Archibald Lox and the Vote of Alignment

by Darren Shan

  “He’s lost his marbles,” Pol laughs.

  Inez is staring at me oddly.

  “What?” I snap.

  “There aren’t overlaps in the Merge,” Inez says. “That only happens in the Born.”

  I start to argue with her, then stop and smile. “OK. Stick your head through the borehole and tell me what you see.”

  Inez gets up, digs in the hooks on her feet and leans forward, Pol and I hurrying to grab hold. Her legs twitch when she sticks her head through the borehole and she draws back sharply. “Guards! They saw me! We have to –”

  “Relax,” I chuckle. “Poke your head out again. Let them get a really good look. Sing a song. See if they notice.”

  Inez chews her lip uncertainly, but pushes her head through the borehole again. This time she doesn’t rush, turning slowly the way that I did, before rejoining Pol and me on the vine.

  “It’s impossible,” she mutters.

  “Yet it’s there,” I crow.

  “Let me see,” Pol says and sticks his head out. He pulls back a lot quicker than Inez or I did, and hunkers down beside us as if he’d woken from a nightmare. “I don’t like it,” he bleats. “It made me dizzy. What is it?”

  “An overlap,” Inez says. “I don’t know how, but the tree overlaps a cliff, and the guards are unaware of it.”

  “Do you think the other boreholes in the bark are the same as this one?” I ask.

  “Probably,” she says. “It would be an incredible stroke of luck if we happened to find the only one of its kind.”

  “The cliff goes all the way up to the Cuckoo’s Nest, doesn’t it?” I ask her.

  “It seems to.”

  “Do you think there are boreholes at the top, leading back into the tree?”

  “I’d imagine so,” she says quietly, clearly thinking the same thing I am.

  “Do your hooks work on stone?” I ask Pol.

  “If it’s soft,” he says.

  Inez leans through the borehole again. When she returns, slivers of gravel drip from the hooks on her hands, and her eyes are bright. “Sandstone or something similar. Soft enough to dig into, but firm enough to take our weight.”

  “We couldn’t climb the tree because of the guards...” I murmur.

  “But if they can’t see us...” Inez says.

  We beam at each other like children who’ve figured out a way to trap Santa Claus.

  Then Pol brings us crashing back to reality. “Climb that cliff?” he exclaims. “Are you crazy? What if you fall?”

  My smile fades, and so does Inez’s, but our gazes stay locked, and I know in that moment that, crazy as it might be, regardless of the risk, even though we can’t be certain of access to the Cuckoo’s Nest even if we survive the daunting climb...

  We’re doing it.

  28

  I’D LIKE TO REST FOR a few hours, give myself time to recover after the climb up the vine and my exertions on the lock, but Inez insists we push on immediately.

  “We don’t know how long it will to take to scale the cliff,” she says. “Plus the longer we sit here thinking about it, the more we’ll freak ourselves out.”

  That makes sense, so I agree to proceed despite my weariness. That just leaves the matter of whether or not Pol accompanies us. Inez starts to tell him why he shouldn’t come, but he stops her short.

  “You don’t have to convince me,” he says. “You’re mad if you tackle that cliff, but since you’re determined, I’ll leave you to it.”

  Inez smiles. “We wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

  “You’d have been better off,” Pol sniffs. “I don’t fancy your chances out there.”

  “We have to try,” Inez says. “At least if we fall, the end will be quick.”

  “Do you want me to wait here for you?” Pol asks.

  “No,” Inez says. “Succeed or fail, we won’t return this way.”

  “What about the Mischief?” he asks. “Want me to carry any messages back?”

  Inez shakes her head. “What are we to the Mischief? They’ve probably forgotten us already.”

  Pol nods approvingly and turns to leave.

  “Pol,” I stop him. “Will you say goodbye to Guido and Lena from me, in case I don’t see them again?”

  “Goodbyes are for the Born,” he jeers, and shoots into the vine.

  “Do you really think we can do it?” I ask.

  Inez shrugs. “Have you ever climbed a cliff before?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither.” She laughs. “That means we’ve never failed.”

  “It means we’ve never succeeded either,” I note.

  Inez thumps my arm. “Be positive.”

  “I’ll try,” I mutter.

  “But bear this in mind...” she adds softly.

  I stare at her, expecting her to say something to inspire me to greatness.

  “If you fall, nobody but me will hear you, so feel free to scream the whole way down.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” I grumble as she pushes through the borehole. Then, with a worried sigh, I lean forward and haul myself out onto the cliff.

  29

  INEZ HAS ALREADY ATTACHED herself, digging in all four sets of hooks. She waits for me to get settled, ready to assist if I need help.

  I turn my body so I’m sitting in the borehole. I drive the hooks on my right hand into the rock, test to make sure I have a firm hold, then drive in the hooks on my left hand. Sliding my right foot out and down, I lock the hooks into the rock, then follow it with my left foot.

  “How do you feel?” Inez asks as I cling to the cliff, breathing deeply, trying not to look down.

  “Wonderful,” I whimper through chattering teeth.

  “Ready to climb?”

  “In a minute,” I mutter. “I’ve got to close the borehole first.”

  “Does that matter?” she asks.

  “Yes. The other boreholes in the bark are closed. It wouldn’t be safe to leave this one open.”

  In truth, I only want to work on the lock to steady my nerves. Although I’m putting on a brave face, I’m utterly terrified, and hope a spot of lockwork will calm me down.

  I reach into the borehole and start tweaking. It’s much easier to fasten a lock than open it, but I take my time, feeling myself relax. I experience a stab of regret when it finally clicks shut, but I’m a lot cooler than I was.

  “Let’s do this,” I grunt.

  Inez climbs and I copy her, trying to pretend I’m on a sharply angled vine, right hand, left foot, left hand, right foot. I slip into the rhythm easily, but take it slow. Inez is going slowly too. We don’t say anything and barely exchange glances. I’m soon drenched with sweat and my limbs are trembling, and she’s the same. We focus on ourselves, no time to worry about what the other is going through.

  My arms and legs are aching, and my spine feels like I’ve been stretched on a rack. The strain is unbelievable — the hooks aren’t devised for extensive vertical climbing.

  I lose count of the number of times that the soft rock crumbles without warning, resulting in a hand or foot jolting free. Each time my stomach clenches, as I’m sure I’m going to lose my other grips and plummet to my death. But when the flashpoint comes, it’s Inez who falters, not me.

  She yelps and I look across, then moan with horror. She’s lost three holds at once. Her right hand and both feet have slipped, and she’s dangling from the cliff face by just her left hand.

  “Inez!” I cry.

  “Hush,” she says.

  “Can I help?” I shout.

  “Don’t be silly,” she chuckles.

  “Maybe I could...” I stop, not sure how to continue.

  “Worry about yourself, Archie,” she says. “If I fall, carry on, but keep an eye open for boreholes. Let yourself in as soon as you can. Head down the vine and get out of Canadu. Ask someone to point you towards the nearest opening to the Born.”

  “Inez!” I roar, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Don’t
leave me!”

  “I don’t want to,” she says softly, “but it looks like I don’t have a choice.”

  “Hold on,” I yell. “I’m going to stretch out an arm. Use it to –”

  “If you put a hand anywhere near me, I’ll bite it,” she snaps, flashing me an angry look. “Leave me be, Archie, the same way I’d leave you.”

  “But you wouldn’t,” I mutter, and the tears dry up. She might say that she’d let me fall, but that’s a lie. Inez Matryoshka always helps when she can, regardless of the risks.

  I slip my left hand free of the hooks and reach towards her.

  “No!” she squeals, slapping at my hand.

  “Careful,” I say. “If you strike me, you might knock me off.”

  Inez stares at me with round, scared eyes. “You mustn’t do this,” she whispers.

  “Shut up,” I tell her gruffly, “and take my hand.”

  She hesitates, then slides her fingers across. I give them a promising squeeze, then move my fingers down to her wrist. Taking hold of it, I guide her hand upwards, until she’s able to dig the hooks into the rock.

  “Are you OK?” I ask.

  She tests her hold, then nods. I slowly draw my hand away and watch as Inez works her left foot around, searching for a toehold. When she finds one, I slide my hand back into the hooks.

  “Are we done with the drama?” I ask lightly.

  “Just about,” she smirks.

  “Ready to climb again?”

  “Whenever you give me the go-ahead, boss.”

  “Then let’s rock,” I grunt (pun fully intended) and we struggle on.

  It’s harder the higher we climb. Sometimes I get the feeling that I’m not moving at all, just pulling my hooks out, then digging them back into the same spot. Every part of me is aching, like I’ve been struck with a hammer over and over, from my toes up to my head. At times I find myself weeping uncontrollably. I should be embarrassed, but I hear Inez sobbing too.

  I’ve no idea how long we’ve been scaling the cliff. I’d cast my gaze towards the top every so often when we first set off, but it’s been a long time since I looked, afraid that the branches of the overlapping tree will be as far away as ever. Part of me fears that the cliff is an ever-stretching, endless expanse of rock, that we’ll be stuck out here forever, crawling until we die.

  It’s started to brighten. Dawn has come to Cornan. That’s bad news. The Family members won’t cast their votes for a few hours yet, but they’ll be assembling now, guests and important visitors streaming into the palace, mounting the stairs, taking their places in the throne room where the future of the realm will be decided.

  We’re busted if we arrive late — once the vote’s been cast, that’s the end of the matter. A royal could request another vote, but that wouldn’t take place for a year, and even then it would be a pointless exercise, as things stay the same when the vote ends in stalemate. If Queen Pitina and King Farkas seize control today, King Hugo and Princess Ghita won’t be able to demand a return to Merged rule unless another royal is discovered who is sympathetic to their cause and can join with them to outvote the pair of SubMerged rulers.

  “Inez,” I croak.

  “Yes?” she croaks back.

  “The light...”

  “I know.”

  “Should we look for a borehole and slip back inside the tree? Enter a vine and push on from there?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” She sighs. “I’m so tired. I feel sure I’m going to faint and drop.”

  “Then why don’t we go in?” I ask.

  “Because this is our best bet,” she says. “We still have a couple of hours, maybe more — the vote probably won’t run to schedule.”

  “How far from the top are we?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t dare look.”

  I smother a laugh. In a strange way, I like the fact that she’s as drained as I am. It stops me from worrying that I’m holding her back.

  I force myself on, even though I feel like death. I can’t go quicker, but I fight the urge to slow down. I count to five minutes inside my head, not allowing myself to pause. At the end of the count, I rest for a minute, loosening my limbs one at a time, shaking them to keep the blood circulating, then set off again, starting another five-minute count. I ignore my blinding headache, creaking spine and watering eyes, and focus on the passing seconds.

  The day gets brighter. I wonder what’s happening inside. I think about Kurtis and his uncle, sitting smugly with the other SubMerged nobles. Will Orlan and Argate be there, or are they roaming the lobby, on the lookout for Inez and me?

  I wish I could send a message of hope to King Hugo. I’ve never met him, but I picture him as a proud, kindly old man, like King Lloyd, sitting in the throne room, staring glumly at the smirking Pitina and Farkas, certain he’s going to be outvoted. I’d love to let him know we’re coming, that I have the princess with me, that the realm isn’t lost.

  While I’m thinking about the lonely king, I draw parallel to a guard keeping watch. He’s a young man with a light beard. A sword lies across his lap.

  I freeze for a moment, but like the others, he can’t see me. He has no idea that I’m next to him, or Inez just below. (I inched ahead of her at some point.)

  “Peekaboo,” I whisper, and with a sigh, I free my left hand.

  Then I stop and stare at the guard again.

  It’s been a long time since I was face to face with anyone. The guards aren’t scattered across the tree. They’re clustered in three rings, one near the bottom, another in the middle, and one at the...

  Slowly, ignoring the pain, I tilt my head back. I spot more guards to my left and right, part of the third defensive ring. And above them, not within reach, but not a long way off, are the branches and lower floor of Cornan’s famous Cuckoo’s Nest.

  “Inez,” I say.

  She doesn’t hear me.

  “Inez,” I repeat.

  She half-cocks her head to glance at me, looking desperate and lost.

  “Inez,” I say again, not wanting to make my announcement until I’m certain she can process what I’m telling her.

  “Yes, Archie?” she wheezes, blinking several times to focus.

  I slip my left hand free of its hooks, point to the branches and say simply, too exhausted to jazz it up, “We’re almost there.”

  30

  WE PUSH ON AT THE SAME sluggish pace as before, both far too exhausted to go any faster. I start to worry about upholding my end of the deal. What if there are no boreholes up here, or I can’t open the locks?

  I want to keep checking how much further we have to climb, but that would waste my dwindling energy reserves, so I proceed as I did before, hand, foot, foot, hand, not looking up.

  I don’t realise I’ve come to the top of the cliff until I move my right hand forward and meet nothing but air. I wriggle my fingers, figuring I must have found a hole, searching for rock to either side. With a groan, I tilt my head back, and find myself staring at the floorboards of the Cuckoo’s Nest, which jut over the edge of the cliff.

  “Inez?”

  She pauses, looks up, and smiles weakly. “Open sesame.”

  “But there’s nothing to open,” I tell her, looking for locks but not spotting any.

  “Are you sure?” she asks.

  “Nothing,” I say bitterly. “Just wood.” I reach up to rap the floorboards, but my knuckles pass through them, momentarily disappearing. I yank back my hand with a squeal.

  “Don’t worry,” Inez says. “It’s an overlap, the same as in the Born.”

  “Right,” I sigh. “It was that way in the Empire State Building. I was able to pass through ceilings and walls. But the cliff ends here. How can we go any further?”

  Inez studies the underbelly of the palace. “It looks like it’s resting on top of the cliff,” she says. “The overlap could be structural. Everyone thinks the tree supports the Cuckoo’s Nest, but maybe it needed an extra prop, and
a deviser worked a cliff from the Born into the mix.”

  “Thanks for the architecture lesson,” I say sourly. “How does it help us?”

  Inez shoots me a dirty look. “It’s simple, Archibald. If the cliff supports the building, there should be a cliff top as well as a cliff face.”

  Shouldering her way past me, Inez stretches a hand out further than mine, pats around, then digs into a horizontal part of the cliff that neither of us can see.

  “I get it,” I wheeze, moving my hand forward the way she did, hauling myself up and over the edge of the cliff.

  I hang there for a moment. A field of green grass lies ahead of me, running to the far end of the Cuckoo’s nest, where it stops. It’s the same to my left and right. The building is perched on a square of green.

  “That’s not right,” I frown. “The cliff runs further to the left and right on the face than it does here.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” Inez grunts as she drags herself clear of the drop. “Space works differently in the Merge. It looks like the deviser ran four cliffs together. Down there we could see our cliff as it is in the Born. Up here we can see the point where the four interlink.”

  “The space thing is going to make my head explode one day,” I grumble. Then I bring my legs up, crawl well away from the edge of the cliff, and stand.

  “That was easy,” I say jokingly.

  Inez stares at me incredulously, then laughs. I laugh too. We grab hold of one another and hug hard, weaving on our feet, laughing hysterically, a few happy tears slipping out as well.

  We finally separate, laughter dying away, and wipe the tears from our cheeks.

  “I want to crawl into a soft bed and sleep for a week,” I say.

  “Me too,” Inez agrees.

  She removes her hooks and groans as she straightens. I do the same, and we both try to rub the knots out of our spines. Kneading my sides with my knuckles, I look around. We’re on top of the cliff, but also inside a room in the Cuckoo’s Nest. It’s a small, bare room, supplies stacked on shelves.

  “Tell me you see locks,” Inez mutters.