by Pelaam
“I’m quite certain that none of us would even consider going into catacombs.” Dryden shuddered, drawing attention back to him. “Why would we? The city may be a nice place to visit, but we’d certainly need escorting.”
“We tend to use the transport. Easier to defend, and it can run much faster than when it brought you here.” Tullia held her head high. “We keep the city lit at all times to discourage the waḥsiyy. They prefer the twilight of places like the catacombs. Then we have the canals. They run through our city.”
“But we forget our manners.” Maximus rose to his feet. “We have other guests, and it’s time you met them.” He gestured with his hands and the guards sounded the conches.
As the doors opened and the newcomers sauntered in, Midnight heard a hiss from Tresilian and glanced quickly at him. His friend’s face was a mask of fury as he glared at the two men who strolled toward them.
Chapter 17
The man leading the way smiled, but to Midnight’s eyes, it was cold and humourless, a smile born of some unspoken superiority the man felt.
“Hello, Voltaire.” The leader spoke and Midnight took a moment to study him more closely.
There was an air about him that reminded Midnight of Voltaire. It wasn’t physical, although he shared the same broad-shouldered build and equally dark hair, but his mannerisms, his air of confidence. But one obvious difference to Midnight’s gaze was the hint of slyness in his vivid green that was absent from Voltaire’s sapphire blue.
His gaze then shifted to the man behind. Where Tresilian was tall and broad, this man was more squat, with a broader frame. With his shaven skull and bulldog neck, he looked the kind of man who’d do well in bare-knuckle fighting. Or a street brawl.
“Ah, Ferdinand, my good fellow, there you are. I knew you would not have perished in anonymity of a volcano or in the clutches of the giant squid. You’re destined for a far different end.” Despite Voltaire’s apparently jocular greeting, there was an edge of steel. “I was wondering when you’d deign to make your presence known.”
That Voltaire greeted Ferdinand with such apparent indifference to his orchestrated surprise appearance seemed to irritate the other man. Ferdinand’s smile faltered, and Midnight caught a quick glimpse of a much darker emotion in the green eyes. Then the smile was back.
“I’m pleased you think so. Lost my ship and my men though. Only Lynch and I made it.” Ferdinand shrugged as if the lives of the others who’d perished meant nothing.
“Yes, I would imagine you and he would find a way to survive.” Voltaire’s smile remained in place, but his eyes became glacial.
“Ferdinand-Ashdown said that, unlike him, you are a tomb despoiler. One who only looked for those things of value that could be taken, irrespective of ownership or damage inflicted.” Maximus rose to his feet and prowled around the two groups, his gaze flitting between Voltaire and Ferdinand as if weighing up each man.
“Did he indeed?” Voltaire met Maximus’s gaze levelly. “Well, perhaps you’d care to check my room, see if I’ve stolen any of the family silver? Or you may consider that, thus far, we have been exemplary guests, obeying all you’ve asked of us.”
“He says you were pursuing him and forced him into descending the volcano to protect your world. That, should such a weapon that can bring about mass destruction exist, you wanted it for yourself and the group you serve.” Maximus continued. “If this isn’t true, just why did you come down here?”
“Ferdinand and I both thought we’d discovered the Magnus Opus. A weapon capable of killing millions. We both sought it. It’s Ferdinand who wished to have it as his entry fee to the redoubtable S.O.R. The initials stand for sol omnia regit; the sun rules over everything. I, however, simply wished to prevent any such occurrence. I have no wish to see it in their hands, or any others for that matter.”
“Ah, yes.” Maximus nodded. “When we first talked, we pointed out it was a shame your world endured so many wars, so many deaths. You seemed to think that this was a fitting price for you so-called freedom.”
“I believe in freedom, which does indeed come with a price. Freedom, democracy, equality, the right to live and love as one chooses. Sometimes, like it or not, one must fight to protect them.”
“We believe in the divine destiny of rulers.” Maximus held his head high. “With the right rulers, the world would live peacefully, no more wars, the people knowing their place and content with it. We had such a utopia when we lived on the surface world and have kept it down here. Our civilization was advanced in engineering and the arts while your ancestors still lived in caves, Voltaire-Crevin.”
“And perhaps being trapped down here, you haven’t had the opportunity to grow and develop like other civilizations. As great as you most assuredly are, Maximus Sa-Ra, there is an amazing world out there from which you could learn.”
“We thank you for your words, Voltaire-Crevin.” Maximum inclined his head. “Although I prefer to think that we, shall teach your world, and they will learn much from us.”
“You may be right, Maximus Sa-Ra.” Voltaire bowed low. “I simply wish to ensure that so powerful a weapon, if it were to exist, does not fall into the hands of those who would use it to oppress and crush freedom.” Voltaire shrugged, his gaze flitting to Ferdinand. “Others have fewer scruples.”
“Would you not prefer the weapon to be in the hands of those who would ensure the world lived in peace?” Maximus stopped directly in front of Voltaire and the men stared at one another.
Even from a few paces away, Midnight felt the battle of wills between the two men and he wondered just who the victor would be. And what will be the consequences, both for us, and for the world.
“And sacrifice freedom? Live under a yoke of tyranny?” Voltaire shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t believe that would be right. Freedom is something worth fighting for.”
“Ferdinand-Ashdown told us you would say something of that kind.” Maximus began to prowl again. “That you would oppose a notion of a natural world order and the peace that would bring. All men cannot be equal.”
“Peace without freedom is still tyranny, the enemy of what my country stands for. Democracy.”
“There are those whose destiny it is to rule, Voltaire-Crevin. Just as it is the destiny of others to be ruled. It is the way of things. Accept it and there can be no tyranny because all know their place and are content with it.”
“I think we’ll just agree to disagree, Maximus Sa-Ra.” Voltaire bowed low once more. “I should prefer to have some say in who governs me. Not simply accept rulership because someone claims they have a divine right.”
“You accept Queen Victoria’s rulership, Voltaire. Is this so much different?”
“She is our Queen, and long may she reign. However, it is her government that truly rules. The people elected to serve in government. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than dictatorship.”
“Enough.” Maximus held up his hand. “We cannot understand why you fail to accept that which is clearly best for all. That you would reject unification, peace, and prosperity in favour of fragmentation, war, and poverty. But you have made your stance clear. And many others think as you do, is that not so?”
“Yes. That’s exactly so. And since Ferdinand has been so accurate in describing me to you, I can hardly refrain from offering the same insight into his nature. Ferdinand as I’m sure you’ll have realised is a highly intelligent man, however his loyalty can be described as fluid. He serves his own interests best of all.”
“We thank you for the insight, Voltaire-Crevin.” Maximus turned his head slowly to look at Ferdinand whose expression had darkened.
“Trying to deflect attention, Voltaire?” Ferdinand’s voice had changed.
“Surely, you’re as slippery as ever, Ferdinand?” Voltaire fixed the other man with his gaze, and Midnight caught his sister’s frantic glance as she looked between the two men.
The air was suddenly thick with tension. Lynch shifted slightly, his m
eaty hands bunched into fists, and Tresilian mirrored the movement.
“Maximus Ra-Sa, I do apologise, but I feel rather sick.” Midnight reached out, and was relieved, and ashamed, that Tresilian immediately responded to him.
“No apology necessary, Midnight-Pendragon. We are aware your health remains frail. This audience is at an end.” Maximus clapped his hands and the conches sounded. “Both Voltaire-Crevin and Ferdinand-Ashdown have given us much to consider. However, you will naturally all remain our treasured guests despite any differences we may have.”
“Yes, remain being the key word.” Tresilian murmured softly into Midnight’s ear.
“Polite terminology for prisoners.” Midnight sighed. “Take me out of here, Tresilian.”
Chapter 18
The group were escorted back to their quarters. No one spoke on the way, and Midnight felt increasingly guilty about his deception as Tresilian remained solicitous the entire way back.
“Well, I intended to bathe, so I hope no one tried to disturb me.” Dryden went into his room, slamming the door behind him.
“Why don’t the rest of you come into my room for a minute?” Aurora held open her door, then looked at Midnight. “If you’re well enough?”
“‘M fine.” Midnight couldn’t meet her eye as he walked past her.
Once everyone was inside, Aurora sat on the bed with Dru beside her. George stood like a sentry in front of the door. Voltaire paced back and forth like a tiger in a cage and Tresilian continued to fuss over Midnight, who needed to be honest with his friends.
“Sorry, Voltaire, Tresilian, everyone.” Midnight hung his head. “I’m not ill as I claimed. But I thought it expedient that we got out of there before things turned nasty. Although I had the feeling that both Tullia and Maximus would have been quite happy to watch a fight.”
“You did the right thing, Midnight.” Voltaire patted his shoulder. “I don’t believe they trust Ferdinand any more than I do. But, of course, he’s had their ear a little longer, and doubtless says the things they’d like to hear, too.”
“Just what is the story with you and Ferdinand?” Midnight threw up his hands in frustration. “He sounds willing to side with the Atlanteans. Anything to…to get at you.”
“It’s rather a sad tale really.” Voltaire sighed as if staring into a past only he could see. “We were childhood friends. We were sent to school as soon as our parents could be rid of us. The proper thing to do, of course. We were two terrified boys with the ponderous weight of parental, or rather patriarchal, expectations on our shoulders. There are times when I wonder how we ever made it to adulthood.”
“What happened?” Midnight asked, his voice soft.
“I found I enjoyed academia.” Voltaire smiled at Midnight and began his customary pacing, gesticulating as he spoke, as if trying to release a build-up of energy. “Not at first, of course. But to my ever-growing relief, I found that the lessons weren’t as bad as I’d imagined, and I didn’t struggle to assimilate or retain what I was taught. And to much the same degree, the same was true of Ferdinand. At least, so I thought. But as hard as he tried, he never surpassed being second to me.” Voltaire stood still and his shoulders sagged. “And that situation, over the years, became…intolerable for him.”
When Voltaire fell silent, Midnight looked at Tresilian.
“Ferdinand cheated.” Tresilian shrugged. “Seemed he’d been doing it for a while but was incredibly careful about covering his tracks. If he’d succeeded, well, the school would probably let it slip past for sheer audacity. But he didn’t and the school had no option but to give him the choice of leaving under his own steam or being asked to go. Voltaire spoke up for him, but that only infuriated Ferdinand, sent him into a maniacal rage. He took it out on his school servant, was beating the poor kid. Voltaire stepped in, and Ferdinand isn’t as good a boxer as Voltaire either.” Tresilian clenched his fists. “He was lucky. Voltaire pulled his punches. If I’d taken him on, I’d have held nothing back. Not when I saw that poor bloodied kid.”
“Then what happened?” Midnight could hardly believe what he was hearing. That the men had a history was obvious, but schooldays for them were so long ago, so much had happened in between. And yet Ferdinand still holds a grudge.
“Basically, Ferdinand has as good as devoted his life to trying to beat Voltaire at every turn. To get to the next discovery, the next important find or relic. I’m sorry.” Tresilian squeezed Voltaire’s shoulder. “But the truth is that Ferdinand is insane with jealousy. His whole motivation in life is to try and beat you, to humiliate you the way he feels he was humiliated. It kills him that you won’t hate him the way he hates you.”
“I can’t hate him. I still remember that sweet child he was when we started out. Until the need to prove himself better than me destroyed him. He always said that his father never praised a single thing, a single achievement of his, because he always came second. If his father had been less of a bully, Ferdinand might have been working with me, rather than against me.”
“So, you and he are constantly trying to do…what?” Midnight shook his head.
“In this case, we both believed Atlantis was destroyed. But we thought we may find something that would lead us to the ultimate weapon. The weapon that devastated Atlantis and caused its destruction. There’s a secret society, the S.O.R. They offered me a place and I rejected them. I don’t hold with world domination, even if under the claim that it’s in the best interests of everyone.”
“But Ferdinand sees the weapon as his entrance into the S.O.R.” Tresilian shrugged. “He has no such qualms.”
“So then, if the Atlanteans do have some kind of…. of super weapon—” Midnight looked from Voltaire to Tresilian.
“Then you can be assured that Ferdinand will do anything he needs to get hold of it.” Tresilian nodded. “Because once it’s in the hands of the S.O.R., then they can hold the world to ransom, and Ferdinand will finally have bested Voltaire. At the world’s expense.”
“Then he really is a mad man.” Midnight couldn’t stop the words, but his heart constricted at the look of anguish in Voltaire’s eyes.
“Yes. I know.” Voltaire sighed.
“Don’t waste time feeling sorry for him, Voltaire.” Tresilian gave his friend a shake. “He’s made his own fortune from trying to best you. While you get scholarly accolades, he’s made a lucrative life for himself as a mercenary. Even if he doesn’t get the treasure itself, someone’s willing to pay him to go after it, and his madness fuels him.”
“I wish I didn’t feel so responsible.” Voltaire sighed.
“You’re not.” Midnight felt the heat of a blush burn his cheeks as both Voltaire and Tresilian turned to look at him. “If you’ll excuse me saying so, there is one thing that truly separates you from Ferdinand, and it’s not your success.”
“Then what?” Voltaire cocked his head.
“He has a complete absence of moral conscience. He doesn’t care what he does, claiming the need to be better than you. That passion could and should be put to better use and endeavours. He knows you have a heart and a conscience and has systematically used them against you. Tresilian is angry with Ferdinand, and you’re generous of heart. But as an outsider, that’s what I can see.”
“You know, Voltaire. I think he’s right.” Tresilian draped an arm across Midnight’s shoulders and smiled at him. “My anger blinded me to a lot about Ferdinand. I never thought he could be pulling our strings so effectively.”
At the intimate gesture, in front of so close as friend as Voltaire, Midnight’s heart fluttered, and his stomach flipped.
“You think so?” Voltaire frowned and started to pace once more.
“I think you took on the responsibility for Ferdinand’s personal choices because you love him like a brother. I think Ferdinand took advantage of it. Let’s not forget, Cain and Abel were brothers.
“You’re right.” Voltaire stopped dead and Midnight was certain he looked taller and broader, as if a
great weight had been shed. “Well, then, I promise you both this; there is no way that I’m letting Ferdinand leave here with any weapon that the S.O.R. can use.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Tresilian laughed and pulled Midnight a little closer. “In that case, we need to find a way to escape our overly benevolent hosts.”
“I don’t want the Atlanteans getting overly suspicious.” Voltaire stroked his chin. “Perhaps, Aurora and Dru, you ladies could remain here to chat. George, you can come with me. Tresilian and Midnight already share a room. I don’t think the Atlanteans are fools, but let’s not be too obvious.”
“We can meet up later.” Tresilian took hold of Midnight’s hand. “Come on. We’ll leave first.”
Chapter 19
Once back in their room, Midnight faced Tresilian.
“I’m sorry for deceiving you—” Midnight began his apology, but it was cut short when Tresilian pressed his lips against Midnight’s.
“No apology necessary. It was an effective ploy, and one the Atlanteans couldn’t dispute, either.” Tresilian shrugged. “Voltaire was treading on dangerous ground. But it’s in his nature. Now, I think you should lie down for a while.”
“Will you lie with me?” Midnight asked, and Tresilian’s smile made Midnight’s stomach flutter.
“I think I can do that. Do I need to remain dressed?”
“Not at all. Naked would be much better.” Although his cheeks burned with the force of his blush, Midnight wanted to show he was not just a willing participant in their love play, but an active one.
Since Midnight was feeling bold, it seemed that Tresilian wasn’t going to discourage him. When Midnight considered it, Tresilian had not only seen him undressed, but was the one to disrobe him. While he was yet to see Tresilian fully naked outside of the bathing room.
