And Roger is out of the bed and off fast to the door.
Luke checks again his other cousins – Ruth asleep with a serious expression, Rose with the rags unfurling from her hair, Rory with his fists tight as though ready for a scrap.
‘Come on!’ calls Roger.
Luke goes on tiptoe to the door, eyes on the walls of The Amazon watching – all wide with what Luke recognises as warning.
‘Can’t see them,’ says Roger, flat on his belly, trying to peer through the sliver of space between door and floor.
Luke presses an eye tight to the keyhole. ‘Neither can I,’ he says. ‘Hallway is empty now.’
‘Well, I’d say that means the coast is clear, dear cousin,’ says Roger. ‘So let us pursue with all haste!’
And opens the door and out he goes.
Luke feels the walls of The Amazon bristle with that same watchful warning … knows that if they could send out claws to hold him and keep him safe they would. But he decides: I don’t want to be kept safe always! And I don’t want to just read books to learn Magic … I want to do something proper …
He follows his cousin out into the chilly hall.
‘Luke! This way here!’
Roger already far along the hall and waiting crouched at the bottom of the staircase to the second floor. Luke moves through delicate pre-dawn light but before he reaches the staircase or his cousin, Roger is away again – up the steps in a run without a bit of pause! And again Luke has no choice (he will wonder later though, Did I? Should I have done things differently?) – he follows.
Along the way Roger makes a great game of it all – on the second floor starts creeping, feigning, pretending someone is approaching and ducks down behind a table or statue, or slips behind a tapestry and becomes very still, like stillness means being unseen. And Luke does the same, and enjoys it.
Now the staircase that leads to the third floor and Luke knows the fun will all end now – no one but Mother and Father are allowed onto the third floor, a potent Spell of Cessation has been set and will not allow them to climb any further … But somehow Roger is able to scale the steps. Luke is wondering how this is happening or what might have Dismissed the Spell when he hears his father saying –
‘We shall arrive exactly inside the GPO.’
Hears one of the soldiers. ‘Good stuff. You still sure you lot want to come with?’
‘This is the decision of the Driochta.’ Lady Vane-Tempest? ‘It has been discussed at length amongst us and we have made up our minds. We shall stand beside you.’
‘Aye.’ (The soldier who was so restless at dinner, thinks Luke.) ‘But you’ll be keeping your identities secret, eh? Unlike us.’
‘Needs to be done,’ says the gruff voice of Lawrence Devine.
‘True, it is simply necessity,’ says the unmistakable voice of Flann Dorrick. ‘We need to remain –’
Lord Mountfathom interrupts. ‘Needs to be now or not at all.’
Some silence.
Perhaps the soldiers answer or perhaps the Driochta discusses more, but Luke is too much caught by the panicked throw of his own heart against his ribs. Is too caught by the tone of his father – apprehensive, almost scared? A tone Luke has never heard in his father’s voice before.
‘Come on,’ mouths Roger.
He and Luke slowly climb and at the top of the stairs stand on a dark landing with one dark corridor burrowing away to the right – flees and twists away from them into deep shadow. No windows, Luke notices. Notices too: wall to his left painted emerald, wall to his right painted crimson.
They listen.
Sure sound of a key being put to a lock … more moments and a single high note like a Needle has been whirled through the air … now an odd silence.
Roger whispers, ‘Now what the devil are those fiendish fellas up to?’
Luke feels suddenly annoyed. ‘Whatever is going on isn’t some game! I think we should return to The Amazon.’
‘You are such a coward,’ says Roger. ‘Are you going to cry?’
Luke turns away – feels he does cry too much, but at odd things – when he sees a dead fox, or a snapped branch after a storm, or a shattered egg at the base of a tree.
Roger tells him, ‘You need to grow up! Be more of a man.’
(Sounds definitely to Luke like Uncle Walter.)
But Luke isn’t quick with backchat or cheek so doesn’t know what to say but, ‘Well, I’m not a man yet and you aren’t either. I’m only ten-nearly-eleven and you’re only just twelve.’
Cousin Roger rolls his eyes.
Both boys are startled at the sound of a door being slammed.
Silence.
‘Now let us go back,’ says Luke.
But Roger only smiles – grins wide and wider as he reaches into the pocket of his pyjamas and takes out a heavy, careworn key clustered around the haft with crimson stones …
‘When did you take that?’ says Luke. ‘My mother will –’
‘I think we should go and investigate the greatest mystery of Mountfathom!’ says Roger. He races off down the dark hallway, one hand to the crimson wall and with Luke following fast as he can, one hand to the emerald wall and wondering what storm of trouble they are stirring with this trespass.
But Luke can’t help his curiosity; on the walls, group portraits with eight individuals in each. Previous generations of Driochta, seeing the Needles at their belts and all grasping wooden sculptures in the shape of their animals – hawk and warthog and lemur and emu and lion – and Luke wonders at the long history of the Order that he will one day join … is still wondering when he runs into Roger –
Hallway ends with a dark door. Both boys look to the only feature – a silver door handle shaped like a hand, reaching for them. Or beckoning? Silver fingers curled gently inwards.
Luke implores Roger, ‘Please, Father said I was never to go through without him or Mother and the other Driochta, and even then not till I am older and have learned more.’
‘Why not?’ asks Roger. ‘What have they got hidden behind this door?’
‘Father said –’ Luke starts and stops. Swallows and says, ‘He told me once that there was a Monster behind there.’
‘Ha!’ cries Roger. ‘He just told you that to keep you away! What rot!’
And again, Roger too quick. Slots the crimson key into the lock and twists it and moments later the sound of a squeal – a note like pure panic that makes Luke’s heart hammer and blood hurtle …
The dark door springs open and within is another dark with an air of expectancy.
Neither boy moves.
Roger steps forward.
Luke grabs his cousin’s arm but this is all still a game – like something Roger has contrived rules for and is in perfect control of so he announces, ‘Now we two heroes set off bravely into the unknown!’
And he steps forward to be taken by the dark.
Luke waits on the threshold for an excruciating amount of time. (Thinks of going for help and doesn’t. Considers calling out but stays silent. Half-turns away from the door only to face it once again.) In the end, does the only thing he can – takes the crimson key from the lock and follows his cousin Roger through the doorway and into the unknown.
A single step, the dark door slams shut behind.
Like night? Worse, more unforgiving – like the extinguishing of all light, nothing left in the wide world but Luke and the sound of his own desperate breathing. He walks the dark. And is frightened and worried, but carries also a shiver of excitement – so far he has been told nothing much of Magic or the true business of the Driochta, but now here he is … now he is learning. He feels so much space around him – as though he is wandering an enormous darkened room, a place teeming with possibility and adventure. And the idea comes to Luke that he can go anywhere he wants! Some enticement in the blackness seems to whisper: I will show you what needs to be shown. I can take you anywhere. There is nowhere you cannot go! Nothing you cannot learn here! Some presence implo
res him – attracts and at the same times terrifies him and Luke can think only with a shiver: Monster.
Now he hears something else: a whimper, a sniffle.
He calls: Roger? Where are you?
His voice sounds different – like an echo of itself, like less than a whisper.
But suddenly: crimson light rises in his hand, his mother’s key glowing and laying a path on the ground that strains towards a figure standing with shoulders hunched and looking stricken. It takes many moments for Luke to recognise the figure as Roger.
Luke hurries along the crimson light, follows it like a path until he reaches his cousin and asks, You alright?
Roger nods.
Looks more scared than I feel, thinks Luke.
We are lost, says Roger, voice shivering. I don’t know where to go!
Luke finds himself saying, Do not panic. We shall be fine. Most important thing now is to find our way back.
But as he turns and holds the crimson key higher, the desire comes to mind, Wonder where those soldiers went? Wonder where Father and the other Driochta were taking them to?
And as though in answer, the key blazes so bright both boys recoil and have to half-shield their eyes – on the blackness of the ground, a fresh red light spills from their feet and slithers off into the dark.
We follow this, says Luke.
Light meets light in the shape of a doorway only paces off – thin as a paper-cut and crimson and both boys hurry towards it and Luke notices a keyhole leaking crimson light and slips his mother’s key into the lock, turns it and pushes the door.
And so much for silence – such noise! Screams and a single shout of –
‘Keep firing! They’ll not get the bloody better of us!’
All around stone and glass are shattering and exploding and the stench of gun smoke stings Luke’s eyes and nostrils as he sees figures sprinting back and forth through toiling dust like an agitation of Traces. He thinks: This is some place so far from home! Surely not even Ireland! And we need to get away from here …
Luke takes his cousin’s hand and they turn back towards the doorway.
Before they can escape they’re grabbed and thrown to the floor.
A man stands over them, battered rifle in hand.
Luke recognises him – the soldier who smoked and stood and debated at the oval table in The World. Who whispered a promise to Luke, ‘I know what’s for the best of this country. Just you wait and see.’
This soldier swears at them and demands, ‘What the hell are you two doing here? Why did you follow us?’
Another door is thrown open and another man enters to swear and shout, ‘What the hell is going on? Patrick, what are those bloody children doing here? And where do you think you’re going?’
This last question because Roger is up and running again – dodges the man in the doorway and disappears off.
Soldiers shout, ‘Stop! Wait there!’
Because Luke again has to follow.
Can hardly see – pale dust everywhere and Luke stumbles, hands out, fingertips catching on broken stone and bringing blood. Blunders on and collides with statues poised on blocks of marble – heads and arms missing, whole sections blasted away.
He has a sense of so many people moving around him.
Luke stops and leans against the wall. A sob rises to his lips as he says, ‘Father – where are you? Please come and take us home.’
Crimson key once more brightens in his hand.
And as though he has Worked his first Spell and sent a Messenger to retrieve his father – Luke sees a figure approaching. A man with his father’s dark hair and emerald eyes but not his face. This man stops, Works a hand in the air and this face shivers and softens and slowly deigns to become Lord Mountfathom.
‘A Spell of Subterfuge,’ says Luke, barely thinking.
His father nods – would perhaps be pleased at any other time that his son has been reading and learned to recognise the Spell. But the expression on the face of Lord Mountfathom is like nothing Luke has ever seen so cannot describe – perhaps frightened, perhaps worried, but so sternly powerful. Luke sees that in one hand his father holds his Needle and in the other hand he holds his emerald key.
His father speaks. ‘Did you come alone?’
Luke knows his father knows the answer already but he shakes his head and says, ‘No. Roger is here too somewhere.’
Lord Mountfathom says, ‘Which way did he go?’
Luke says, ‘I don’t know, Father. I’m sorry.’
They wait moments. And the sounds in their ears Luke thinks are surely of the world coming to some sudden end – so much collapsing and crumbling and tearing down … And eventually Lord Mountfathom says, as though thinking aloud, ‘I knew this was a dangerous stand for the Driochta to take. I knew the risk. Quickly, son – we have to find your cousin. Stay close to me.’
They move together through more smoke and explosion.
Luke catches sight of more men wielding rifles, wearing dark rags across their mouths, and soon the air around them is polluted not with pale dust but with darkness. They emerge into a wider space: a hall where the noise is loudest and close to unbearable, tables everywhere overturned and papers scattered on a cracked marble floor and pillars hewn in the shape of Ash-Dragons felled and split and so many men at a row of tall windows firing into the street beyond, feet planted on sacks packed for barricades – coal their contents, spilling free and adding darkness to the air.
One of the men at the window turns and hollers, ‘What the hell is going on? Why is the boy here?’
Luke recognises something in the man’s bearing – the hunch and thickset shoulders – Mr Devine? And another man nearby – tall and thin and with a gentleman’s bearing, surely Mr Dorrick also under a Spell of Subterfuge to conceal his appearance – shouts, ‘How did he follow us? How did he find his way through the Gloaming?’
A woman approaches them and even without the Needle in her hand Luke would still have known this as Lady Vane-Tempest as she demands, ‘William, what on earth is going on?’
But there is no time for answer – Luke sees Roger and grabs his father’s arm and shouts, ‘There!’ His cousin is huddled beside one of the fallen Ash-Dragon pillars, his face screwed tight with crying.
‘Go!’ says Lady Vane-Tempest. ‘Take them both and go!’
But at the same time another shout from one of the men at the windows: ‘Watch it! They’ve got Indigo Fire!’
Lord Mountfathom grabs Luke and together they run to Roger and each take an arm and wrench him to his feet –
Luke turns –
A bright blue light blossoms at one of the windows –
The sight is transfixing: almost soothing, somehow subduing the battle –
‘Do not look at the Indigo Fire!’ Lord Mountfathom tells his son.
But blue light becomes brighter and brighter –
Luke sees Lady Vane-Tempest and Lawrence Devine and Flann Dorrick whirl their Needles in their air but too late –
Blue fire – more like water! – explodes through glass and gushes over sills to sweep across marble floor to the sound of so much screaming from the men.
Dorrick and Devine and Vane-Tempest Mogrify – take their animal forms as cheetah and chimpanzee and peacock and leap and spring and take flight to keep themselves free of the flames –
But Luke does not move. Realises that the fire will be at his feet in the next breath –
His father flicks his Needle to sound a sharp note –
Pillar shaped like an Ash-Dragon is given life and throws itself in front of Luke and Roger and Lord Mountfathom as the Indigo Fire breaks like a wave against its stone body –
A fine spray of flame peppers Roger’s clothing and he screams out as Mountfathom grabs both boys and shouts, ‘This way!’
They run.
Back down the corridor, Luke feeling the Indigo Fire still in pursuit. His father is furiously Conducting, sending screaming notes into the air with
twitches of his Needle, bidding the headless and limbless statues to leave their marble plinths and throw themselves in front of the flames. But they can only slow and not stop the tide.
‘A door,’ says Lord Mountfathom, pointing. ‘The crimson key – quick!’
Luke understands and with fumbling hands works his mother’s key into the lock and turns it and –
‘Wait!’ his father tells him, and Luke knows they are waiting for the note that signals the connection to the dark place beyond the doorway – the place of such uncertainty and possibility. But over the sounds of screaming, how they can they hope to hear?
‘We can’t wait,’ says Luke, and turns the handle and grabs the sleeves of his cousin and his father and pulls them through and slams shut the door on blue fire and battle.
‘Daddy! Mummy!’
Soon as they return to Mountfathom, Roger is away – crying for his parents. And Luke cannot pity his cousin – feels now as though he hardly knows him, or perhaps knows him better than he has done before. Luke knows this anyway: Roger will plead innocence and likely lie. Will blame and exaggerate and do anything at all to free himself of responsibility.
Luke feels a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t speak – cannot look yet into the eyes of his father. He is too ashamed. He starts to sob.
He hears his father say, ‘Come with me, son.’
They walk back down the dark corridor. Down the staircase with Lord Mountfathom Working his hand to reset the Spell of Cessation.
They arrive at the library. The single tall window gives a view onto the sunken garden, colours coming into their own in the light of morning. Luke is let sit in the chair behind the desk – a seat only his father usually takes. Lord Mountfathom stands, and over the sounds of the dawn chorus starts to do something like explain.
‘I am sorry, son. I should have realised that curiosity would have got the better of you.’
‘You told me to watch,’ says Luke. Still weeping, still cannot meet his father’s eye. Stares instead at his hands – bloodied and blackened, coated with pale dust and dark and still holding tight to the crimson key, its low light almost extinguished. Swallows and says, ‘You told me to listen and learn.’
The House of Mountfathom Page 4
