City of Dust

by Michelle Kenney

  Her top lip curled like a snake, as though she was fighting the impulse to burst out laughing.

  ‘The stars and moon, the gods and goddesses, and every last genetic dreg of Isca Prolet!’ Atticus drawled, reclining beside the fire trough. ‘We’ve been trying to work that one out for years, haven’t we?’

  He grinned at her, and then I saw it, the affection that had somehow bound them together in this mess. It was a most unlikely camaraderie, a faith fired by the chaos that had brought them this far together.

  ‘And yours, Atticus?’ I quizzed playfully. ‘Are yours also to be found among the genetic wonders of Prolet life?’

  I knew I’d trespassed immediately.

  ‘Mine are dead.’ He scowled and looked away.

  Chapter 8

  There was a blind monotony to the hours beneath the Dead City. Days seemed to be about foraging and surviving until the next meal, with little planning in between. The truth was the Prolets were too inexperienced to bring many good habits from their old life, and too hungry to invent anything new.

  Eli became an instant favourite, setting up an impromptu health checkpoint beneath one of the archways. Each time I looked, his menagerie had grown, the children taking great delight from his easy communication with the small griffin and other ad hoc animal life accompanying them. And he looked happier than he had in a long time, pulling faces and chatting with the aid of basic signing and gestures. I often thought he would have made a fine schoolteacher, like Dad, had he had the confidence to pursue it. But the world of silence had taken him a long time to conquer, and those who judged least were still his preferred company.

  ‘At least someone’s having fun!’ I remarked, watching Faro’s monkey leap from Eli’s head to the floor, and make off with the stones they were scattering.

  There was a burst of spontaneous laughter and Atticus glanced up from the opposite side of the cavern.

  ‘Yeah, shame they’re not all of an age. Would have been easier,’ Max responded.

  ‘If they’d all been of an age, I doubt they would have been here at all!’ I mused. ‘And yet there is Pan …’

  I glanced across at his familiar sentry position beside one of the darkest arches. His expression was neutral, but his demeanour was alert, watchful.

  ‘How does an adult silenus wind up here with a pack of Prolet kids?’ Max asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I responded.

  The exact same thought had been troubling me. Friendship with Lake or not, Pan’s presence was an anomaly, and Max had given me an idea.

  ***

  ‘Can I sit with you?’

  Pan barely flinched, and the only sign he acquiesced was the slight lowering of his white eyelids. He had to stand over two metres tall, and his muscular frame bulged impressively, despite his emaciated ribcage.

  ‘Do sileni eat meat?’

  I’d noticed he’d given his share of rat to Lake at lunch.

  He stared at me before shaking his head slowly.

  ‘You eat fruit and vegetables, like apples and carrots?’ I pursued, thinking of the horses that ran in the outside forest occasionally.

  This time he turned his head completely, and regarded me with his lucid, pale eyes.

  His starvation was evident.

  ‘A … pul,’ he whispered thickly, making my heart lurch.

  ‘Arafel has an orchard that is full of the ripest, juiciest apples – and as many carrots as you can eat.’

  He stared at me, his white lips moistening.

  ‘Pan, you know this is suicide, right?’ I asked. ‘I know Atticus and Lake mean well, but we’re sitting ducks right here. No matter how fortified this New Arfel is, we’re too close to Cassius, to Livia … to Pantheon.’

  He seemed to blanch, despite his white skin.

  ‘If you’re willing to work with us, to persuade Lake that you all need to come with us, we may stand a chance.’

  His head was shaking before I had chance to finish. And the fear in his eyes left me with no hope of persuasion. Pan was wise, strong and loyal. But he wasn’t in charge. And it looked as though no amount of promised treats or encouraging words would change his mindset. There was something absolute about it, almost as though he had no choice but to obey and defend Lake until the day he died.

  I tried to contain my frustration. It was yet another brick wall, and as my eyes drifted back to Faro and Therry playing pick-ups, I knew there was only one route left.

  ***

  It was nearing our third round of dinner rat, and neither Max nor I could justify another night without some sort of progress.

  ‘I’ll ask him,’ I muttered in a low voice, ‘and if he doesn’t agree, we’ll ask Lake to take us – tell her Atticus thought she was too young to lead a visit.’

  Max grinned. ‘Canny! I like.’

  ‘Downright manipulation,’ I corrected.

  In the end it didn’t matter. Because Atticus agreed anyway. I tried not to look too surprised and wondered silently if he too was thinking about Faro’s question. Either way it was a lead. But he made us wait until well into the evening, when most of the rest of the group were settling down for the night.

  And as we made our way across the floor towards him, there was something about his bearing that unnerved me again. He had a proud stance and common brows I told myself. Nothing distinctive in any way.

  I suppressed a frown and turned briefly to wave to Eli. A sea of hopeful young faces peered back at me from their makeshift hammocks, and for the first time I saw just how much they wanted to go with us to Arafel. It was a feeling that weighed like an anchor, no matter what Atticus was saying about his plans for New Arfel. Eli smiled pensively and I nodded. We were reluctant to split up, even for the shortest time, but it made sense for him to remain behind. He clearly had the best rapport with the young Prolets, and he was still limping from his Hottentotta sting although the swelling had receded.

  As he settled down, the tiny griffin clucked contentedly around his feet. He reached out to stroke it thoughtfully, his face saying everything. He was as anxious as me to get the renegade group moving. And none of us could imagine Arafel closing its doors when they saw how young and vulnerable they actually were.

  ‘We’ll persuade Atticus it won’t work,’ I signed, with more conviction than I felt.

  I wasn’t sure a boy who willingly bit a rat’s ear off was going to be easy to persuade of anything. I turned before Eli could respond. In truth, it was impossible to promise anything right now.

  ***

  ‘We found this stairwell by accident,’ Atticus announced proudly.

  He was just ahead, staring up into slightly less murky darkness after several minutes of claustrophobic tunnels. I scanned our surroundings. We’d reached a basic juncture and two dark tunnels led off in opposite directions.

  ‘What’s down there?’ I asked, pointing in the opposite direction to the way in which we were headed.

  Lake’s expression tightened in the flickering torchlight.

  ‘That way leads back to the prison!’ came the acerbic response.

  I stared into the gloom, my ears straining and head conjuring up a myriad of images and sounds: the drumbeat of a thousand booted feet, the scratching of ravenous rat-owls, the laboured breath of a demonic three-headed dog … and the lightest of touches in the small of my back.

  I jumped, and threw a look over my shoulder. I could read the question in Max’s shadowed face several oak trees away. It was the same promise Eli wanted to extract before we left, and I smiled tightly, knowing I could stall for only so long.

  ‘Let’s keep moving,’ he murmured.

  My anticipation grew with every roughly hewn stone step. They were steep and uneven, but the air filtering down from the outside was as intoxicating as the forest after a monsoon rain.

  Finally, Atticus held up a hand.

  ‘At night, there are eyes,’ he whispered, ‘in the sky.’

  I nodded. It made sense Cassius would be sending out sc
outs of some nature, and it was good to see Atticus was cautious. Still, by the time Pan gave us the all clear, I was desperate.

  We climbed out behind a fallen gargoyle into the opaque moonlight, and for a moment we remained there, filling our lungs with the cool night air and absorbing our new surroundings.

  ‘It’s complete?’ Max asked in wonder, staring at a ruined grey Gothic cathedral that stretched up into the sky before us.

  ‘No, but we don’t need it to be.’ Atticus grinned for the first time since we’d arrived. ‘Welcome to New Arfel!’

  He executed another mock flourish, as my breath quickened with recognition. I knew this place. And as I stared, the months rolled back until I was standing on Octavia’s balcony staring out at the ruined city. With August next to me. Octavia had deceived everyone, basking in the glow of the sun while the rest of the Insiders believed the outside world to be toxic. And it had come as no surprise that her preferred view was of the ruined city, where so many had lost their lives.

  Yet even that day, when everything had been so shadowed, the cathedral tower had stood tall with the ghost of an ancient grace. It had withstood the worst moment mankind had ever seen, and survived while the rest of the city decayed into the ground with its inhabitants. Its unique structure made it the best lookout position in the Dead City. And the worst.

  ‘We need to move this along,’ Max whispered as Atticus waved us towards a stone archway that led inside the cathedral.

  ‘I know,’ I muttered, scanning the sleeping city.

  Although there was no glimmer of dawn yet, time was moving swiftly. And every minute that passed was another minute closer to Cassius or Livia deploying something unspeakable through the tunnels. The sooner we persuaded Atticus to come with us, the better.

  As soon as we entered the ruined cathedral, the scale of its destruction became apparent. Four broken walls led only to the sky, while a further tower lay collapsed in a heap of rubble the size of our treehouse home.

  ‘Only one tower survives,’ Lake explained as we veered off the vaulted nave towards another stone archway, nearly obscured by fallen debris.

  I nodded, watching Pan. His long ears were twitching, on full alert to every new noise around us.

  We climbed a few lone stone steps to a wooden door, which Atticus opened with a hard shove, and then we trod down a dark corridor towards another stairwell. These stairs were tighter than the last set, and wound around in a circular fashion for what seemed for ever. Atticus set a fast pace, but thankfully our tree-running legs stood us in good stead, and before long we were watching him force open another wedged door right at the top of the tower.

  We looked around in silence at the large circular room, lined with a dozen huge brass bells.

  ‘The old bell tower!’ Max exclaimed, walking over to brush one of the gigantic structures.

  ‘Perfect isn’t it?’ Atticus announced proudly. ‘We need to strengthen the walls at the bottom of the tower before I move everyone, but it’s the best view in the city!’

  He walked over to gaze out of one of the medieval archer windows.

  ‘Come see our sleeping area!’ Lake insisted excitedly, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards a tatty old curtain screening off one part of the room. She pulled it aside to reveal crudely made beds stacked on top of one another, reminding me of the beehive caves in Isca Prolet.

  ‘Right now we sleep among the rats, but in New Arfel we will wake up among the birds,’ she said, her unique eyes dilating at the thought.

  I gazed at her gaunt face, at the way her brown shoulder-length hair fell limply around her bony shoulders, and bit my tongue.

  ‘And what’s this?’ I asked, walking towards a collection of what looked to be old junk piled high, in one corner.

  As I drew close, I realized the junk had been separated into piles of similar objects, and there were mottled knives, axes, tubes, darts and all sorts of rusted ironmongery that looked as old as the tower surrounding us.

  ‘It’s the start of our armoury,’ Atticus muttered defensively. ‘We’ve foraged it from the city so we can defend ourselves – before we strike a deal with Cassius to let the rest of the Prolets go. So we can all start again, here!’

  He withdrew his knife, and thrust it sharply through the air as if to make the point.

  They believed their own fairy tale so much it hurt.

  ‘And what if he comes before you’re ready?’ I asked.

  He scowled.

  ‘Cassius can come when he wants. We’ll be ready and waiting!’

  ‘Aelia said she needed a party to go ahead,’ Lake interjected keenly, ‘to be pioneers, like Thomas! We just need to keep working on New Arfel, and then when the other Prolets join us, we’ll be just like you. Like Arafel.’

  Her tone was so wistful, her face pleading with us to understand – and for just a moment, as she stood silhouetted against one of the windows, I fancied a whisper of her dream escaping her mouth like a tiny spiral of smoke. I shivered – it really was quite cold up here.

  ‘Did Aelia encourage your party to be her pioneers and escape through the tunnels?’ I asked incredulously, conscious of Max’s growing impatience.

  ‘Not directly,’ Atticus admitted, ‘but Lake … the other Prolets … they’re done being told what to do. They needed a better reason to live.

  ‘I overheard Aelia at a meeting of the Prolet Freedom Fighters, a secret meeting,’ Atticus continued. ‘She was so certain a new life was waiting on the outside, she made it sound … perfect.’

  ‘All the older Prolets were cowards!’ Lake interjected. ‘So, we decided it was time to take matters into our own hands, to show them it was possible to leave Pantheon, and start again. In Arafel! Or somewhere like it.’

  I drew a deep breath, my thoughts reeling. No wonder Aelia was so desperate – she couldn’t have intended to have been interpreted so literally. And now all the young Prolets were stranded here in the Dead City, because of a random overheard conversation.

  ‘Atticus, this isn’t like Ara …’ I began, only to feel my words freeze on my tongue as the air was filled with a discordant, high-pitched cry. It wasn’t human, or any animal I recognized, and the scowl creeping across Atticus’s face confirmed my worst suspicions.

  I ran towards a window, and scanned the dark, ruined city. My skin prickled with fear, but the sky was veiled and the city as lifeless as ever. Max was beside me, just as a second raucous cry filled the air. This time the strident sound was louder, and coming from directly behind the stone tower. We spun in time to witness Pan’s schooled features twist into the most unlikely grimace, as he traced the sound through the stone ceiling to the opposite side of the tower. Then the room was filled with an oppressive silence, before he threw his head back in an agonized cry and bolted from the room.

  For a second no one moved.

  ‘We have to go after him! Atticus!’ Lake hissed, her emeralds glittering in the low light.

  She dashed across the room, and spun Atticus around with impressive strength for a girl of her size. He scowled, but I could tell by the pale tightening around his lips that he, too, was scared. Whatever creature the cry belonged to, it had stolen his swagger and confidence.

  ‘Fine! I’ll handle it myself!’ she snapped, before bolting across the room after her friend.

  ‘We need to move,’ I threw out at Max, feeling my world begin to spiral as Lake’s slight frame disappeared from view. ‘Now!’

  ‘Tal! Wait!’ Max called, but I was already through the old wooden door and sprinting down the timeworn steps.

  There was no sign of Lake as I sped downwards, the only light the occasional sliver of moonlight through random turret windows. I could hear Max and Atticus behind me, but tonight I flew as though I had a pack of strix on my tail.

  I couldn’t fathom what had suddenly made Pan so furious, especially since he’d seemed so gentle and protective. Protective. Unless what was out there posed a threat to Lake? I sucked in a tight breath. I was n
o closer to understanding all the relationships, and now there was another threat. And I couldn’t shake the feeling it had nothing to do with the Dead City, and everything to do with Pantheon.

  I reached the last few steps, and flew along the passageway, only pausing when I reached the arched doorway that led out into the ruined nave. I held my breath as I surveyed the eerie scene. There was something wrong. It was too quiet. Too watchful.

  Hesitantly, I stepped through the broken, moonlit church towards the archway that led out into the open wasteland. The fallen gargoyle was still there, concealing the entrance to the tunnel, and everything looked peaceful enough except for one big fat anomaly. Lake and Pan were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Have you seen anything? Where are they? Did they go back into the tunnels?’ Max panted, catching up with me.

  I scowled holding a finger to my mouth. Sometimes it felt like he was the loudest person in the whole world.

  Silently, I assessed the distance to the fallen gargoyle, deliberately avoiding its grotesque, laughing face. It seemed allegorical somehow, and not in a good way.

  ‘They might have – they’re both pretty fast.’

  Another grating cry filled the air. I pressed back against the ancient cold stone. It wasn’t a cinereous vulture, I was sure, but it was the cry of a big predator, and it was approaching from the dark sky behind us.

  We swung our gaze around and upwards, craning our necks to see past the broken walls of the cathedral, and then it was there. Slowly staining the sky. We ducked simultaneously as the angular black shadow soared low over our heads, its powerful design creating a rush similar to that of a hundred birds.

  At first, I thought it an eagle, the prominent symbol of Octavia’s Equite. But its fire-feathered underbelly, and gleaming golden eyes forced me to think again. It was some kind of crested double-headed eagle, only twice the size of a griffin.

  I stared speechlessly before the view crystallized. My hand flew to my mouth, but I was too slow to prevent a cry; for dangling lifelessly between its razor-sharp claws was a small, limp body.

  ‘Lake!’ I screamed, my fear emptying into the night, and reaching into every corner of the ashen city.