The Omega Children - The Return of the Marauders - Book 1

by Shane A. Mason

  So that's how they got the note under and disappeared.

  Pushing on it did not budge it.

  Maybe not.

  Eyes fully adjusted, she turned and faced the other way and shuffled forward moving a few paces at a time, waving her hands out in front so as to not hit any wall or overhead object. Within a few metres total blackness engulfed her. Knowing she needed something to illuminate the secret passage she headed back to the bedroom and crawled out. A torch sat on a piece of folded paper. She grabbed it and unfolded the paper which displayed hand written words.

  “Sorry. You will need this.”

  How absolutely puzzling. How did it get there? No one could have pushed it under the door, let alone enter and leave without her hearing, and nothing in the room had changed.

  Move forward.

  She flicked the torch on and dived back into the secret passage shining it before her. Mouse and rat poo littered the floor and thick dust-encrusted cobwebs clung from wall to wall. A small lever sat by the opening and as she pulled it the secret panel closed behind her.

  The secret passages seemed to go on forever and it felt like it stretched along the entire outer wall of the Cathedral-Mansion. At one point she tripped and the torch fell, landed hard and turned off. A thin slit of light shone from somewhere and locating it she peered through. A small bed, much like hers sat in a plain room with a handful of candles casting light about.

  The boys’ room?

  Finding the torch, she searched for a way in though could find no sliding panel. Disappointed, she moved on.

  One of these passages must lead to the boys.

  After what seemed like ages searching a multitude of the passages, she heard a familiar voice - Quixote’s on the other side of the wall singing a song. She located the side passage, found a lever and pulled it. A panel slid open. Quixote’s silhouette moved about in a makeshift tent, formed from a bedspread hanging over chairs.

  ‘Quixote,’ Melaleuca said.

  He stuck his head out, puzzled.

  ‘Over here,’ Melaleuca said.

  He looked confused. Her head and half her body poked out of the fireplace.

  ‘Mel! What are you doing?’ He moved toward her. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Shh. Where’s Ari?’

  ‘Here,’ Ari said lifting his head off his pillow.

  He leapt off the bed and rushed to her.

  ‘Well done Mel. What is it? A tunnel between our rooms?’

  ‘Better. Passageways to the whole house I think.’

  ‘Let us in,’ Quixote said.

  She barely had time to move before the boys wedged themselves into the small space.

  ‘Easy,’ Melaleuca said, ‘single file.’

  ‘Where does it lead? How far does it go?’ Quixote said rapid fire. ‘Is there treasure? Did you find any torture chambers?’

  ‘All in good time Quixote,’ Melaleuca said. ‘First we have to find Lexington.’

  They shuffled along giggling and laughing until Melaleuca pointed out they might be heard. Each time Quixote spotted a beam of light he insisted on peering in, though he saw little other than old furniture. In true Quixote style he started to become bored with it until he spied something.

  ‘Why’s Lexington in this room?’

  Melaleuca peered through the slit, and there stood Lexington in an empty room looking perplexed.

  ‘Can we get in there?’ Ari said.

  ‘Some of the rooms have levers that open panels. Search around.’

  Lexington swore the small creature had ducked into this room yet now it lay empty and such a thing defied the laws of physics. She looked at her footprints in the fine layer of dust on the floor and noted there were no other footprints.

  Impossible.

  The fireplace shook. Startled, she jumped back and watched as dust fell and the grate creaked. Expecting the creature to appear, Lexington crouched down readying herself. The back of the fireplace slowly ground open revealing a dark hole. Soot tumbled down stirring up the long-since disturbed ash into small eddies.

  ‘Wait,’ came Melaleuca’s voice out of it, followed by a little, ‘Oh!’

  Quixote’s head appeared through the clouds of dust, rammed there in his excitement to be first. With cobwebs draped across his impish sooty face he beamed one of his typical smiles.

  ‘Helllllooooo!’

  ‘Oh you’re not it,’ Lexington said.

  ‘Are we playing catch?’ Quixote said and wiggled his body out, taking the brunt of most of the soot and ash.

  Puffs of soot wafted toward Lexington and she waved them away.

  ‘What are you doing in there?’

  Not as dirty, Melaleuca and Ari squeezed themselves out and Melaleuca saw the surprise on Lexington’s face. Ari started dusting Quixote down though Melaleuca grabbed his arm.

  ‘Wait. Look at the mess we are leaving. Someone will know we have been here.’

  ‘Where did you come from?’ Lexington said. ‘How did you know to hide in there? In this room.’

  Melaleuca pushed the note into her hand. As Lexington read it Melaleuca explained.

  ‘It appears there are secret passageways along most walls.’

  Fascinated, Lexington said, ‘This means we can move around without being seen. Think of what we could find out.’

  ‘Quite,’ Melaleuca said, ‘but whoever left this note can move invisibly.’

  She quickly explained how the torch and second note had turned up.

  ‘But,’ Lexington said under protest, ‘...there is no such...thing...as...’ Her voice faltered and the last few words fell slowly from her mouth. ‘...as...invisibility. Is...there?’

  It would explain the creature though, Lexington thought. She urgently needed to work on her hypothesis and wondered out loud, ‘If the creature exists and disappeared into thin air, so might our mother, if it was our mother.’

  Melaleuca had not seen Lexington babble like this for a while.

  ‘What creature?’

  Lexington told of what she had seen.

  ‘So that explains why you were in here,’ Melaleuca said.

  ‘I’m just saying both vanished without a trace,’ Lexington said.

  ‘Mum didn’t leave footprints either,’ Ari said.

  Quixote sidled up to Lexington and nudged her and whispered, ‘Magic.’

  Ignoring Quixote’s quip Lexington said, ‘That could be a connection as well. Take me back to our room.’

  ‘We too, made a discovery,’ Melaleuca said and motioned to Ari. ‘We know why this is called a Cathedral-Mansion.’ She explained what they had seen.

  ‘A cathedral inside this mansion,’ Lexington repeated. ‘I want to see it.’ Her mind raced with more questions. ‘Aunty Gertrude mentioned that this is the last one holding together a passing age and that creature looked like Antavahni AND Antavahni mentioned a passing age as well.’

  They stared back waiting for her conclusion but none came.

  ‘Er...meaning?’ Ari said.

  Lexington swept her eyes around them and Melaleuca could see she was unsure.

  ‘I will know, eventually,’ Lexington said. ‘We shall just keep......moving forward, as the instructions from our mother said so and it will become apparent to me.’

  ‘I know you will. Come on. Let’s go,’ Melaleuca said.

  They headed off.

  *****

  Melaleuca pulled on the lever and the secret panel opened revealing the girls’ room. Melaleuca climbed out first. Another note lay on the floor and she grabbed it as the others climbed out.

  ‘Quick read it,’ Lexington said.

  ‘One more thing,’ Melaleuca read out loud, ‘It may not seem it, but there is great danger around you. To avoid it, keep on doing what you have done all your life, play.’

  Lexington read the note for herself.

  ‘That’s it!’ Ari said. ‘Play? I’ve a good mind to go and find that Uncle, show him the notes and demand to know what is goi
ng on.’ He headed for the door.

  ‘Wait there is more,’ Lexington said and she pointed to some small writing at the bottom of the note. ‘Ps - don’t tell anyone about these notes, especially your Aunt and Uncle. I will reveal myself in time.’

  Ari halted.

  ‘Great...so...what then?’

  Melaleuca saw their frustrations, but felt unruffled.

  Turmoil in the others creates calm in me.

  ‘We play, and we ─ ’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Lexington said. ‘We have no proof our parents were correct. They said they would return and didn’t. I want to list out everything that does not make sense and start there.’

  Quixote’s face dropped. ‘You mean sit around and do writing.’

  ‘Figuring out. I propose a hypothesis. That’s where I put forward some theories and then we test them and see if the facts fit them.’

  Melaleuca fought down her desire to scold Lexington. Was she hell bent on making her task as a leader difficult? Ari sensed this and meekly said, ‘Lexington needs to analyse Mel.’

  ‘Our parents were not wrong. I trust my instincts,’ Melaleuca said.

  ‘Then trust my need to prove this,’ Lexington replied.

  ‘Not without my say so.’

  ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘Ahh...girls...let’s just....,’ Ari said trying to intervene.

  Lexington used her gentleness and said in soft sweet tones, ‘Tell us then. Make a decision. Are we to play or...’

  Quixote whinged. ‘Let’s just do as our mothers said and follow what the note says.’

  ‘We don’t know who is leaving the notes or if they are true,’ Lexington shot back and then looked at Melaleuca. ‘Unless your decisions say something else.’

  ‘My decisions,’ Melaleuca repeated annoyed with her. ‘My decisions say ─ ’

  She stopped and sat on the bed, shut her eyes and calmed her mind. Out of the contrasting options she only saw one path ahead though it did not make sense but then, as she reminded herself, it did not have too.

  ‘We are going to explore. We are going to play. We are going to pretend. This shall be just another game. We have a different adventure playground that’s all. I will take counsel from you now. I want to hear what you think, that I may consider it.’

  ‘But....,’ Lexington said, ‘playing now is now pointless!’

  ***

  Quesob trudged through the forest with his aching wound and recited anti-pain mantras under his breath. Within hours he passed by the Throughnight Cathedral-Mansion and crossed the valley floor until he stood near the foot of the southern hills, home at last.

  Smaller than the Throughnight Cathedral-Mansion, another Cathedral-Mansion pointed upwards from a grassy hillock though the top storeys had long since given way and the roof had fallen in.

  Quesob walked up the knoll passing deadened stumps of once grand trees. The front of the Cathedral-Mansion lay boarded up and smoke ascended from behind it. Despite it being night he found the usual hive of activity there. Men tended to horses and worked in the fields, and a small blacksmith churned out smoke and fire, hammering away on an anvil. Servants busied themselves and mucked out various stables while washerwoman scrubbed mats and clothes. A miserable looking bunch, clad in peasants’ rags, they did not notice Quesob at first. His mud encrusted uniform made him look like a local worker.

  Quesob’s horse stirred in the corral, whinnying as he got closer. The workers looked up and stared a second time, recognising him. Instead of rushing to his aid, they muttered and went back to their tasks making it obvious they did not desire eye contact. Quesob knew in an instant something sinister was afoot. None of them knew where he had gone or for what - least of all that he had left New Wakefield and entered the forbidden outside world, so what then?

  ‘Where is the master? Lord Daquan, and why are you all out here? At this hour?’

  The workers slowed their activity, staring wide-eyed at the ground, obvious to Quesob that each hoped he or she would not be asked.

  Quesob heard someone utter, ‘Madness sir.’

  ‘It’s that Doctor Thurgood isn’t it?’

  As tired as he felt, he launched himself up the steps of the dilapidated Cathedral-Mansion and raced through the back entrance. He wound his way through the labyrinth of deserted stone hallways, stopping only when he reached the northeast wing, a part of the building still intact.

  But it was quiet. Too quiet.

  He slid his sword out of his scabbard and held it poised above his shoulders. With a soft tread he moved down the wing. Through boarded gaps in great arched windows small streams of thin moonlight fell, mixing with the naked flames of torches lining the hall. Curious parchments of paper now lined the wall opposite the windows.

  He stopped and read one.

  “Please restrict sentences to no more than five words. If you must use more, please clear it first with Dr Thurgood Hofenstein.”

  He relaxed his grip and read more of them.

  “Words with two syllables good: words with more than two syllables bad.”

  He did not think the motley crew outside would even know what a syllable was. He read on.

  “When addressing Lord Daquan be sure to talk in a happy chirpy voice.”

  Odd curiosity replaced his readiness for danger. Lord Daquan was eccentric. Quesob had never doubted that for a moment. Daquan had, after all, survived ten years in exile in the southern wasteland, a punishment no man in living memory had ever returned from.

  What was he up to now?

  Nothing stirred. Quesob sheathed his sword and strode to his master’s door, where months beforehand he and his master had planned the mission to the outside world. Faded ornate patterns matted themselves around the doorframe of a large oak door. He raised his hand to knock when another notice caught his eye.

  “Here is a list of approved baby words:

  Goo, gah, gribble, mama, dada, goochy goochy goo, wuverly.”

  Before Quesob could knock, the doors opened and a be-speckled white-cloaked Doctor Thurgood poked his scrawny head out and shot an annoyed glance at Quesob.

  ‘Whatever it is you want to see HIM about you shall have to relay to me.’

  ‘HIM is respectfully addressed as Lord Daquan,’ Quesob shot back, already fighting the desire to punch Doctor Thurgood right smack in the face.

  ‘Not any more. Did you not read the notices?’ Doctor Thurgood said in his squawky voice.

  ‘Get out of the way you fool. I come with important news. Now move!’

  Doctor Thurgood jabbed a rake-like hand into the air and pointed at a notice on the opposite wall. It read:

  “Lord Daquan shall now been known as ‘Nap Retep.’ Please address him accordingly.”

  What was a Nap Retep? And why did he need to be called it? And why the secrecy?

  Quesob kicked the door.

  ‘I will bite my tongue to my master but not to you. I will not call him Nap Retep.’

  Doctor Thurgood withdrew, pulling the door shut a little and shook his head at Quesob. ‘No matter. You cannot see him. He is in a very delicate stage of his treatment.’

  Quesob rammed his foot in the door.

  Doctor Thurgood banged the door. ‘Hsssss. Take your foot out!’

  ‘He would want to see me about this.’

  ‘No he wouldn’t!’

  ‘Yes he would.’

  ‘NO HE WOULDN’T!’ Doctor Thurgood’s weedy neck muscles strained, making it look as stringy as a lizard about to attack.

  Much was at stake and so Quesob spoke in a calm measured voice. ‘Please tell him that I am here.’

  Doctor Thurgood muttered something under his breath, disappeared and reappeared moments later.

  ‘Very well. But you must talk to him like a baby.’

  ‘What?’

  Doctor Thurgood tapped his head and flicked his hands around.

  ‘With your loutish pea-brain I expect you would struggle with the
complexities of an explanation.’

  Quesob entered the low lit room and in an instance saw his master’s study had been converted into an oversized child's nursery. Soft toys littered the ground, small cartoon horses frolicked on the wallpaper and bright blue thick drapes hung from the window. Even the wooden floor now had carpet patterned with roads and small houses. His master lay on his back in an oversized baby's cot, clad in a bulky nappy and uttering baby noises. His head was shaven and even his eyebrows and normally bushy beard had gone – all plucked out.

  Quesob did not know what to make of it, let alone what to say.

  ‘Goo,’ Quesob said feeling stupid and resenting it.

  Daquan’s face strained and turned red, his cheeks puffing out as his stomach bulged in and out.

  Doctor Thurgood rushed past Quesob. ‘Get out of the way. This is crucial.’

  Doctor Thurgood stood over Daquan encouraging him in a sweet voice. ‘Yes, that’s good, that’s good, do a nice poopy for daddy, good boy.’

  Quesob’s insides reeled and he felt sick watching the sight. A splurging sound filled the air followed by an immense stink. The red puffy look on Daquan’s face subsided and returned to its new pale hairless flesh colour. He let out a sigh of relief.

  ‘Wonderful,’ Doctor Thurgood cried out.

  Quesob cradled his pug-nose in his hand and tried to stop the stench from hurting his nostrils. It pushed him over the edge.

  ‘OH MY GOD. BY ALL THAT IS HOLY AND SACRED. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?’

  Panic screwed up Doctor Thurgood’s face and Daquan sat bolt upright, ripped from his baby-act, angry. A loud squashing sound accompanied him.

  ‘Tell him,’ Daquan said.

  ‘NO! Don’t break character,’ Doctor Thurgood yelled.

  ‘Then tell him,’ Daquan said again and lay back down with a squelching sound.

  With great displeasure Doctor Thurgood started explaining. ‘We think we know why the bracelets stopped working.’

  ‘Think?’ Quesob said confused.

  ‘Yes. A cluttered mind you see, like yours.’ Doctor Thurgood peered down his thin nose at Quesob.

  ‘And that’s why Lord Daquan just shat himself.’

  ‘Nat Retep,’ Doctor Thurgood said.

  ‘This makes no sense.’ Dust fell from Quesob’s hair as he shook his head. ‘I travel for months to find the bracelets and come back to find this utter nonsense. My lord ─ ’