Extropia

by Robin Bootle

  ‘I made a mistake, Edward! Vanderboom made me rush things.’

  ‘Vanderboom? Vanderboom didn’t build Extropia! Vanderboom’s not the one who played God!’

  Dad’s light seemed to shrink as it edged away. ‘All I wanted,’ he said, his words full of sorrow, ‘was to help people like your mother. But then more and more was demanded. Before long he was asking us to build an entire world. We built Windermere, somewhere peaceful in an effort to keep things clean. He kept pushing and things spiralled out of control. I didn’t even know myself the power of what I had created until I saw them come here every day to kill themselves. One by one the general’s men gave up! What kind of program chooses to kill itself unless it can feel, Edward?’

  ‘You should have stopped! You should have walked away! Then none of this would have happened. Both you and James would still be with me now and…’ He stopped, in that moment too angry to admit he still cared for his father. ‘Tell me what I’m supposed to do! If I surrender, Dēofol will be able to alter the code to the Tartarus Portal and enter the real world. In our bodies! We’ll be out there, hurting people, killing people. And if I don’t, then even more people in Extropia will die.’

  ‘I know, son. Whatever you do, you risk the lives of others. But the fact remains that you must choose one course of action.’

  ‘How can I? How do you expect me to choose between death and death?’

  ‘Because if there is one thing I’ve learnt in the past few days, it is that there is always hope. You are here, Edward, something I gave up on a long, long time ago. And you have the general. Use him. He may be weak but the people will follow him. Bringing him back down from the mountains in itself will be seen as a great miracle. The General’s Ward is one of the most powerful tools in the game. When Dēofol’s magic strikes, put it on, and you will be safe. The combined strengths of Hasgard’s magic, the Great Warrior’s strength, and the influence of the boy from the prophecy were designed to be invincible.’

  Edward waved an arm in the direction of the general. ‘Look at him, why would anyone follow that?’

  ‘No, you look at him, son.’

  Edward turned, compelled by his father’s conviction. Watching them, the general was on his knees with his hands resting on the handle of his sword, any trace of his earlier hysteria gone.

  ‘Give him a chance, Edward. You must keep fighting. Always.’

  Edward shook his head, unconvinced. ‘Listen, Dad. I didn’t come here to row with you. I came here to tell you…’ Again, the words he’d never said seemed so hard to form. For God’s sake, came an angry voice inside his head, you may never see him again! And at last the words burst from his lips. ‘I came here to tell you that I’m sorry I pushed you away.’

  ‘Please, Edward. None of this is your fault. Nor does it do any good to dwell on the past and what might have been. Just know that I love you, no matter what, and that we will see each other again.’

  For a time, nothing more was said. Already Edward felt drained and demoralised at the thought of saying farewell to his father. All they had done was fight. This wasn’t how he’d planned it. Whether he walked away from here or died in this place, he’d only sought to find forgiveness. But who was it, he now wondered, who actually needed forgiving?

  ‘You should go, son. Your brother needs you.’

  Edward watched his father drift away, so drowned in sorrow that he was unable to draw the energy to lift his hand in a wave. Finally, when the light was gone, he gathered his weapons and pulled his robe back over his head. ‘I’m Edward,’ he said, struggling to find the energy in his lungs as he approached the general.

  The general bowed his head. ‘You know me already, it seems.’ His palm opened towards two mounds of grass near the mountainous wall behind. ‘You asked about my men. This is Lewis, on the right, and this is Borne.’ He shifted his palm to the left. ‘They fell sick not long after we arrived. I tried to return down the mountain to ask for help, but I could find no way back into the ruins; our path was blocked. As if that wasn’t enough, now every day I have to cut back the same blasted weeds to clear their graves.’

  ‘And the others? They gave up, didn’t they?’

  ‘Yes. And so they have no graves.’

  Edward nodded towards the tunnel. ‘The way back is open. Will you come with me? Your people need you.’

  ‘Alas, the king will not take me back.’

  ‘I believe he will. You see…’ Edward paused, reminding himself that the general knew nothing of what had happened since his supposed exile. ‘The king is in prison, in Sun City.’

  The general stepped forward in alarm. ‘What? How can it be?’

  ‘The moment you were gone, Ejüll invaded, led by a mage called Dēofol.’

  ‘Dēofol? The Beast?’

  Edward nodded.

  ‘Curse the day I attacked Melchram! But then who are you that have at last managed to rescue me? The Skylar called you the boy, his son even. Dare I believe it possible?’

  When Edward nodded, the general dropped to his knees.

  ‘Please don’t do that.’ Edward grabbed the general’s elbow and raised him up. ‘Just understand that the prophecy is real. Now, please, we must be quick. I was followed by a patrol of men on horseback. They weren’t far behind.’

  Edward was surprised to see the general smile, let alone rip his sword from his back and punch it in the air.

  ‘Above everything else, you have brought me a treat! The Bloodrunner here has been yearning for the chance to fulfil his purpose.’

  The general hurried to one corner of the garden. Near the stream, a patch of soil was filled with a feast of vegetables – cabbages, carrots, potatoes to name a few. Beside it, a small well. All put here by the game-makers, Edward guessed, not only as a means to keep the general alive, but also as a reward for any player who could defeat the creepers and complete the challenge of recovering the Great Warrior.

  Edward filled his two flasks and stuffed as much food into his bag as he could, then walked back towards the stream. One carrot he kept in his hand, wiping it roughly before gorging on it.

  Near the bridge, the general knelt down by a small hump in the turf. He dug his fingers into the moss, his arms one foot apart, and then tugged repeatedly until a circle of moss one foot in diameter lifted into the air. He smiled, embarrassed, as he tore the moss away to reveal the iron surface beneath. ‘My shield. I hadn’t realised I would be needing it so soon.’

  Edward didn’t smile back. A sound was rumbling in his ears. ‘You may need it sooner than you thought.’ He hurried to stand beside the general and drew his dagger. Together, they watched the far side of the stream, knowing there was nowhere for them to run. The light at the far end of the tunnel dimmed, and the rumble grew to drown out all other sound.

  Then there they were, hooves pounding the tunnel’s earth: horses bounding towards them, the silhouettes of armoured riders on their backs.

  23

  A Cowardly Attack

  The horses spread out along the far side of the stream, four on either side of the entrance. Steam blasted from their nostrils into the cool air. Last to emerge from the tunnel was a horse of brilliant white, and on it a giant of a man whose hood overshadowed his face.

  Edward ripped his dagger from its sheath and pointed it at this last rider, twisting it through the air as he spoke. ‘Stay back! I’m warning you!’

  The rider chuckled. ‘What kind of child and old man think they can challenge my warriors?’

  ‘Child? I am the boy, and this is the Great Warrior! Now stand aside!’

  ‘Edward, Edward!’ The leader laughed again. ‘It is I.’ He dismounted from his horse and threw back his hood. ‘Your friend and servant, Lord Hasgard.’

  ‘Lord Hasgard,’ Edward repeated in disbelief as the sight of Hasgard’s warm smile and weat
hered face sunk in. A thump of happiness exploded in his chest. ‘I thought you were dead!’ He ran to him, a spring in his step, while Hasgard dropped to one knee. The riders on either side followed his lead. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You are the one, Edward. It is as if the mountain rock itself has revealed this place only for your sacred feet.’ Hasgard bowed his head. ‘Henceforth, let all those filled with doubt know the story of the return of the Great Warrior, rescued by the boy from a damned eternity in the mountains!’

  ‘Hail, the son of the Skylar!’ the others cheered.

  ‘Get up!’ Edward said with a laugh. ‘Please don’t kneel for me. All of you, get up.’

  ‘Thank you, Edward, for everything you have done.’ Hasgard stood up but his gaze was now fixed on something beyond Edward. ‘If you would excuse me a moment.’

  Standing on the far side of the bridge, the general was watching Hasgard, his hand still clasped around the handle of his sword.

  ‘Oh, brother,’ said Hasgard, now standing on the bridge. ‘I fear I may still be dreaming. To see you here can only be a fantasy, can it not?’ He stepped forward, a hand outstretched as if to confirm the general was real. When the general didn’t respond, Hasgard drew back his hand. ‘Oh, brother!’ he wailed. ‘How could you ever forgive me? And you do not yet know the extent of the damage I have caused! The evil that has cursed these lands and plagued my soul! My nights have been filled with sleepless remorse, a cruel suffering that can only be known by a man who has destroyed the land and the people he loves!’

  The general walked with slow purpose across the bridge. Edward edged forward, worried he might have to step between them. But when the general was just two feet from Hasgard, he said, ‘It is I, my brother, who have wronged you, when I wronged the king.’

  ‘No.’ Hasgard straightened his back as he tried to compose himself. ‘The world has come undone, and all that has come to pass is my burden to carry. You must not apologise to me. It only serves to make my shame harder to endure. I can only hope that with your return I may yet have my chance to make amends.’

  ‘Enough then. We both are forgiven,’ replied the general, and they embraced each other.

  When they separated, Hasgard said, ‘I trust Edward has told you in what sorry state lie our lands? But it is clear now that the prophecy is real. And we all have our part to play. You, my brother, must rebuild your army. We will send word to the villages of the Circle, to the rebel army of Force Crag, and to all the cities filled with voices crying for freedom.’ He spun to face his men. ‘We have a real chance now, my friends. Dēofol will not be expecting such a force.’

  ‘I still can’t believe you’re here,’ Edward said as Hasgard turned back towards him. ‘I thought maybe we’d lost you forever. We heard a scream. I’m so sorry, we should never have left you like that.’

  ‘You were right to go. The people of the Lands of the Sun do not need me, but they do need you, Edward. And you know by now it was not my scream. We were fighting, this dark warrior and I. I had him on his knees when he vanished, as if the trees themselves had swallowed him. Only the Skylar knows where he has found such a power. For a day I searched for him to finish our duel but none had seen or heard of him. As if he never existed. Until we reached Hawkshead, that is, all too late.’

  ‘What about Ivandell? Did you see him?’

  ‘We saw him near Hawkshead, having led the villagers to the shelter of an old forest to the north. When we found him he was returning to search for your friend, Elizabeth. But I fear he will not find her. There were too many of them, accompanied by Dēofol himself, I have been told.’ He placed his hand on Edward’s shoulder. ‘He took her, Edward. Your friend is gone.’

  Edward’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name. ‘Dēofol took her? I thought it was someone else, someone called Vanderboom?’

  ‘I do not know that name, but there were others with him. Now come, we must away. Ivandell will join us soon. I should warn you, he is not well. I have never seen him like this. Hawkshead was his home, and it has been destroyed. First Ravenglass and now this.’

  ‘I thought Ivandell was a hero at Ravenglass?’

  ‘To you and I, yes. But to himself… I can see you have been spared the sorry details. Suffice to say that Ivandell’s wife and child were not as lucky as the hundreds that Ivandell saved.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Hasgard lifted Edward onto his horse and climbed up after him. As they headed through the tunnel towards the ruins he said, ‘Rumour has it, as punishment for his actions, Ivandell had to endure the sight of his wife captured by a crowd of soldiers. Dēofol made sure Ivandell could see what they did to her, while Dēofol himself held Ivandell’s son in his hands. After the destruction of Hawkshead, it is a miracle Ivandell’s mind is still his own.’

  * * *

  One of the soldiers shared a mount with a companion and offered his own horse to the general. As they re-entered the ruins, Edward sat with his fingers interlinked around Hasgard’s stomach, nervously watching the creepers, but the vines and roots remained passive, as if once defeated they had no further part to play in the game.

  When they reached the top of the valley Edward glanced back, hoping for a glimpse of his father before the Great Black dipped out of view. But its lonely stillness only reminded him that they might never see each other again, and he barely noticed as his arms wrapped tighter around Hasgard.

  To Edward’s left, the general rode with a straight back and set the pace of the group from the front. ‘It is strange, is it not,’ he said as they started down the valley, ‘to have heard so much about someone, to have so many people believe that their fate lies with yourself and a stranger you have never met?’

  ‘I guess,’ replied Edward. Strange didn’t begin to describe the situation he was in.

  ‘I must thank you,’ the general continued. ‘I feel as though you have woken me from a lifelong nightmare. These past few hours seem more real to me than any time during my exile, as if lost in the cold wilderness my mind was not quite my own, my past a blur, with only the memory of my act of betrayal in any focus.’

  ‘You didn’t betray anyone,’ Edward insisted, unable to imagine how the general must have been feeling. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong. You don’t deserve to feel like this. It’s all…’ He stopped, sensing his anger towards his father bubbling near the surface. And as much as he wanted the general to feel free from the burden of guilt, he knew he couldn’t explain the truth. ‘It’s all so unfair.’

  ‘In any case,’ Hasgard raised a perplexed eyebrow towards Edward, ‘it seems as though all of this is rather as planned, does it not? Be it the stars, the Skylar or simple inevitability. You, Edward, are here, a stranger to these lands. The one they call the Great Warrior is returned through some miracle act of the Skylar’s son. None of us need feel afraid any more. There can be only one outcome to what follows.’

  The general’s head tilted to one side. ‘You seem so convinced, brother. I pray after all that has happened that you will not let arrogance be your undoing.’

  ‘Arrogance? From the man who believed he could deceive the king?’

  ‘There was no greater deception than Melchram’s, a deception empowered by your so-called loyalty.’

  Hasgard’s body stiffened and his gaze returned to the path ahead, yet he said nothing. No further apology and no argument. Edward too was silent, praying that this might be the last of their bickering. If they were to stand a chance against Dēofol, they needed a united leadership, not a pair of squabbling schoolboys.

  Not far off lay the entrance to the tree-filled gully that meandered its way back down the valley. Hasgard waved them on. ‘Alfred will meet us soon, men. A feast awaits us near Hawkshead. Not long now.’

  ‘No.’ The general raised his hand. The soldiers stopped, confused. ‘We should take the highe
r road. In the gully we are trapped and blind.’

  Edward could feel Hasgard’s body grow tense again. No doubt he didn’t like to be countered in front of his men. ‘The higher road ends only in cliffs too steep for our horses,’ he said. ‘We would have to abandon them before we reach the fields of Hawkshead.’

  ‘And what of your magic?’

  ‘Ten horses?’ Hasgard interrupted. ‘It would take too long!’

  ‘You have weakened in your time in hiding, I see.’ The general studied the men. ‘You.’ He pointed to the smallest soldier, on the smallest horse. ‘Take the higher road above the gully. We need your eyes. Perhaps our Lord Hasgard here will at least conjure a trick for you and your horse when the time comes.’

  ‘Very well. Go ahead, Morgan.’ Hasgard nodded and the man and his horse doubled back, taking up position at the top of the gully. And as the others entered the trees, approaching the large rock that had sheltered the fire spell, one thing in particular had become painfully clear for Edward. The tension caused by the events that had come between the mage and the general was simmering once again, very near the surface.

  * * *

  Two hours later they reached a wide, circular clearing in the gully. Small grey boulders poked free of the snow. The gully narrowed again fifty yards further down on the southern side, the only other exit to the clearing. The general ordered them to stop. ‘Five minutes, men. Your bowels have earned their relief.’

  The soldiers laughed, dismounted and tethered their horses, then wandered off in separate directions to find a tree in need of watering. Edward headed back the way they had come, to a tree at the northern entrance to the clearing, but before he could reach it someone called out from behind, ‘A rider approaches!’

  Edward spun to see the soldier atop the gully walls. It was Morgan, signalling for everyone to take cover. He dashed behind the nearest rock. Across from him, Hasgard barely managed to hide his huge frame behind another rock near the southern entrance. But the rest of the soldiers seemed impossible to spot, presumably hidden amongst the trees in the narrow sections of the gully. Horses remained tethered to the trees, a clear sign to anyone coming that someone was nearby. Then came the sound of a pair of hooves galloping towards them, and Morgan’s voice calling, ‘It’s okay, it’s Ivandell!’