by Robin Bootle
‘I can’t believe I hit you,’ she murmured into her hands.
He shuffled and put his arm around her back. ‘If it makes you feel any better I was about ready to do the same to Ivandell.’
‘Please, don’t touch me.’
His arm retracted without a word. He knew he shouldn’t take it personally – she would be feeling disgusted with herself – but he couldn’t help it. Finally, he’d found someone he could trust, and now she wanted nothing to do with him.
‘I can’t be here any more,’ she said.
‘I need you, Elizabeth. Please don’t say that.’
‘Let’s not shy away from it.’ She finally lifted her head, her eyes red and puffy. ‘I hit you and then I tried to kill you, the very person I’m trying to help. What you need is me as far away from you as possible.’
‘No, I need you by my side.’
‘Leave me alone, please, Edward,’ she said, lowering her head back into her hands.
‘She should sleep. It will help to clear her head.’ Ivandell dumped another armload of wood by the fire. ‘You should both sleep. I will keep watch, and keep the fire alight.’
Edward took the rucksack from his back and placed it on the floor behind Elizabeth, urging her to lie back, then edged away to give her some space. He lay down with his head resting on a log, and for a while he watched her, the wind sucked from his sails. She was staring vacantly up at the mist, but she didn’t seem to notice him. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t need her, that he’d survived fine on his own before, and closed his eyes, knowing he needed to think about something else if he was going to stand any chance of sleep.
He forced his thoughts to the past, to the old family house, to Mum and Dad, but it didn’t last long. Elizabeth was back on his mind in seconds. Not just how she was feeling now, but their entire, brief history together. When they’d first met and she’d defended him against Oriel. In VirtuaWorld when she’d saved his life. The relief of seeing her arrive in Extropia.
Then their hug, and his yearning to kiss her outside the hut.
He sighed and rolled away, as worried as ever. This was not the time to start developing feelings for her, or anyone.
* * *
Lying there, twigs digging into his side and soggy leaves soaking through his robe, he longed for his bed at the Holloughbys’. It was a simple bed: single, a cheap duvet and a foam pillow that had withered away to what was probably a third of its original size. The Holloughbys had never afforded him much but, by the Skylar, what he wouldn’t have given for that bed now. And his flat-screen TV. Even one of those pointless game shows that Ingrid always watched. For as pointless as they were, there was even less point dying cold and miserable in these woods.
Eventually he dozed off, frenetic and disjointed thoughts of everything that had happened repeating in his mind. Then came James, floating in blue, blood seeping from his side. He had the sensation he was running, but to where he didn’t know. He found he was on Scafell Pike, the mountain lit up by the red glow of the setting sun. James was more like a phantom than a brother, distant and gliding amid the snow-dusted heather, a look of betrayal and disappointment on his face. And beside James was Dad, refusing to even look at him, abandoned and alienated by the words Edward had regretted saying ever since.
Dad wailed, ‘Why do you hate me? Edward, why do you hate me?’
‘Edward?’
He pushed himself up on his fists as a voice cried his name. He couldn’t tell if it was real or just his dream. The dream had been so vivid. Next to him, Elizabeth lay fast asleep, grimacing just as she had that morning in the hut; the mist was still close enough to infect their dreams. It was thinning though, at last. He could see at least fifty yards into the forest. But now with the forest’s eerie stillness plain to see, it seemed no more welcoming.
He glanced towards where Ivandell had fallen asleep, and alarm shuddered through his body. Ivandell wasn’t there, and their fire was weakening. He rushed to his feet. ‘Ivandell!’ he whispered into the night.
Only a bird tweeted in reply, before clapping its wings and retreating into the forest.
Something moved up ahead, further into the mist. ‘Ivandell?’ he called again, louder. ‘Ivandell? Where are you?’
‘Do not give me away!’ whispered Ivandell.
Now Edward could see him, balanced on his hands and feet high up in a neighbouring tree. Ivandell put his finger to his lips then pointed into the forest. Something moved again, twenty yards to the right of the first sighting. Whatever it was, there was more than one. Above the second one he could see a torch, bouncing as it approached.
Edward kicked Elizabeth in the thigh. ‘Wake up!’
She looked at him through drowsy eyes. ‘What is it?’
‘Someone’s out there!’
She jumped to her feet, grabbing her sword on the way up. ‘I see them. Five of them, maybe more. You can’t see them?’
He shook his head. ‘Who are they?’
‘Soldiers. Here, take this.’ She passed him her sword, then picked up her bow and loaded an arrow.
‘Edward? Is that you?’ A voice called from up ahead.
‘Don’t come any closer!’ Elizabeth raised her bow towards the darkness.
‘Praise the Skylar!’ came the voice again, and now Edward knew who it was.
‘Lord Hasgard! Over here!’ Edward pressed down on Elizabeth’s bow. ‘It’s okay, he’s here to help us.’ He still couldn’t even see Hasgard and yet he could feel a blanket of safety – the player’s key ally was here, come to help the boy from the prophecy.
Ivandell dropped down from the tree as Hasgard’s colossal frame emerged in a swirl of red mist, fire blazing from the staff in his right hand. But as Hasgard drew closer, the grave look on his face quickly wiped the smile from Edward’s.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Edward.
Hasgard came right up to him and scanned the mist beyond and in every direction. Behind him, his four men stood apart with swords drawn, their faces pale.
‘It is wonderful to see you all. But by the ancients you are a troop of fools for coming this way! I have already lost four men to the mist’s madness!’ He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. ‘But that is not your burden. I am sorry, Edward, for how I reacted in Force Crag. I should have been with you from the beginning. You are right. Now is the time for revolution. We must stand together. These men are the first of many from the mine.’
‘I can’t believe you came.’ Edward was so happy he could have cried. But there was something else, an unexpected guilt wrenching the sides of his gut. ‘I’m sorry about your men.’
‘These men have come for you, Edward, yes. But they fight also for themselves, and they knew the path would be treacherous.’
Edward nodded towards Hasgard’s men, still nervously searching the trees. ‘What are they looking for?’
‘We followed you to the hut but were too late. We saw the blazing tower of smoke, rising up through the forest. That is how we knew where to find you. But so will others! We spotted someone a mile back, he was alone, possibly a spy of Dēofol. He may send word of your location. We must move, and quickly!’
‘I think we may be too late,’ whispered Elizabeth, squinting into the darkness to the east. ‘Someone’s watching us.’
The world descended into deathly silence. All the men became still, studying the trees in the direction of her gaze as if their lives depended on it. Despite supposedly outnumbering this foe eight to one, Hasgard’s men were on tenterhooks, and the fear in their stifled breath left Edward’s knuckles white as his fingers gripped his staff and dagger.
‘Who goes there?’ Hasgard bellowed.
Silence, save for the thump of Edward’s heart in his temples.
‘If you will not declare yourself, then I shall d
o it for you!’ From the base of Hasgard’s staff, an orange ball of energy rocketed towards its spiked tip. It exploded in a ball of flame that crashed into the higher branches of the forest.
‘There!’ Edward pointed towards a tree only thirty yards off. A man stood alone, dressed in black armour, his face hidden in the shadows.
In one hand he carried a dagger, and in the other, an axe. The weapons taken from Home Leigh Hut.
‘Did you see who it was, Elizabeth?’
It took a moment for her to respond. Her face had drained white. ‘It’s him. It’s Hound.’
* * *
Despite the fact that Hasgard, his four men, Ivandell and Elizabeth stood between him and their single enemy, Edward felt far from safe. Hound, the agent charged with finding a way into Extropia, had succeeded, throwing himself into a world he couldn’t leave. Whatever he wanted, for whatever reason he wanted to kill Edward, he was willing to risk his own life to do so. No one could be more dangerous.
‘Lower your weapons, and none of you will be harmed.’ Hound broke the silence, the source of his steady voice hidden in the darkness. ‘I’m just here for the boy.’
‘Show yourself!’ ordered Hasgard, grabbing Edward’s arm and stepping in front of him.
‘Edward, you must listen to me – the way ahead is not safe. You’re walking into a trap.’
‘I don’t care and I don’t believe you!’ Edward shouted. ‘I’m going after my family. And there’s nothing you or anyone can do to stop me!’
‘Please, Edward, that’s exactly what they want you to do!’
‘What do you mean, they?’
For a moment Hound didn’t respond, then, ‘Elizabeth hasn’t told you, has she?’
Edward glanced at Elizabeth. ‘Told me what?’
‘Edward, Vanderboom is here,’ Hound responded before Elizabeth could. ‘He’s working with Dēofol. Together they plan to kill you!’
The shock sent the blood rushing from Edward’s head. Vanderboom was here. And Elizabeth had known about it all along, judging by the look on her face. ‘Elizabeth?’ He held her gaze, determined that she should explain herself. ‘Elizabeth, what’s going on?’
She seemed to be caught off guard. ‘Edward, I’m sorry. I… I couldn’t tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Enough of this!’ The tip of Hasgard’s staff was at once burning bright. ‘He seeks to turn you against each other. Edward, who is this man?’
Edward turned to Hasgard, so angry and confused that he spoke the words that he knew would lead Hasgard to only one course of action. ‘He tried to kill me.’
‘An assassin!’ Hasgard punched forward his staff. A fireball tore through the night, this time aimed in the direction where they had last seen Hound.
Hound’s figure lit up as he dashed through the trees. His face was now covered by the visor of a black helmet that matched the armour protecting his body. His armour appeared skeletal, curved ribs across the chest and long, sharp ridges down the arms and legs. He vanished once more as Hasgard’s fireball continued into the night.
‘After him!’ ordered Hasgard. ‘Be warned! He wears Armour of the Night, worn only by Dēofol’s commanders!’
Hasgard’s men moved quickly. The first of them reached the spot where Hound had last been seen, and stopped. He glanced about, then back to Hasgard, uncertain what to do next. One of the men, twenty yards away, screamed. Edward’s eyes shot towards the sound just in time to see the soldier fall, but not soon enough to catch even the faintest trace of Hound. Another man cried as he swung his blade, but his swing petered into nothingness as he collapsed to the ground.
‘Surrender at once! There can be no escape for you, agent of Dēofol!’ Hasgard raised his staff and spun about, lighting up the higher branches of the trees in a circle of burning heat.
Edward looked at the useless staff in his own hand, wishing he’d picked up the axe back at the hut. As another of Hasgard’s soldiers wailed, his sword flying through the air, he knew what he needed to do.
He dashed to the spot where the first man had fallen, skipping over a rotting pine and crouching down beside the dead soldier. The soldier lay on his front, his head tilted around so that one of his terror-struck eyes stared emptily past Edward’s knee. The tip of his sword poked out under his shoulder.
Edward tucked one hand under the soldier’s hip and the other under his chest and heaved. The dead weight of the body made him grimace, so heavy and so empty of life. With another shove, he rolled the man over, displaying the blood-soaked area around his belly.
He lifted his hands to his face, his gaze drawn to the dark red blood on his fingers and palms, glistening in the light of the burning trees. It was so real. All of it. The fear in the screams of the dying and in the sweat of the living. What had Dad and James been thinking, building a world like this?
A twig cracked to his right. He grabbed the sword and pointed it wildly into the darkness. ‘Who’s there?’ he asked. For a time, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. It was just him, his frantic breath, and the shadows of the trees as they danced back and forth, doing everything they could to hide from the orange light above and around. A thousand men could be hiding here, he thought, and still you wouldn’t see them.
‘Look out!’ came Elizabeth’s warning.
He spun to see an arrow whizz past his cheek. Someone screamed close by. Then stumbling out of the darkness, only a few yards from where he stood, was Hound, gripping the flesh of his palm, an arrow clean through it.
‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ Edward screamed. ‘Why do you all want to kill me?’
‘If I wanted to kill you,’ said Hound, somehow regaining his composure, ‘you’d already be dead.’
‘I don’t believe you! Tell me how you got that armour! You’re with Dēofol, aren’t you?’
‘I stole it from one of Dēofol’s men!’ Hound stepped forward. ‘Please, come with me. I’ve found a way out, a way back home.’
‘Edward, step aside!’ called Ivandell. ‘I need a clear shot!’
But for a moment Edward couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. ‘What do you mean, you can get me out of here?’
Hound stepped closer still, reaching out with his healthy hand. ‘I’ve created a hack, similar to the Tartarus Portal. All this can go away, if you’ll just let me help you.’
For a moment Edward couldn’t peel his eyes away from Hound’s hand. Could it really be true? At least that explained why Hound was willing to come here in the first place. He pictured himself, back in the real world, all this chaos, the fear and the exhaustion, left behind. And for a moment he seemed to lose control of his hand. It was drifting forwards, reaching for Hound’s.
‘Edward! Get away from him!’ cried Ivandell, closer now.
The cry shocked him from his complacency. He raised his dagger in the air. ‘I’m not leaving without my family!’
‘I’m sorry, Edward, but I cannot let you reach your brother, no matter what!’ Hound dived forward to tackle him to the ground.
Before Hound could reach Edward, the ground disappeared from beneath his feet as he was hauled back through the air, over the fallen tree towards Ivandell and Elizabeth. Behind him, Hasgard’s hand was in the air as if he was holding directly onto Edward’s shoulder and lifting him back.
‘Ivandell, get him out of here!’ cried Hasgard as Edward’s feet touched the ground again. He ran towards Hound, lightning erupting from the five spikes on his staff. Hound lowered his visor to protect his face. Hasgard’s electric spell crashed into Hound, the lightning rippling up and down the black armour, but seemingly unable to penetrate it.
‘We have to help him!’ screamed Edward.
‘You are too important, Edward!’ Ivandell gripped his arm. ‘Hasgard knows how to take care of himself!’
‘He’s right, Edward,’ Elizabeth pleaded. ‘Hound’s after you and you alone. We need to get out of here!’
Edward looked around at the scene before his eyes. Three of Hasgard’s men were already dead, leaving only one who now ran to fight alongside his master. It had all happened so quickly. And even as he stuttered indecisively, the last of Hasgard’s men fell, Hound’s dagger piercing his side.
His heart weighing heavily, Edward stopped resisting. In a blur, Elizabeth and Ivandell bundled him away, pausing only to pick up fresh torches from those that had fallen.
They hadn’t gone fifty yards when a shrill cry filled the air. He glanced over his shoulder. But Hound and Hasgard were already gone, swallowed whole by the mist.
14
The Great Black
Above, the blue sky sparkled through the gaps in the leaves for the first time since Edward had forced them into the mist. The air had been clear for some time, but the mist still left its stain: a throbbing ache in his jaw, the dried blood on his hands, his fingers vice-like around his torch as he walked.
With every crackle or rustle he relived it: Hound’s black skeletal armour darting like a phantom in the shadows, Hasgard swallowed up by the red mist and then the words, Vanderboom is here, resonating in his mind.
Only a few feet to his side, Elizabeth was so distant, staring at the forest floor with drawn, vacant eyes. Ivandell had warned them what the mist could do – bring out a hatred of others. But none of them had foreseen its secondary effect: a hatred of oneself.
He glanced at her hand, her harsh words from last night – not to touch her – playing on his mind. Now the idea of reassuring her with even a simple touch on the shoulder filled him with anxiety. Their hug outside the mine seemed a million miles away. ‘You need to forget about what happened,’ he said. ‘We all do.’
