by Sally Green
Twist!
Grabbing the head of the nearest soldier, Twist yanked it round, breaking the man’s neck, then lifted the soldier’s body and used it as both shield and weapon to force three other Brigantines off the terrace. Twist took Tash’s arm and ran. His thoughts flashed like images in her head, so she knew immediately what he wanted to do as he bent and held out his hand. She stepped on it, and he boosted her into the air with such force that she landed three terraces up, close to her lopsided tunnel. Twist then leaped down to help the crimson-hairs, bowling through Brigantines from behind and clearing the path for the Demon Troop to retreat upward toward Tash.
Tash grabbed Geratan’s arm as quickly as she could.
Listen, this whole place is going to close in and burn. We’ve got to get out of here.
I don’t think we could stay if we wanted to! Geratan glanced back to the Brigantines. We need to get into your tunnel, Tash.
Tash wanted Twist to come with her, and to her relief, he was suddenly beside her. He grabbed her hands and pointed upward. A vision filled her head—all the tunnels were closing in, closing in faster and faster. But one of the tunnels on the level above was a shorter route to the surface. It was the last way out.
Tash grabbed Geratan.
Change of plan. We’ve got to use a different tunnel. Twist will show us.
You’re sure?
I’m sure.
She grabbed Twist’s hand, and he set off running up the terraces, leading the Demon Troop to the higher tunnel. At the entrance, he pulled Tash to the side as Anlax began to lead the men in. Twist held Tash’s hand, and she had a new vision. In it, the smoke in the core was getting more and more turbulent and turning white. The demons were in the small chamber she’d seen way down in the lower levels of the world, still walking into the core. There were only five left. Twist was one of the last. Horrible realization filled her.
He’s saying good-bye—forever.
He couldn’t come with her. He didn’t want to. But he was her friend; she knew it—felt it.
Good-bye. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for helping us, even though you owe us nothing.
She knew he couldn’t understand her words, but hoped he understood her feelings, her gratitude. But now she saw a different vision. One of herself with a small flame of red smoke inside her.
Twist looked into her eyes and pointed to her chest.
In all the chaos, Tash had forgotten that she had smoke inside her. She’d inhaled the purple smoke when she’d broken the bottles and she had that element of red smoke deep inside her. That smoke had saved her, but now it would kill her. When the smoke turned white and the demon world ended, she would end too.
I don’t want it, Tash thought to Twist desperately. It doesn’t belong to me. But how do I get rid of it?
In answer Twist leaned forward as if he was going to kiss her. And then his mouth was on hers, but not in a kiss like she’d seen young lovers doing. Twist was sucking—sucking her breath out, then somehow sucking more until her lungs were empty and screaming.
Stop! No!
There was a searing heat in her chest and throat, and, as her head fell back, she caught sight of a small stream of lilac and red smoke coming out of her mouth, emptying her of strength. And only when the last wisp had gone could she breathe again.
Well, that was shitting horrible.
The smoke wafted round her neck and away, through the cavern and down to join the rest of the pale smoke that was swirling out of the core.
Tash felt weak and sick, but she tried to smile.
Thank you, Twist. Thank you for everything.
Tears filled her eyes, and she leaned up and kissed his cheek. Good-bye. I’ll miss you.
They slid their hands apart.
Twist turned and raced off, disappearing into another tunnel, and Tash knew he was going back to the core, to become smoke again and help remake the world of smoke somewhere else.
Tash took one last look at the cavern. It seemed to be shrinking before her eyes: the terraces were narrowing, the tunnels closing in, the roof dropping toward her. And yet the smoke was brighter, almost dazzling.
Geratan’s hand was on her arm. We’ve got to hurry, Tash. Go to the front. Lead the way.
She slipped past the Demon Troop and kept running as fast as she could.
Twist showed us this tunnel. He’d know we’d have a chance. But please don’t close. Please don’t close . . .
The tunnel spiraled up steeply. Her legs felt heavy, like she’d been running for days. Which, when she thought about it, she had.
Just keep going. Keep going . . .
And then she saw it.
Sky. Real sky. And the silhouette of treetops.
Her heart pounding, Tash forced herself up the last few paces and out into the coolness of the human world. She fell to her knees on the grass, gasping for air. She’d never pushed herself so hard in her life. She turned to look behind her and willed the others to arrive.
Anlax was next. Then more of them. All were breathing hard, flopping on the ground. There was no sign of Geratan, and Tash knew he would be doing what he always did: bringing up the rear, making sure everyone got out.
“Please hurry, Geratan.”
But he didn’t come.
“They were fighting behind,” gasped one soldier as he staggered out of the hollow. “The Brigantines attacked again as we were leaving.”
Anlax swore. Tash turned away and stared at the trees as tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn’t bear it.
But then she heard a shout and turned to see a bloodied crimson head come out of the ground. Geratan, gasping and panting. His eyes met hers, and she ran to him and hugged him. There were no words. Tash cried and shook with shock and fear and relief. When she eventually loosened her grip, she saw the other men were watching them quietly, tears in their eyes too.
Tash looked at the ground beneath her feet. The hollow was the palest of pale reds, and then the glow faded, and in moments had gone completely.
EDYON
CALIA, CALIDOR
THE PRISONERS were sitting on the stone floor, their backs against the wall. Edyon was next to March, which was the one good thing about all this. Rashford and Broderick were in chains too, along with the six other Bulls who had been part of the assassination plot. It was cold and damp, and Edyon was hungry and thirsty.
Fitz said, “I’m not sure if we’ll starve to death before we’re executed.”
Edyon nodded. “A thought I’ve had often recently.”
Rashford let his head roll to the side to look at Edyon. “Harold wants a spectacle—I don’t think starvation is on his mind.”
Kellen said, “That doesn’t mean we won’t starve, though. This group can’t organize shit.”
“Actually, it’s a long way down here, and there’s not much food left,” Broderick said. The others looked at him, and Fitz cursed him. Broderick replied, “Well, it’s true!”
“Poor Broderick had to find food for me, didn’t you?” Edyon said. “How you suffered.”
“It’s your fault I’m here,” he said sullenly.
“Broderick, I know you don’t have much longer to do this, but for fuck’s sake, grow up,” Rashford said.
“We shouldn’t have long to wait. Harold’s execution machines are ready,” March said. “I saw them yesterday.”
“I wonder how he’ll do it,” Kellen said. “One at a time, but with the others watching? Or all together? Not sure if I want to go first or last.”
“Can you shut up about it?” Broderick complained, his voice breaking and a tear running down his cheek.
Edyon said, “Perhaps it’ll be you and me together, Brod. Together until the last. Our bodies on display next to each other. Perhaps just our heads. Me looking at you.”
“Shut up.”
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“You should be pleased. Despite the kickings you gave me, despite your theft and your treachery, I’ve decided I won’t be haunting you.” He squeezed March’s hand and said quietly, “If there is an afterlife of any kind, I like to think I’ll be with those I love.”
March smiled and squeezed his hand back. “Me too.”
Kellen looked to the door. “Someone’s coming. It might be food.”
It was Sam and some of the Lion Brigade, but they weren’t bringing dinner. “Get up, you lot—you’re going out,” Sam said.
“What—we’re being released?” Broderick asked, getting to his feet.
Sam laughed. “Harold isn’t going to release anyone.”
“So this is it?” Broderick said.
Rashford stood up. “This is fucking it. Let’s get it over with.”
But no one else moved. Edyon gripped March’s hand, somehow hoping to hold on to the moment.
Then the Lions were moving into the cell. They lifted Kellen to his feet, and Kellen kicked and hit in return, but Sam darted forward and punched his stomach. And, of course, Sam and the Lions had smoke, while the prisoners had nothing.
There was no point in fighting. The end had come, and Edyon would face it as well as he could. He stood with March close to him, still holding his hand. Leaning close to Edyon’s ear, March whispered, “I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough, but I’m glad to have known you. Even now, even in this dire place, I give thanks to have known you.”
Edyon squeezed March’s hand again and said, “Death is all around me, but you always brought me happiness. You more than anyone believed in me, trusted me. Thank you, March.”
Then Edyon was pushed out and led up the stone steps to a courtyard. A clear blue sky was above, and Edyon tried to take it in. Tried to enjoy it even—they were his precious last few moments on earth. He wanted to see the beauty. He turned to March and said, “It is beautiful. All of it. And I want to haunt the world. Will you wander it with me?”
March nodded. “Gladly. Forever.”
“We’ll live in Abask. In the hills, by a river. You and I, at peace at last.”
“At peace at last,” March echoed. “I love you now and always will, Edyon.”
Edyon embraced March and kissed his cheek, but they were pulled apart. The Lions around him jeered, but Edyon hardly noticed. He focused on March, looking at him for the last time.
They were taken up to the large castle terrace, where the strange metal contraptions were lined up in a symmetrical fashion. There seemed to be a choice of execution methods—both slow and fast—though Edyon did not expect that he would be the one to make the choice. From the outside of the line, moving in, there were two methods of crucifixion, one on a T-shaped cross and one X-shaped, then a human-shaped cage hanging from a chain, then the two huge black, metal contraptions, and, in front of them, two boxes for beheadings, then farther along, another human-shaped cage, and X- and T-shaped crosses.
Edyon was taken to one of the large metal contraptions and tied to it, his arms outspread. March was taken to the block in front of him to be beheaded. Rashford was taken to the machine next to Edyon, and, in front of him at the other beheading block, was Broderick. The others were taken to the other crosses and cages.
Edyon, however, was wrong about being center stage. Harold, of course, wanted that position, and he now came forward and stood before them to address the crowd below. The people were mostly townsfolk, and none looked too jubilant to be there. Indeed, they looked miserable and were mostly silent. Edyon noticed that the gateways to the square were guarded by boys.
“People of Calia. Loyal boys of the boys’ brigades. This afternoon we have a spectacle for you.” Harold spread his arms out as if displaying his wares. “These are our enemies. They are traitors and villains. They have betrayed me. They will pay with their lives, and give us some entertainment as small recompense in the process. Their bodies will be displayed as a warning to anyone who thinks of opposing me. I am here as your future king. I am here to show you my power and my strength. Enjoy your entertainment.”
There were cheers from a few boys and one or two townsfolk, but mostly there was stillness and silence.
And so the work began on Harold’s display, starting from the outside in. The two farthest prisoners, Kellen and Fitz, were pushed into position, each held by two Lion boys and nailed by a third to their crosses. The prisoners screamed and Kellen kicked out, but it didn’t take long for them both to go quiet.
Edyon tried not to think of the nails going through their flesh. At least his death would be faster than theirs—though, as he looked at the contraption to which he was attached, he wasn’t sure how he was going to die. He couldn’t move, but at least he was chained, not nailed, into position.
The next boys were nailed to their crosses, and then the boys were put in the man-shaped cages. All of them had metal helmets put on them that inserted something into their mouths. And as they breathed and panted, the noises were turned into whistles of different pitches.
Edyon tried to block it out. He looked at the blue sky and thought of his mother, and then he looked at March. But now they were coming to March and Broderick, who were forced into position. Broderick had gone limp and had wet himself, and the executioners kicked him and cursed him.
A metal helmet was put on Edyon’s head, his mouth forced open, and a round metal tube forced in. As he breathed out, the high-pitched whistle hurt his ears.
Harold walked along the terrace and swayed to the whistles coming from the boys’ mouths as if to music, though in truth it was just an awful noise that not even the strangest, saddest birds would ever make.
Edyon looked at March’s back as he bent forward, his head on the block.
I love you. I love you always and always will.
Tears ran down Edyon’s cheek as he closed his eyes.
At least March will die quickly.
There was a scream. And another.
Edyon didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t want to know. He kept his eyes closed.
It’ll be over soon.
The whistling around him grew more frantic. He heard a thud, as if the ax had fallen, and then a scream—a scream that wouldn’t end. And more screaming.
Please. Just end this. Just end it.
But nothing happened, except for more screaming and someone shouting for help. Edyon forced his eyes open but couldn’t understand at all.
It was Broderick’s executioner shouting for help—he was on fire and grabbing at his clothes, trying to rip them off. White smoke was around his waist, curling round his chest.
The other executioner held his ax aloft over March and seemed undecided whether to continue with his job or help his friend, but before he could make his mind up, flames burst out of his mouth as if in a huge belch. His hair caught fire. The bottle of smoke at his waist cracked open, and a plume of thick white smoke puffed out around him, enveloping him completely so that all Edyon could see was the ax, which fell down toward March’s neck, and Edyon screamed into his whistle as the ax blade landed—
Where March’s head had just been. But March had moved back and was staring in shock at his executioner, whose body was now licked by flames.
All around was chaos. Shouts and screams, smoke and flames, had burst out from all the boys. Harold remained center stage, standing still, a curl of white smoke round his waist. He pulled the bottles of smoke from his belt and threw them at the crowd. Then he said, “Boys, throw the smoke away.” He thought that would save him, but as he repeated his order, white smoke came out of his mouth. “I order this to stop!” he cried, but now fire as well as smoke was pouring out of his mouth.
“I will not have this!” he shouted, and he turned round, burning Sam with the flames from his mouth. Harold’s eyes met Edyon’s, and he ran toward him, shouting, though his words were more like flaming
screams. March picked up the ax and swung it round, hard and fast, into Harold’s chest. The prince fell to the ground, his twitching body engulfed in white smoke.
Harold was dead. Sam was on his knees, consumed by flames. All around, the brigade boys were burning, and the white smoke clung to them. Edyon had no idea what was happening, but the purple smoke seemed to have changed to white, and any boy who’d taken the smoke or had it in a bottle was now being attacked by it.
March had pulled Broderick to his feet, saying, “Get Rashford out of that contraption, and be careful about it. Then help the others.” Next, March was with Edyon, pulling the helmet off and asking, “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. But what’s happening? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. The bottles of smoke are exploding and burning. The boys who have smoke inside them—even their bodies are catching fire.”
March freed Edyon’s hands, and Broderick released Rashford. March and Edyon helped free the remaining boy in the cage, and then they had the grim task of getting the boys off the crosses, pulling the nails out. Rashford, all the while, was talking to the boys, saying, “You’re so brave, Fitz. So brave. We’re going to live through this. And you, Kellen, and you. You’ll have some nice scars to prove all your stories are true, ’cause otherwise, who would believe it?”
The white smoke was rising up from the burning bodies of the boys and gathering in a low cloud, swirling in the courtyard. The crowd of people below were screaming and panicking. Some fled out the gates, which were no longer guarded. The white cloud of smoke hung ominously low over them, and a wisp of it dipped down and wrapped round a Calidorian man, who screamed as his clothes burst into flame.
It seemed the smoke would kill anyone it touched. Edyon shouted, “The smoke burns! Get away from the cloud. Run to the sea. Get in the water. Don’t let the smoke touch you.”
The crowd fled and March, Edyon, Rashford, and the other prisoners joined the throng, running down from the castle through the streets of Calia to the quay. The cloud seemed to follow them as if circling and looking for prey, swooping down and encircling another few men, whose hair and clothes caught fire.
