The Dark

by Marianne Curley

  I close my eyes and visualise the rocky escarpment by the side of the lake, and the path from here to there. The Goddess’s screams penetrate, stalling me. ‘Hurry, Marduke! He’s escaping!’

  Marduke raises his arms. And from the doorway the sound of squawking breaks my concentration. Dozens of birds swarm in and head straight for me. I freeze at the sight. Their strange human-like eyes seem to devour me, and their bone-piercing shrieks slice into my consciousness.

  Any chance of using my wings disappears as the focus I need to concentrate shatters beneath the onslaught of these strange birds as they attack me. I try to use my powers, emitting a burst of energy, and they scatter, hovering over my head. Some of them squeal and fly off. But Marduke sends them back to me, and Keziah begins to chant.

  As I try to fight Keziah’s spell, my skin forms tiny bubbles, as if singed with hot oil. But my concentration keeps breaking as the birds attack, pecking at my flesh, and, where none is exposed, they dig away at my clothing until they find some. I try to beat them off, but there are just too many. They overpower me quickly and I fall to the floor.

  Through all the noise of the screeching birds and Keziah’s chanting, I catch a glimpse of Sera, still hiding under the table, curled up in a tight ball, shivering violently. I would call to her, to give her comfort, but I don’t want to attract attention to her position. For now, at least, Lathenia’s main interest is me.

  Keziah’s chanting finally stops, and the old man withdraws to the back of the room. After a series of rasping coughs he says, ‘He is contained, Highness.’

  She motions to Marduke, who calls his flock of birds off me and sends them out of the door. As blood oozes from the fresh wounds all over my body, and I sense death can’t be far now, I find the strength to glare at Marduke one last time. There was good in this man once. He was a brilliant Guard – strong, sensitive and fiercely loyal. ‘Your skills have altered,’ I manage to gasp.

  He laughs. ‘Would you like to see more?’ He points at me; instinctively I turn my face away. He makes a satisfied sound deep in his throat, then glances at Lathenia. ‘My Goddess has bestowed me with many talents, Arkarian. Some that you would never dream of.’

  ‘Why not put them to good use?’

  ‘And give up all of this?’ He flicks his fingers and a wave of green power distorts the air between us. It sizzles and crackles. He picks up one of the injured birds and throws it into the field of energy he has created. With an agonising shriek the bird explodes into dust.

  ‘I have something the Guard would never give me – as much power as I want.’ He turns his head and stares at the four accompanying wren, who haven’t stopped cowering and trembling since entering this place.

  Marduke looks back at me. ‘See? The wren are scared of me.’

  I try to get up, but find I have to hold on to the chair. ‘You gloat over the taming of the mindless?’

  My taunt has him seething, but Lathenia puts a staying hand on his arm. ‘He has served his purpose, and soon his friends will find their journey was in vain. There is still much to do, including the torture of the treacherous wren that accompanies them. And if my suspicions are correct, we will get our revenge on the one who sought to take your life, my pet.’

  ‘Why not let them be?’ I call out. ‘Why not satisfy yourself only in my death. You don’t want the whole of Lorian’s rage on you. Kill one of us, not all four.’

  Lathenia stares at me, and I think for a second she’s actually thinking about my idea. But then she says, ‘You mistake your self-worth, Arkarian. It seems I need to remind you of my goal. One day I will control it all, including the minds of mortals, wandering souls, creatures of the light, all the living, and the dead that inhabit the dark.’

  ‘Do you think the Tribunal will hand you all these worlds on a platter?’

  She walks away, then slowly turns and gives a little laugh, one eyebrow lifting. ‘The Tribunal are having enough trouble overseeing the mortal world right now.’ She glances at her fingertips. ‘The Prophecy changes as we speak. And the tragic loss to the Guard of four of The Named will be sweet justice. A blow straight to the heart of the Tribunal, I’m sure you agree.’ She glances at me. I hold her stare – and my tongue. She’s right, and we both know this. But I won’t acknowledge how damaging the loss of four of The Named could prove. We are, after all, supposed to be the nine that protect Veridian, the nine that will go up against Lathenia in a battle that will end all battles once and for all.

  ‘My armies are growing stronger by the second. Can you say the same for yours?’

  With these sickening thoughts she turns to Marduke. ‘Remember your promise to the wren.’ She glances at them, huddling together just inside the door. ‘Miserable cowards. It is I you should cower from and not a wretched spirit!’

  Marduke’s eyes stay with the Goddess until she disappears, taking Keziah and the hounds with her. When he turns, a look of adoration lingers on his face, and I recall the last time I saw it – well before his face was sliced in half, the day his daughter was born, when he gazed upon her mother.

  ‘I am as I should be, Arkarian. Nothing you say or do now will change anything. The clock is ticking.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be like this. You have the power to change. Don’t you see, you’re as trapped here as all the lost and damned souls that inhabit this world.’

  His one eye flares brilliant red. ‘I am free!’

  ‘No, Marduke, listen to me—’

  At my plea he throws his head back, arms stretched high, and gives an ear-shattering roar. When he finishes, he orders his wren to come and stand before him. They trot and leap over obediently, constantly peering around as they do. Once standing before their master, Marduke lays his hands over the tops of their heads, and they look up at him. ‘By entering this temple you have conquered your fears. Didn’t I tell you it could be done?’

  They nod, almost too vigorously.

  ‘Am I not your master who knows all?’

  Again they nod.

  ‘For your loyalty you shall be richly rewarded.’ He smiles at them, and with two simple words, puts my life into their hands. ‘Finish him.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Isabel

  Standing at the edge of what is supposed to be a lake, we stare out at nothing but ice. By my side John nods and flaps his wings.

  ‘What’s got you so excited?’ Ethan asks.

  ‘I think you might be in luck.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘It’s the lake,’ John explains. ‘It’s iced over.’

  It doesn’t feel like we’re in luck. Across the lake we hear the sound of a familiar ear-shattering roar.

  Ethan grabs my arm. ‘You were right! He’s alive!’

  ‘And he’s over there, in the temple with Arkarian.’

  ‘Who’s with Arkarian?’ Matt asks, coming up beside us.

  ‘He’s going to murder him.’

  ‘Who!’ Matt yells.

  John tugs on Matt’s cloak. ‘The master.’

  Matt looks at me, then Ethan. ‘Marduke? That one-eyed freak who dragged me into the past and tried to burn me at the stake?’

  We both nod.

  ‘But he’s dead, isn’t he? You killed him.’

  John gasps and stares at Ethan. ‘That was you!’

  ‘But he’s not dead,’ I say.

  John shakes his head with deep concern. ‘No, but he’s uglier than ever. The mistress is not pleased.’

  Ethan doesn’t get it. ‘OK, so she’s not pleased. But he’s alive, so why does she still want to kill me?’

  I’ve seen what Marduke has become. For me, the answer is obvious. ‘He’s more monster now than man and the Goddess can do nothing about it.’

  ‘Oh,’ Ethan says.

  ‘Yeah, well. Forget about her right now. Sera’s last connection wanted us to hurry.’ I pick up my pack and head straight for the lake.

  John leaps after me, dragging me back only seconds before my feet
connect with the ice. I turn on him, irritated that anyone or anything should try to stop me now. ‘What!’ I yell louder than I should. So far John has proved himself a trusted friend. Except … how does one trust a murderer from another lifetime, or a traitor from this one?

  ‘No, miss,’ he says in a frantic tone. ‘The ice is unstable. It’s not like any you would be used to. You must prepare by adding protection – anything – to your feet.’

  Ethan pulls on John’s shoulder. ‘What’s wrong with the lake? Is the ice too thin? We can tie ropes to each other. In case one of us should drop through, we can pull them out.’

  ‘There would be no point,’ he says. ‘If you fall through this ice, you’ll die a horrible death.’ He holds his hands up high to stop our questions. ‘Let me explain. The lake is not made of water, it is made of acid.’

  ‘Acid?’ Ethan stares at the ice, the light from his torch adding a gentle glow. ‘Frozen acid?’

  John nods. ‘Actually, the top layer is a mixture. Some of it is water – snow, some recent rains, but mostly acid. It’s a strange composition. Very unstable.’

  ‘Can we walk on it in this state?’

  ‘I can’t be sure. You will have to protect your feet and be careful not to rest in one spot for more than a second.’

  Matt still struggles with the concept of unstable ice. ‘But our feet are already protected by our boots.’

  John explains patiently, ‘The ice is called crystal ice. As soon as something solid hits it, it will ignite. The more protection, the safer your feet.’

  John’s warning has my stomach twisting into knots. How can we cross this lake when every step will turn ice into fire? To get this far and fail is too horrible to think about.

  Ethan gets down on his haunches, his long cloak fanning out across the snow. He starts digging into our packs. He finds a thick pair of socks and hands them to Matt. He hands me a jumper. I rip off the sleeves, tying them around my boots, then give Ethan the front and back parts. He secures one each around his own boots, then tears up his spare jacket, offering two pieces to John.

  But John steps backwards, his eyes blazing. ‘Oh no. Your offer is generous. But this is as far as I come.’

  ‘Why won’t you cross the lake with us?’ Matt asks.

  John flicks a nervous glance across the ice. ‘They used to live there before they disappeared. And now there is another.’

  While I don’t know who ‘they’ are, I strongly suspect the one that John says has returned is probably Ethan’s sister. I try to make him understand that his fears are unfounded, and that the ghost he earlier referred to is the same person who’s been guiding us all along.

  He remains adamant. ‘I won’t go there. You’re on your own now.’

  I groan loudly and kick the snow-packed ground. I really don’t feel like spending one more moment trying to convince John that his fears are unfounded. My heart tells me Arkarian is in serious trouble and in need of healing right away. ‘OK, have it your way, John. But when you’re here – alone – and the master calls to make you pay for your treachery, don’t expect us to turn around and come running back for you. We won’t, even when we hear you scream. We’ll be too busy rescuing Arkarian. That’s what we came here for. Got it?’

  Taking a deep breath I start to cross the lake. The instant my feet step on the ice a flame ignites under them. And even though I know this is going to happen, seeing the flame, watching it lick up the side and back of my foot, startles me.

  ‘Don’t stop! Don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you.’

  I recognise the voice without looking all the way round. It’s John’s. Relief sweeps through me, giving me an added push.

  We almost make it across without incident, when a familiar, unnerving shriek pierces the air, quickly followed by another, and another, the sound becoming unbearable.

  ‘Keep moving,’ John calls out, just as the flapping of many wings flying together comes into view.

  They’re the birds John told us about, large as eagles, but far less graceful. They fly into us, flapping their wings to knock us over, attacking us with their sharp needle-like beaks, shrieking wildly. We fight them off as best we can, while trying to keep moving and yet maintain our balance. Fire licks at our feet, and other exposed parts when we fall.

  ‘Keep moving,’ John squeals, using his wings to leap up and draw the birds away.

  But ultimately it’s fire that gets rid of them, from our torches and burning pieces of cloth. They take flight, and, while the birds are momentarily gone, we finish the crossing.

  Releasing a sigh of relief that the ice held and we made it across with mostly minor injuries, I turn around for the first time. Matt, Ethan and John turn with me. All of us gasp at the sight. The lake is alight with hundreds of tiny fires at the places our feet touched its icy surface. And, while otherwise immersed in darkness, it is truly an amazing sight.

  ‘If I were an artist, this is what I would paint as my vision of hell.’

  The others simply nod.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Isabel

  On the beach my sixth sense goes crazy with fear. There’s the temple up ahead, but it’s quiet. Too quiet. We start making our way towards it. As we near the front I see that the temple is indeed enormous, reaching hundreds of metres up towards a single point. It must have been used for worship once, and probably protection too. In its day it could easily have contained a thousand people.

  My legs feel drained of energy. I push them to keep moving. My stomach feels as if someone stretched out my intestine and tied it in a thousand little knots before shoving it back in.

  Ethan runs up beside me. ‘Are you OK?’

  I nod, finding myself overwhelmed suddenly with a strange feeling that after everything, I’m going to be too late.

  ‘Slow down, Isabel. We’re nearly there.’

  ‘I can’t, Ethan. I’m scared.’

  ‘I know. I am too. But wrecking yourself now is not going to help Arkarian. He’s going to need you … your skills, you know?’

  I glare at him. He doesn’t get it. I’m nervous enough already. ‘What if my skills aren’t good enough? What if it’s too late and he’s already—’ I have to stop suddenly to get my breath and regain some composure.

  Ethan grips my shoulders. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

  Matt catches up to us. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Brotherly concern is the last thing I need. It snaps me out of my anxious state. ‘Nothing, come on.’ Urging everyone to hurry, I break into a run.

  There are a series of stairs made of smoothly polished stonework that lead up to the front doors of the temple. I jump them three at a time, and before I know it I’m standing on a platform staring into a vast hollow interior that, at first glance, appears completely deserted.

  Looking up, a soft breath escapes at the sight of the ceiling, where panels of etched glass in vivid colours extend to a high single point. A moment of déjà vu passes through me, disorienting me for a second. I’ve seen this ceiling before, in the Citadel, the day Arkarian was kidnapped.

  Matt comes up beside me, wearing the strangest look on his face. ‘Déjà vu,’ he whispers.

  I don’t know why he’s getting the same feeling. As far as I know he’s never been to the Citadel, at least not that part. He walks past me in a daze, right to the centre of the room, and starts looking up, down, everywhere. His hands reach out as if to touch an invisible structure before him. His strange actions give me the creeps.

  Looking away, I angle the torch around the outer walls searching for signs of Arkarian, but I see nothing except columns and vast emptiness.

  Where is he?

  A draught of icy wind pushes aside my cloak and a chill rips through me. Then I spot him. ‘Oh no!’

  He’s lying in front of a dying fire across the room, completely still. Shock paralyses me.

  Ethan catches up. ‘Where is he? And where is …?’ He catches sight of Matt. ‘What’s he doing?’<
br />
  ‘Over there. I don’t know. And your guess is as good as mine.’ I hand him the torch, assuming his second question refers to the whereabouts of his sister. ‘Will you hold this?’

  The strangest feeling hits me as I cross the shiny marble flooring and approach Arkarian, the sound of every footstep echoing loudly in my ear. It’s as if I’m walking on a platform of air, a platform that leads to my own death. Forcing this scary sensation aside, I search for signs of movement. Anything to let me know Arkarian still lives. And while his back is to me, shouldn’t I still be able to see his chest rise and fall with each breath? But I can’t. He’s completely still. Emotion swells within me, choking me, blurring my vision. ‘Don’t let me be too late.’

  Up close it becomes obvious Arkarian has been severely beaten. There is a lot of blood, bruising, an open wound across his chest, weeping scratch marks down one side of his face, and if I’m not mistaken, bite marks too, covering almost every exposed part of his body. Even his clothes are shredded in places. I drop down to my knees, swipe moisture from my face, blinking hard to clear my vision. I lay my hands on his arm, and with gentle pressure, roll him on to his back. His eyes flick open in an unblinking stare, and for a second I think he is dead. But then he inhales a short gasp, and his eyes – glazed and bloodshot – move to find mine. ‘Isabel.’ It’s just a whisper from cracked and dried lips, but it’s enough to bring a flood of tears to my eyes. I fight to keep them away. ‘Save yourselves. It’s too late for me. Lathenia is after you. And there’s something you must know. Mar—’

  I put my finger to his lips. ‘No, don’t speak. You have to conserve your energy. I’m not leaving without you, Arkarian.’

  ‘You must be careful …’

  I realise what he’s trying so hard to say. It floors me that he’s using his remaining meagre strength to make sure we’re aware of this danger. ‘We know, Arkarian. We know that Marduke has somehow returned from the dead.’