edge, a throbbing of disbelief and anger raged through his mind.
“What is that?” exclaimed Todd, and for the first time, fear and disgust crept into his face as he looked down at the dark figure.
A crash behind Pil made him turn around just in time to see Dirk crash through the trees. Felicity was still slung across his back and he had his hammer in his hand. His face was dark and furious, and behind him, an arrow cut through the air as it shot towards Todd. Todd hit the arrow down almost instinctively, a look of disbelief on his face, as Sandy, Brixton, Pheonix, and Raven charged in behind Dirk.
“NO!” he cried furiously and raised his gauntlet-covered hand. Pil saw it throb strangely and watched as Dirk fell to the floor with a strangled cry; Felicity fell limply down with him. Sandy gave a cry of shock and raised the bow, but his body too went rigid and he keeled over with a loud thump. Brixton stopped mid-step, pulling back Pheonix and Raven.
“What is this —” he spat furiously, looking from Todd, to Pil, to his father lying face down, blood staining his cloak black.
Todd laughed somberly. “You are supposed to be dead, Bells. If you would like to remain alive, I suggest you walk away.”
Brixton face twisted into a sneer. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” said Brixton, striding fearlessly into the glade.
“Get out of it, Brixton!” Pil yelled from the ground. “Take the rest and run!”
“Don’t order me around like your lackeys, Persins,” said Brixton as he kicked over Dot, who lay nearest him, and grabbed his sword. “Pheonix — Raven — see to my father while I kill this traitor.”
As the twins moved, Pil gritted his teeth, raising himself painfully from the ground. He flung his sword up at Todd’s face.
Todd seemed not to move but a second later he was out of Pil’s reach and his gauntlet hand was raised. It pulsed and Pil felt fire run through his veins and his mind went numb with the pain once more. And then it stopped. Brixton had dashed recklessly in and knocked Todd back with a flurry of heavy blows.
Todd parried Brixton’s sword with his own, a furious look on his pale face. Pil stole his chance, getting to his feet once more, and sprinted towards them. Brixton was knocked back as Pil reached them. Pil took his place, his black steel ringing towards Todd’s neck.
Todd swatted it away, dancing out of reach and thrust his gauntleted hand toward Brixton, who had moved to close the distance. The wicked long points of the gauntlet pierced Brixton’s shoulder with such force he was thrown off balance.
Brixton gave a roar of fury and rushed recklessly in, but Todd's thin face split into a smile and he raised his gauntlet once more. Both Brixton and Pil were flung backward as pain erupted in both of them. Pil screamed and felt his vision going black, but once again the pain stopped abruptly, leaving him sweating fiercely and out of breath.
Todd, too, looked tired, he had dark circles under his eyes and sweat was running from his ginger brow.
“Give up — both of you, let me kill Harlem, and I’ll let you live,” Todd panted roughly. “He doesn’t want you dead. Not yet.”
Pil ignored him and got painfully to his feet, sweat dripping down his face. His body felt like lead — weighted down with exhaustion.
“What’s all this about —” gasped Pil. “Why kill them? Why lure Harlem out here?”
Todd's bloodless lips curled into a smile. Without warning, he disappeared into a blur of movement. Suddenly he was inches from Brixton. Todd struck before Brixton could defend himself, thrusting the hilt of his sword into Brixton’s temple. There was a loud thump as Brixton fell lifeless to the ground.
“Brixton!” yelled one of the boys kneeling next to Baer Bells.
Todd looked around his face heavy with exhaustion now. He was panting nearly as much as Pil.
“What is that gauntlet?” Pil asked through ragged breaths, stalling for time.
Todd smiled. “You’ve never seen an Ethereal before, Pil?” He raised the black metal hand. “It’s magic that comes with Enlightenment. My power is pain — a pain so intense i
t can render anything unconscious — even the Bahbeq. As long as I draw blood from my victim, they are mine.”
“But you never got our blood.”
“Let me ask you, Pil. All this time you’ve spent outside in Lungala, how many times have you been bitten by those nasty bugs?”
Realization came with the force of a hammer.
"That was you? You've been biting the Exidite all this time?"
“Very good, Pil,” said Todd with a sardonic smile. “Yes, I bit you and your little friends as a precaution. I really didn’t think you would survive this long ... I’m quite impressed …Where did you get these weapons from, anyway?” said Todd suddenly, gesturing to Dirks hammer with his sword.
“The Wretch,” said Pil simply, not wishing to elaborate.
Todd displayed his confusion. “These are no ordinary weapons, Persins. It is to my benefit that you cannot use them properly. It will make killing you much easier.”
Todd lunged so quickly, Pil lost sight of him; but as his adrenaline rose sharply, time seemed to slow. Todd was running quickly towards him, death in his eyes, but for some reason, Pil felt like Todd was moving in slow motion. Pil suddenly became aware that he could move much, much faster — even though a moment ago his legs had felt like useless stumps. Now he felt rejuvenated like anything was possible.
In an instant, he had moved and then, quite suddenly, the world fell back into place — Todd was cutting the air furiously where Pil had been moments before. It took a moment for him to register that Pil was not there anymore, and he looked fearfully around.
“How did you —” Todd began as he locked eyes with Pil.
Everything was back the way it had been. His legs felt dead and he could not have run if he wanted to.
“I see,” said Todd slowly. “Interesting — yes, quite interesting…”
“What? What just happened?” Todd laughed at him coldly. “So much you do not know, Pil — so much you could have learned if you had joined us. You could have become powerful, a powerful weapon to him — but oh, well.”
After the Dark Page 20