The Dark Flight Down

by Marcus Sedgwick

  Boy looked at the cup, now on its side and empty of whatever it had contained, and then looked at the emperor again. What had Maxim given him?

  People began to press forward, watching as the emperor moved not a muscle. The astrologers and alchemists peered at him closely. Maxim stepped in front of one of them who was getting a little closer than the others.

  “What’s wrong with him?” someone said.

  “Nothing!” Maxim said. “Nothing. The process is an exhausting one. It will take a short while for the effects to wear off, and then . . . yes! See! Already His Highness is restored to himself! But no, it is more than that. For he is now immortal!”

  The emperor stood. This perfectly normal action produced a gasp from the crowd, who all drew back.

  “Is it done?” he said to Maxim. “Am I immortal now?”

  There was something wrong with his voice, something Boy couldn’t place, as if he was talking in a dream.

  “Oh yes!” Maxim said. “You are now immortal. And since that is the case, I trust Your Highness will no longer see the need for the presence of certain people in court . . . ?”

  Boy looked around. He could see guards moving around the walls of the court, making for where he and the astrologers stood. Finally he saw Willow and Kepler, standing with the other advisors.

  Frederick nodded.

  “I am immortal,” he said, as much to himself as anyone else. He spoke more normally.

  “Immortal,” Maxim repeated. “So there is no need for these useless diviners anymore?”

  Boy understood now. He saw the whole thing, and understood what Maxim had meant when he said that it was he who had provided the solution. A very final one for some.

  “No!” he cried, jumping forward. “No! It’s a trick!”

  A guard grabbed him and threw him to the floor.

  He wrestled free and ran to the dais, where he jumped onto the steps.

  “It’s a trick! It’s a trick!”

  Maxim made for him, as did two more guards, but Frederick stepped between them and Boy.

  “Stay!” he cried. The guards hesitated, but Maxim did not.

  He caught Boy and put out his hand to one of the guards.

  “Quick! Give me your sword.”

  “Do nothing!” Frederick shrieked at the guard, who remained where he was.

  “And you, Maxim, will wait, too, until we hear what Boy has to say. He was faithful to us once, we will hear what he has to say. If it is false, he will die, but I shall be the judge! I am the immortal emperor, and I shall be heard!”

  Maxim stopped.

  “You cannot take the words of this boy above me! I have given you the greatest—”

  “Silence!” Frederick screamed so loudly that Maxim jumped. “Now, Boy, what do you have to say? And be very careful what you say.”

  Boy got up from the floor and edged away from Maxim. He looked around the court, saw Willow and the fear on her face and felt himself grow stronger.

  He pointed at Maxim.

  “It’s a trick! He hasn’t made you immortal. He hasn’t done anything to you, except maybe drugged you for ten minutes! He’s bluffing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Maxim took a step toward Boy, his face full of menace. Boy stepped back.

  “I gave the idea to him.”

  “What idea?”

  “About being immortal. I said to him, how do you know you’re immortal until you die?”

  There was total silence.

  “I . . . what?” asked Frederick. “I . . .”

  “It’s very simple,” Boy said. “How do you know you’re immortal now? Unless you die? Are you willing to try to find out? He’s trying to trick you, because there’s no other way to know.”

  Now people understood, and the emperor too.

  He turned to Maxim.

  “Is this true?”

  Maxim fought to stay calm. Boy knew he would give himself away if he lost his head now.

  “Of course not! The brat lies! Have him taken away and slaughtered at once.”

  He made a signal to a guard, but again Frederick stopped him.

  “The next man who obeys anyone else’s orders will die. You all listen to me, not Maxim! Now, Maxim, why do you say the boy is lying?”

  “Because he’s a lying urchin. You can’t—”

  “He doesn’t even have the book!” Boy cried. “Ask him to show you the book!”

  Maxim’s face was swollen with rage, but still he managed to speak calmly.

  “There’s no need to have the book. It’s too powerful to bring down here—”

  Frederick stopped him.

  “Bring me the book, Maxim.”

  Maxim was utterly motionless.

  “Bring me the book, now, or you will die.”

  “No!” Maxim screamed. “I don’t have the cursed book! And you aren’t immortal! How could you be? It’s impossible!”

  Frederick recoiled as if he had been struck.

  “Traitor!” he screamed.

  “You stupid fool! Did you really think I could make you immortal?”

  Maxim laughed bitterly, flung his hand out at the crowd.

  “Look at them! They’ve all been waiting for you to die for years! And why? Because you don’t have an heir! So you wanted to be immortal instead. Well, you’re a bigger fool than I ever thought! And a liar, too. You do have an heir, don’t you, Frederick? Why don’t you tell everyone all about it?”

  “Guards!” Frederick yelled. “Arrest him!”

  Maxim laughed, and backed away around the side of the throne. Then he darted behind the massive chair. He flicked something in the wall and a secret door opened. He disappeared and the door shut behind him.

  A guard ran over and tried to find the catch Maxim had used.

  “It’s locked from the inside,” he said.

  Frederick practically jumped onto his throne, and stood there, quivering with rage.

  “Find him! Search the palace. Close all exits! Bring him to me!”

  The Tower

  The Place of Revelation

  1

  The whole court was in turmoil.

  Guards raced here and there, as Frederick shouted orders from atop his throne.

  Willow ran to Boy. Kepler hurried after her, pushing his way through the crowds, but Willow was faster and more nimble.

  “Quick!” she said to Boy. “Now’s our chance.”

  “Kepler’s after us!”

  “He can’t follow both of us. Split up. I’ll meet you in the South Tower. You know the way?”

  Boy nodded.

  “Go!” he cried, and pushed Willow away from him. She skittered toward the nearest door, just as Kepler got to Boy.

  “Got you!” he said. “You’re coming with me. I need you.”

  Boy wriggled free. Amid all the chaos, no one was paying them any attention.

  “No!” Boy cried. “I don’t want to.”

  “But it’s not safe for you here!” Kepler shouted.

  “I know that!” Boy laughed. “It’s not safe for anyone here.”

  “You don’t understand,” Kepler said. “You’re mine. You’re all I need.”

  “Get away from me!” Boy cried.

  He turned and began to push his way through the crowd. Kepler pursued, trying to get past people, but he could not keep up with Boy, who was used to moving his small frame through tight places. Boy was about halfway across the room, making for another door, when the noise in the court suddenly increased tenfold.

  There were screams from the door, and a huge swell of people pushed back from the main entrance. Boy could see ladies being crushed in the panic, men screaming to get away, as a circle opened in the crowds.

  There was Maxim, advancing on Frederick, who was still dancing about madly on the throne. But Maxim was not alone. He had brought someone, or rather something, with him. He held a chain of iron links in his hand, at the far end of which was a struggling, snarling, spitting creature.


  The Phantom.

  It could be nothing else but the creature Boy had met in the tunnel, squatting over its victim in the trampled snow.

  Screams flew to the heaven-painted ceiling; some of the courtiers fainted on the spot, as the Phantom was led against its will through the shiny bright court. It scrabbled on the polished floor, fighting to keep on its feet, which were callused and strong. It loped on its hands, moving like an ape, though Boy could see it really was human, in an appalling, twisted way. It pulled against its chain, trying to get away from the bright world into which it had been dragged, but Maxim was a powerful man, and headed unerringly for Frederick.

  No one else in the room moved. Boy looked at the emperor. There was horror, anger, fear, disgust and repulsion on his face, but strangely, no surprise.

  “So!” Maxim shouted.

  He reached the foot of the dais, and turned and yanked so hard on the Phantom’s chain that it lost its footing entirely and went skidding onto the floor, where it tried and failed at first to find its feet.

  “So! Beautiful people!”

  The room fell silent, everyone staring openmouthed at the creature struggling at Maxim’s feet.

  “So! There is your emperor. Frederick the Magnificent! Frederick who wished to be made immortal because he had no heir, no son to succeed him! But he lies!

  “He lies! For there is a story to tell. Fifteen years ago, he took a consort. Sophia Beebe! And the book prophesied that there would be an heir. That much some of you know. You may remember that the Beebes were disgraced, and you may believe that the offspring died! But you were lied to!

  “You want a son, Frederick? Well, here’s your son! This killing thing, kept hidden from everyone for fifteen years. Your son, Frederick! Your son, this beast!”

  Frederick stood on his throne, stricken with horror. He glanced from the Phantom to his people, who began to call out in fear and shame at what they were witnessing.

  The Phantom had got to its feet, and squatted, crouching, spitting and struggling on its short chain. Boy could not take his eyes off it. There was something offensive, yet fascinating, about it. It was only a child really, but malformed and powerful beyond its years.

  “No,” Frederick said, quietly, weakly. “No, it—”

  “Don’t lie!” Maxim shouted. “You know it as well as I do, as well as Bedrich did! The only other witness from those days! You wanted an heir? Well, this is the rightful heir to the throne.”

  “Guards!” Frederick screamed. “Arrest him! Arrest him! And take that . . . thing . . . away!”

  Maxim snarled as three guards closed in on him. Swiftly he moved close to the beast and loosed the chain from its neck. Maxim began to back off and one of the guards made for him.

  Faster than Boy imagined possible, the Phantom, who thought it was being attacked, leapt at the guard, and clawed him away in a second. Blood welled across the polished floor, and people screamed. The chaos that had been stilled while Maxim made his speech returned in a moment. There was pushing and shouting; another guard tried to swing his sword at the Phantom, who jumped right over the blade, dispatching his assailant with ease as he landed on his feet again.

  Maxim ran. The Phantom, maddened by fury and fear, lashed out at anyone who came near.

  Boy joined others running from the room, but stumbled, and went sprawling over several other people. Kepler was nowhere to be seen, but the panic was universal. The furor continued behind them, as the beast became frenzied, lunging at people. Boy got to his feet, and saw that he was bleeding. He had fallen on the sword of one of the guards, which was so sharp he hadn’t felt anything at first. He now bled from a gash in his right forearm. He grabbed it with his other hand and ran for his life.

  He had to get to the South Tower and find Willow.

  He made it through the door, and tried to work out which way to go, as the screaming continued in the court. Frederick was jumping up and down on his throne, ranting, but could no longer be heard.

  The Phantom, still on the loose, saw a gap in the crowd, and loped toward the door. No one tried to get near it, to stop it. A dozen guards who had attempted to do so lay on the floor, badly injured.

  As it emerged from the court, it saw something it liked. Blood. A trail of blood leading out across the marble floor of the hall.

  It followed.

  2

  Boy ran as fast as he could, leaving the screams behind him. He hurried through the palace, through bits he knew, then bits he didn’t, trying frantically to remember Willow’s description of the interior route to the Old South Tower.

  He passed no one. It seemed that the entire palace had been present for the bestowing of Frederick’s immortality, and everyone had witnessed the farce it had become. Likewise, everyone had seen the horror of the Phantom— everyone except Willow. Boy quickened his pace, but he had to remember what she had said, and it would be worse to get lost altogether.

  He came to a junction and couldn’t remember Willow’s instructions. He hesitated, then guessed left. Years of navigating the City’s mazelike streets had given him a good sense of direction, and he decided to trust it now.

  He was right. As he ran down a long corridor with tall windows, he could see the South Tower to his left through the snowfall. The corridor turned and he came to the foot of the Tower, in a small hall with a spiral staircase.

  Noting the position of the door to the outside, he began to leap up the stairs, two at a time. He didn’t notice the spattered blood he was leaving behind as he went.

  Willow and Kepler’s rooms were at the very top of the Tower. Boy cursed. The stairs were steep and dark and he couldn’t make his legs go fast anymore. But at least Willow should be easy to find—he just had to make it to the top of the staircase.

  Suddenly he could go no higher. He put his foot up for the next step and there was none. He stumbled forward and looked about him.

  “Willow?” he called, but quietly.

  There was no answer. He could see doors in front of him and to the side, three in all.

  He looked around. Everyone was in court, or running screaming from the Phantom. He decided he could risk shouting.

  “Willow! Are you there?”

  Still no answer. There was nothing else for it.

  Boy made for the door nearest him and opened it.

  Immediately he saw Willow. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing him. As he walked in, she looked up. There was an odd expression on her face, which stopped Boy where he was. Not a look of surprise, or joy, or relief, it was something else, something like fear.

  On the floor in front of Willow lay the book, wide open.

  Boy pointed dumbly.

  “Did you . . . ?” he began, but stopped. He didn’t know what he was asking.

  “Boy . . . ,” Willow said, slowly. Then she noticed his arm. “You’re hurt!”

  “It’s all right,” said Boy. “It’s not too bad. . . .”

  “Let me look at it,” said Willow, getting to her feet.

  Boy shook his head. They were wasting time.

  “No!” he cried. “The book. You’ve read the book!”

  Willow stood, like a guilty child, the book at her feet. She looked down at it.

  “You’ve read the book, Willow! Tell me! What does it say?”

  “Boy . . . I . . .”

  “What did it tell you! Tell me! Or I’ll read it myself.”

  “No!” Willow cried.

  Boy strode to where the book lay on the floor. Willow grabbed his arm to stop him and Boy howled with pain. He shoved her away with his good arm and sat down in front of the book.

  “No!” cried Willow, and tried to pull the book from Boy.

  “Leave me alone!” Boy screamed at her. He pushed at her hands.

  “No, Boy! Don’t read it! Don’t read it! Please!”

  Something desperate in Willow’s voice struck Boy. He hesitated.

  “Why not?” he said, his voice faltering. “Why not? I hav
e to know.”

  Willow shook her head.

  “Maybe it’s best you don’t. Maybe it’s not what you want to hear. Maybe . . .”

  “Just tell me, Willow.”

  “All right. But I want to tell you something first.”

  Boy waited for her to go on.

  “I want you to know. I love you.”

  Boy showed no emotion, nothing.

  “Tell me,” he said quietly.

  “Valerian’s not your father,” Willow said. “That’s true.”

  “Then who?” asked Boy.

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know,” Boy said.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just that I don’t think you’ll want to know. Boy, your father . . . Your father is the emperor. Frederick.”

  Boy stood, speechless, stunned into silence. A strange look came into his eyes. He smiled, then began to laugh, but stopped just as quickly.

  “Don’t talk rubbish,” he said. “That’s ridiculous. . . .”

  “I’ve seen it all, Boy. I’ve seen it all. Fifteen years ago, the emperor had a son by one of the Beebe women. Sophia.”

  “Yes, I know. There was something wrong with it. Willow! You weren’t there! It’s the Phantom, Willow. It’s grown into some kind of monster. Maxim let it loose in the court. It’s gone crazy, hurting people.”

  Willow did not seem surprised.

  “I know. I saw it in the book. About the strange baby. Frederick had it taken away from Sophia, put it in the dungeons imagining it would die. But it didn’t, and even Frederick couldn’t bring himself to have his own flesh and blood killed. And he believed he couldn’t kill the son the book had foretold. That he would risk Fortune’s retribution if he tried to alter the path of Fate by killing the child. But that’s not the son I’m talking about, Boy.

  “There were twins. One hideous, the other normal. Sophia was horrified by what Frederick had done to her baby, and furious. In revenge, she escaped one night with the healthy child.

  “Frederick began to persecute the Beebes. They fell from favor overnight. He confiscated lands and money and removed titles he had bestowed only a little while before. He searched high and low for Sophia.