by V M Jones
‘So … back to the clue,’ said Kenta reluctantly. ‘The previous ones haven’t required any special knowledge — we’ve been successful using simple common sense. Why should this one be different?’
‘Hard to see where the word simple comes into it, though,’ said Gen wryly. ‘The symbols have to be the key, and they’re anything but simple. There must be something we’re not seeing. Don’t some symbols have … oh — a philosophical meaning or something, kind of condensed down to one character? Maybe it’s one of those.’
‘Yeah, right — and we just have to figure out which one,’ muttered Rich, staring gloomily at the wall. ‘Easy, huh?’
Gen rolled her eyes in his direction impatiently. ‘I bet the answer’s staring us in the face. Like, say …’ she read the poem over again, lips moving and she mouthed the words silently. Then her face lit up. ‘Infinity, perhaps?’
‘And there’s the sign for infinity!’ yelped Jamie. ‘Over there, see: an eight, lying on its side!’
But the sign for infinity didn’t work either.
‘You’re very quiet, Adam,’ said Kenta, looking over at me. ‘Have you any thoughts?’
I shrugged awkwardly. ‘Nah, not a single one,’ I admitted. ‘I wish I had. I feel totally useless. This is the kind of thing I’m worst at. Puzzles and riddles and poetry and stuff like that. It’d have to be dead simple for me to figure it out. Something real, real basic.’ I glanced down at the poem. ‘Like, the letter e, or something.’
‘Well, you contribute in other ways, Adam,’ said Kenta, giving me a shy smile and putting a gentle hand on my shoulder.
Gen was staring at me like she’d seen a ghost. ‘What did you just say?’ she croaked.
‘Nothing, forget it.’ I shrugged.
‘You said: the letter e. The answer is the letter e! It’s the first letter of eternity, the last letter of time and space, the first letter of end and the last letter of place!’
‘But which letter e?’ said Rich. ‘There are two of them.’
‘No, there aren’t: there are three.’
‘No, four — look, there’s one over on that side.’
But I was betting there’d be five. And sure enough, Kenta spotted a fifth one hiding away up at the top.
Relief flooded through me in a tide so strong my head swam. Please, please — let it work! Each of us covered an e with the palm of our right hand. And without a sound, two things happened.
The wall covering the exit doorway faded away to nothing … and so did the flagstone beside Kenta’s left foot. She leapt back with a little shriek of surprise, and moments later we were all leaning over it, even Gen.
There in the cavity left by the flagstone was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. It was a snake, of course, but as it slid with silken grace round its pit, the sunlight flashed and played on its skin like light on a precious emerald. You longed to touch it. Every couple of circuits it would rear up and spread its hood like a cobra — a hood iridescent with blues and greens and turquoise deep as the sea, like the colours of a peacock’s tail.
This time, Kenta insisted it was her turn to milk the serpent of its venom. But Rich and I hovered close. In spite of its beauty, there was something about this serpent that made me feel uneasy. It was a lot bigger than any of the others except the giant black one; there was something in its eyes I didn’t like, and I had a sense that it was somehow more aggressive.
But all went smoothly, and soon Kenta had handed me the phial of shimmering emerald potion, and was kneeling to replace the serpent in its pit. As she let go it reared up, spreading its hood and hissing angrily. It wove to and fro, like liquid green fire. Its eyes glittered, and its forked tongue flickered dangerously.
Gen, who’d been sitting near the edge of the pit, scooted backwards hastily. And in that instant, its attention drawn by her sudden movement, the serpent struck. With the speed of light, its head flashed forward and its fangs fastened on Gen’s hand, outspread on the floor.
I leapt forward and prised its jaws free and threw it roughly back into the pit, wishing there was a lid to slam over it. Every drop of colour drained from Gen’s face, and she swayed, staring at the twin drops of blood beading the back of her hand. Rich goggled, his face a mask of shock. But it was Jamie who grabbed Gen under the arms and tugged her away from the brim of the pit, out of harm’s way.
Kenta crouched beside her, peering anxiously into her face. ‘Gen — Gen, are you all right? Do you feel short of breath? Do you feel pins and needles in your hand? Heart palpitations? Oh, I wish I knew more about snakebite!’
Amazingly, the calmest of us all seemed to be Gen. She took a deep, shaky breath, and when she answered she sounded reassuringly normal — even impatient. ‘Don’t panic, Kenta. It hurts, like after an injection. I feel … numb.’
‘Numb?’ repeated Kenta, alarm flashing onto her face like a neon light. ‘Quick — let me take your pulse!’
‘No, not that kind of numb — just numb with horror. I feel like I’ve been bitten on the hand, and it’s sore, and I’m in the middle of the worst day in my whole life … and I wish I was home. That’s all.’
‘Well, when you think about it, maybe there isn’t too much to worry about,’ chipped in Rich encouragingly. ‘Luckily it’s just been milked. And let’s not forget which serpent it is. Rather than expecting Gen to keel over and die, you’d expect … well … something … different to happen.’
There was a pause while we digested his words. We stared at Gen. She flushed — a bright pink tide that started off at the bump at the end of her nose and worked its way outward, till even the tips of her sticky-out ears were glowing like traffic lights. She darted a little, shy, hopeful glance up at us. ‘Oh! Am I …’
‘Nah, not so you’d notice,’ admitted Richard. ‘But who knows? Maybe it takes time to work. Or maybe you need a lot more than that for it to be effective — especially if there’s, like, a fair bit to do.’
There was an awkward silence. Then Jamie jumped to his feet. ‘Come on — we don’t have time for this! I’m sure Richard’s right and the snakebite isn’t dangerous. But right now our first priority is to move on — and fast. Here’s the potion — tuck it away safely, Gen. I reckon you’ve earned the honour of carrying this one! Look — the floor’s closed over, and the doorway’s open. Let’s just hope the stairs lead down, and out of here!’
No escape
From nowhere, an unwelcome thought formed in my mind. It was something a teacher told us a mountaineer said about climbing Mount Everest: ‘Never forget that when you reach the summit, you’re only halfway.’
I looked at the open doorway, and, like Jamie, I hoped with all my heart the steps would lead downwards, and out of the temple.
But they didn’t.
Once again, the stairway led up — up not two flights this time, but four, up into the metal dome at the very top of the Temple.
It was a small, windowless chamber. The only light came from a long, thin slit in the roof high above us, almost as if someone had sliced into it with the blade of a knife. It was unbearably hot. Almost at once, I felt beads of sweat pop out on my forehead and upper lip.
‘The view from up here would be amazing, if only we could see out,’ Kenta whispered. Her voice echoed with a strange, metallic intensity.
‘Are we all here?’ I asked. ‘Rich? Jamie? Gen — are you still OK?’ They all answered. ‘Can anyone see Tiger Lily?’ There was silence.
I had a sudden, vivid memory: Tiger Lily sitting at the edge of the emerald serpent’s pit, her golden eyes fastened hypnotically on the snake as it slid in its endless circuit. Tiger Lily crouching in the same spot after the pit had closed over again, staring at the bare floor where the snake had been.
‘Shoot,’ I muttered, ‘I’ll bet that darn cat’s still down there. Wait for me, guys — I’ll be back in a sec.’
But when I turned to head down the stairs again the doorway had vanished, leaving only a bare wall.
It
was growing hotter by the minute.
‘Get out the parchment, Kenta,’ Rich said. ‘Maybe it’ll show us the way out.’
‘Yeah, and do it quick,’ gasped Jamie. ‘I’m stewing.’
Now that my eyes had adjusted to the gloom, I could see this room was very different from the ones below.
It measured perhaps eight strides from end to end. Again, it was completely circular, but this time there was no central pillar. Instead, in the middle of the room was a pedestal about waist height, with something protruding from the centre.
The dome-shaped metal roof radiated heat in almost tangible waves. The slit of light hurt my eyes when I looked up at it. Suspended in the darkness above us was a gigantic metal disk. Reaching my hand up, I could just reach it. It was cold and inert, and so heavy it didn’t budge when I pushed against it.
‘Adam, don’t,’ whispered Gen. She sounded scared. ‘What if it falls on us?’
Kenta shone her torch onto the floor. For the most part it was tiled, as it had been on the previous levels. But here, the tiles were inlaid with two huge metal plates, joined by a short strip running through the base of the pedestal.
‘The floor is a representation of a set of scales, I think,’ Kenta whispered. ‘The pedestal is like the centre of a seesaw. Do you think it’s symbolic of the scales used in the Chamber of Hearings? See how one of the ends is circular, and the other square?’
‘Stop waffling and pass over the parchment before we all fry,’ said Richard impatiently.
But when we opened the parchment up and peered at it in the light of the torch, there was no new message. The circular poem was there, and the four lines underneath, but the space above was blank.
‘Maybe the information we need is in the last part of the poem, and we don’t need an extra clue,’ Kenta said.
‘Put the parchment on the table,’ Jamie suggested. ‘Then we can all have a better look.’
We moved up to the pedestal, and Kenta carefully opened out the parchment.
I reached out one finger and touched the strange protrusion sticking up out of the centre. It was made of glass or crystal, like one of the phials we’d collected the potions in, only bigger. I wondered whether it could have some kind of ritual significance. Perhaps the Curators came up here and poured some of the venom into it as a kind of sacrifice, or something. Maybe we were supposed to pour some potion in too, to reveal the doorway leading down and out. If so, I hoped it would be the same one we’d come up. I was desperate to find Tiger Lily again.
A soft gasp from Kenta broke into my thoughts. I looked over her shoulder at the parchment. Where the blank space had been only moments before, a message was appearing: two words, growing gradually darker and more distinct as we watched.
ecape no
Gen started to cry.
A trickle of sweat ran down my spine like a cold finger.
‘Even I can figure this one out,’ said Rich. I knew his words were meant to make us smile, but they had a desperate, hollow ring.
‘But that’s not how you spell escape,’ said Jamie.
‘Maybe not,’ said Rich grimly, ‘but this isn’t a spelling test.’
The heat was like a furnace. My ears were starting to ring, and I felt light-headed. Next to me, Gen slumped to the floor. We needed to think — and fast. But my brain had gone numb. There was no way out I could see. No escape, just like the message said. I knew time must be running out — it could only be a matter of minutes before they came for us.
But we did have one option left. It was a last resort, but it was still an option — the only one I could see. It was our ticket home, and I could feel its reassuring shape against my back, through the fabric of my rucksack.
I tried to remember exactly what Q had said. When you make your re-entry, do so from the same point you arrived at, as exactly as possible. Logically, the interface between the two worlds will be strongest there.
It might not work from here. And it would mean leaving Tiger Lily behind.
‘Guys,’ I said, ‘there’s one more thing we can try.’
We stood in a huddle behind the pedestal, the parchment stashed in Kenta’s backpack. The others were all holding hands. I could feel Rich’s, big and damp with sweat, clamped firmly on the back of my neck.
Jamie was muttering the last four lines of the poem over and over, interspersed with the occasional, ‘Spelling does so matter, Rich.’ He sounded close to tears.
On the pedestal in front of me lay the microcomputer. It was switched on, and its screen glowed with a greenish fluorescence in the gloom. It looked weirdly hi-tech on the simple stone table, as out of place as something out of a science-fiction movie. I had a sudden, intense misgiving about what I was about to do.
I would have given everything I had to feel the solid, sleeping weight of the little cat in my backpack.
I squinted at the keyboard, searching for the right keys in the dark. I found them with my fingers and lifted the computer up in front of my nose. Peered at it again to make sure then closed my eyes, ready to press.
Suddenly Jamie yelled out, ‘One pace backwards! It’s not ‘no escape’! It’s one pace, written backwards. Spelling does matter, Richard! Quick, everyone, let’s try it! Take one pace back, now!’
Richard’s hand tightened on my neck. Still clutching tightly to one another, the five of us took one long step backwards, into the centre of the metal square on the floor.
As we stood there, a single ray of light as fine as a laser beam shot down from the slit in the roof above us, pierced the darkness, and struck the crystal phial. The crystal shattered the white beam into a multitude of rainbow colours that lit the chamber with a blinding flare of radiance.
Jamie yelled triumphantly:
‘Unless bright Serpent sun to Zenith climb
And fang of light doth pierce the phial of time!’
And in the same split second, the floor tilted away beneath us, and we dropped like stones into nothingness. As I fell I saw the other end of the scale swing up to smash against the huge disk suspended above.
A tidal wave of sound boomed after us into the black void as the noon gong sounded over Arakesh. Even falling, spinning through the darkness as I was, I flinched from the barrage of sound.
Instinctively, my hands clutched, clenching into fists … and my fingers clamped tight onto the keys of the computer.
The grey angel
Sound and light and black shards of darkness battered me from every side. I was falling, falling, weightless as in a dream, with the same sick feeling of having left my heart somewhere above me. I bounced and crashed against invisible walls, my brain rattling in my skull.
The roar of the gong carried me with it like a wall of water, bearing down on me, overtaking me, tumbling me over and over, bruising my body and searing my lungs like fire. Then I was rushing up, up, through deep, dark water, the sound of the gong ringing in my blood, pressure exploding my brain.
I was flung like a rag doll onto the shore of our world at last, bright light cleaving my skull like a sword, retching and spewing, too weak to breathe.
‘Adam? Adam — are you OK?’ It was Kenta’s voice, but it was far away.
My ears felt full of water. My body had turned to lead. I could feel small waves at the water’s edge sucking at me, tugging me back to the soft embrace of the ocean. If I could only roll over, I would reach it and it would take me back, floating, weightless, drifting …
‘Adam!’ A hand was shaking me roughly, dragging me back. I moaned, and tried to pull away. ‘Adam! Open your eyes — you’re scaring the girls!’
I wrenched my eyes open. My face was wet — from water, or sweat, or tears. I could feel a familiar roughness under my cheek, and something hard hurting my forehead.
I lifted my head. It weighed a ton.
The computer room at Quested Court slowly swam into focus. I was lying sprawled on the carpet under my computer desk with the leg of the desk digging into my forehead. I pushed myself u
p into a sitting position. I felt sick and heavy, as if gravity had suddenly doubled. Breathing was an effort, as though I was trying to suck treacle into my lungs, instead of air. Everything looked misty and indistinct, as if there was an oily film over my eyes.
The other four were staring down at me with worried faces.
‘Are you OK?’ quavered Gen.
‘Yeah — I guess.’ My tongue felt thick and swollen.
‘It was easy for me this time,’ said Jamie jauntily. ‘I got knocked about a bit, though, and I gave my head a bump. But hey — we’re back! Doesn’t it feel great?’
I stumbled clumsily to my feet.
‘Has anyone seen —’ I croaked.
Richard shook his head.
That was it, then. Tiger Lily was gone.
Suddenly Jamie clamped his hands onto his breeches, an expression of horror on his face. His face turned bright red and his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I think I’ve wet myself.’
I looked down at him. There was a dark stain on the seat of his breeches, but …
‘It’s OK, Jamie, I don’t think you have,’ I said numbly. ‘I think it’s the potion. The phial must have broken.’
‘Which one was it? It wasn’t …’ Gen’s voice was the merest whisper.
‘It was the one from the garden. The brown serpent. Inner Voices.’
‘I’ve got the beauty one,’ said Gen, turning slightly pink and digging in the pocket of her tunic. ‘Or rather …’ She held out her hand for us all to see. Sticking to her fingers like coarse, wet sand were the crushed remains of the phial that had once contained the emerald potion.
‘It was the re-entry,’ said Jamie. ‘Maybe you can’t bring things from one world into another — or not such delicate things. Maybe there’s some kind of — I dunno — sonic force or something that destroys them.’
