Then, without any warning, they were both drawn to a halt and their blindfolds tugged off. Blinking, the boys looked around; they were evidently still on the Great Plain, but there were no features to be seen in the illumination from the miner's light on the head of the tall man who stood before them. The glare from the light meant they couldn't see his face, but he was wearing a long jacket with a belt slung around his waist that had numerous pouches attached to it. He took something from one of these — a light orb, which he held in his gloved palm. Then he reached above his forehead and turned off the miner's light.
He unwound a scarf from around his neck and mouth, switching his stare between the two boys as he did so. His shoulders were broad, but his face was the thing that held their attention. It was a lean face with a strong nose and one eye that glinted blue at them. The other eye had something in front of it, held in place by a band around the top of his head, like a drop-down lens.
It reminded Will of the last time he'd had his eyes tested; the optician examining him had worn a similar device. However, this version had a milky lens and, Will could have sworn, a very faint orange glow to it. He immediately assumed that the eye underneath had been damaged in some way, but then noticed a pair of twisted cables attached to the monocle's perimeter that passed around the headband and behind the man's head.
The single, uncovered eye continued to assess both of them, shrewd and quick as it darted from one to the other.
"I don't have much patience," the man began.
Will was trying to guess his age, but he could have been anything from thirty to fifty, and he had such an imposing physical presence that neither boy could fail to be intimidated.
"My name is Drake. I'm not in the habit of picking up outcasts from the Colony," he said, and then paused. "Sometimes, with the wrecks and the broken-down, those that have been tortured or are too weak to last for long… I bring about an early release." With a grim smile, he swept his hand around the belt until it came to rest on a large scabbard on his hip. "It's the kindest thing to do."
As if he had made his point, he withdrew his hand from the knife. "I want straight answers. We've been tracking you, and there is no backup, is there?" He glared at Will, who remained silent.
"You, the big one, what's your name?" He turned to Chester, who shifted uneasily on his feet.
"Chester Rawls, sir," the boy answered in a tremulous voice.
"You're not a Colonist, are you?"
"Er… no," Chester croaked.
"Topsoiler?"
"Yes." Chester looked down, not able to withstand the stare from the cold eye any longer.
"So how did you come to be down here?"
"I was Banished."
"Along with the best of them," Drake said, twisting around to regard Will. "You, the brave — or very idiotic — one. Name?"
"Will," he answered evenly.
"What are you, I wonder. You're more difficult. You move and look like Colonist rank and file, but there's also a touch of the Topsoil about you, too."
Will nodded.
Drake continued: "Which makes you somewhat unusual. You're patently not an agent for the Limiters."
"Who?" Will asked.
"You've just seen them in action."
"I've no idea what Limiters are," Will mumbled insolently at him.
"A specialist detachment of the Styx. They've been cropping up all over the place lately. Seems the Deeps have become a bit of a habit with them," Drake said. "So, you don't work for them."
"No, I bloody don't!" Will replied, so emphatically that Drake's eye seemed to flicker marginally wider, with what could have been surprise. He sighed and crossed his arms, tugging reflectively at his chin with one hand.
"Thought as much." He stared at Will, shaking his head. "But I don't like it when I can't understand something right away. I rend to act rashly… get rid of whatever it is. Tell me, boy, quickly, who and what are you?"
Will decided he'd better do as the man ordered and provide him with an answer. "I was born in the Colony and my mother got me out. Got me to the surface," he said.
"So when did you go Topsoil?"
"When I was two, she—"
"Enough," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "I didn't ask for your life story," he growled. "But that smells right. And it makes you an… an oddity." He looked past the boys, to the darkness behind them. "I suggest we take them back. We can decide what to do with them later. Agreed, Elliott?"
A smaller figure, no taller than Will, stepped into view with the stealth of a cat. Even in the poor light they could see the curves of her body under the loose-fitting jacket and pants, clothes similar to those Drake was wearing. She had a sandy-colored scarf, a shemagh, wound around her face and up over the top of her head, obscuring all her features except for her eyes, which did not once look in the boys' direction.
She was carrying a rifle of some kind. She swung it before her and, digging the butt into the ground, leaned against it. It looked heavy, with a thick pipelike barrel on which, midway along, was attached a chunky sight of some description that glinted dully, like unpolished brass. The weapon was almost as tall as she was, and seemed impossibly cumbersome for a girl of her slight frame.
The two boys held their breath, waiting for her to speak, but after a couple of seconds she merely nodded, then swung the chunky rifle onto her back again as if it weighed no more than a length of bamboo.
"Come along," Drake said to them. He made no move to put on their blindfolds again, but left their hands bound. With just the faintest glow from Drake's miner's light to show them where he was, they followed his broad-backed form as he piloted them through an unremittingly monotonous landscape. Despite the lack of landmarks, he seemed to know unerringly which direction they should be taking. After many more hours of this desertlike terrain, they arrived at the edge of the Great Plain at the mouth of a lava tube. They filed down this at some speed. It was almost, Will thought, as if Drake had the ability to see in the dark.
Now in the enclosed space of the tube, they watched the indistinct outline of Drake's head as he went, but on the occasions when Will and Chester glanced behind to see where Elliott was, there was absolutely no sign of her. And no noise, either. Will came to the conclusion that she must have taken another route, or had remained behind for some reason.
The three of them, Drake, Will and Chester, took a left fork and very soon arrived at what appeared to be a cul-de-sac.
Drake drew them to a halt. He turned up his miner's light and stood there facing them, his back to the wall, while Will and Chester peered around uneasily. They could see no reason for stopping. Chester held his breath as Drake suddenly reached to his side and yanked his knife from its scabbard.
"I'm going to free your hands," he said before they had time to think the worst was about to happen. "Here." He beckoned with his knife, and then, as they held up their wrists, sliced deftly through the bindings with single strokes.
"Is there anything in those backpacks that'll be spoiled by water? Food, or anything you want to keep dry?"
Will thought for a second.
"Quickly!" Drake pressed them.
"Yes, there's my notebooks and camera, quite a lot of food, and… and some fireworks," Will replied. "That's in mine." He looked over at his brother's rucksack, which Chester was now carrying. "In Cal's, there's mostly just food."
Before he had finished speaking, Drake lobbed two folded packages at their feet. "Use these. Get on with it."
The boys each picked up a package and shook it out. They were bags, made from a light, waxed material, with two sets of drawstrings on their openings.
Will tipped out his rucksack, rapidly shoving things he wanted to keep dry into the bag. He tightened the drawstrings, then turned to look at Chester, who was unfamiliar with the contents of his backpack and, as a consequence, was taking more time.
"C'mon, will you," Drake growled under his breath.
"Let me do that," Will volunteered, shouldering C
hester aside and finishing off the job within seconds.
"Right!" Drake barked. "Is that everything?"
Both boys nodded.
"A word of advice: Next time I suggest you keep at least a pair of socks dry."
They had been so occupied by the task at hand, neither Will nor Chester had given a thought to what was going to happen next.
"Right, sir," Will said. He was comforted by the words next time and the almost paternal advice this complete stranger was giving them.
"Look, I am sir to no one," Drake snapped back, making Will feel uneasy all over again. He hadn't intended to say it — it had slipped out as if he had been addressing a teacher at school.
"Sorry, s—" Will began, managing to cut himself off just in time. He caught the momentary sneer of Drake's lips before the man began to speak again.
"You are going to swim through this." Drake thrust his toe cap at the floor by the foot of the wall. Where the boys had thought there was solid ground, they now saw ripples spread sluggishly under a thick film of dust. It was apparently a small pool, some six feet in diameter.
"Swim?" Chester asked, and swallowed nervously.
"You can hold your breath for thirty seconds, can't you, boy?"
"Yes," Chester stammered.
"Good. This is a small sump that comes up in another passage. It's like a U-bend.."
"Same as at the back of a toilet bowl?" Chester suggested, his voice brittle with apprehension.
"Oh, nice one, Chester," Will said, grimacing.
Drake gave them both a wry glance, then waved them toward the grimy-looking water. "In you go."
Will put his rucksack on his back and approached the pool, hugging the waterproof bag in his arms. He stepped into the sump without hesitation, each step taking him deeper into the tepid water. Then, with a deep breath, he ducked his head under its surface and was gone.
Feeling bubbles brush his face, he pulled himself along using his free hand. He kept his eyes tightly shut, the noise of the water thundering in his ears. Although the tunnel wasn't particularly wide, pinching down to perhaps three feet at its narrowest point, it wasn't proving too difficult to negotiate, either, even with the dual burdens of the rucksack and waterproof bag.
But despite the fact that he thought he was making good progress, Will didn't seem to be getting anywhere. He opened his eyes in the pitch-blackness, which made his heart beat even faster. The water around him felt thick and resistant.
This was his worst nightmare.
Is this all a trick? Should I turn back?
He tried to keep control of himself, but with the lack of air, his body was beginning to rebel. He felt a wave of panic surge through him and began to thrash around, grabbing wildly for anything that would help him move faster. He had to get out of the inky liquid! He moved with a mad desperation now, driving himself forward through the dark waters in a slow-motion sprint.
He wondered for the briefest moments if this was how Drake was going to kill both of them. But in the same instant he told himself that Drake wouldn't have needed to go to all this trouble — it would have been simpler just to slit their throats back on the Great Plain, if that had been his intention.
Although it was probably no more than half a minute, it felt like several lifetimes before Will burst out into the air with a huge splash.
His chest heaving, he fumbled for his lantern and switched it to its lowest level. The muted light didn't reveal much about the place he was in, except he noticed that the ground and the walls appeared to glisten a little when his beam caught them. He assumed this was merely due to moisture on their surfaces. Grateful for the air in his lungs, he waited for Chester.
On the other side of the sump, Chester reluctantly hoisted the rucksack onto his shoulders and began mooching toward the patch of water, dragging the waterproof bag behind him.
"What are you waiting for, boy?" Drake said, his voice hard and uncompromising.
Chester bit his lip, dawdling beside the slowly lapping water, which was still agitated from Will's passage through it. He turned to look sheepishly into Drake's single, glowering eye.
"Um… he began, wondering how he could possibly avoid submerging himself in the grimy-looking pool before him. "I can't…"
Drake grabbed his arm, but without any real pressure. "Listen, I mean you no harm. You are going to have to trust me." He raised his chin, looking away from the frightened boy. "It's not an easy thing to put your trust in a total stranger, especially after what you've been through. You're right to be cautious — that's good. But I am not a Styx, and I'm not going to do anything to hurt you. OK?" He brought his singular gaze to bear on the boy.
Close to the man, Chester looked directly into his face and somehow knew that Drake was being straight with him. He was suddenly filled with confidence.
"All right," he agreed, and without further hesitation waded into the dark waters, submerging himself in them. And as he propelled himself through, using the half-swimming, half-running method Will had employed, he didn't allow any doubt to cloud his mind.
On the other side, Will was there to help Chester out.
"You OK?" Will asked him. "You took so long, I thought you got stuck or something."
"No problem," Chester answered, breathing heavily and wiping water from his eyes.
"Now's our chance," Will said quickly, trying to see what lay beyond in the darkness, then glancing back to the pool. There was no sign of Drake, but he wouldn't be far behind. "We should make a break for it."
"No, Will," Chester said resolutely.
"What are you talking about?" Will demanded, already turning and trying to pull his friend with him.
"I'm not going anywhere. I think we're safe with him," Chester replied. He widened his stance to resist Will, who saw he meant what he was saying.
"Too late," Will said furiously as a faint light shone from deep within the water. It was the miner's light on Drake's forehead. Will made a growling noise at Chester just as the man's head and shoulders broke from the surface, and he rose out of it like some apparition, barely disturbing the water at all.
Drake's light was more intense than either of the boys' lanterns and it played on the walls around them. Will could now see that what he had assumed to be moisture was something else altogether. Both walls and the ground upon which the boys stood were streaked with a multitude of fine golden veins, as if a priceless cobweb had been draped over them. The veins glittered with a thousand tiny points of light, suffusing the chamber with a glorious kaleidoscope of warm yellow.
"Wow!" Chester gasped.
"Gold!" Will mumbled in disbelief. He looked down at his arms, noticing they were covered in it, too. They had all picked up a good measure on their clothes and skin from the shining dust floating on the surface of the water.
"'fraid not," Drake said, now standing beside them. "It's only fool's gold. Iron pyrite."
"Of course," Will said, recalling the shiny cube his father had bought him for his minerals collection back home. "Iron pyrite," he repeated, slightly ashamed that he hadn't known better.
"I can show you places where there's gold, places where you can fill your boots," Drake said as he surveyed the walls. "But what's the point if there's nowhere to spend it?" The coldness had returned to his voice. "Sort out your kit" — he pointed at their rucksacks — "we need to get going."
Once the boys were ready, Drake turned and was off again, an imperious figure taking powerful, long strides down the exquisitely golden gallery.
Marching briskly through a confusing maze of rock passages, they eventually came to a ramp leading up to a rough archway. Drake reached through the opening and felt to one side. He pulled out a knotted rope.
"Up," he said, holding the rope toward them.
Will and Chester hauled themselves up the thirty feet of so to the top and waited there, panting from the exertion. Drake followed up with no more effort than it would take a normal person to open a door. The boys found themselves in a sor
t of octagonal atrium, from which they could see openings leading to other faintly lit spaces. The floor was even and covered with silt, and as Will scuffed his boot on it, he could tell from the echoes that the adjoining rooms were of a reasonable size.
"This'll be home for a while," Drake said, unbuckling the bulky belt around his waist. Slipping off his jacket, he slung it over his shoulder. Then he reached to the contraption in front of his eye and lifted it upward. It was hinged, revealing that his other eye was, in fact, quite normal.
As he stood before them, the boys took in the musculature of his bare arms and how exceptionally lean and honed he was. His cheekbones were prominent, and his face so thin that the muscle groups composing it were almost visible through his skin. And every inch of his flesh, ingrained with dirt and the color of tanned leather, was lined by a mesh of scars. Some were large, bleached-white hyphens that stood proud, while others where much smaller, as if pale filaments had been trailed around his neck and the sides of his face.
But his eyes, overhung by his prominent brow, were intensely blue, and simmered with such an awe-inspiring ferociousness that both Will and Chester found it hard to bear their scrutiny. It was as though their depths divulged a glimpse of some terrifying place, a place neither of the boys wanted to know anything about.
"Right, wait in there."
The boys began to shuffle toward the room Drake was pointing to.
"But leave your rucksacks here," he ordered and, still facing the boys, added, "Everything OK, Elliott?"
Will and Chester couldn't stop themselves from peering past Drake. By the top of the rope, the small girl was poised, stock-still. It was evident that she had never been very far behind, all the time they'd been walking but neither of the boys had noticed her presence until now.
"You are going to restrain them, aren't you?" she asked in a cold, unfriendly voice.
"Not necessary, is it, Chester?" Drake said.
"No," the boy answered so readily that Will looked at him with barely concealed astonishment.
"And you?"
"Uh… no," Will muttered less enthusiastically.
* * * * *