Above them Peter Marx closed his eyes, breathed in, and opened them again. From far above the ground the man with the face and body of a helpless boy observed the frenzied scene below. He watched the last of the soldiers disappear into the dark, pulled within by the withered demons, while the mutilated corpse of Constantine Lesper continued to call out, ‘GILAXIAD! GILAXIAD! GILAXIAD!’
To the centre of the chamber crawled Kramer and Ketrass. Justus and Anna dashed also to the midpoint, where they raised the young blonde girl to her feet. Nearby, the Crilshan Gordian threw Diego Ferranti over his shoulder and gathered among the rest. The boy gazed down at the terror and wonder filling each of their faces. He focused upon Xerin Kramer and listened to him whimper, ‘Peter,’ bent upon his hands and knees.
‘Yes,’ the boy said. ‘I am Peter Marx.’ He reached up and touched his hair, and looked down at his hands, soft palms he had not seen for ten years. He had, at last, returned to his original form, and once again bore his night-black hair and impenetrable skin, brilliantly pale. ‘I am not Araman Alwar. I never could be. I never wanted to be. I am Peter Marx.’
‘GILAXIAD!’ Lesper cried. ‘GILAXIAD! GILAXIAD!’
But it was not he who called the word. It was them.
Peter raised his arms up high, bloody garments hanging loose about his slender form, and he called out, ‘Long have they waited!’ Silence fell at once, and every last body stopped to listen. ‘Long indeed have they concealed themselves below this mountain black. Longer than he could guess, did he think it possible!’
Every last one of the swarthy organisms halted their crying. Their lean collars pointed up at him. ‘This one speaks with an aged tongue!’ called Lesper. ‘Aged or sharp! Sharp or scornful! This one must come down!’
Peter looked at the astonishment upon his friends’ faces; and he laughed, powerful and booming it shook the chamber with a deafening report. ‘This one thinks they may have to wait a short while more!’ And with a lift of his arms the ground below with dust and rocks rose up, circling the rounded chamber. He concentrated with all his might on the black-blazing stone structure upon the far wall, and he reached out his arms, and he tore it down. The edifice warped and buckled, collapsing rock across the entire chamber. But none touched his friends. The black mass of energy at once ceased, filling the room with an eerie silence.
Peter knew what he had to do; there was no trace of uncertainty in his mind now as he peered over the edge and watched the survivors of Erebus pick themselves up, preparing to run. Ketrass and Kramer darted towards the stone steps and Justus raised his coil, shielding the girls. ‘Get your sister up,’ he said to Anna. ‘Get ready to run. We make for the craft!’ He spun and fired his coil several times, covering Anna and her sister as they hobbled forwards. The Crilshan with Ferranti over his shoulder moved behind.
Peter jumped the length of the stone steps, opening his palms and sending a cluster of creatures flying through the air, before landing at the bottom, fusing the air around him into a fierce assault, preventing the Zinn from coming near.
‘Go, go, go!’ Justus shouted to Anna and the others as they tore up the steps behind him, lugging their respective wounded. Kramer and Ketrass had already made it to the top. He then turned to Peter in the heightening chaos and nodded. ‘You are Peter Marx.’
‘Yes, I am,’ he said. ‘And it has been a long time since anybody sought for me by that name.’ Peter reached out and the two clasped hands in amity. Words could not describe the warmth he felt seeing Antal Justus alive before him.
The rattling cries of the black creatures of Zinn rose from the far fringe of the chamber. Many more had emerged from deep cracks and secret tunnels, enraged and ferocious, while the twisting torrent of wind continued to surge around the chamber, keeping them at bay.
Peter’s eyes widened as he summoned his friend close. ‘Listen to me carefully, Antal. There is so much more behind all of this than any of us realise. It’s up to you now. Remember my words: the moon is our ally. Seek the answers on Earth, Antal. If it comes to it, leave me behind, but get the others out. Promise me.’
‘Araman . . . Peter, I—’
‘Promise me!’
Justus’ lip trembled; he looked fixedly at Peter and nodded. ‘I promise.’
‘Good, now go. Run . . . run and don’t look back!’
‘What’re you—’
‘RUN!’
Antal Justus holstered his coilbolt and charged for the bordering steps. Two of the dark creatures emerged at that point from a split at the bottom of the steps, and they darted after him. But Peter extended his reach as though his gift had never disappeared, and pulled the Zinn back, hurling them far across the fissure at the chamber’s centre.
Peter turned. His power was back, his strength renewed. All the time he had spent upon Erebus—ten long years as his gift was hindered by the dark energy, the evil power within—had taught him nothing more than that his power was part of who he was. And now he would use it to get the answers he had long searched for.
As the wind died down, the lofty beings leaned forwards on their barbed legs, ready to strike. But strike they did not. They perceived Peter as though they knew him, knew what he was capable of, as though they had seen him before. He eyed them carefully, walking slowly towards them in the silence, hoping their attention would remain on him long enough for the others to catch up with Kramer and get out. Peter knew what he had to do. As he approached them they moved aside, backing away from a powerful aura which he knowingly emanated as much as he could. They parted together, allowing him through and in between them. Very soon he was surrounded, but he carried on forward until he reached the ringed chasm and surveyed the many mounds of stone stretched out around him. Above swayed Lesper’s lifeless form.
Peter peered over the edge. A human eye could not have found the bottom, but he could see all the way. It was wide and dark, but not limitless. At the bottom lay a hillock of dark bone, the body of a young woman, and the device he was searching for. The screen, still intact, read:
10 : 02
10 : 01
He breathed out. ‘No.’
10 : 00
09 : 59
He turned back to the Zinn. With a voice—strong, clear, and commanding—he said, ‘I know they are aware of the words he chooses, so now they are going to listen!’
The dark chamber, filled only with a hazy glow now raining down from the freshly-razed opening above, became utterly quiet. They would not come near him, and instead displayed their height in threatening stances. He remained encircled in the middle of the chamber beside the cold pit.
His heart racing, Peter spoke again. ‘When I first entered here, when I revealed myself and spoke, you cried out. You shouted . . . Gilaxiad. What does it mean?’
No reply. Silence.
‘I’ve heard that word before! Tell me what it means!’
For so many years the dream of the orb and Gilaxiad had been ingrained in Peter Marx’s mind, torturing him. Once the Iástron haven below Europa had fallen he spent months without sleep. And when he eventually closed his eyes, when finally he dreamt again, Gilaxiad was there, the black orb was there, Anna and Justus were there.
‘Tell me!’
At once the clothed Zinn before him spoke. It sounded just like before: a deep and cavernous rattle. And Lesper’s sonorous voice spoke for it: ‘The prophecy . . . Gilaxiad . . . the Masterium . . . Gilaxiad. He will die . . . GILAXIAD! GILAXIAD!’
Then a single Zinn moved. It took three broad steps forward, rising up above him. The dull rattles of the beings behind it continued; the sound resonated around him like a chill wind. And the cloaked Zinn looked down. Long arms caressed his shoulders, and then his neck, and then it began to stroke his frozen face. The horrifying skull of the Zinn closed in, and it made another deep rattle. It spoke to him, and from the edifice behind Lesper exclaimed:
Gone are days of peace and hope;
In their place death and darkness rain;
Lost are memories of power once owned;
And through the one—
Lesper stopped suddenly. The rattle of the Zinn ceased. A terrifying hush wrapped the hollow in its entirety. The tall, lean being backed up.
‘And through?’ Peter said. ‘Through the one what? What comes next? Gilaxiad is a prophecy. Is that what it is?’ He looked upon the faces of the Zinn-creatures, and his heart almost stopped beating. If ever he would have imagined the look of pure terror on their skeletal snouts, they would have looked like this. In the hauntingly-dim glow, he watched their heads look past him, up and beyond where he stood. He turned slowly, gazed up. Absolute dread surged through him. ‘No . . . please, no.’
The creatures behind him remained silent, save for the unsettling rattle of their bone-like limbs retreating once more. But the excruciating stillness was interrupted by the deep, blood-curdling sound of a creature.
It was hissing.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
JUSTUS RAN. LIGHT shimmered before him. Darkness in his wake. No Peter. Up ahead Gordian lugging a barely-conscious Ferranti, and to Justus’ utter relief Anna raced ahead, dragging her sister with her.
An overwhelming part of him wanted to stop, to go back and help. He couldn’t believe it: the leader of the Iástrons was here; his friend, Araman Alwar, had been Peter Marx all along. Almost faltering as he charged through the dark he quickly caught up with Gordian and Ferranti, and pushed ahead. They were so close. The Stellarstream’s shuttle was just in front. A loud and roaring drone carried through the tunnel and he reached the clearing, emerging at the same precipice upon which they had landed minutes before. He could see Kramer and Ketrass at the craft’s side entrance, and Anna carried her sister toward it.
‘Come on!’ Kramer said. ‘This way, Anna!’
She raced forward.
‘Anna, no!’ Justus cried.
She continued on and reached the craft. Kramer took her hand and pulled her towards him, driving his elbow into her sister’s semi-conscious form and sending her to the ground. He raised his knife and rolled her round to face the others, the knife-edge held up against her skin.
‘Anna!’
‘Stay back!’ Kramer yelled.
Gordian’s legs gave way as he reached the rock face and both he and Ferranti collapsed to the ground. Justus carried forwards, coil in hand. All his energy drained, he too wavered on the spot.
‘I swear,’ he said, ‘you hurt her and I’ll—’
A humming. A drone. Something rang beneath the mountain, as though the caves themselves were chanting a magnificent hymn from hell itself. And from the blackness of the colossal cavern came a twisting craft. It was worn and dark red; and the pilot inside set it down with extraordinary skill upon the cliff face. And in seconds, as the rear gate was lowered, four familiar figures scurried down the access ramp, holding up blasters and dashing forward. A blonde, curly-haired woman held her hand up, signalling for the others to stop. The podgy man behind her mimicked the action, and the thin boy and giant girl behind him did so too.
‘That’s not possible!’ Justus shivered. ‘Adra?’
Their eyes met. Adra Dimal’s jaw trembled, a smile forming.
‘Out of the way!’ came another voice, and from behind the four came charging a bent old woman, shoving the others aside as she made for the action. She spotted Anna, Kramer, and Ketrass at the craft’s opening and halted. ‘Anna?’
‘Callista?’
‘Stay back, old woman,’ Ketrass said, a flickering red coil at her side.
‘Are you all right, Anna?’ Callista asked.
Dimal moved to her side. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Stay where you are!’ Justus said, raising his coil towards Kramer. ‘You hurt her, and—’
‘And you’ll what?’ Kramer said, inching backwards, his knife held firmly upon her.
‘And I’ll make sure you regret it.’
‘Where is he, Captain?’ the professor asked.
‘Right behind us.’
‘I’d better make this quick then.’
‘Whatever it is you want to do,’ said the dark-skinned old woman, ‘you will stop it now.’
Kramer hesitated. His grip appeared to loosen, but he didn’t let go. ‘I am getting on this craft and not a single one of you is going to stop me.’ Dimal, Noah, Raj, and Shree all triggered their weapons, but the old woman waved them down.
‘Drop the weapons,’ he said, ‘or I slit her throat.’ He looked to Justus. ‘And I very much doubt that this one will heal.’
Justus nodded to the group, and they all deactivated their weapons, dropping them to the ground. Kramer chuckled. ‘You had the chance. You had the opportunity to do something that mattered.’
‘I’m doing something that matters. I know why I came to Erebus now.’ He looked to Avéne Ketrass. ‘Do you know why you did?’
‘You saw what’s right down there!’ she screamed. ‘Somebody has to fight it! We’re not alone anymore. The stories were true!’
‘We can fight it,’ he said. ‘But not like this. No one else has to die.’
‘Ibrahatima katha,’ Kramer said. ‘As they say on Crilshar, “let the darkness run through your veins like deep, untainted blood.”’
‘You’re mad!’ Dimal cried.
‘The darkness inside Erebus will not rise if we fight it,’ he said, stepping to the edge dragging Anna with him. ‘And we will fight it. There are more of those creatures out there, and we have to be ready—’
‘We will be.’
‘We have to show them that we are strong!’
‘And our strength is our humanity. Put the knife down!’
‘Humanity is weak! Humanity has never been weaker than it is today. To say that it is a strength is a contradiction, nothing more.’
‘Kramer, put down the knife.’
‘Please,’ the old woman begged, swaying where she stood.
‘Darkness alone can fight darkness!’
Justus stepped forward. ‘I won’t let you do this.’
Kramer took a deep breath. ‘Then you leave me no choice.’ The blade left Anna’s neck as he raised it, making to plunge it into her—
‘NOOO!’
A sudden beam of blue discharged as though from nowhere. Kramer’s hand burst into soaring fragments, spattering both Anna and the ground with small pieces, and they were both hurled to the floor, where Kramer shook and howled in a fit of excruciating cries. Justus charged forward as Kramer reached out for the knife, scrambling for the blade amongst the slivers of his shattered hand. He kicked out at Anna, picked up the knife, and—
Justus kicked Kramer in the face, knocking him back. He turned to see Ketrass raise the crackling coil towards him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said as Adra Dimal appeared behind her, her fist landing a blow across her face. Ketrass collapsed beside Kramer, whimpering.
The old woman scurried across and Anna jumped into her arms; she pulled her to her feet, and everybody gazed across the cliff face. At the bottom of the Crimson Flux’s ramp there stood a young girl, a smoking blaster in her hands. Her red hair was darker than a setting surrogate sun, and the crimson ship’s crew turned to her, stunned.
‘Aíron Veryan!’ Justus cried, and he fell once more to his knees. The young girl grinned nervously as the others rushed to her.
Kramer stirred and cried aloud, almost in shock, ‘My hand! My hand! You took my hand!’
Justus picked up Ketrass’ coilbolt and handed it to Adra before picking up the shaking man. ‘You’re coming with us. Dimal, tie him up in the back. Her too,’ he said, motioning to Ketrass.
‘Me?’ she whimpered, shaking.
‘Yes, you. You chose him. You chose wrong. Now live with it.’
The crew of the Flux hauled Kramer and Ketrass up and into the crimson beauty, while Ferranti and Gordian, though exhausted, found their feet and moved on board. Ferranti’s arm was broken.
Justus rushed to help Anna and her half-conscious sister up. Anna continued to we
ep in the arms of the old woman, who held her in a cradling embrace. ‘Now now,’ she whispered tenderly, ‘that’s certainly not the Anna I know!’
Justus took the woman’s arm. ‘How did you know we were down here?’
‘I followed a feeling,’ she said, throwing him off. ‘A feeling I haven’t felt in fifty years, but one I have never forgotten. A feeling which pulled me down here.’
‘What is it?’ Anna asked.
The old woman gazed at the nearby passage, and seized Justus by the collar. ‘Tell me now,’ she said, ‘where is he?’
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
PETER MARX LOOKED up. All his senses scanned the dark chamber and the tunnels beyond, past the army of the Zinn as the horror of the beastly presence tore their cries asunder, and like a ferocious flash of lightning out on the planet surface, for one split-second he saw her. She was there. The last Iástron had come.
The hissing rang out again. Peter turned to peer upon the hanging body of Constantine Lesper, upon which rose the hair-raising outline of the beast. The same creature that had driven Lesper mad and followed him into the shuttle, no doubt causing the ship to hurtle down here; it had waited with the body, and now further prey had arrived. Subject Sixteen. With a roaring snarl it dropped from Lesper’s body onto the chamber floor and rose up before charging headlong across the piles of stone at Peter and the Zinn. Peter searched his psyche and focused, and looked into the mind of the creature. With a snap his neck cracked back, falling . . .
. . . he collapsed onto his back. A ringing pain shot through his head. He opened his eyes and jumped to his feet. A hand clutched his shoulder. He spun. Professor Xerin Kramer stared back at him, clean cut and wearing his usual black coat and dark partial face-covering. Lesper’s voice called out in the background.
‘Where am I? What’s happening?’
‘This way, Captain,’ Kramer said with his harsh, poised nuance.
Peter followed; only it was not his body. The cave and the dark chamber suddenly disappeared. He walked behind the Professor through the black rock and into Section Six, not speaking a word; and he halted before the same sixteen metal hatches he had been shown upon his own visit, under the guise of Araman Alwar.