The Dark

by Marianne Curley

  ‘It takes immortal power to force an opening. This is Lathenia’s work.’

  ‘Then we’ll get Lorian’s help.’

  ‘Lorian is … reluctant.’

  ‘Why?’ I find myself screaming.

  ‘It’s too dangerous. Getting in, finding a way out, surviving in that world – these things are practically impossible. We need as many members of the Guard that we can right now. And then there’s the risk of the worlds joining – of an intermixing of species, of…’ He shudders. ‘Isabel, you don’t understand, the creatures that live in the underworld have no souls.’ He falls silent and his glance drifts away.

  As I watch his face and absorb the meaning of his words, a thought comes to me. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’

  He nods, then says, ‘Lathenia is planning to eliminate Arkarian from our world.’ He rubs both temples with open palms as if a headache has started to throb there. ‘She is trying to force a portal to open to the time of Arkarian’s birth.’

  ‘She wants to kill Arkarian as a baby?’ I ask.

  ‘Before or after, but near enough.’ While the rest of us look on wordlessly he explains, ‘She will keep him secured in the underworld while her people attempt to eliminate him – body, and perhaps even soul, from the earth.’

  Matt stares at the three of us in turn. ‘What do we do? How do we stop this from happening?’

  I explain what I think. ‘Firstly we have to go back in time to stop the Goddess and her soldiers from murdering Arkarian at his birth. Then, no matter what arguments you throw at me, I’m going to find a way into this … this underworld, and I’m going to get Arkarian back.’

  Ethan lays a hand on my shoulder. ‘I’m going too.’

  Matt adds, ‘And me.’

  Everyone starts talking simultaneously; our message couldn’t be clearer. No one thinks Matt should go.

  ‘You couldn’t handle it,’ Ethan says without malice. To him, rescuing Arkarian takes precedence over hurting anyone’s feelings. But I see how Matt’s face drops, and Ethan does too. ‘It’s just your inexperience, that’s all I meant. When your powers start coming through—’

  Matt shuts him up with a sharp wave of his hand. ‘Cut it, Ethan. We all know my powers may never come through, so let’s just get back to working out how to save Arkarian.’

  A memory of the Goddess’s incredible power as she raised her hands to Arkarian flashes across my eyes. Ethan, as skilled as he is, couldn’t possibly fight that. Let alone Matt. ‘No one’s coming with me,’ I say.

  My words cause a riot, all of them letting me know what they think of my idea to go on my own.

  Mr Carter claps his hands loudly in the air. ‘Everyone be quiet! You’re not listening! First things first. If we don’t save Arkarian at birth, there will be no Arkarian ever in existence!’

  We all stop and stare at him. ‘The Tribunal has already decided how it’s going to happen. Firstly, Isabel, you’re not going anywhere on your own. Ethan will join you. I will co-ordinate the mission to France from Arkarian’s chamber. You, Shaun, are to go and retrieve Jimmy from the city.’

  ‘And what am I supposed to do?’ Matt’s strained voice breaks into the sudden silence. ‘Sit in a corner and suck my thumb, while you lot go out risking your lives?’

  For a long moment no one answers him. There’s nothing any of us can do to make him feel better about it.

  Mr Carter’s eyes drop to the floor, making it obvious the Tribunal has no role set aside for Matt.

  Finally it’s Shaun who steps in. ‘Let me put it this way, Matt. You’re not being included because we can’t risk anything happening to you. Whether your powers are developed or not has nothing to do with the Tribunal’s decision. You’re simply too important.’

  Chapter Nine

  Arkarian

  It’s the cold that wakes me. There’s a numbness in my fingers. My feet feel like stones pulled straight from a frozen earth. I try to move to warm myself but my hands are secured with tight chains behind my back. There’s something cold as ice on my face, some sort of metal mesh. I can’t see anything; it’s too dark for that. Then, as I attempt to move around, I realise the mesh is a body cage. My shoulders are just as tightly wrapped inside it as my legs. I don’t know where I am, though I have a strong suspicion. I do know that I’m riding over a bumpy road, bouncing around in the back of an open cart. I wonder how I got here. If my suspicions are correct, it would have been interesting to have been conscious through the experience of tearing through a rift between the worlds, not just the time travel I’m used to.

  The last thing I remember is the look on Isabel’s face when that explosion hit, and the two of us were catapulted away from each other. The rest is blank. And now I find myself in a strange place, where even the air smells different, like rotting seaweed or stagnant marshland. I hope my stay here is temporary. I don’t know how I would survive this eerie darkness if I had to live here indefinitely.

  Two glowing torches up ahead stand out like beacons. One is held by an old man who leans on a stick to give him balance. I crane my head around to get a better view of the second one. This torch is also an open flame, held by a man much bigger, with stooped shoulders and a billowing cloak blowing behind him. He calls out something in a harsh and guttural voice that sounds vaguely familiar. For a moment, while trying to place it, I forget the severe cold.

  The large man’s arm reaches out to hit a smaller figure beside him. The force of the man’s blow knocks the creature to the ground. The cloaked man then kicks out at this creature with a booted foot, while the old man looks on. The cart suddenly stops and three other creatures, similarly sized, run, or leap, to their fallen colleague. The younger man yells abuse at them. One of them squawks, then flaps cumbersome wings at its side, lifting slightly off the ground. Another approaches my cart, peering in with red glowing eyes. ‘He’s awake,’ he calls out in a thick tone, as if his tongue is too large for his mouth.

  The cloaked man bellows, ‘Deal with him as I have commanded. We will arrive soon.’

  At these words two of the creatures leap into the back of the cart with just a single flap of their wings. They tower over me, blocking the light from the torches. And while I can’t distinguish their features in this blackness, I sense what they’re about to do. I try to use my powers, to unbind myself from these chains. But nothing happens. The pair of creatures leap on me, and I kick out at them feebly with my chained legs. It has no effect, and soon the other two follow, hitting and kicking.

  The beating continues. Instinctively I try to bring my feet to my chest to protect my internal organs as best I can, but the kicking at my back could be just as fatal. I finally realise what they’re doing – beating me until I lose consciousness. They probably don’t want me to remember the way. As if that were possible. I make my body go slack; I’m not far from unconsciousness anyway. They eventually leave, and soon the cart is moving again.

  I try to breathe deeply and slowly to regain a mental balance. I need my powers to get out of this mess. If only I could use my wings. But if this place really is the underworld, then it would be pointless anyway, as only an immortal can force an opening. And while I might be able to move around within it, where would I go?

  I try to loosen the chains and the mesh. But I’m tied securely. I try again to use my powers, but when I visualise what it would take to unbind me, I feel nothing. What strange capability do these creatures have? It feels as if I’ve been enslaved by some sort of enchantment. But magic? How can that be?

  After several attempts to use the skills I’ve picked up over my lifetime, all unsuccessfully, I lie back and concentrate on soothing my aching body. While I can’t heal myself, I can ease the pain of these bruises.

  Eventually the cart stops, and I keep my eyes closed and my body as relaxed as I can for when the creatures make a return appearance. They lift me, two at my head, two at my feet. I gather from this that they’re not all that strong. Their size must hold them back, about half
that of an average man. And their wings appear to be more of a nuisance than any use to them.

  We pass doors that squeak when they swing from their hinges, then another, heavier, I suspect made from iron. It slides across with a grating sound. Once through this door the creatures drop me. The old man is with them. He coughs and his chest whistles.

  The man in the cloak enters. ‘Release the chains,’ he says, throwing them a key. And this time his words, spoken from a much closer distance, send a tremor of fear through my heart. He sounds very much like Marduke. But how can this be? That man is dead. Then I remember that he died whilst in the past. He should be in the middle realm, a wandering lost soul. Not here. Not unless … Lathenia went searching for him in that grey world and brought him back!

  As the cage is removed, I roll on to my side and brace myself for the possibility of Marduke’s rescue. My suspicions soon prove correct. The man towering over me is none other than Marduke himself, living and breathing. Yet the man before me is not the Marduke I remember. He is hardly a man at all. His time in the middle world has changed him considerably, with disastrous effect.

  Somehow I have to warn the Guard. But how? And without my powers?

  I swallow hard, wanting to form words, yet not knowing what to say. Marduke holds his torch up close to me. And now I see the old man, white-haired and wrinkly, and the four creatures that are part human, part bird and other animals combined. Their legs and arms are human, but their entire bodies are covered with animal fur, brittle and coarse.

  One of them leans over me. ‘Awake,’ he manages to say through a mouth that juts forward in a square form, more like a pig’s snout than a bird’s beak, or a human jaw.

  I look up at Marduke – or what he has now become – and see a similarity with the creatures or strange beasts he keeps as his soldiers in this world; and I wonder if these beasts were once men. The thought makes me quiver.

  Marduke lowers his hood and I try hard not to look away. His one good eye has swollen to twice its size and now glows red. Where once he had a head of soft golden hair, snow-white bristles cover the entire top, and run down his face as far as a brow that juts forward.

  ‘So, old friend, we meet again,’ I finally say.

  He snorts at my greeting and kicks me hard in the side, making me double over. I try again to strike up a conversation. ‘The middle world has changed you … somewhat.’

  He grunts and this time the sound is very much like that of a pig. The only thing missing is the pawing of the earth with a trotter.

  ‘Where have you brought me?’

  I don’t think he’s going to answer when his half-mouth drags down at its long end. ‘You are in my world now.’

  I look around at the stone walls and iron grate, the darkness overwhelming in its intensity. ‘If this is your world, then you live in a very dull place, Marduke. Hardly an advancement, I would say, old friend.’

  His boot connects with my stomach, hard, forcing bile into my throat, making me want to vomit. Another boot to the underside of my thigh sends muscles into tight spasms. Apparently this Marduke hasn’t only changed physically, but has grown a lot more sensitive and intolerant of criticism. I’m sure Lathenia must be overjoyed! All the same, I’d better choose my words more carefully if I want to live.

  ‘Strap him,’ he says, turning his back on me to light several torches in brackets around the room, mumbling to the old man as he does so.

  And now, as the rest of the room is revealed, I see exactly what he has planned. A rack stands ready to be used. And judging by the cobwebs, probably for the first time in hundreds of years. ‘Your techniques are a little old fashioned,’ I call out as the winged creatures reach for me. I kick at them and it takes all four in the end to secure me to this ancient mechanism of torture.

  ‘The Medieval lords were experts in pain and confession,’ Marduke says.

  ‘You would know, Marduke.’

  ‘Ah yes, I have suffered. In those days my powers were far less appreciated.’

  ‘The Guard rescued you.’

  Marduke snorts and his spittle stings my face. He points to his own half-missing face. ‘Do you think I’ve not suffered because of the Guard?’

  I could argue it was his own fault he got into that fight with Shaun, but I can see from his hard expression, he has moved beyond simple reasoning.

  Vaporised air puffs out through snout-like nostrils. ‘I will tell you this, Arkarian, your holding here is temporary. The Goddess seeks to stop you from meddling in her affairs. She also wants answers from you. She will be here before …’

  The old man coughs, I sense on purpose. But it soon turns into a chorus of whistling and wheezing.

  Marduke waits until it is over. During this time he stares at me with his one eye narrowed. He seems to be assessing whether to give me the information or not. His hunched shoulders suddenly jerk forward as if he’s come to a decision. ‘Lathenia will be here before you are eliminated from your earthly world.’

  His choice of wording is chilling. ‘Eliminated? As if …?’

  ‘You never existed.’

  ‘But that would mean killing me at birth, or my mother before she bore me.’

  ‘The portal to the time of your birth is opening as we speak. You have but hours before our soldiers succeed. Long enough to answer a few questions. You should feel honoured. Lathenia insists on questioning you herself. And then, old friend,’ he mimics my own words, ‘you will exist no more.’

  I try not to let his words faze me. I’m not going to die in this miserable place! I yank my arms, testing the straps, but they’re tight and cut into my wrists. A hissing sound snaps my head back to Marduke, only an instant before he slaps a whip across my chest. It rips my clothing right through to my skin. Blood oozes from the wound, staining my shirt with a dull red streak.

  ‘Now,’ Marduke says thickly, ‘before my mistress appears, I have a question for you myself.’

  ‘Ask away, for I will tell you nothing!’

  The whip slashes the air once more, striking my chest at the exact same angle. He might as well use a butcher’s knife; the damage would be the same.

  ‘Stretch him,’ Marduke orders, and his creatures – two together – turn the wheel.

  Every limb and joint of my body burns like fire. Marduke’s hand rises and the wheel stops. ‘Where is my daughter being kept?’

  I stare at him from the corner of my eye. This, of all questions, is the last I expect. Mostly because of its personal nature. ‘Safe from you.’

  His arm lowers and the stretching starts again. It’s so hard not to scream out this time. But I don’t. I would rather die. He raises his arm and the wheel holds still. ‘Is it true she is Named?’

  ‘Yes. As you were once.’

  He must see something in my face, because he turns away with an expression that looks something like regret, then mutters, ‘We shall be on opposite sides.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be that way.’

  He turns back to me. ‘No, because you will tell me where she is.’

  He goes to raise his hand again, but I jump in quickly before he gives his order. ‘You may as well kill me, Marduke. Right now if you want. I’m not going to tell you where your daughter is. But before you finish me off, you’d better think about how you’re going to tell Lathenia you killed me before she had a chance to ask her questions.’

  ‘There is no need to concern yourself, my pet,’ Lathenia’s voice echoes around the room a second before she appears. ‘For I am here now. And when I am finished, you can have your fun with him.’

  Marduke nods and bows his head, stepping back from me.

  She fully forms, dressed in a long white gown, belted at the waist with a purple sash to match her lips. Alongside her, the mortal shape of a man forms. A young man. And for a second I think I recognise him, but he moves, and the moment is gone.

  And while Lathenia stands before me, I take the moment to study her. The only other immortal I have been this close
to is Lorian. I was his Apprentice for two hundred years and came to know him well. They are very different. Opposites in fact. Where Lorian is gentle (mostly), with translucent skin, eyes empowered with an energy that makes them difficult to withstand, Lathenia is more mortal in appearance. By anyone’s standards she would be considered quite beautiful. There is irony in the fact that her soul-mate (for how else could she have rescued Marduke from the middle world?) would turn out to be so … disfigured.

  She absorbs my thoughts, and even though my truthseeing power is contained, she lets me know hers. And now I understand her rage. Marduke may still be alive, but he is severely altered. And as there is only ever one soul-mate for each of us, hers has evolved into a different species. And this does not please her.

  She turns her head around to the boy and gives him a withering look. Her mood is foul. The boy’s eyes shift from Lathenia to Marduke, and his hands start to shake. She points to the wheel and the boy turns it easily.

  Marduke looks impressed. ‘It took two of the wren.’ And to the boy he says, ‘You grow stronger each time we meet.’

  With praise lavished upon him the boy increases pressure on the wheel. The rack stretches my limbs beyond endurance. ‘Hold it there,’ Lathenia commands. ‘Now, Arkarian, you will tell me everything you know.’

  ‘I’ll tell you nothing!’

  ‘Is that so?’ With needle-sharp nails, Lathenia scratches the side of my face from eye to jaw.

  The pain, as my face slices open, goes through to the back of my eyes. I turn my head away. She grabs my jaw, yanking it back. ‘Where is the opening to the ancient city?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You lie!’ To the boy, she nods. He inches the wheel forward. I fight not to scream out. I will not show any weakness!

  ‘The opening, Arkarian!’

  Stubbornly I keep my lips closed.

  Air hisses out from between her teeth. The boy tightens the wheel. Pain sears through every one of my limbs. ‘Tell me where the weapons are kept!’