‘Is that all you’re concerned with?’ I yelled, leaping to my feet and giving vent to all my pent-up emotions. ‘Some misguided notion of protection? What about life? What about freedom!’
‘Talia, I …’ he started, also climbing to his feet, but I was beyond reasoning.
‘If you think I’m going to stand by and be part of the incarceration of thousands of innocent lives, just because they might cause some inconvenience in our world, you’re wrong!’
Images of the distorted butterfly, of the squirrel monkey I’d befriended in the laboratory, and of Eli flashed through my mind at breakneck speed. Life was full of imperfections, but that was what made it richer. If August couldn’t take a risk for Pantheon – for me – after everything we’d been through, there was nothing else to say and I was wasting precious time. I eyeballed him furiously.
‘Creatures on the outside adapt. Unlike Roman Equites, who seem a pretty dead breed from where I’m standing.’ I spun on my heel and walked unannounced into the operating room.
Aelia was lying on a stretcher bed, sleepy, but conscious. Tullius looked surprised at my sudden entrance, but chose wisely to ignore me and continued stitching Unus’s neck wound instead.
‘Aelia, the old Roman tunnel you’ve been excavating – is it passable?’ My tight voice belied the storm raging inside.
She rolled her drawn face towards me and assessed my black, intractable mood. Finally, she sighed. ‘Yes, but tell no one. Speak to one of the satyrs, mention my name, and they will let you pass,’ she croaked. ‘The tunnel splits into two, and the right fork will take you just outside the main dome. There is a hidden exit above your head. You’ll need to push hard but the door will lift.
‘Don’t forget, it’s not Arafel out there. The entire perimeter is mined and the dome surface is sheer. It has proven a dead end for us so far … but perhaps with the griffin?’ She finished on a wistful note.
‘Thank you – for everything,’ I mumbled, suddenly sorry to be leaving this small, fiercely intelligent person who had turned out to be such an unexpected ally.
‘And, Talia?’
I halted, unused to hearing my name on her lips.
‘Go easy on my brother.’
I nodded, startled, and squeezed her hand. I doubted August would ever want to see me again, and it was probably better that way.
Ignoring Tullius’s frown, I spun on my heel and walked swiftly from the operating room. Everything was a mess. I wanted to run from Isca Pantheon and never look back, but first I was going to do what I set out to do at the beginning.
Gritting my teeth, I sprinted quickly down the steps and made my way to the tethered griffin. August was nowhere to be seen, which only turned my mood blacker. My thigh wound smarted but only one thing mattered now.
Six large satyrs guarded the tunnel to the Prolet domestic quarters, and glared disapprovingly as I approached. They also threw a curious glance at the griffin, having obviously never set eyes on one before. It seemed as though Octavia had deemed their project a success. I swallowed my nerves and demanded passage in Aelia’s name. Their expression changed instantly, and two guards stepped forward to flank me.
As we entered the tunnel, I heard August’s voice raised in angry protest with another satyr. He must have spotted me as I’d left. I grimaced with satisfaction to ease the throb in my chest – it seemed his rank didn’t open every door in Pantheon.
The hoofed satyrs accompanying me through the tunnel were big in stature, but nothing like Unus. Although they were more aggressive, growling at every shape and shadow that moved, I found myself longing for his gentle, reassuring belly rumble. The strix seemed to sense the satyrs were less of a threat than Unus too, and cleared a path reluctantly. The creatures wore thick tunics, unlike their bare-chested friends, and when one of the satyrs let out a shout of anger as a sharp, hooked beak dug into his muscular forearm, I felt my own skin flush with fear.
I closed my eyes. If I died, I wanted to die outside with the sun warming my face and the trees whispering in the breeze, not here in this dank soulless pit.
At last the tunnel opened out into the huge cavern I’d left behind only a day ago, although it seemed much longer. The fire pit glowed, and a few people shuffled around the interconnecting rickety walkways. It was darker than usual, and the main torches weren’t burning, which meant it had to be past evening curfew. Good. There were fewer people to witness my exit.
In the flickering fire-glow, I noticed the satyr’s arm wound was deeper than I first thought and tried to swallow the panic creeping up my constricted throat; to get out of this place I had to walk the old Roman tunnel with only the griffin for company. Now wasn’t the time to get cold feet.
The injured satyr headed in the direction of the sleeping quarters, and I turned back to the remaining creature. His mop of thick hair was flaxen gold, and his snow-white skin glowed brightly in the gloom. I gestured towards the small guarded tunnel exit at the back of the cavern, and started to walk. The satyr reached out and gripped me, his long talons digging into the flesh of my shoulder blade.
‘Aelia’s business,’ I said with as much authority as I could muster.
He released me instantly and I walked boldly in the tunnel’s direction, the griffin padding dutifully beside me. It had become surprisingly docile since Eli’s intervention, but right now I could do with a little more of its original fire. I dared not chance a glance behind. Somehow I knew any sign of self-doubt would be my downfall, and I reached the small exit within minutes. It was guarded by another satyr who nodded curtly.
‘Aelia’s business,’ I uttered again.
There was a loaded pause, and after a brief glance at the white satyr on the other side of the fire pit, the creature stood aside. I entered the darkness without looking back, the griffin meekly in tow.
As soon as we were inside I paused to listen intently, my hairs prickling in nervous anticipation. There was only silence. I trod a cautionary few steps, holding my Diasord outstretched and paused again. Nothing. My heart began to beat with hope, and I drew a deep breath. The only scent filling my lungs was wet rock and earth; the pungent, decaying, acrid smell of the other tunnels was absent. A tentative smile started to spread across my face as we crept forward. This darkness felt reassuringly different; it was completely empty.
My progress was cautious at first; the walls were narrow and floor uneven and I had only a small burning torch to light my way. But I felt my heartbeat relax a little with every step I made, and even the griffin began to pick up its pace. The pathway descended to a fork as Aelia described, and then split into two. I chose the right-hand pathway as she instructed, and true to her word the route began to rise sharply. My chest tightened with excitement and, instinctively, I broke into a run, despite the steep uneven surface. My leg throbbed with the effort, but I didn’t care because each step took me closer to the surface, to the outside.
Finally the tunnel turned into a half-dozen stone steps hewn into cold hard rock, and I could hardly contain myself. Everything Aelia had described had been correct so far, so the appearance of a sudden dead end above my head didn’t dampen my spirits. I stood on the uppermost step, and heaved the circle of earth above me with all my might. It moved, and I was flooded with fresh strength.
Climbing onto the griffin’s back for extra leverage, I jammed my right shoulder under what I judged to be the centre of the lid before straining once again. This time I was rewarded with a clear view of the outside. I drank in the sweet, intoxicating scent of the outside world, and it surged through my veins. With one final, supreme effort I heaved the piece of solid earth to one side of the hole where it teetered and found a balance. Then I stood awhile at the top of the steps, breathing in the silvery calm with new eyes.
It was the most beautiful, iridescent night I’d ever seen. Directly in front of me, the dome rose out of the earth like the monster I now knew it to be, but in the other direction, across the brown dust, I could just make out the silhouette
of a gently rustling forest. Home.
My eyes pricked as I closed them. It would be so easy to climb on the griffin and take off towards Arafel right now. They were there waiting for me: Eli, Max, and Mum. But Grandpa’s wan face would be missing.
With new determination, I tempted the nervous griffin from the tunnel, taking care to stay as close to the dome’s edge as possible. I rationalized that even Octavia wasn’t lunatic enough to plant explosives directly adjacent to the domes. Then I jumped onto its broad back, and sunk my hands into the creature’s burnished gold plumage to calm it as best I could. It shuddered in response.
This was it. I had no idea whether my plan stood a chance or not. But I had to try. A small box high up on the smooth dome wall whirled and clicked faintly, pointing its blinking eye straight at me. I smiled sardonically. Octavia loved a good show, and who was I to deprive her of what she loved?
‘Why run when you can fly?’ I muttered with a small ironic smile, as I tightened my legs around the griffin’s broad back.
It shook out its feathers and, silently, I prayed it would survive whatever lay ahead. Despite being a product of Octavia’s cruel Genetics Programme, it had proven itself capable of noble instincts and loyalty. I pulled my heels in sharply, and the beast rose majestically into the air.
It was a short flight to my destination: Octavia’s broad balcony. We landed softly in the moonlight, and I slid off the griffin’s back. It sidled patiently into the shadows and I signed my gratitude. If I didn’t come back, it was to fly as far away as it could, and live free. I could tell it understood.
I paused awhile, listening for any sounds from the inside. The doors were closed and the lights were off. Was Octavia asleep? Was it a trap? There was no time to ponder. I’d already decided my course of action. I’d seen the look in Octavia’s eyes when they rested on me in the Flavium. It was personal. I’d humiliated her in front of the entire population of Pantheon, and she’d want revenge. So what better way to trap me, than to bring the prize bait – Grandpa – right into the heart of her lair?
And if he wasn’t there, Octavia was going to tell me where he was. I gripped the pocket containing my Voynich cipher and Diasord. I was sure I could persuade her to see sense, if her best chance at cracking the Voynich in one hundred and fifty years was about to go up in flames.
I scanned the smooth convex wall and found what I was looking for: the narrow window above the locked glass doors. Using the door handles as footholds, I pulled myself up, felt around the slim edge, and tugged. It gave enough for me to slide my fingers in to release the catch. The room inside was silent and dark. I turned my head, and slithered as though I were some kind of serpent myself, being small certainly had its advantages.
I paused high on the window ledge, and reached around to my left to divert the small black whirring box before jumping down like a cat. The room was full of shadows, and I could see the door to Octavia’s experimentation room clearly. I burned to burst through the door, but I had something to do first.
Stealthily, I tiptoed across to the door leading to Octavia’s library and tried the handle. The door opened and I stepped inside the warm, humming room. The cameras were all running and I walked up to the wall of screens watching every public area in Isca Pantheon. It looked as though Octavia’s remaining guard had resumed control, and the streets seemed quiet enough. Perfect timing for my assassination.
Carefully, I withdrew Cassius’s photograph from my pocket and spread it out in front of me. It was crumpled, but the image of a helmet-free Cassius striding through the forest with a stag on his shoulders sent a message. It was a message about the outside, from an Outsider. I picked up a pen and hastily scribbled some words across the top, before standing the photograph on Octavia’s bulletin chair. I trod across to the only stand-alone black box pointed at the chair and pressed a red button, praying red meant ‘go’ as it did with Arafel’s security system.
Thankfully, the box whirred into action immediately and every screen on the wall went snowy before bringing up the photograph. It was a picture that undid every lie Octavia had ever told about the outside. And my grandfather’s words scrawled across the top had never held more significance:
‘Come what may, nature finds a way.’
By now the image had to be projected into every room within Isca Pantheon.
And the clock was ticking.
I listened silently, but could hear nothing. I crept from the room, pausing only to stare at the alarmed glass box containing the fabled Voynich Manuscript. It was just a book, but a Book of Fire, and if it wouldn’t have instantly alerted Octavia to my presence, I would have burned every medieval page there and then.
I crept back out to the corridor, and a strange, expectant quiet hung on the air. I frowned and approached the experimentation room, listening intently at the door before finally drawing a deep breath and slipping inside the gloom.
‘Well, you don’t disappoint for a genetically inferior specimen … Augustus assured me you’d been nowhere, and knew nothing, but you’ve surprised me, Talia. And no one surprises me.’
As I spun round in the direction of the voice, the room was filled with the most dazzling bright light. I blinked rapidly to force my eyes to adjust, and then everything crystallized with painful clarity. Octavia was seated calmly beside a long white cylinder. The key-pad was flashing and there was the soft hum of working machinery.
‘Where is he? What have you done? Whatever injury you’ve inflicted, I swear I’ll make you suffer … twice over!’ I ground out, each word leaving my lips like a hard bullet.
I took a step forward threateningly, while Octavia threw her head back in wild laughter, her eyes gleaming.
‘I admire your spirit,’ she replied venomously, ‘but there’s no one to help you now, and how ironic that after years of searching and waiting, I should get to rid the world of two lying Hanways in one day. ‘Thomas always seemed so bright and inspirational. What a pity those particular genes were lost down the line.
‘Still, that’s not to say you aren’t of use. I wouldn’t for one second suggest such a thing. We are always painstakingly careful about how we … cease life. And of course, in your delicious case there is the abdomen to think about. You’ll be relieved to hear we never damage tissues of value.’
I forced my breath to slow. I had to think. Pulling my Diasord from my pocket, I levelled it at Octavia who crowed again, rising to her feet.
‘Oh, how entertaining! You really think you can challenge me? The leader of one of the finest scientific civilizations this planet has ever known? A wild girl from the forest? What is it he calls you? Feral … cat? I built Isca Pantheon from nothing; from a bedraggled, disordered huddle of refugees with nowhere to call home. From the dust clouds of the greatest cataclysmic war the world has ever known, Pantheon rose as a salute to the glory days, as a shining example of a successful civilization where every man and beast knows his place.
‘You think you and one paltry Diasord can take on that might?’ she sneered.
I cast my eyes swiftly around the room, expecting to see clicking white boxes following my every move, but there were none. She followed my gaze slyly.
‘Oh, we aren’t being watched if that’s what you’re looking for? I don’t allow cameras in my personal experimentation room, it disturbs my … creativity. And they wanted to post a battalion of soldiers at the door, but I knew you would come alone. You’re the noble, weak type you see,’ she added, scornfully. ‘After all, why would I need backup when I hold the life of the one person you hold so dear right … in … my … hands.’
She unfurled one of her tight white fists to display a tiny control pad with two buttons, one red and one black. I had no doubt immediately as to their purpose, and terror crawled up my throat. I took another step forward and she held it up warningly, a vicious sneer painted across her bloodless face.
‘One more step and you can say goodbye to your grandfather for ever. And that would be such a shame when I’
d planned an audience for this. A show isn’t a show without an audience after all.’
She glanced at the control pad in her hand, and hit the red button as I scoured the ceiling and walls.
‘Did you ever think I believed you? That George would actually destroy the Book of Arafel? You cannot win, and it’s time you and your grandfather understood who is in charge. Put the Diasord down, Talia.’
She hit a quick sequence of buttons on the flashing pad beside the canister, and the white metal shell slid back, revealing a transparent inner lid. A person lay inertly on the bed beneath, and for a second my world inverted. From the warm colour of his skin exposed to a lifetime of sun, to his lily-white beard and the steady rise of his determined chest, there was no doubting his identity. It was Grandpa. A strangled sob rose in my throat, which I fought to contain. The last thing I needed was to lose my focus. That was what she wanted.
‘You are mad,’ I forced out, placing the Diasord on the ground between us, while not taking my eyes off her.
‘Insanity is a matter of opinion. One woman’s madness is another woman’s genius,’ she glittered. ‘And Isca Pantheon is victory of science over nature, of control over life. My Biotechnology Genetics Programme is just in its infancy, but once we have Il Codice Mito, I will be able to re-create one of the greatest eras mankind has ever known! The cipher now, I know you have it. Give it to me!’
In a breath I knew I couldn’t use the cipher to bargain for Grandpa’s life. It would only bring her straight to Arafel for the keyword and then what? She would have enough ammunition to change life irrevocably. I had to find another way.
‘Yes, an era that has been extinct for thousands of years,’ I scathed, moving slowly in a circle but taking care not to give ground. ‘The griffin, manticore, Cyclops, strix … they all died out for a reason. They weren’t supposed to be re-created.
‘This whole civilization you’ve claimed to have built is just some perverted travesty! People weren’t meant to live without the sun; animals weren’t meant to be designed. You’re playing with life but here’s the truth: it won’t be told what to do, it’s feral – just like me – no matter what one psychotic, old woman thinks!’
Book of Fire Page 26
