Book of Fire

by Michelle Kenney

  I frowned, and glanced back at August. He and the guards were sharing a joke – so far so good. He gesticulated to the middle of the queue before walking towards it. Clearly, Octavia hadn’t yet issued instructions for his arrest and my hopes soared; perhaps we stood a chance after all.

  With a benign smile plastered to his face, he strolled onto the long white vehicle that awaited its Prolet workforce. I grimaced to myself. It would be so easy and so logical for him to turn us all in now. He could re-establish himself in Octavia’s favour, claim some heroic purpose even. The moment made so much sense I almost couldn’t believe it when the guard blew his whistle, and waved us past with an expression of extreme boredom pinned to his face.

  I dropped my head and shuffled forward with the rest of my queue, who were being split three ways for different destinations. The shrill whistle blew again and I steeled myself for what was coming next. It was time to board the sky train.

  Prolets travelled in the rear carriages, and there were no seats. I found myself squashed up against a grubby window, staring right into the municipal heart of Pantheon. Unlike the Prolet underworld, this world was bright and sterile. There were no laboratory mistakes wandering the wide, busy streets, and Pantheonites were tall, smartly dressed, and smiling. Silently I raged. How could they smile at this clinical world built by the blood and sweat of so many others?

  A group of young children, hair tightly braided, walked down the centre of one of the streets, under the watchful eye of two schoolteachers. They stopped to look up at an imposing stone carving of a female warrior carrying an outstretched sword. She marked the entrance to a grand, porticoed building and I knew without doubt she had to be Bellona, the Roman goddess of war.

  If Octavia observed every detail of the ancient Roman world, then this had to be the place her Senate met. I pressed my nails into my hands, as each child scribbled something on a small board they carried. In Arafel, the children ran freely through the trees.

  Everywhere I looked there was life, but there was something fundamentally wrong. The buildings were too white, the occasional green lawns too manicured, and the streets too clean. Nothing was out of place and it was oppressive and terrifying. It was too clinical, too perfect. Too Octavia.

  An unfamiliar whirring noise started beneath the train, and I caught my breath as I glanced down at the floor. It was completely transparent! As the whirring noise intensified and the ground started to race away, I felt warm fingers graze my hand and looked up to see Max’s calm profile. A quick glance around the packed space assured me that no one was particularly interested in us, and I relaxed a little.

  ‘Thought we were keeping our distance,’ I whispered through fixed lips.

  ‘We are, but this is going to get messy, Tal, and I needed to say something.’

  My eyes flew up to his. I was so psyched already. What on earth couldn’t wait until after we had raided Octavia’s suite? The train jolted and as I grabbed the nearest handrail, the view beneath my feet made my stomach turn a complete somersault. Somehow we had left the ground behind, and were flying, trackless, through the air.

  Mesmerized, I gazed down at the entire city of Pantheon laid out beneath us. From this distance, it looked beautiful. The bright, white, interconnecting streets were toy-like from this distance, and the people wandering them, tiny wooden dolls. At various intersections there were huge, monumental arches and columns, and right in the centre there was a circular structure that was far bigger than anything else in the city. It looked familiar somehow, though that was impossible. I guessed it had to be some kind of Government building, given its imposing size and intricate design, with ornate arches built into the stonework at regular intervals.

  ‘It’s your friend – August,’ Max continued, glancing down at me. His eyes were full of Arafel, but there was something else in them today, something I didn’t recognize. ‘I don’t trust him. The way he looks at you, it’s wrong, like he owns you or something.’

  I bit my lip. I knew exactly what Max meant, there was something different in the way August looked at me. It was an intense, thoughtful look – like he was committing every detail to memory. I looked at my feet. The last thing Max needed was confirmation, and we had to find Eli and Grandpa – with or without August.

  ‘He’s not my friend. And I don’t know what you mean,’ I lied through gritted teeth.

  ‘He wants something from you, Tal,’ Max continued in an odd, low voice, ‘and you can’t trust anyone in here. Just stay close, and know that I’ve got your back.’

  The irony of being told to stay close by two men highly suspicious of one another was not lost on me. I frowned.

  ‘I could say the same of you,’ I whispered bluntly. ‘What exactly happened to you when we first arrived anyway?’

  He was his turn to look a little awkward. ‘I made it across the holding bay, and then the dome floor. By the time I reached the tunnels every guard in Pantheon was chasing me. And then they suddenly stopped. I couldn’t understand why, but I jumped onto one of the empty trams. Of course, I quickly discovered the tunnels weren’t as friendly as I thought. If it hadn’t been for Aelia and Unus turning up I would have been strix supper.

  ‘She took me back to her cave, and dressed my ankle, which one of the strix had tasted just before she arrived. She wouldn’t believe I was an Outsider at first. She thought I was delirious! But after she got to know me … well, she had to believe me.’

  He glanced at me in a way that said it all. I cursed under my breath, looking at the floor, as he made a grab for my hand.

  ‘Hey, look at me. It didn’t mean anything … It wasn’t anything like you’re thinking.’

  The Colosseum! The famous old world Roman landmark popped into my head as the sky train twisted sharply and lurched upwards, causing its occupants to stumble and press against one another. Max caught me around the waist to anchor me, and I was too annoyed to be grateful. How was it that a friend I’d spent so much of my childhood with could suddenly feel like such a stranger? I thought of August’s kiss in the cave and flushed. Hadn’t I done exactly the same thing?

  At that moment, the whirring noise dropped and the train levelled out high in the dome. We drew into a busy platform eighty feet in the air, and a shrill whistle sounded. The carriages at the front emptied of smiling, coiffured Pantheonites before the guard blew two further whistles and the Prolet carriages opened. It was our turn.

  Octavia’s suite was located on the uppermost floor, only accessible via the Senatore and Equite domestic quarters. If August was right, Grandpa and Eli were both detained in her personal experimentation room. I allowed myself a small, grim smile. Octavia’s lair might be the most well protected place in Pantheon. But, she was going to need it.

  As we disembarked, I caught sight of August’s dignified figure and something brushed up against my ribcage, like the wings of the tiny butterfly I’d watched in the forest. Whatever his true loyalty, there was no denying his heritage, he looked every inch the elite Roman knight. I forced my gaze to my feet and followed the rest of my companions to the guard’s station.

  When I reached the barricade, I was handed a bucket and cleaning brush. It looked as though the Prolets had the doubtful pleasure of cleaning up after the great and spoilt in Pantheon. I nodded. We weren’t promising to leave anything spick and span.

  ‘Disinfection delegation as per Request 363, Octavia’s orders!’ August barked.

  Clearly unused to being addressed by such a senior Equite, the guards didn’t raise any questions as he assembled myself, Aelia, and Max. We took care to keep our eyes on the floor, and soon enough we were taking the glass box to Octavia’s penthouse.

  Octavia’s suite was preceded by a series of thick, marble pillars that ran in curved symmetry. They looked suspiciously familiar, and I racked my memory for pictures of old-world buildings I’d studied in Arafel’s library.

  We approached the gilded bronze doors swiftly, and I felt as though I’d plunged straight into the
black water of Arafel’s entrance tunnel again. The pounding in my ears was so loud I was afraid others would hear it, and all I could think of was whether the doors ahead were separating me from Grandpa and Eli. I felt for my catapult secreted beneath my shabby Prolet clothes. August had said this was our most likely point of discovery, but nothing and no one was stopping me this time.

  The two formidable guards at the doors were unimpressed by August’s rank, and looked him up and down with suspicion.

  ‘There’s no mention of a disinfection on the itinerary,’ the Senior Guard stated, rolling the word like it was a sour walnut.

  I raised my eyes to his tall, rigid figure, bulbous eyes, and pristine uniform. He didn’t look the type to be easily convinced of anything. August raised his eyebrows superciliously. It was a look that befitted his Equite rank, and all my doubts redoubled.

  ‘I am Commander General Augustus Aquila, Lead Scientist on the Biotechnology Programme and this request relates to a classified research project. I can raise this directly, though I can’t guarantee Octavia will be impressed with a subordinate who feels it is his place to question her orders,’ he added brusquely.

  The guard paled. Clearly Octavia did not welcome interruptions unless strictly essential.

  ‘Go ahead but keep it snappy,’ he conceded with an ugly sneer, ‘and enjoy the pets!’

  I drew a deep breath. The thought of encountering any more of Octavia’s pets was less than welcoming, but Dad always used to say something about keeping your enemies close. I stepped through the gilt doors, and caught my breath in wonder.

  I’d expected luxury, but Octavia’s rooms were more lavish than anything I could have imagined. Sheer, billowing curtains hung over arched alcoves giving the vast space an unexpected feminine feel, until my eyes alighted on several unrecognizable, mounted animal heads. I averted my gaze down the length of the room, and luxurious, scarlet long chairs made of sumptuous soft materials caught my eye, along with thick wooden tables that shone like glass.

  Just inside the door, a photograph caught my eye. It was of an old-world building, and hung in a gilt frame with a bold inscription. ‘Basilica Di San Pietro, St. Peter’s Basilica, Rome,’ I read under my breath, recognizing the replica pillars in her hallway instantly. I grimaced. Only Octavia could get so ostentatious as to re-create the home of an ancient Roman Pontiff.

  The rest of the wall was dedicated to displaying a huge collection of serrated knives, spears, and axes, all of which looked ancient and precious. Knowing the depths of Octavia’s obsession, I didn’t doubt they were Roman originals, and looking down over them all was a large, ivory fresco of a Roman goddess. From the way she was proudly displaying Medusa’s severed head on her shield, I guessed her to be Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom. I frowned, trying to remember the detail from her story but the meaning was clear enough. The goddess carried the mythical beast’s head so her enemies were turned to stone. It was a clear warning shot to anyone who entered Octavia’s rooms.

  I held my breath as August motioned us down the long corridor, our footsteps echoing eerily on the marble floor, and we finally paused in front of two frescoed doors at the end.

  ‘Bedroom, library,’ August whispered in answer to my unspoken question.

  Neither were the isolation unit I was looking for, but I pushed the second door open a fraction anyway. One half of the library was lined with large screens, filling the wall space from ceiling to floor. A complicated-looking crescent desk sat in the centre, dotted with a variety of controls. This had to be how Octavia monitored her insane world, she had a bird’s eye view of every area in Pantheon.

  I craned my neck to look a little further and beyond the rows of books, there was a thick glass box on a heavily bolted stand. It looked like it was supporting an intricately coloured, large-leaf old book. My stomach plummeted as though it was free-falling off the highest tree in Arafel. From what I could see of its ornate pages, it had to be the Voynich. It was just a book, but one that hid the biggest secret the natural world had ever known, one that would destroy the fragile world I called my home. It was a secret I was determined should burn in hell.

  I stepped inside the room, and started purposefully for the box when a quiet voice stalled me in my tracks. August was framed in the doorway, his face in shadows. He gesticulated to the wall. I craned my neck and could just make out a grid of shimmering red lines stretching from the glass box, up to a small black box set high in the wall.

  ‘Alarmed – and she has a twenty-four-hour guard,’ he whispered, suddenly behind me.

  I forced a tight nod. Friend or foe, it made no sense to bring the guards rushing up when we were so close.

  Reluctantly, I followed August back out to Octavia’s hallway, and frowned when a breeze stirred my hair slightly. I ran my eye up the walls carefully, and it was then that I noticed the window behind a sheer curtain, right at the top. I ran up to the soft material, pulled it aside, and gasped. The window was actually a pair of doors leading to a large, flat terrace, and one was slightly ajar. So much for Octavia believing the outside air was contaminated!

  As though in a dream, I pushed the window-door open as wide as it would go, and the outside world rose up before me like an old friend. A sob clawed up my throat as I stared. Stretching out as far as I could see, and bathed in glorious sunlight, were the ruins of the old city. Most of the buildings had been reduced to piles of rubble, long since reclaimed by nature, but some of the larger city streets and buildings were still clearly visible.

  I closed my eyes and, at last, let the real sun warm my body. I longed to feel the crumbling earth beneath my feet, to let the sounds of the forest envelop me, even to dive into the black water that led to Arafel. Wildly, I envisaged myself bolting through the open door, climbing to the ground, and taking my chances across the mined, brown dirt. I could be home within an hour.

  Then Grandpa and Eli’s faces distilled from the whirlpool in my head, and opening my eyes, I gazed down at the remnants of life before Arafel. Before now, tales of our ancestors had only been stories, but here was real evidence of centuries of life, and of its violent demise.

  Among the ashes, the pale gothic ruin of Exeter Cathedral rose up like a grey angel among the dead. Although the main structure had fallen, it still retained its tower and a ghost of its ancient grace. The sight of its earthly strength, despite the passage of time, gave me renewed hope. Octavia had the entire population of Pantheon believing in her scientific prowess, but like all her mythical beasts, she had to have a weakness.

  August stepped into the natural light beside me, his face twisted into a heavy scowl, and I realized the extent of Octavia’s deception.

  Drawing as much new strength from the sun as I could, I turned back towards Octavia’s rooms. I’d come to find my family, and the sun was climbing towards its highest point in the sky. I walked back into her sumptuous hallway and directly towards a closed white door on our right.

  The plan was that August and I would check the isolation unit, while the others kept watch. I flicked a glance past Aelia’s pale face, she was the other weak link in this whole set-up, but it was too late now. Whatever fleeting closeness she and Max had shared also seemed to have dissipated entirely. Max and I couldn’t be more vulnerable.

  Gritting my teeth, I gripped the door handle just as a tapestry to the left of the doorway caught my eye. It displayed a grid of embroidered, ornate lettering that looked strangely similar to some of the lettering in Thomas’s cipher. Each sweeping letter had groups of ordinary letters placed against it.

  ‘Genetic bases,’ I muttered in amazement.

  Aelia was right – each letter of the medieval genetic alphabet corresponded to modern genetic coding! I pulled out my rough drawing of the symbols on our treehouse floor, and held it up. The single extra line of unknown Roman symbols translated perfectly.

  I stared in astonishment. Thomas really had made the discovery of the century when he’d pieced together this Vigenère cipher. Now all
we needed was the keyword and I would hold Octavia’s dream in my hands. Ready to smash it into a million tiny pieces. On the spur of the moment I grabbed the edge of the woven tapestry and tugged it off its hanger. It came easily, and with August watching silently, I rolled it and pushed it up my sleeve. Then I turned the door handle, and stepped into the darkness of Octavia’s personal experimentation room.

  My chest tightened, and I blinked furiously, trying to steady my nerves. The room inside was dark and quiet, save for a low whirring at the back. August fumbled around on the wall and then, with a pronounced click, we were squinting in the bright white light suspended from the middle of the ceiling. Disappointment registered like an arrow through my chest. The room was completely empty.

  My eyes flew to his suspiciously. ‘So, where’re Grandpa and Eli?’ I demanded. Was this what it was all about? Cornering us in Octavia’s own playground?

  August shook his head, his forehead furrowed. ‘They must be back in the main quarantine ward, but I’d have staked my life they’d be here. I don’t understand, they’re the perfect bait to trap you … unless …’

  Whatever answer I might have offered was lost in the wake of a sinister sound, a familiar rattling that caused every nerve in my body to strain with fear. The guard’s cryptic pet comment made sudden, terrifying sense.

  ‘Don’t … move,’ August whispered.

  The seconds that followed felt like the longest in my life as my peripheral vision confirmed my worst suspicions: three of the vicious rattling monkeys poised in the doorway, ready for attack.

  With furry black stripes and raised tails they could be mistaken for friendly animals at first, but I knew their closed mouths concealed rows of razor-sharp teeth that could shred a large prey in seconds. They were Trojan horses of the worst kind – their true nature mutated by the will of one woman, a woman I hated more with every new breath I took.