Extropia

by Robin Bootle

  It was pitch black inside. His shoulders and arms were forced over his torso in the narrow space. His chest pressed against the plank above with every inhalation. The warm air of each exhalation wafted over his exposed hands.

  A sudden roll from side to side told him they had shifted off, and a sponge of nausea expanded in his belly. He imagined they were going quite fast, but he knew it would be impossible to tell with any accuracy. He tried to transport his mind to another time and place. A happy place. He thought of Windermere, the real Windermere, with Dad and James free and all this behind them. Walking with their palms tickled by the long grass as they neared the lake.

  But would those trees in the surrounding forest ever be the same again, tainted forever by the threat of Dēofol and the mist? And even if he could rescue James, in what condition would his brother be after a year of imprisonment and beatings?

  He felt his temperature surge. The sweat seeping through his pores was doing nothing to cool him, only making things worse as his robes clung uncomfortably to his skin. He went to lift the plank just a little so he could feel the cool air on his face. But when he tried, the plank wouldn’t give, releasing another surge of volcanic heat.

  Then came the sound of two small feet stepping aside, and he pushed again, harder than he’d meant to, and the plank lifted out of place.

  ‘No, Edward! We are approaching the gate!’

  The plank dropped back into place as a wave of panic set in. Each breath covered his face in warm humidity. Finally, he felt the boat slow, then a bump against the side as they came to a stop.

  ‘Twelve sheep donated by the villagers of Underbarrow for Lord Dēofol,’ growled a voice. It must have been one of Hasgard’s men, imitating as best he could the harsh voice of the Greys.

  ‘They do like to keep him happy, don’t they?’

  Several soldiers laughed. Please let us through, prayed Edward.

  ‘Off you go then,’ said the more distant voice. ‘When you’re done, you’d best take up arms. All spare hands are to report for battle.’

  ‘The sooner the better,’ growled the soldier on the boat.

  The boat rolled again from side to side. They were off. Edward at last exhaled, his skin increasingly drenched. But now he didn’t want to get out. Getting out meant being inside Dēofol’s tower.

  He heard the grating of metal. They drifted only a little further before the boat bumped against the riverbank. This time the sound was hard, as if they had hit stone. ‘Wait just a little longer, Edward,’ whispered Hasgard.

  ‘Oi, what are you doing?’ someone grunted.

  ‘On second thoughts, Edward, out! Now!’

  Edward bolted upright, locking his right arm through his shield and pushing the plank out of the way with his left in the same movement. Everything was in sharp focus, his adrenalin in overdrive. Through the slats of the pen he could see they were inside the tower. Back the way they had come there was a huge archway over the river. And then the dark, cloudy sky.

  Two enemy soldiers were rushing towards them along the stone dock. Three of Hasgard’s men were already going to meet them. As their blades clashed, one of Hasgard’s men broke away. His sword swung and crashed into the wall, severing a rope on the way through. An iron portcullis came grinding down, blocking the path all the way across the river from wall to wall.

  ‘Quickly!’ Hasgard grabbed Edward by the back of his robe, dragging him out of the pen and lifting him off the boat.

  In the centre of the wall facing them was a braced wooden door. The remaining two of Hasgard’s men had already engaged its two guards. With a wave of Hasgard’s arm, the guards flew back into the stone wall. Stunned, they were easily finished.

  The remaining men joined them from the portcullis. Behind them, a horde of grey soldiers gathered, clawing at the portcullis’ bars to try to heave it up. ‘Everon is gone, my Lord,’ the first of Hasgard’s soldiers announced.

  ‘May he rest in peace,’ replied Hasgard. ‘We will pray for him later. The gate will keep the rest of that decaying rabble busy for some time. Now onwards! Edward, stay behind me. Do not leave my side.’

  Beyond the door, the stone steps curled around in a steep spiral. Through the narrow, glassless windows Edward caught a glimpse of the two armies squaring off in the distance, illuminated by the first bolts of lightning that forked across the sky. His legs burned as they continued up the steps. They’d gone around six or seven times when the stairwell opened into a wide landing and Hasgard motioned for everyone to crouch down. Edward ducked against the inner wall of the stairwell, cutting his breathing to the bare minimum.

  Hasgard peered around the side. His hand was in the air again, and a moment later came the smashing of wood and a short grunt. Then he waved them on.

  At the near end of the hall a large opening overlooked the south of the tower. In the distance, through the heavy rain and the lightning-filled sky, Edward could make out the beginnings of battle. The two armies stood apart from each other, the faint twinkle from burning torches outlining their positions. The bulk of Ivandell’s force was positioned atop two neighbouring hills. Further down the valley lay the dark horde of Dēofol’s army, clustered in one heaving mass. From the rear of the enemy’s ranks, giant balls of fire catapulted towards Ivandell’s army amidst a cloud of flaming arrows that filled the air like a meteor shower.

  Hasgard must have sensed his unease. ‘Fear not for Ivandell. He has survived far worse than this.’

  ‘What about your army from Force Crag?’ asked Edward. ‘Is there any sign of them?’

  ‘They will be here soon enough.’ Hasgard marched towards the other end of the hall. ‘Come, we are close now. Beyond those doors are the main halls of the tower. In the days before Dēofol this level was reserved only for the king’s nobles. We will take the stairs on the right here. One more level and we will find your brother!’

  Edward couldn’t believe it. It seemed too surreal. Too easy. One minute James was still impossibly out of reach, the next, right around the corner. The resistance had been minimal. Hasgard had guessed that Dēofol would be leading his army, but where was Vanderboom? ‘Where is everyone?’ asked Edward. ‘Where are all the guards?’

  ‘This is the servants’ entrance. It leads to the top of the tower. There is rarely any guard, which is why, of course, we have chosen this route. But you are right, it seems almost too quiet. Be ready.’

  Edward followed after him. A guard lay out cold at the end of the corridor, smothered under a shattered pile of what had once been a mahogany table. The two doors behind remained unopened as Hasgard and his men trampled towards the end of the hall. They waited, on guard near the bottom of the stairwell, as Hasgard leant in to listen.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Edward as cool air blew down the stairwell. The top of the tower was so close. ‘Something’s wrong.’

  ‘We are almost there,’ whispered Hasgard. ‘We cannot turn back now!’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Edward. ‘It’s too easy. It has to be a trap, I…’

  ‘Shhh! I hear someone. Wait here.’

  Edward set aside his protests as Hasgard snuck up a few more steps, and then waited, listening. He signalled for them to follow. ‘Onwards,’ he whispered, and then rounded the corner.

  ‘Wait!’ Edward pleaded as he climbed after him, his heart pounding. Behind, the other men followed with their metal armour clinking softly with each step. No matter that James was somewhere around the corner, Edward wished he could turn back. It was as if Hasgard was trying too hard to make up for his cowardice of the past year by blazing hot-headedly through the tower. He had to find a way to make him listen.

  He caught up with him when Hasgard stopped at the top of the stairwell. Another landing lay before them, but this time there was no ceiling. They had reached the top of the tower. A small iron portcullis lay l
argely hidden in the stone wall above the archway, its sharp black teeth poking through. Rain swept down across the terrace. Above, the sky was ripped apart in crashes of thunder and lightning.

  Then, buried in a roll of thunder, came the sound of a woman crying.

  Edward pushed past Hasgard and glanced to his right. The terrace curved around, presumably encompassing the whole tower. Crude stone obelisks dotted the outer edge at five-yard intervals. He glanced left, and at once any ideas he’d had about turning back were swept from his mind. On the near side of the terrace, a lock of auburn hair dangled between the iron bars of a prison cell set into the wall. He looked back to Hasgard. ‘It’s Elizabeth! Help me with the lock!’

  He dashed towards her, skidding on the wet surface as he grabbed hold of the first iron bar. ‘Elizabeth!’

  She was leaning against the wall of her stone cell, and on seeing him she leapt to her feet. Tears welled at the sight of her face so close to his. So close, he could hardly hold himself back from kissing her right there and then. A heavy bruise hung like a shadow beneath her right eye. ‘Are you okay?’ He slipped his hand through the bars to touch her face, but she pulled away.

  ‘No, Edward, no!’ Her head shook from side to side. ‘You have to leave! I’ve seen Dēofol. He’s here, Edward! And he has the stone!’

  It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Dēofol was here, not leading his army. It had only been a theory, but it was a theory that had filled him with hope. Even so, the idea of leaving now was without question. ‘It’s okay. Look who I have with me.’ He turned to Hasgard, still standing near the stairwell. Hasgard remained motionless. ‘What are you waiting for?’ He looked Hasgard full in the face, only then noticing that Hasgard’s soldiers had not followed them up. ‘Lord Hasgard, where are your men?’ he asked, all the certainty gone from his voice.

  ‘I have sent them away,’ replied Hasgard. ‘Away from the horror that is about to unfurl.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Lord Hasgard, what’s going on?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Edward, but the time has come for us both to face up to the reality of the situation in which we find ourselves.’

  Edward’s hands slipped from the wet iron bars as the world seemed to slow down. He was floating through the air. Something was squeezing his throat. His shield fell to the ground as he went to grapple with whatever was crushing his neck, but there was nothing there. Only Hasgard’s raised hand in a stranglehold several yards away.

  Edward was too shocked to speak, too shocked to protest, unable to comprehend what was happening.

  ‘Get off him!’ Elizabeth cried. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Lord Hasgard, please,’ Edward begged as he stared through the lashing rain at Hasgard’s weathered face. But begging was useless, he knew; already the cold, wet terrace around him was obscured by the memories of everything he’d been too blind to see. Their easy path into the tower. The mist that led to the general’s death. How far back did his betrayal go? To the mist in the woods? And beyond, to their rapid capture outside Force Crag?

  As the world around him choked into oblivion, he remembered Hasgard’s happiness at his reunion with the general, and his grief at the general’s death. Surely that, if nothing else, had been real. ‘Please, Lord Hasgard, it doesn’t have to be like this!’

  ‘It is too late for me, boy. Too late for all of us. Dēofol has shown me the truth. He has revealed this world for what it is. When I saw my brother, for a moment I let myself believe it did not matter. But with the passing of his life, so too died my childish naivety. And as the horror of his death passed, my resolve only strengthened. For I realised it was a horror I did not deserve, because that was the first time he and I had ever met. But you knew that already, didn’t you? Yes, Edward, I know the deceit that lies in your heart.’ Any hint of remorse faded from his face. ‘There can be no triumph against Dēofol. Now come, it is time to show your brother what we have in our possession.’

  26

  An Angel Falls

  Edward drifted through the air towards Hasgard, his skin white hot with fury and his fingernails tearing the skin of his throat as they clawed to relieve the grip that wasn’t there. ‘You betrayed your own people!’ he said between gasps. ‘You could have helped them fight! You could have given them back their lives!’

  ‘Lives? You dare talk to me about their lives? Their lives are nothing but lies, just like mine! Can you imagine the pain and suffering I have endured? To be the one responsible for the downfall of the kingdom? Only to discover that none of it ever happened! Unspeakable horrors have been burned into my memory as part of some form of entertainment for the people of your world! Perhaps your father is not as different from Dēofol as you imagine; a purveyor of cruelty for sport. Now he must pay for what he has done. As he has made us suffer, so too will Dēofol bring your world to its knees.’

  ‘You coward!’ Elizabeth yelled as Edward’s neck came to rest in Hasgard’s unflinching hand. ‘Let him go!’ She was crying, loosely holding the cage with the look of someone watching an innocent man heading to his execution. An inconsolable sorrow, but a fierce reluctance to give up hope.

  Hasgard ignored her, marching past with Edward dangling from his giant hand. Her eyes met Edward’s as he tried to grab hold of one of her outstretched hands. ‘Oh, Edward,’ she mouthed, and then looked into the distance, unable to take any more.

  That was when something changed in her expression. Something ever so slight that Edward wouldn’t have noticed had he not been looking her directly in the eye.

  She’d seen something, or someone, and as much as Edward wanted to know who or what, he knew he mustn’t turn to look.

  Hasgard stopped where he was. He frowned at Edward then at Elizabeth. She screamed at him again, trying to keep his attention and pretending that nothing had happened. But it was too late. He’d sensed something was up. He turned to look. His gaze came to rest near one of the obelisks, and his grasp around Edward’s throat weakened.

  ‘You!’ he bellowed. ‘You do not know with whom you choose to quarrel!’

  Shock drenched his face as a crossbow bolt thumped into his right thigh. He groaned as he stumbled and threw Edward against the tower’s wall.

  Gasping for breath, Edward rolled as electric light exploded from the tip of Hasgard’s staff. There, in the shadows, a man was on one knee, the matt black visor of his helmet shielding his face. From head to toe, electric currents rippled through the Armour of the Night as it absorbed Hasgard’s spell. ‘Edward! Release Elizabeth!’ Hound shouted through his mask. In his right hand was a crossbow loaded with one more bolt. On his back, his axe. Hound raised himself up, still taking the full brunt of Hasgard’s spell, and forced his way towards the centre of the terrace.

  Edward launched himself towards Elizabeth’s cell. He didn’t have time to try to understand how Hound had found his way inside the tower. He’d known already that Hound was heading this way. The only question that mattered now was whether Hound was here to help him or to steal him away. He ripped his staff from his back and touched it to the lock. The cell door blasted open. Then the unexpected happened.

  The cell door was only halfway open when it slammed shut again. Already being lifted up against the bars of Elizabeth’s cell, he spun to see Hasgard, one hand firing electricity into Hound and the other chaining Edward’s wrists and ankles to the cell bars with invisible manacles. Edward’s staff drifted up before him, then snapped into two and fell to the terrace.

  Helpless, Edward watched as Hound fired his second bolt. It stopped in mid-air, cast aside with a wave of Hasgard’s hand. Hound threw his crossbow to the ground and ripped his axe from his back. Again, Hasgard swiped his hand, this time tearing Hound’s axe from his grasp. In a flash, it was flung over the side of the tower. And by Hound’s demeanour, Edward knew he was at a loss, his hands empty as he backed towards the platfor
m’s edge.

  Hasgard’s electric light came again, this time in a short sharp burst. The light exploded into Hound’s armour, absorbed, but throwing Hound further back. Hasgard limped forward, burst after burst of electric light erupting from his staff and pinning Hound to the floor.

  No matter what Hound’s reason for being there, Edward had to help him. He focused all his energy on the top of Hasgard’s back. The tingle erupted in his belly, burning through his arm and sending a ball of flame exploding from his palm.

  But with his wrists pinned back, his aim was wayward. The ball of fire flew towards the sky, many yards off target. Hasgard must have noticed it but he didn’t even bother to look, such was his confidence in his hold over Edward. He took his final step towards Hound. He drew back his staff, ready to use it to shove Hound over the side.

  The tingle erupted again in Edward’s stomach, rushing up to his chest and down into his arms. It tore from his fingers, this time as an invisible thump that shoved Hasgard hard in the back. Hasgard stumbled, tripping over Hound’s legs and spilling his staff over the edge of the terrace.

  Hasgard’s grasp over him lost, Edward fell down to the stone. He watched as Hound was first to his feet and at once swinging down with a heavy, metal-clad fist into Hasgard’s unprotected head. He spun round and reached for Elizabeth’s lock. With a click, the cell door opened. ‘Quickly!’ He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly as if he might never let go. ‘How do we get to my brother?’

  ‘He’s somewhere at the end of the southern platform. I’ve seen them taking him food,’ she said, the rain sweeping across her face as she watched the scene beyond Edward’s shoulder. ‘What do we do about Hound? Can we trust him?’

  ‘I hope so,’ replied Edward. ‘His hack of the portal is our best shot of getting out of here.’

  Behind him, Hound’s fist again pummelled Hasgard. Hasgard’s face was bloodied, bruised, his eyes barely open as another fist crashed into his face. A couple more like that and he’d be out cold. His head fell limply in Edward’s direction. And just then, a slight, wicked smile crept across his lips.