by Ruth Fox
“What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done? Something that got you in so much trouble that you thought your parents would never forgive you.”
Zach could answer that without even thinking. “When I was seven, my friend Ryder and I filled up the washing machine with maple syrup,” he said hesitantly. But then he truly thought about it. “No. A month ago, I threw my brother’s sheets and blankets out the window. I did lots of things to him that were stupid and mean and pretty horrible.”
“Ah, sibling rivalry,” said Donovan delightedly. “And how did it make you feel?”
“I don’t know.” Zach shook his head. The more he was thinking about these things, the more he was realising the truth. “Actually, yes, I do. When I was doing them, it made me feel kind of tingly. Um, happy. Like I was powerful and I could do anything. Like I was letting go of something that had been clenched up inside me.”
“Hah!” Donovan exclaimed. “Exactly!”
She pointed to the glass container.
“The Ancient Greeks called it Pneuma. In India, it’s called Prana; in China, Chi. The Ancient Egyptians were closest to defining it, though, and they called it Sekhem, but there is an older word for it—Virya. It’s an energy, a spark, a spirit. That force is inside you, Zach.”
“The Grelgoroth uses the life force—the—the Virya—of kids?”
“It doesn’t have to be kids. Not at all. The Grelgoroth can take the energy from any human. But there’s more Virya inside children, and it’s easier to harvest, and much more pure. Over the course of a lifetime, humans learn to control their impulses. To follow the rules. Their Virya becomes muddied and viscous. This—” she sighed, patting the side of the retainer “—is perfect. Pure. It’s exactly what the Grelgoroth needs.”
“So if he can take it from any human . . .” Zach said, “why are you only kidnapping kids?”
“The Grelgoroth,” said Donovan, looking down at Fiona, who was still thrashing against her bonds, her face red, and the tendons in her neck straining, “is very ill. This purified Virya energy will heal him. You wouldn’t clean a cut with dirty water, would you? Hm?”
She didn’t wait for him to answer, turning away again. “Monsters! Cut the power. We’ve got enough for now.”
One of them hit a button, and the room fell suddenly quiet. The beeping stopped for a few seconds, and Fiona fell back to the bed, slack-jawed.
Except for that buzzing, humming vibration in his bones, Zach heard only silence.
Then the beeping sounds resumed, and Fiona’s chest rose and fell, and a small trickle of drool ran from the corner of her lips. Would they really do this to her two or three more times? What about the others? Would they take Ryder next?
Ryder . . .
Not suitable, they had said. Ryder wasn’t creative. He wasn’t angry about things. He didn’t get all riled up and he didn’t harbour his guilt and resentment. Everyone knew what Ryder wanted, because he told them honestly. Everyone knew how Ryder felt, because he spoke up when he was scared or nervous or afraid. Nobody ignored Ryder’s feelings, because he didn’t ignore them himself.
Maybe that was a good thing. He’d never be sucked dry like the others. Maybe Ryder was safe.
Maybe not. He could still be hurt. Or killed. And if the monsters were out there, using guns on humans, no one was safe.
“We can probably get another two or three measures from this one, ma’am,” said Sister.
Donovan nodded. “We’re well on track,” she said. “Now. Zach. Would you help me with this?”
She unclipped the glass container from the stand and handed it to him.
The pulsing blue glow lit up his face, and when his fingers touched the glass he felt a jolt run through him, like a static shock. He grasped it firmly, knowing it was very precious. He was amazed both by the sight of it and by what it was. He was holding pure energy in his hands!
“Come on,” said Donovan impatiently. She motioned him towards the back of the room, and Zach would have to walk past the cages he’d been avoiding.
There were rows of them on either side of the room, and they’d once been meant to hold something else—equipment, or workers’ belongings. They weren’t meant to accommodate human beings.
Zach found he wasn’t actually afraid to look at them now. It was as if the glowing container of Virya in his hands gave him courage. He felt stronger than he’d ever felt in his life.
The cages were three rows high, and perhaps eight across on the right side, and four on the left. Only a few of them were in use. He could see three slumped figures on his left, and four on his right. Was that Zoe Hancock? She must have been taken just before Zach and his friends had arrived at the Silverworks. She looked pale, barely conscious; very different from the girl who had acted like a snob towards Monster-boy the day before.
One of the caged kids, however, was sitting up and peering through the bars. Lex’s glasses had tumbled to the cage floor in front of her and her reddish hair was a mess. Her face was blank, just like all of the others. But there was still a spark in her eyes, as though something trapped inside of her was trying to speak, to shout.
He knew she recognised him—even though she probably couldn’t see very well without her glasses. She knew him, and she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Zach, carrying the retainer. Zach, working with Donovan. Zach, betraying her, leaving her behind, giving up on their quest for the sake of the feeling of marvellous, incredible power that came from holding the canister full of her friend’s stolen energy.
Zach was amazed at himself. He didn’t run over to her. He didn’t call out. He didn’t even need someone to restrain him, as Ryder had done in the freezer, when Sister was holding Lex on the ground. He could be cold and cruel and calculating all on his own, now, holding this miraculous stuff; he could be anything he wanted as the trusted servant of Donovan.
Lex’s mouth fell open and a long, low moan escaped. “Zach . . .”
Donovan stopped. “A friend of yours?”
Zach looked at Lex. “Not really. She’s just a . . . girl.” He wasn’t sure where these words were coming from, or why they sounded so convincing, even to his own ears. “Someone I never really liked much.”
“Zach?” Lex repeated. “Whaaa . . . you doing? Zach?” But whatever else she was about to say, it died slowly on her lips as her strength gave out and she sagged against the front of the cage.
Donovan chuckled. “You’ll be pleased to know she Tested well. We’ll be able to harvest a lot of Virya from her.”
Of course they would, thought Zach. Lex was full of all the things they wanted. Her energy, her drive to write and record everything she saw and heard, her longing to be a journalist . . . her impulsiveness and brashness and courage.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m glad.”
He turned away from Lex and followed Donovan through the door at the back of the room.
There was a staircase here, spiralling down into the darkness. It was dark and cold. A breeze wafted up from the depths, smelling of damp and mould. He could hear water trickling.
“Is this part of the old silver mines?”
Donovan nodded. In the glowing light of the retainer, she looked like a cardboard cut-out. “Yes. Tunnels and passages were dug all through the rock down here. When I renovated the Grotto Silver Works, I put in this stairway. We’ll go down a long way. I hope you’re not claustrophobic!”
Zach knew he should be feeling more uneasy than he was. It was the Virya. It was impossible to be afraid while he was carrying the retainer.
The steps clanged under his feet, but they were solid. It wasn’t until they’d been going down for several minutes that they started to show signs of slipperiness from the damp, but even then, his steps were sure. He carried the retainer confidently.
The steps went down a very long way. At intervals, there were dark holes and openings that led off into side tunnels, which were dark and uninviting. Zach would not have liked to be down here alone. But this must have been how Tommy and the others had escaped—using these unguarded shafts. But how had they gotten out of their cages, or free from the restraints on the beds? And how could they have known which way to go? It would have been so easy to get lost in those dark passageways, without sight or sound to lead them on . . .
Of course.
The dog had been wandering the tunnels and vents. He had led Zach to Tommy. He must have led Tommy and Miranda and Violet back to safety.
Zach tried not to look at the dark archways. Once, this whole place would have rung with the sound of pickaxes, with shouts and clanking machinery, lifts, pulleys and carts. Once, it had yielded up great loads of the silver on which the city had built its wealth.
“It’s all gone now,” said Donovan, as if reading his mind. “But once—once! There were great thick veins of silver running all through this rock. They pulled it out by the trainload. Isn’t it incredible—the thought of all that wealth? But it was nothing compared to what those miners found in the deepest cavern of all!”
“The Grelgoroth,” said Zach dutifully.
“Oh, yes. He was buried very deeply. For a long time, he’d been sleeping, taking only a little from the humans so far above—a trickle, just enough to keep himself alive. When those first miners came, a century ago, they blasted open his cavern, waking him from his long sleep. He was hungry. He took from them all! Many died. For weeks, the humans were afraid to come back. But the lure of the silver was too great, and the Grelgoroth called to them . . . he needed them . . . and they needed him.”
“What did they need from the Grelgoroth?” Zach asked.
“Ah! What is it that all humans desire, Zach?”
Her voice rang up from below him. She was well ahead of him, and the sphere of light created by the retainer, but she didn’t seem to be having trouble finding her way.
“Money.” It seemed the most logical reply, but it didn’t sound quite right.
Donovan prompted him further. “No. Money is a means to an end. What does money give someone?”
“Well, things. Houses. Computers. Cars. Um, if you have money, it means other people will do what you want them to. Work for you. Or . . . maybe kill for you. Power? Is that what people want most?”
“Think about it, Zach!” Donovan prompted. “Think. Power is great. But if you had all the money in the world, and the power to make anyone do anything you wanted, what would you want to do with yourself?”
“Everything!” Zach exclaimed. “I’d want to travel and see the world. Not just as one of those people who go overseas on Very Important Business, who stay in fancy hotels and then come back here the next flight. I’d want to buy a plane myself and fly it out of Region R4 and see the Grand Canyon and climb the Himalayas. I’d want to go down under the oceans. I’d want to . . . um, find cures for sicknesses and cancer and stuff.” Now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop thinking of what he’d want to do if he could do anything at all. “I’d want to make the best SonX game in the world, one that never ends. I’d build a cupcake-making machine. And a twelve-storey dodgem-car track.”
Donovan’s laughter echoed up from below. “Exactly! But you wouldn’t have time to do all that, would you?”
“Well, no.” Zach thought about this for a moment. “So, I suppose, I’d want to find a way to have more time.”
“Yes.”
Donovan had stopped moving, and Zach almost banged into her. In the ghostly light spilling from the retainer, she clutched his elbow tightly.
“That’s exactly what humans desire most of all. Not money or possessions or world peace. Deep down inside, all humans want more life.”
“Wow,” he said in a hushed voice. “But what about the people the Grelgoroth was taking Virya from? They didn’t get more life. They got less.”
“Ah,” said Donovan. “But isn’t that the beauty of it? They didn’t know the difference. They were drained of everything that made them who they were.”
She sighed. “The Grelgoroth was everything we ever needed as human beings. A kind and magnanimous ruler. He united us all! It was a time of peace and plenty. And we could have it again, if we wanted. When I found the Grelgoroth he was weakened, almost in a state of hibernation. I revived him by bringing those patients to him. But—but,” here she paused and looked stricken. “Humans are so delicate. So fallible. One of the patients I brought him—not only was he crazy, he was criminally insane. The bad thoughts were so deep inside him they had grown like a blight through his Virya. The Grelgoroth took the energy in, and took in the disease as well. It was like poison to him. Toxic. He fought it, but he was wounded.”
She shook her head, then let go of his elbow, resuming their descent.
“For a long time, I fought to save him. I didn’t dare bring him any more humans. What would happen if he took from another one that was so filled with evil? I gave him all I could of my own Virya. For many years I was depleted. In that time I lived here, amongst the monsters, developing ways that I could filter and extract the energies from humans. Purify them. I had only limited supplies and medical equipment—things left over from before the Wall, and a few medical supplies the monsters managed to make and trade amongst themselves. Now I have done it! Soon, the Grelgoroth will be healed and strong once more.”
They had reached the bottom of the steps. Zach stepped down behind Donovan, and found himself facing a rock wall. The strange arrow-eye symbol was embedded in the rock, in what looked like silver.
Donovan stretched out a hand to touch it. The symbol glimmered and her wristband pulsed with a sudden light. Zach felt the energy inside the retainer swirl and eddy beneath his hands, as if reaching for that symbol. Then a section of the wall groaned and rolled aside.
Beyond was a huge cavern—the Grotto. Water trickled down the walls, which were inlaid with bands of brilliant pure silver, twisting around carved figures that had been etched into the rock itself.
The humming was so much louder here. It seemed to run through Zach’s veins, mingling with his blood, mixing with his thoughts.
Stalactites hung from the ceiling, and stalagmites rose from the floor to join them, creating natural pillars and arches. They formed a kind of avenue, leading to the centre of the cavern. Here, someone stood, a tall, thin figure; he was facing away from them, but as Donovan entered the great cavern, he turned. Zach’s gaze was focussed on what was behind the figure: a throne. It was made of stalagmites traced with silver, jutting up out of the floor, and the backrest was shaped, unsurprisingly, like the same arrow-eye symbol.
Piled in this amazing seat was a mound of rock.
No. Not rock at all. It moved.
The tall thin figure standing before the mound turned, and said, “Donovan? Approach.”
As Donovan did so, the rock-thing shuddered, rearing up, its coarse outer shell rippling and resettling until Zach could see a mountainous body, with stubby little arms protruding from either side, and a bulbous head with two filmy, liquid, pale eyes blinking open in the sudden light.
“Aaaahhhh,” the creature sighed, in a voice that was low and grumbling and shook the cavern walls. The Grelgoroth’s mouth was a wide slit that ran from one side of its head to the other, almost lost in the folds of stone-like flesh surrounding it. Zach could not see the Grelgoroth’s legs. If it had any, they were lost underneath the bulk of his torso, invisible, and, by the looks of things, utterly useless.
“Aaaahh,” the Grelgoroth sighed again. “You’ve come, my loyal servant.”
“Yes, Master,” said Donovan, bowing her head as she stopped a few paces from his resting place. “And with good news. The first batch of newly purified Virya is ready!”
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“Is this true?” said the Grelgoroth. “My good servant, you have pleased me.”
“You know I would never fail you, Master!” Donovan said. Then she motioned to Zach. “Come, Zach. Bring the retainer!”
Zach had been hanging back, awed. His heart was racing. But it wasn’t fear that made him so anxious. No, it was something else. He wanted the Grelgoroth to like him. He hoped his offering—this one small container, only half-full—would be enough. He wished he had more. He wanted to please the Grelgoroth. He wanted to prove himself worthy.
The humming in his head was growing louder and louder.
As he approached, he had the impression that the people in the carvings on the walls were twisting and turning to watch him. He ignored them, fixing his gaze firmly on the Grelgoroth. But that other figure that stood next to the mountainous monster also moved closer, and Zach could no longer ignore him.
Monster-boy.
Zach felt a rush of hatred and loathing. He couldn’t look at Monster-boy. He didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Monster-boy had betrayed him. He had sold them out. It didn’t matter that it had all worked out in the end—that everything Monster-boy had done had actually brought him to this place, at this time, which was exactly where he needed to be.
With the Grelgoroth.
No, that didn’t matter. Disloyalty was dishonourable. It was unforgiveable. Morton had done the unthinkable. He was his enemy.
Morton was looking at him. Zach could feel it. He wouldn’t give in to the urge to return the gaze. Instead, he put the retainer on the floor in front of the Grelgoroth, reached out, and twisted the lid free.
There was a bright pulsing light as the stuff inside the retainer swirled and streamed out in a wave. It wafted through the air like smoke. The Grelgoroth opened its mouth wide—wider, until it was a great black hole—and took a huge gulping breath. The energy gushed inside.
