Tucker watched as she jogged on the spot, her breath a thick mist as she dragged the satin tubes around her arms down over her knuckles. He could hear people gathering outside the park as she turned to take a running jump off the end of the jetty.
“Go!” Tucker screamed.
And with seven strides, Six reached the end of the ramp and vaulted into the darkness.
This is all wrong, Six thought as she landed first on her hands and felt the ice crackling beneath them.
Hastily she flipped back into the air, wishing to spend as little time on the frozen lake as possible.
I should be strangling my grandfather, I don’t have time for this. Six followed through with an ambitious double somersault but this time landed clumsily, falling over and skidding on her back.
Damn it, why me? Why do I have to take all this responsibility? I’m just a 16-year-old girl! Righting herself, Six turned to cartwheel over the slick surface, once, twice, three times.
What if the sheriff dies? Having gained momentum, she crouched with her left leg splayed out in front of her and her right tucked beneath. Sliding forward, she pushed with her arms until the wreckage of the plastic boat loomed into view.
Then it will be all my fault. Just like it was at Parliament. All alone, when the monkey comes along and I…
Suddenly Six became aware of a heavy shape, bobbing up against the underside of the ice. She slid over to it on all fours, slipping like a baby not yet able to stand.
“Here! Use this!” she heard Tucker cry from the jetty, and out of the blackness Sir Justice’s axe came skidding towards her, a length of rope tied to its handle. Six careered into the broken pedal swan and used it to turn, grabbing the weapon and immediately swinging it above her head, smashing it face down through the ice.
“Arrrrgh!” she screamed as she wielded it, until finally the ice began splitting into chunks and the body of Sir Justice floated towards her. Six began heaving him out, the frozen water slicing into her arms. She wasn’t strong enough. “He’s too heavy!” she cried.
And then another voice reached her. It was Grandpa’s. “Tie the rope around him, sweetheart!” he shouted.
How dare he be here! Six thought desperately, how dare he call me sweetheart! How dare he try to help!
It wasn’t until she’d looped the harness under the sheriff’s hairy arms that she noticed the girl held tightly within them. The little princess Neon, her face stone blue in the moonlight. Her teddy bear sinking beneath her.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Pull, pull!” she screamed and the rope went taut, lifting them both to the surface.
“Here, let me help.” And there Tucker was with her, skidding and falling across the lake as he grabbed an arm and helped haul the pair out of the water and onto the ice.
It took only moments to drag them back to the jetty. Everyone from the bar had come and each took a hand to the rope. Her grandpa beamed when he saw her. He set about pumping Sir Justice’s stomach as Tucker took charge over Neon.
Six began shaking uncontrollably and someone draped a blanket over her shoulders. People were trying to rub her dry her but she pushed them away as Al joined in, giving the sheriff the kiss of life.
How could they? Six shivered. How can I trust either of them when they helped kill Lord Truth? When they tried to kill me!
Tucker was attempting to resuscitate Princess Neon, the young girl lying silently at his knees, her eyes vacant and her lips pursed. A large group had gathered around them, watching him knead her delicate chest.
“Is that the Princess?” one woman screamed.
“Oh my God!” another shouted.
“What the hell was she doing out there? Is she dead?” the baker asked.
“How long had she been down there for?” said another.
Carol Lee, Captain of the Kings Guards, was among the spectators. Six reached out to her with trembling hands. “Carol? Carol, I think I need to talk to you,” she mumbled. “Carol?”
“Not now, Six,” the captain turned, her bright blue eyes barely meeting the knight’s before turning back to the princess. “I have to go.” And with that she was sprinting back up the bank and into the darkness.
Sir Justice erupted in a fit of coughs and splutters. “What! Where am I?” he rasped, belching fistfuls of water. “The little girl, the princess, is she alright?” he croaked.
And again all eyes were on Tucker, his ear pressed close to Neon’s mouth, her body tiny under a stack of blankets, a small river of water trickling from her lips.
The knight’s apprentice remained silent as Six pushed her way back through the crowd towards him, pulling the damp satin slips from her arms.
“Well, Tucks,” Six felt so cold, as if the frozen lake had slowly taken hold of her heart. “Is she dead?”
“No, no I think she’s in some kind of coma, but she’s breathing,” the boy smiled.
Tucker felt the crowd’s relief at his words, many of them either crying or cheering in response.
“You hear that? She’s breathing!”
“She’s alive! She’s alive!”
“Oh, thank God!”
“Call the King!”
Six too visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping. “Here,” Tucker said, quietly passing her an object wrapped in a wet tissue.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Dunno, I found it in her pocket.”
Six pulled the tissue apart only to find a cracked shell within. “A bird’s egg? Yuck! Filthy thing, why the hell did she have that?” Six said as she tossed the egg aside.
But people were too busy applauding to notice the discarded keepsake as it landed on the ground, quickly crushed and trampled under their feet. The townsfolk were closing in around the knights, slapping them on the back. Some even hugging them, kissing them. It’s almost like we’re heroes again, Tucker thought.
“Three cheers for the knights!” one man shouted.
“Hip-hip hooray!” they began.
But Tucker ducked out of the celebrations and returned to Neon, eager to check on his patient.
Something had changed.
“Six, Six! Look at this!” he pleaded through the noise.
Six pulled herself from the throng and bent over her friend to get a better view of the princess. She stared into the little girl’s eyes and then immediately drew back.
They had turned pure white.
Chapter Fourteen
THE PEREGRINE falcon swept through the night sky before diving through an arched window. Beyond bulging curtains she then pulled herself to a halt in mid-air, her pointed wings fanning tall and wide as she screeched.
A stream of white smoke spiralled from her freckled chest, thickening into a liquid vortex that quickly outgrew her, and with a final twist filled with colours - brown, black, gold and red. The raptor then let out a second agonising scream and the vortex swelled until a woman appeared with an audible POP!
Princess Serena swept confidently forward, the bird fluttering drunkenly in her wake.
Jon Way didn’t look up but remained focused, his hands hovering over the King’s solar plexus as he tried to heal him.
“Princess Serena,” he said. “How nice to see you.”
Serena Way strode across the stone-flagged floor of the King’s chambers, a dark brown shirt tied at her waist, the gold braid at the hems of her thin black trousers flowing behind her. She sidled towards her husband with her hands clasped behind her back, the precious white stones hanging around her neck cracking together as she bent over him. She stopped only to curl a loop of luxurious black hair behind her right ear, and kissed him delicately on the cheek. “Hello Jon.”
Her rich scent mingled with the fresh air to cast a spell on her husband’s wavering hands. She’s been feeding, he thought, as the falcon landed on the brass rail at the end of the King’s bed. Or one of them has.
The bird, called Buckley, slipped on the metal pole, her large claws unable to grip its polished surface. Free of her soul mate
she looked far smaller than she had flying through the skies of Albion. The falcon nodded, her bright eyes staring down at the face of the old King, withered and grey beneath his bed linen.
Serena began stroking her father’s hair. It was dry and fragile under her fingers. Folds of yellow skin flapped at his eyeballs and his stretched neck seemed almost translucent, the purple blood beneath it peppered with liver spots.
“How is he?”
“He’s been better,” Jon sighed. “That meeting took a lot out of him.”
Jon Way looked up at his wife from behind his mirrored shades. Her angular features, bronze skin and elegant poise, nothing in her looks had changed since he saw her in the council chambers. Yet somehow the distance between them felt ever greater.
Serena rested her hand gingerly on his shoulder. “But you can help him, Jon?”
The magician felt his body melt slightly at her touch. “If the King’s will to live is as strong as his spirit was to bring us to Albion all those years ago, then the energy I’m channelling into him will certainly help.” Jon cleared his throat. “But his body’s determination to die is strong Serena and, let’s face it, he’s had a good innings. At his age it’s a miracle he’s alive at all.”
Serena looked down at her husband’s hands, his right hovering over her father’s stomach, his left over the heart. Yellow and green light bubbled from his palms, sending a shaft of power into each area, fizzing as it fed the King’s ailing organs in continual, angled blasts.
Jon turned again to his wife as the light spilled beneath his fingers, one circled by a wedding ring holding a similar stone to those in her necklace. “As such my magic may only speed up death’s process, Serena. But it’s all I can do.”
The princess placed an arm around her husband, her long hair falling on her father’s bedclothes, as the energy Jon fed him turned blue and red. “You do so much, Jon. I only wish I could say the same.”
And with that she moved away to the arched window and stared through its diamond panes, as though she already longed to jump out and fly away again. Buckley fluttered to the top of a bookcase.
Fighting his frustration, Jon Way drew a symbol in the air with his right index finger. He then clapped theatrically and an arc of colours swam over the old man, shimmering like a rainbow. Jon stood back, admiring his work.
He then refocused on his wife. “I’m sure his health will be uplifted by your presence here, Serena. It’s so rare, nowadays, that we are graced with your company.”
Serena looked away. Fidgeting, she untied and tied her blouse so it sat higher on her abdomen. “I did miss you, Jon,” she watched as the words fell on the cold, stone floor of her father’s bedroom. “Both you and my father.”
Jon Way stepped closer. “And what of our daughter, Serena? Have you seen her yet?”
The princess’s sharp nose lifted as she glared at the magician. “Of course I have. Surely you’re not insinuating that…”
But her husband cut her short. “And has she seen you,” he pointed to the falcon, “other than in your bird form?”
Serena said nothing.
“You should have told us where you were going, Serena,” Jon shook his head.
“As I said at the council, father wanted to keep my mission a secret. Besides, what difference would it make, you’d still have been furious.”
“What difference would it make? Serena, you were gone for two weeks. We were worried about you. And don’t tell me that it takes that long to fly to London and back?”
As if unable to stay still, Buckley spread her wings, flapping gently around the couple as they stood in the middle of the room.
“Buckley needed to hunt,” the princess turned from her husband. “You cannot expect us to stay cooped up in this city forever. We need to fly, Jon, we need to be free.”
The King’s chambers, she noted, had seen better days. A painting of a Scottish stag had blackened with age and insulation foam poked between the stone flagged walls. A single white flower brightened the room, sitting in a glass jar between Jason King’s television awards, gathering dust on the mantelpiece.
It did not, however, lighten the mood.
“It was too dangerous, Serena. You shouldn’t have gone,” Jon argued. “Besides, Neon and I could have helped but you’ve closed off your thoughts from us.”
Jon took his denim coat from an iron hat stand. The room was freezing, the King recently insisting that both windows should be kept open. The fresh Highlands air was keeping him alive, he said. As long as it isn’t killing him of hypothermia, the magician thought.
“What’s the matter, Jon? Didn’t you want me to find out that Lord Truth had been killed?” Serena said quietly.
Her husband paused. “What does that mean?”
“Someone murdered him, Jon.” Finally, Serena turned back, nervously pulling a red crystal from her pocket and showing him. “Who stood to gain more from that than you? Maybe we should all be hiding our thoughts?”
Jon scowled at the stone. “Serena, you of all people know my powers aren’t that strong. I can’t just dip into your mind and spy on you whenever I feel like, no matter what others believe.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” she said boldly. “How ironic that you can share our thoughts and yet yours remain so guarded.”
“What, you think I killed Lord Truth?” Jon’s anger swelled. “HE WAS MY FRIEND!”
“And you helped plan his trip to London,” his wife advanced. “Where is your grief, Jon? While the rest of the city mourns, what are you doing?”
“I, I have no time for grief!” Jon stuttered. “While you’re flying around with your soul mate here, I’m trying to figure out how this city’s going to survive!”
“With you and the children at the helm?”
“Yes, with the children! Without the Seekers...”
“The Seekers,” Serena almost spat the word, “are your puppets, Jon! Neon among them, farming themselves, abusing their gifts to light TVs and toasters!”
His hands still warmed by the healing he’d been practicing on the King, Jon attempted to reach out to his wife. “But it was Neon’s choice, Serena. She decided to become a Seeker.”
But the princess pushed away from her husband. “Was it Jon, was it really her decision? Or was it yours?”
“Well, like every good decision made in this city,” the King sat perched on the side of his bed and wiggled a finger in his right ear as he spoke. “I thought it was mine.”
The couple turned to watch the old man looking for his slippers. He smiled weakly, a pinkish hue having returned to his mottled cheeks.
“Now I enjoy a good bust up as much as the next man but I think you two ought to pipe down a little. Not everyone in this castle wants to hear it,” he said. “Actually, scratch that, they probably do, but maybe your earlier jousting gave them enough excitement for one day, eh?”
Serena recovered herself and drifted over to her father, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You must forgive us father, but this is not your business.”
“None of my business,” the King chuckled. “Serena, you’re talking about my granddaughter here. The future of this city.”
“I too am sorry for waking you, your majesty, but this isn’t about Neon,” Jon looked accusingly at his wife. “It’s about trust.”
Serena screeched like the bird before her. “Oh Jon, don’t treat us like fools! It’s about you. It’s always about you!”
Jon Way shook his head. “Serena, you’re not thinking clearly. With Lord Truth gone we need the children to…”
But his wife threw up her arms in disgust. “Oh, please! And there was me hoping that with that imperious arse out of the picture we’d actually start thinking for ourselves!”
The King and Jon Way were left looking shocked, when Carol Lee, Captain of the King’s Guards, burst into the chambers. “Sire! Sire!”
“Carol?” the King answered warmly. “How good to...”
“It’s your grandda
ughter, your highness,” Carol Lee looked nervously at Serena and Jon, and swallowed hard.
“You need to come right away.”
Chapter Fifteen
The end of the world, Six thought. What a joke.
Having returned from the lake, she was now standing beside Tucker in the broadcast tower, watching the chaos unravel below.
I mean, the world hasn’t actually ended at all, so why does everyone act like it has? It’s not as if we could destroy it even if we tried. Just each other. That’s all we’ve managed to do, kill everybody. And yet here we are.
She watched as the falcon flew through the castle doors and out, towards the hospital. The King, his courtiers and Neon’s parents had been rushing back and forth between the two buildings for over an hour now, the night seemingly endless.
The last few survivors, she thought, destroying each other. With no one left to trust, not even our own families. Maybe we shouldn’t survive at all? Maybe the world would be better off?
Six closed her eyes and shook her head. A million tears were welling up inside her but she kept them back. Perhaps we’d all be better off?
“So, explain to me again why we can’t tell the King?” Tucker asked softly.
He was now slumped in his swivel chair and Six became slowly aware of the pearls around her neck, the red crystal gripped tightly in her hand, as he stared at her.
She sighed. “Because we don’t know who else is involved yet, do we? We can’t trust anybody.”
“Because your grandpa tried to kill us, and did kill Lord Truth, with a toy monkey?”
“Probably, yes,” the knight hissed in despair. “And will you please be careful?” Running to the grate, she used her sword to fish out a red crystal from among the yellow and orange elements.
“You think I don’t know, Tucks, you think I don’t know how it sounds? Here,” she added, throwing him the gem, “put another one in your pocket.”
Tucker caught the crystal, hot in his hands, and juggled it until it cooled. “Well, maybe if I understood what the hell was going on, I could be a little more help,” he said sourly.
The Last Days Page 11
