Benedict

by Jackson Bennett

  “We are in real trouble, we need to get rid of that,” said Mark, indicating the Voldiner, “and then warn the city.”

  Richard agreed. “We have to use the tunnel still,” he said, wiping his mouth, “we should be safe, I think whatever came through it left through the open door.”

  Mark stared into the darkness where life had been extinguished so thoroughly and nodded.

  Placing the lantern’s wooden handle between his teeth, Richard picked up his end of their burden and leading the way, he headed into the smugglers tunnel turned slaughter house.

  Ignoring the carnage as best they could they headed into the labyrinth of tunnels that gave the inn above its name. On the outside it was pristine, with no sign of the infestation and corruption beneath, where tunnel’s had been bored through the city linking every quarter and the countryside beyond.

  Richard knew the path they had to take well and for a few hundred meters moved with purpose as they moved along passage after passage. There was no sign of the death that had greeted them on entering the tunnel; in fact the only sign of life that they saw were the gleaming eyes of rats that stared at them unmoving as they passed by.

  Mark huffed as the feet of the Voldiner pushed into his stomach. “Why have you s... ” he began, and stopped as he saw the blue barrier before them.

  The dome of light that they had seen above had penetrated the ground and cut the tunnel in half, just beyond the point where it passed through the immense foundations of the city wall. As Richard neared the barrier he could feel that it was magical in some way as his forearms began to itch. There wasn’t much magic being used, but it was definitely there.

  The tunnel on the other side was barely visible as if they were looking through darkened glass, so transferring his load to his right hand Richard reached out his left.

  “No, don’t... ” whispered Mark trying to stop him.

  It was too late, his hand touched the barrier and instead of meeting a solid surface, his hand just passed right through it as if there was nothing there. The only sensation was the almost overpowering pain where the scar on his forearm passed through.

  Withdrawing his hand quickly and flexing his fingers, he turned to Mark, removing the lantern from his mouth. “This barrier is magic. We have to pass through it to get to the lake!” He looked at his brother’s face and added, holding his hand up, “It won’t harm you, see.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe? We don’t know what it did to us when it passed through us earlier!” Mark replied with a slight quiver in his voice, which he quickly mastered.

  “We have no choice, we have to continue,” Richard replied, “This is the only tunnel that leads from the city and into the foothills. Besides it will be daylight soon and then the streets will be full of people.”

  Replacing the lantern in his mouth and repositioning his hands, Richard took a step towards the barrier. “I’ll go first,” he said, his voice muffled by the lantern, and stepped forwards.

  As his body passed through the barrier the sensation reminded him of the feeling you got when you swam in icy water, the catching of your breath and the quickening of the pulse.

  Continuing on and ignoring the pain in his forearms he took another step, which saw him through the barrier and to the other side where he was brought to a sudden halt from behind. He turned his head to see Mark standing on the other side of the wall with a look of horror on his face.

  He knew how his brother felt about magic, but this wasn’t the time or place for those fears. Looking over Marks right shoulder, he focused on the darkness behind him allowing his jaw to drop and his eyes to widen as if in surprise. As he whipped his head round to see what was behind him, Richard took two rapid steps forwards leaning his full weight into it; caught off guard and balance, Mark was pulled forward through the barrier with a jolt.

  Mark stood there on the other side, breathing fast and staring malevolently at his brother. “You b... ” he began.

  Richard grinned.

  Mark shivered. “That brings back memories,” he said anger fading.

  Richard just smiled, he remembered the day, as children, they had been in the hills exploring the lakes and ponds that ran along the bottom of the ice flows that pushed forth from the mountains in the heart of winter.

  They had been walking along the edge of one of these ice covered pools, using sticks to test the strength of the ice in front of them, when Mark had crashed through the ice, losing his footing and had slipped into the icy waters, submerging completely. Richard had reached into the stagnant, smelly water and pulled Mark to the surface, where he fought for breath against the waters icy grip.

  With Mark smelling foul they had returned home where it had taken him a full lunar cycle to get over the chill he caught from his little misadventure, leaving Richard to find trouble, or rather adventure on his own that winter.

  Chapter Four

  The Brotherhood

  On this side of the tunnel everything was as it had been on the other; dark and deserted. Only on this side the rats that were caught in the glare of the lantern did not just stare back, but instead fled into the shadowed recesses, squeaking their annoyance at the intrusion into their domain.

  Beyond the barrier the tunnel sloped gently upwards, towards the volcanic hills and its concealed entrance amongst the ancient lava tubes and ravines. The brothers moved as fast as they could along the tunnel, only slowing when they neared the exit.

  Moon light flooded in through the exit, bathing the tunnel in an eerie blood red glow that foretold the carnage that they knew would await them on the other side of the normally sealed entrance. Beyond them, the ground was soaked in blood and gore with the blasted and burnt remains of the concealed door strewn amongst it.

  Richard, adjusting his grip, extinguished the lantern as they moved from the tunnel, pausing briefly to listen to the night, through the gore and into the labyrinth of ancient lava tubes and ravines that criss-crossed passed the land like scars on an ancient warrior.

  Several minutes passed in silence, the brothers pushing hard as the dead weight of the Voldiner took its toll on their limbs. They crested the first rise, where the ancient lava had been eroded by the wind and rain, allowing for the first time a view of the city from which they had fled. Placing the Voldiner on the ground they turned and surveyed the land that was laid out before them.

  Sinking silently to their haunches they sucked in the cold, crisp night air and waited for their strength to return, the rapid beating of their hearts and their laboured breathing being the only sounds that they could hear. Below them they could see the city and the blue dome that now completely covered it, along the surface of which pulsed wave after wave of white lightening. Behind this barrier, along the outer wall could be seen the town guards and watchmen, gazing at the strange light that now surrounded them and the dark road below. From that distance it would have been hard for the guards to detect them, yet still they kept themselves low avoiding the skyline and the risks that it offered.

  As their breathing slowed all around them the night remained deathly silent and everywhere the moonlight caressed shadows offered the promise of menace. Absently a corner of Richard’s mind noted that there were no alarm bells ringing; maybe it had been expected.

  Once rested and still in silence, they proceeded into the mountains at a slower pace conserving their energy, mindful of the climb ahead that would have taxed them without their burden, and left the city behind them, aiming to reach the old lake that rested at their summit by sunrise.

  As they climbed the weather worn volcanic paths that twisted and turned as they rose higher into the mountains, their lungs laboured as they tried to draw enough of the air that had begun to thin, and as the temperature dropped, the snow touched winds whipping at their clothes, life returned.

  All around them could be heard the sounds of the noc
turnal beasts, birds and beetles, which had been conspicuous by their absence in the city and surrounding area. As the noises soaked into their weary bodies, their uneasiness faded slightly.

  Reaching the lake just as the sun was cresting the southern skyline, casting its golden orange tinged light across the land and causing the belly of the clouds to turn red, they placed the Voldiner’s body on the ground and breathed the thin air deeply, rubbing their hands and faces against the cold.

  Concentrating on their task they added a few large rocks to the bloody bundle, securing them with a piece of sheet torn from the edge where it had escaped the worst of the blood. Once secured they made sure that they were indeed alone, then bending down they lifted the now heavier body and swinging it back and forth several times, tossed it into the lake as far as their weary muscles could manage.

  They watched breathing heavily with their hands resting on their thighs, as the body sank down in the crystal clear water with a deathly grace that neither man had seen before, or hoped never to again, until it was so deep that it was lost to the impenetrable blackness and crushing depths of water.

  “Voldin, forgive us,” intoned Mark, in a solemn voice when the wrapped body had been swallowed by the darkness.

  “Voldin, forgive us,” echoed Richard.

  Exhausted, the pair sank to their haunches amongst the hard, black volcanic rocks and sucked in the cold, thin, crisp morning air. In silence, both lost in their equally dark thoughts, and their hands tucked beneath their arm pits, they scanned the surrounding land primarily for signs of pursuit, but also to try to reassure themselves that the world hadn’t changed beyond all recognition.

  The old lake filled the bowl of an extinct volcano, which towered above the local landscape, offering them a panoramic view of the surrounding lowlands. From their vantage point they could see for miles around in all directions: To the south the sea, a blue shimmering expanse that stretched to the horizon: To the north the snow covered Peeks of Volar, stretching east to west for as far the eye could see, their snow encrusted heights disappearing into the mist shrouded skies: To the north-east Fire Mountain, sheltering in the shadow of the Peeks of Volar, the active volcanoes at its centre billowing black smoke that shrouded the secretive lands beneath: and to the south west, the capital city, Volnar, nestled between the volcanic slopes on one side and the Plains of Blood, so called because of the red sun baked earth that covered them.

  From here they could see what they already knew, that the city was now surrounded by a large dark blue dome, which crackled with fine lightening along its entire surface, and as the suns first rays made contact with the dome, they were reflected back leaving the city covered by a shining hallow of light.

  They said that they were beloved of the gods, and as Richard gazed upon the city in all of its might, he knew in his heart that it was so.

  Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, Richard surveyed the land around them more closely. Dotting the volcanic landscape could be seen the larger towns and villages that were covered by similar domes, some half hidden and others only visible due to the reflected sunlight, all except for the north east towards Fire Mountain, where the clouds of volcanic dust meant the air was too polluted to live.

  On the other side of the old lake, some five miles away and separated by a small ridge, they could see the small fishing village of Voldith that was covered in a small dome. Both men knew Voldith well for they often went there to get fresh fish for the family and other, rarer commodities.

  “Let’s see what’s going on over there before we head back,” Richard said pointing at Voldith, knowing that it consisted of half a dozen or so homes. “We can see if Roberto knows anything and we might be able to work out what’s going on.”

  “OK but I think we should be quick about it, we’ve been gone to long already,” replied Mark, rising to his feet.

  “Indeed,” returned Richard doing the same and skirting the lake they left the Voldiner alone in the dark, bone crushing depths.

  For an hour and a half they travelled across the dusty, rocky ground negotiating the small ridge and wickedly sharp outcrops as they did so. Around them and in the distance the cries and sounds of the wild animals could be heard, but as they got nearer to the village these faded just like they had around Volnar, as if all the creatures of the area were keeping clear, knowing something that they did not.

  As they neared the village Richard’s skin began to itch more with the familiar feeling of magic and as they approached it appeared to them to be somehow darker than the one that surrounded Volnar.

  Putting out his hand, and taking a deep breath, Richard passed through the dome, his forearms burning, for the briefest moment as before.

  Stepping through behind him Mark said with a shudder, “That was a bit easier.”

  Richard nodded his head and raising his fingers to his lips Mark fell silent. Around them the land was dark and bathed in a silver-red tinged glow, as if the moons of Volar still held sway in the court of the gods. It was still about midnight, the time at which they had seen their own dome appear, and from within the village rose a column of blue and silver light that touched the dome at its highest point. At a gesture from Richard they headed into the village along the dirt path that passed for the main street, keeping as best as they could to the twisted shadows cast by the leafless gnarled trees that lined both sides.

  As with the city and the land they had crossed, the village was deserted and eerily still. As they headed down the main street the only sounds that they could hear were their footfalls on the hard sun baked earth, yet even these were muffled to their ears as if they belonged to someone else a short distance away.

  Skirting the main buildings, they reached their destination, the harbour and the business premises of Roberto, supplier of the un-supply-able. He was a leading member of the Brotherhood and the only one that would still have any dealings with Richard since that day in the darkened alley when Benedict had saved him.

  They had met years before when the young brothers had come across some small packages of trinkets, whilst on one of their adventures, that had been marked with the blood red sign of the brotherhood, the twin moons of Volar with the blood moon in front of the smaller silver, dripping three drops of blood. The boys unaware of what the symbol had meant had tried to sell the contents on the street, earning some extra money for their family and in the process drawing the unwanted attention of the brotherhood, whom had pulled them from the street, bagging their heads and taking them to Roberto.

  Terrified the boys had cowered and cried, both of them wetting their pants as the men towered above them. Roberto had taken pity on them, knowing that they had indeed found the items as they claimed through the tears and sobs, but had demanded that they serve him or die. It was then that Richard had found an inner core of strength, stepping in front of Mark he had spoken with a straight back and a steady voice. “I will serve you, my brother will not. It was my fault not his.”

  Roberto had lent towards the boy, liking the fire in his heart and suppressing a smile, looking him squarely in the eyes. Richard did not flinch, the steel at his core holding him steady and love for his brother firing his blood. Roberto had straightened, “Deal,” he had said pulling out his belt knife, “We will seal it in blood as is the way of the brotherhood.”

  They had cut their thumbs and joined them together, Richard wincing at the pain as their blood mixed, joining them as one and then they had been set free, this time only being blind folded as they were led away. It had been several months before the brotherhood had called upon him to serve, the first step along the treacherous path he now found himself on.

  As they entered the harbour they could see that the column of light was rising from the sea some twenty feet of shore. The water around it for some ten feet bubbled as if boiling, the light of the column reflecting and refracting within the bubbles painting
mini rainbows in the air. Beyond this the sea was calm, flatter than they had ever seen before, with no sign of the furore that was taking place around the column of light. They headed out along the nearest of the two wooden jetties along which were strung fishing lines and nets, hung up to dry in the cool windless night air, the snags and rips repaired ready for the coming day.

  The dome of light stretched almost the full length of the jetty resting some ten feet short of the end, this side of which there were moored two small boats and beyond the dome was moored another. This last boat was rocking gently in the morning breeze that lapped the water gently against its sides. Within the dome the water was flat and calm and not a trace of the breeze, which could be seen outside, could be felt by the two men, nor was there any discernible movement from the two boats, it was as if they were within a harbour or on an entirely different sea.

  Richard silently passed through the barrier and out into the bright morning sunlight, his nostrils filling with the salty sea breeze that gently ruffled his red shoulder length hair.

  “What’s going on?” asked Mark from behind him.

  Turning to face the barrier and the dark still air beyond, Richard replied. “I don’t know, but I do know that I don’t like it,” and passed back through.

  He stopped at the mooring for Hearts Delight, the boat that belonged to Roberto and called his name softly, the sound hardly seeming to carry any distance at all. From the boat there was no answer, in actual fact there was no noise at all from anywhere and no-one could be seen.

  He bent down and grabbed the mooring rope, straightened and pulled. The boat wouldn’t budge. He pulled harder, but still no movement. Mark came along side and took a hold of the rope, lending his strength and weight. Still nothing, it was as if it was part of the sea and thus immovable.

  “Let’s check some of the houses,” Mark whispered in Richard’s ear, releasing his grip on the rope and pointing back along the jetty. Staring at the stationary Hearts delight Richard nodded his head in acknowledgement and followed Marks lead, an idea taking form in his head.