The Omega Children - The Return of the Marauders (A young adult fiction best seller): An Action Adventure Mystery

by Shane Mason

  Square shaped, almost black, and looking like night forever fell on it - it cast a pall of oppression over the land, like a shadow from an evil giant.

  ‘I don’t like the look of that,’ Lexington said.

  ‘It’s not what it appears,’ Melaleuca said, sensing danger and discovery.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh. Well perhaps it’s the invisibility thing again,’ Lexington said. ‘The same mechanism must be at work? I wish I had a costume.’

  The dirt roads became a little wider and the trees and paddocks thinned out until they found themselves slowing to a trot. They could see the small township ahead of them. On the roofs of the houses and huts and small buildings sat over-sized, grey-black, metal paper-darts.

  ‘Small space ships,’ Quixote said. ‘Work that into a theory.’

  ‘That’s the Vahn,’ Pemily said, pointing at the large behemoth black building.

  Though it looked foreboding, Quixote said, ‘At least there will be others to play with.’

  It suddenly occurred to Melaleuca, that Quixote could present a big challenge. He had never been let loose before with other children, except for the borstal. At least this time, he had no costume or bracelet.

  ‘Stick close to me or Ari, Qui. We’ll see what they are like first.’

  As they entered the edge of the town, on the side of the road a man in tattered clothes was bent over. He ripped and tore at the vast array of colourful, wild flowers growing there.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Quixote asked.

  ‘Tearing out the flowers,’ Pemily said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Flowers weaken people.’

  The man turned and snarled.

  ‘LOOK AWAY!!!’

  The horses slowed to a walk, moving through the town toward the large building. The dowdy houses had narrow windows and tiny doors, and were all coloured grey, brown, and black, a lifeless contrast to the wild flowers. No playgrounds, no slides, see-saws, bikes, balls or any such paraphernalia could be seen on any front yard; just grass and what looked like gallows and child and man sized hitching posts.

  As the large building loomed closer, it looked less rectangular and more circular. Instead of just black, the surface appeared reflective and metallic. By the time they had reached the southern end of the town they could see that it reared up from behind a curved stone wall and sat on an expansive flat lawn.

  Hundreds of children gathered on the lawn, some of them wearing sackcloth similar to the cousins. Rows and rows of them bent over, as older children clad in grey, ill-fitting shirts and trousers hit them in sickening unison.

  ‘What are they doing?’ Lexington asked.

  ‘Strengthening repentance,’ Pemily said, bringing the cart to a halt.

  ‘We are expected to do that?’

  Pemily remained silent, though an almost human look of compassion fell over her.

  ‘Time to get down,’ she said.

  Melaleuca’s gut feelings went haywire, and she questioned why her instincts had told her to come to this place.

  ‘Mel,’ Ari whispered. ‘I don’t like this.’

  I am right to trust myself, Melaleuca thought. This is just fear of the unknown.

  ‘Let us not let fear take grip. Stick together whatever happens. Do not let us be separated.’

  ‘Here’s where you get off, youngsters,’ Pemily said pointing to some open, tall iron gates.

  Through them they could see a gap in the Vahn. At least twelve stories high, the flat wall of the Vahn seemed made of an unearthly material. Black and shiny, it had a reflective look about it, yet it reflected nothing.

  Quixote stood up, waving at the children, though none saw him.

  A large horn sounded and like robots, the children from the lawn started filing in through the gate. A metal banner stretched over it. The words, ‘Penitence and suffering make you strong,’ were emblazoned across it in rusted metal, though the word “Penitence,” had been crossed out.

  Students trudged by, and soon, inside the gate, hundreds of them milled forward to where ever they were going.

  Quixote waved and waved and yelled to all the passing students. Like refugees trudging away from a war zone, scantily clad in basic clothing, they shuffled past. Scores of hollow-faced students looked at him blankly.

  One young boy and girl waved back, baring their teeth in a weak smile. Quixote hooted and hollered at them, stopping when he saw an older boy hit them in the head.

  ‘Now you must get off. I can go no further,’ Pemily said. ‘Pembrooke will pick you up on the outskirts of town.’

  They got out of the cart and she rode off.

  The cousins stood in the middle of the road looking both ways, daunted by the large number of students.

  Feeling Lexington’s nervousness, Melaleuca grabbed her hand. Ari followed her example and grabbed Quixote’s.

  ‘Stick together. We will be fine.’

  Several of the students, stared at them, whispering as they passed by, and an older boy, in his late teens approached the cousins. Close cropped hair, a face with two scars, tight fitting black clothes and a lesser looking Galeslar on his left arm; he leaned over them. His knees poked out of his trousers, and his feet protruded out from under his boots.

  ‘What do you think you are doing?’ he screamed at them, and then realised they were not who he thought they were.

  ‘Outsiders,’ he whispered. ‘Outsiders. So it is true.’

  ‘How do you do?’ Lexington asked, offering her hand. ‘My name is Lexington.’

  He looked at her lily-white hand, a rare sight in New Wakefield. Entranced, he stared at her pretty face.

  ‘Do what?’ he asked.

  ‘Do people not shake hands when they meet? I have read that it is so.’

  Still surprised, he took her hand as if it were the reigns of a horse. Against her skin Lexington could feel the rough calluses of his gnarled hand.

  A female and male adult, clad in grey gowns and wearing red tunics and black pants, strode out of the gate toward them.

  ‘Gregand, you weak fool,’ Task-Master Quenlein said. ‘Let her hand go.’

  Gregand dropped it, hardening his glare, though his skin tinged red.

  Task-Master Quenlein slapped him hard on the back.

  ‘Anyone would think you have never seen a girl before. Leave them. I doubt they will survive a week.’

  He shoved Gregand back into the lines of children.

  The lady that strode behind Task-Master Quenlein stood there. Elegantly tall, despite the knee-less trousers, protruding toes and military uniform of red, she knelt down. She held their gaze as the cousins scratched their skin once again.

  ‘I am Harshon.’

  Like a dove in the middle of a battlefield, the smooth, silky white skin of her face showed no sign of hardship.

  ‘I am assigned to you. Please follow me. Try not scratch, it only makes it worse.’

  Harshon smiled at Melaleuca, showing off clean, white, almost perfect teeth. ‘It’s okay. Trust.’ She held out a hand.

  Quixote reached for it, grinning. She seemed motherly and he liked that.

  Melaleuca nodded to the others and they followed. Harshon hand in hand with Quixote went through the gates and into the Vahn.

  They passed through the gates dwarfed by the immensity of the Vahn and walked alongside the other shuffling students, who divided into two groups either side of them. The left group had limbs missing, patches of baldness, limps, bandages, even eyes missing, ashen grey skin, sunken in eyes and a general appearance of malaise.

  The right group seemed smarter - more ordered. The girls and boys looked stronger. Their clothes fitted better, and all their body parts seemed intact, though scant signs of injury showed on their faces. They wore black uniforms, and Galeslars decorated their left arms, while the left group wore sackcloth and grey clothes, though most had knee-less trousers and sole-less boots.

  ‘What happened
to them?’ Lexington asked.

  ‘They did not do so well in their tests,’ Harshon replied in a cheery tone, hurrying between the buildings.

  Soon they stood on the inside of the Vahn. Four black, sleek buildings towered above them arranged in a circular pattern around a large amphitheatre sunk into the ground.

  The cousins pushed through the teeming students, and gazed across the amphitheatre from its edge. Deceptive light and hazy shadows made it look bottomless, and though the buildings on the far side could be seen, the distance across it seemed further than it appeared.

  With her head reeling from it, Lexington toppled forward, losing her footing. Ari pulled her back, despite feeling giddy as well. Melaleuca and Quixote moved back from the edge, though Quixote itched to climb down the steps and explore.

  ‘Let me help,’ Harshon said. ‘I remember my first time.’ She held Lexington, steadying her.

  Lexington composed herself marvelling at the surroundings. ‘Why does everything appear uneven?’

  Shaking her head, Harshon tut-tutted her. ‘A word to the wise. Do not use the word why?’

  ‘Why? That breeds ignorance.’

  Harshon smiled. ‘Ignorance can be strength. Come. The Head-Discipliner wants to meet you.’

  Unable to resist Quixote stepped off the edge, jumping a few steps down into the amphitheatre.

  Harshon frowned at him, though seemed to understand, and with sadness said, ‘They will discipline that one.’

  ‘Exactly explain discipline,’ Melaleuca said. ‘Our Aun...I mean the lady that keeps us, uses that word. What does it mean here?’

  Harshon frowned more. ‘Oh I see. Well then there is much for you to learn. Who put you in first year clothes?’

  ‘The lady that keeps us,’ Ari said.

  ‘I would not have dressed you in such,’ Harshon replied. ‘Now follow me, please.’

  They passed under a large protrusion a few storeys up. It jutted out over the amphitheatre and had a door on the outside of it.

  ‘What is that?’ Quixote asked.

  ‘That is the Head-Discipliners office.’

  ‘Who is the bottom discipliner then?’

  Ari sniggered, Harshon looked at him worried.

  ‘Why is that door up there?’ Ari asked.

  ‘In former times, students that did not make the grade were pushed from it.’

  Disbelief crossed their faces.

  Quixote snorted with confidence and said, ‘Then it’s a good thing we have the ─ ’

  Melaleuca slapped her hand over his mouth.

  ‘Shhh.’

  Lexington halted and stared up at the office.

  ‘How can such a thing be?’

  Still walking Harshon cast a glance back at her, disapproving of her question.

  ‘It just is.’

  ‘Just is? This is disgusting. How can you treat people this way, and seem so...so...so calm?’

  Harshon glided to a halt, and cast a harsh eye over them, but then softened her gaze.

  ‘Life in New Wakefield is tough at the best of times and from there it just gets worse. People here all have big families, 6 or 10 children, as most die before they reach adulthood. The training here, well, here it has a high death toll.’

  It took a few seconds for it to register. Melaleuca rechecked her feelings. Despite dreading what she had heard and seen so far, she knew she had made the right decision.

  ‘Most of them?’ Lexington asked. ‘But how and for what?’

  Melaleuca tried to lock eyes with Harshon but she kept looking away.

  ‘Look at the outside world,’ Harshon replied. ‘People die all the time, and for nothing at all. Some people die for a lack of water. To die for no purpose now that is a real shame.’

  Melaleuca tried to look into Lexington’s eye, though could feel her offended nervousness without doing so.

  What if?

  ‘What would happen if we turned around now and walked out?’ Melaleuca asked.

  Harshon’s face lit up amused.

  ‘The local Inquisat would be alerted and you would be hunted down, and then...hmmmmm....let's say....things would be worse.’

  ‘What could be worse?’ Ari said

  ‘It can always get worse here. It's about character. Strong character is not developed in paradise. You will see. Come, follow me now.’

  They entered one of the buildings, speeding along a dim corridor. Embossed drawings covered the walls depicting past students, floating ships, battles, sea journeys, students being whipped, stars, the moon, emblems, and people and figures performing heroic deeds.

  Upstairs they eventually stopped before a huge circular bulge in the corridor wall. A featureless lady sat at a stone desk with thin, moss like hair; her eyes, nose and mouth little more than dots and lines.

  ‘The new entrants to see the head,’ Harshon said.

  ‘Little old are they not,’ said the lady.

  ‘These are the outsiders.’

  A hint of surprise creased the lady’s face. ‘Go straight in. He is expecting you.’

  Respectfully Harshon knocked on the doors.

  ‘HURRY UP THEN!’ a voice yelled. ‘COME IN!’

  She pushed on the door revealing a musty smelling den filled with piles of paper, cupboards, and walls covered with weapons both ancient and modern. A faded, chipped mosaic emblem mottled the floor, of an eagle battling a snake, with rivers pouring out of them, and a faded cow over looking them.

  Harshon pushed them onto the mosaic floor.

  On a raised platform, behind a large stone desk, with the back of his large bald head visible, a little man sat dwarfed by his surroundings. Legs dangled off his seat, and he stared out of bulging windows as if seated in the cockpit of a spaceship.

  ‘Take a good look. This shall be your making or your breaking,’ he said cruel and cold without looking at the cousins. ‘I am Sah Task-Master Carrion, the Head-Discipliner. I care for one thing. That you become strong, mentally and physically. That’s all.’

  He lowered his voice, saying with evil relish, ‘Some once sought to make students emotionally and spiritually strong. Pah! We stamped these out......totally! My rank is Sah Task-Master. Do you know what that means?....Of course you don’t.’

  Harshon cleared her throat and said, ‘These are the outsiders.’

  He wheeled about on his chair, staring at them, his oversized head wobbling on his skinny neck.

  ‘The outsiders!’

  He jumped down from his chair, and limped toward them, one arm dangling useless at his side. Cruel in appearance, deformed and smaller than them, the cousins gawped at him spellbound.

  As if he read their thoughts, he said, ‘Diminished in size I may be, but large in the things that make men strong am I. There is none crueller than myself, none more prepared to sacrifice a hundred weak, pathetic students for one ennobled in strength and moral rightness.’

  Lexington gripped Ari’s arm hard, while Ari looked sideways at Melaleuca, noting that she too stared in amazement.

  Quixote, almost overcome with laughter, said, ‘How come your head is so large? Did you get stung by a super-bee?’

  Harshon hushed him.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Quixote said, sounding bored. ‘Everyone keeps on saying don’t do this, don’t do that. But how come his head does not snap off. It looks like an apple hanging off a tree only the other way up.’ He bent over and peered at Sah Task-Master Carrion through his legs. ‘Yep, apple on a tree.’

  ‘Stop it!’ Harshon said. ‘Stop it at once.’

  ‘Tut-tut. Harshon,’ Sah Task-Master Carrion said. ‘The boy cannot be a mere 2, 3 years old in terms of discipline and moral character. Sad, but to be expected. Frivolous and filled with the world’s decay. I expected little else, though I will indeed enjoy smacking the stupidity out of this one.’

  He limped back to his desk and stood behind it on a dais of some sort, staring into the distance out of the windows. Puffing his small chest out, he said, ‘It fills
me with a sense of rightness. That at the appointed time we shall be ready. Indeed we shall be ready.’

  ‘Ready for what?’ Melaleuca said.

  He stepped down and with great pomp, half-marched, half-limped around to face them again.

  ‘It is only because of Matron Gertrude that I agreed to allow you into this thousand year old institution, which for you will be one of pain. You little ingrates little realize what a great favour she has done for you. And besides she has her honour at stake, her HONOUR!!! Eh! Did you know that? No I bet not. Do you know her position here? She is a Matron of the House of Josephus and a Matron of the House of Keys. It is given to her to know what has passed, so that the future can be shaped. She also holds the knowledge of the passages in and out of New Wakefield. It is to her and to her alone this has been decreed, that we should take selected youngsters from the outside world, a world that knows not of us, nor cares little, and bestow on them the high benefits of a disciplined education.’

  He ranted so fast that none of the cousins could get a word in.

  ‘She has asked that I ride you the hardest I have ever pushed any child. I was going to give you a days reprieve, but seeing how filled with yourselves you are it shall all start now.’

  He dismissed them with a flick of his rake-like fingers, adding. ‘Take them to Master Saurian’s class, he is expecting them.’

  Harshon ushered them out before they could say anymore, though Lexington tried to study the mosaic as they left. It seemed too coincidental that an eagle and cow, the same symbols she had seen before, should be on the floor.

  Flushed with worry, Harshon hurried them down the corridor.

  ‘If you want to last through today, then stay silent, say little, answer few questions, and by all means keep your ways to yourself.’ She looked at Quixote. ‘And keep this one under control.’

  He grinned, imp-like back at her.

  ‘Your Head-Discipliner is also very interesting,’ Melaleuca said.

  Her insides churned as her feelings could not settle on how she felt about this place, even though she knew she had made the right decision. The words of their mothers burnt through her confusion; just keep moving forward. She needed to stay strong and focused, especially for her cousins. Through all the churning inside her she could feel the faintest seed of something growing, something big, the same thing she had felt lying on her bed, not more than a day ago.