Vahn and the Bold Extraction, The

by Mason, Shane A.

  ‘Don’t look at me! Face away. We can still talk.’

  She nodded and they all turned back.

  ‘Well?’ Melaleuca said.

  ‘Has no one told you?’

  ‘No one tells anyone anything. You told us that,’ Lexington said.

  ‘You have been selected to compete in the Galelain; something that only the seniors are allowed to compete in. Seems they think you lot are special, or they want you dead.’

  They turned around and stared blankly at Con.

  ‘Don’t look at me!’

  ‘Oh bother that. What is this gale thing?’ Lexington asked.

  ‘The high point of the year where the best compete.’

  ‘Con. What is the Galelain?’ Melaleuca asked.

  Con walked past them, pretending to ignore them and stopped in front of them, so they could still hear his words.

  ‘The answer lies over there.’ He pointed to a faint outline of buildings shrouded through the hazy mist across the amphitheatre.

  ‘Come. Follow me. I will show you.’

  They crossed around the ever-illusory, deep amphitheatre to another section of the Vahn buildings, entering an area they had never been in before.

  The entrance of the building had stark-white, roman columns either side of a large, open, square door. Placards of eagles, hammers, ships, snakes, serpents, soldiers, and other insignia of past greatness lay chiseled on the top of it.

  They wandered in behind Con, entering a large, dusky, open room. Light trickled in through high-up slits, sending thin shafts of light into the room, cutting down at angles to the stands below.

  ‘This is the Hall of Hero’s,’ Con said. ‘We are to come here when feeling weak of mind to become strengthened by the heady might of those past and long since dead heroes.’

  They moved amongst statues, murals, frescoes, paintings, and models, all depicting strong able-bodied looking men, women and children - standing strong and tall amongst other weaker inferior looking people. Wars raged around them in still-life, and great winged creatures tore across pictures with gallant looking men and women, and valiant spirited children of strong sinew, battling them.

  Lexington soaked in all the detail.

  ‘Legends and myths. This could provide a lot of answers.’

  ‘Propaganda,’ Con said. ‘Cool word. It’s banned. We got it from the book of the French Resistance. It means tall-tales used to cover up the truth.’

  ‘What truth?’ Melaleuca asked.

  ‘All truth,’ Con said, adding with a sinister tone, ‘and perhaps a truth only you lot know about.’

  They carried on walking, and their footsteps echoed around the hallowed empty silence.

  ‘Here we are,’ Con said, stopping at one of the furthest corners.

  Before them lay great ships of old, captured in paint and modeled in clay, frozen still in meticulous wood, with small, angry faced figures adorning them. Galleons, Viking ships, war canoes, Roman slave attack-galleys, sloops, frigates and canon-studded, high-mast rigged ships surrounded them. In the center of the corner, higher than the other displays sat a nasty, barbed-looking pirate ship on a dais.

  Quixote reached out and with his finger tips felt the sails.

  ‘So we are going to build model ships?’

  Con gave them his widest, most garish grin.

  ‘Even better. You are going to command one.’

  The cousins started talking and Melaleuca told them to shush.

  ‘Explain more Con.’

  ‘The legend goes,’ Con said, ‘that this land was discovered by a flotilla of ships that had battled their way across the seven seas, searching for a safe haven in which to develop strong moral character.’ He spat showing contempt for it. ‘Every year since, ships take to the water to enact the fighting and the struggle it took to get here, and to test the mettle of those ready to leave the Vahn. The lake is opened and spills into the amphitheatre and the ships set sail from there to do battle on the lake…..Seems that once upon a time everyone could compete, but now we are too numerous and only those selected, the best of course, are allowed to compete. Every seventh year is the High-Galelain, an exceptionally brutal battle, unlike the six years preceding.’

  ‘Why?’

  A nervous edge entered his voice.

  ‘If you are twelve years old in the year after the High-Galelain and older you may be chosen to enter in lesser crafts, in the hope of being chosen in another six years for the High-Galelain. The honor and the prestige of winning the High-Galelain is only accorded the very few.’

  ‘Con. Why?’

  ‘Because there can only be one winner. One team left standing. One team left alive,’

  ‘And what is this year?’

  ‘The seventh, the High-Galelain.’

  Amongst the silent statues and graphic images of past death and glory, the cousins received the solemn news, mulling over what Con had told them.

  ‘And we are expected to do this,’ Melaleuca said. ‘Command a ship and kill others to win.’

  Con nodded.

  ‘Preposterous!’ Lexington said. ‘I will not kill anyone, let alone allow myself to be drawn into this barbaric game of slaughter. That tears it!’ She turned to Melaleuca, shaking. ‘I vote we leave this land, and go and find our parents.’

  ‘Leave? But you cannot,’ Con said. ‘The French Resistance has waited for you. Your mission is to free us.’

  Lexington backed away from Con, feeling for the safety of Ari and Melaleuca.

  ‘We might be killed. What then?’

  Quixote’s eyes dazzled with future glory, and his imagination ran wild at the thought of leading charge after charge after charge as a pirate.

  ‘Lex we could use the ─ ’

  Melaleuca whacked him.

  ‘Sssshhhh.’

  Con cackled. ‘Why not just become the Marauders?’

  Lexington and Ari grabbed Quixote, assuming he would spill the beans, and Melaleuca fielded his question.

  ‘How would we do that?’

  ‘I saw Quixote turn into a Marauder yesterday.’

  Lexington let out a sigh.

  ‘I told you Quixote would ─ ’

  ‘Lexington!’ Melaleuca shouted, and then said calmer, ‘I mean Lexington, it’s okay, just let me handle this.’

  Con sat on the edge of one of the smaller displays.

  ‘Your secret is safe with me. I have told no one, not even the French Resistance.’

  Melaleuca bit her bottom lip.

  ‘You may think you saw that….The Marauder popped up right by where he stood.’

  ‘Hardly. I know what I saw. We Gorks may be freaks, but we are the most intelligent bunch in New Wakefield. We always have been. I know what I saw.’

  He patted his chest.

  ‘I would die before giving you away. I, we, the French Resistance can help.’

  With his deformed head Con scrounged his features together reassuring them. ‘We can help, really.’

  ‘If we are the Marauders then why should we need you?’ Melaleuca asked.

  ‘Because I doubt even the Marauders have a ship. I have contacts. I could help.’

  ‘What if we don’t enter?’

  Con rolled this around in his mind.

  ‘No one has ever not entered, but I guess something gruesome. Have you...thought about what winning might bring?’

  Quixote bounced forward.

  ‘Tell us!’

  ‘You will be made Prefects and your captain will become the Head Prefect. So you see, you could help a lot of people and keep your secret safe.’

  ‘See that you do keep our secret safe,’ Melaleuca said. ‘We shall discuss this further amongst ourselves. Thank you Con for showing us this.’

  ***

  Everywhere they went at the Vahn, they got cheered or jeered. By lunch time they learnt that the mysterious kidnapper had struck again the night before.

  They located Con and without caring what others thought, spoke directl
y with him.

  ‘Who was kidnapped last night?’ Melaleuca asked.

  ‘Several children. It seems this time the weak and injured, the ones that could not get away when the steam was released.’

  ‘Who exactly?’ Lexington asked.

  ‘Bleph, Gregand, Tommn, Huching, Overling, whole bunch more.’

  Lexington winched.

  ‘Poor little Bleph. All that only to be kidnapped. What do you think is happening to them?’

  Con shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Who knows? People are jittery about it. But then they showed weakness. No one will search for them.

  Lexington sniffed, as if to cry.

  ‘Positively horrid.’

  ‘You can stop it,’ Con said. ‘You four can stop it all. I know you can. We need you. No one else will ask. Everyone else has something to lose. I have nothing; hence I can speak for them.’

  Desperation in his voice played across his gormly face.

  Melaleuca steeled her will against his pleas. Her first duty was to her cousins.

  ‘You are a girl of shutters,’ he said. ‘Even as you are, you are formidable.’

  He added with all the pathetic air of a being that could not protect or save himself.

  ‘Enter…we need you….enter. Save us. ’

  Chapter 31 - Preparation

  Uncle Bear-Nard sat in his musty study, mulling over the fate of his nieces and nephews. No longer having to hide his real self from them, a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had decided he would not tell them he was the Harbinger, even though he was the last. They would have to work that out for themselves.

  Each successive Harbinger had handed the knowledge down to the next bracelet wearers, but he had concluded that this was the very reason why the bracelet’s power wore off. Knowledge, especially too much knowledge, killed innocence.

  He hit the wall, and a small panel flipped open, revealing an aged parchment. Carefully removing it and unfurling it, he read the words.

  ‘Knowing more and more

  About less and less

  They know everything

  About nothing.’

  Work it out yourself, the Harbinger before him had said, though it only started making sense after the cousin’s parents had fled.

  Putting the parchment back, he examined the key the cousins had used to unlock the bracelet room, comparing it with his key. His key had an eagle on it - the long fabled eagle of power, a symbol he only knew too well, the one used throughout history where ever power gathered. Used on the standards of the long since defunct Roman Empire, and used by Nazi Germany, New Wakefield had used the symbol ever since its founding.

  Yet along with the eagle on the cousin’s key, a meek looking cow stood next to it. Where did they get it from and what did the cow mean?

  Scout morphed out of the books, startling Uncle Bear-Nard.

  ‘Did you check to see if anyone was coming?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Uncle Bear-Nard handed the objects to Scout.

  ‘What do you make of these?’

  Scout pawed at them with his long glistening fingers. They changed colours as he examined them.

  ‘Same key, different markings.’

  Uncle Bear-Nard gave Scout a friendly shove.

  ‘I know that. Have you seen this one before?’

  He pointed to the key with the cow and the eagle.

  ‘Play?’ Scout asked.

  Sadness filled his eyes.

  ‘Scout I’ve not played with you for years. I’m old now. Play is finished. Have you seen it before?’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not.’

  Uncle Bear-Nard squeezed Scout’s hand.

  ‘And what is to become of you, eh?’

  He turned back to the two keys. ‘They are heavy. Where did this one come from?’

  ‘Play with the new kids?’

  ‘No. Not yet. Only when I say. Alright.’

  ‘Bear-Nard,’ Aunty Gertrude called from outside his study.

  He threw a small blanket over the two keys, and Scout morphed into the wall.

  Face flushed, she burst in.

  ‘Bear-Nard...I..I..I am..’

  ‘What d..dear.’

  ‘They have been entered...’

  She shook her head from side to side.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The Galelain! The High Galelain. They have been entered.’

  A real sob fell from her mouth.

  What the...

  The seriousness of the words sunk in.

  Not the Galelain, please, no.

  ‘I just thought the Vahn would be good for them,’ she said.

  After all the years of secret planning, after all the suffering of the cousin’s parents, after years of waiting for children like these to turn up, to have his own wife threaten all those plans; it was too much. Even now, at what he considered a late hour, he knew that it was high time that the loyalty to his wife be put in second place.

  His face contorted in a rage he had never shown her before. ‘You ignorant woman. You may have doomed us all!’

  ***

  As the cousins tore into the girl’s bedroom, Aunty Gertrude sat there waiting for them.

  ‘You will need help to win.’

  With patience worn thin, Melaleuca replied, ‘I don’t trust you. We don’t need your help.’

  ‘All the teams are better than you. You will lose.’

  ‘If I say we will win, we will win.’

  The strength in her words found a resentful respect in Aunty Gertrude.

  ‘Good. Exactly how do you propose this?’

  ‘Leave us.’

  Aunty Gertrude drew back, shocked at her tone.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Leave us. Leave us alone. Do I need to keep repeating it?’

  ‘I will do no such thing. Shut your little ungrateful mouth. I can help you win, make sure that you do not get hurt.’

  Melaleuca held her Aunt’s gaze, letting her see the same smouldering fire that Argus had seen; the one that had dropped him to his knees.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Aunty Gertrude said, suddenly feeling all queer.

  Melaleuca motioned with her head to her cousins to follow her, and they trotted out the door.

  Grasping her head and reeling Aunty Gertrude called out.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Despite their Aunt’s cruelness, Lexington could not help but feel a little sorry for her. She turned and stood in the door.

  ‘Don’t be upset. You never had any power over us. We just allowed you to think so. Especially so that you would stop being cruel to Uncle. You really have been beastly toward him.’

  Sensing her world crashing around her - twisted malice rent Aunty Gertrude’s face, and she turned pale. Screaming, as if her throat had been cut, she lashed out at Lexington. Unpronounceable words ranted out of her mouth about how they were pulling down all that her forebears had worked so long and hard for.

  Ari stepped in-between Lexington and their Aunt, and she pummelled him like crazy to no effect until all her strength subsided, and she fell to the floor in a crumpled sobbing heap.

  ‘Ari, Lexington come,’ Melaleuca said, holding Quixote back.

  Leaving their Aunt to sob, they walked off.

  Melaleuca strode off down the corridor heading toward the Grand Ascension Stairs, fuming. An air of decision trailed behind her. It was high time that they stopped letting events push them around.

  ‘Mel?’ Ari said.

  She carried on walking.

  ‘Mel?’ Ari said again.

  Melaleuca spun around, her face a seething spread of wild determination.

  ‘Prepare for battle. This time the game is for real. Our hand is forced. We can no longer be hidden. We will use the costumes and the bracelets, enter this competition and win.’

  No one dared argue.

  ***

  Argus woke up as Uncle Bear-Nard entered the spartan room where he slept. A pall of black gloom sat
over Uncle Bear-Nard.

  ‘What?’ Argus asked.

  Uncle Bear-Nard kicked at the floor, looking older, more tired, as if several years worth of worrying had fallen on him.

  ‘I can’t protect them anymore.’

  ‘I presume you mean the kids. Why?’

  ‘I should have never asked it of her.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I thought the bracelets were a blessing as a kid, but now I see that they are a curse?’

  Argus threw his blanket back.

  ‘Oh what’s happened now?’

  Uncle Bear-Nard told him of the High Galelain, and of the mortal danger the cousins were now in. ‘And I can’t pull them out. They will be branded as cowards, a death knell here. What a choice. Risk corrupting their power or stigmatise them. Besides...,’ he shook his head, ‘..if they don’t enter, then the Council will be breathing down their necks, and that could risk the possible discovery of the bracelets.’

  ‘Get a grip.’

  ‘I think it is too late. I have failed. After all these years. Failed. Failed to keep them innocent. Failed to shield and protect them.’

  Uncle Bear-Nard half cried into his old hands.

  Argus swung his legs over the edge of his bed and sat up.

  ‘Okay. Stop. Stop feeling sorry. Nothing is over until it is over.’

  ‘This path was set years ago.’

  Argus wanted to hit him.

  ‘Look at you. Your profession of innocence does not mean an absence of horrible things. You spout innocence but you don’t know what it means. I know what it means. I’ve always known, just used different words.’

  Argus flexed his young body.

  ‘I have fought in some bloody battles and survived. Do you know how? Freshness. To survive, you must let it go. I butcher, I kill, and when the job is done, I simply let it go. Letting go preserves your sanity for the next time. If your so-called “innocence” crumbles at the first sign of danger then it was not true innocence, but naïveté. These kids are anything but naïve. So snap out of it, they probably need some sort of help.’