‘Gilaxiad . . . Anna . . .’
The stolen silver vehicle, streamline and swift, pulled out of the tree line and swerved into a field of black. Another crash of light filled the night sky. A huge gate stood before them, blocking the way through to a long drive which lead to the stone building. Dimal shivered.
‘What is this place?’ Aíron mumbled.
‘Quiet,’ Dimal said, and the two passengers watched silently as she pushed a switch on top of the central dash.
The sound of static filled the vehicle and a voice spoke:
—The Von Vortan is not expecting anybody. He does not wish for callers tonight, came a female voice in a stern accent. Leave now or the appropriate services shall be contacted.
‘No, wait,’ Dimal said. ‘It’s an emergency. Antal Justus is with me.’
—Antal who?
‘Antal Justus.’
Silence.
‘Please,’ Aíron said. ‘This is no joke. We need to come in!’
—If Master Justus is there, have him speak.
Dimal looked at Justus, who lay still again. She turned back. ‘He can’t. He’s injured. Please . . .’
—I cannot wake my Von with nuisances.
‘Think!’ she said. ‘How would even know his name, never mind where he lives, if we didn’t at least know him? He’s here with me!’
Silence again. Then:
—I will not wake my Von at this hour. The services have been alerted.
‘Fuck you, then,’ Dimal said. ‘To hell with this. I’ll wake him!’ She forced the switch back down, picked up her blaster, and leaned out of the window.
A bright blue light soared from her blaster and over the gate, trailing smoke towards the house. It burst brighter above them. She fired again – this time at the gate’s lock. She reversed the vehicle several metres and with an almighty crash broke through.
‘Now you’ve done it,’ Noah said. All three leaned forwards, and in the bright blue hew of the flare gazed up in amazement. Rain-lashed stonework reached as high as any of their necks would crane, spreading from tower to tower. A dozen lofty crowns formed the immediate structure; and in the centre, at the very top, protruded a grand spire, coned in shape and crossed at the summit.
‘I know what this is,’ Noah said.
‘What?’ Aíron asked.
He nodded out of the girl’s window at the waning blue light. ‘See those, there?’
‘Aye. There’s hundreds of them. What are they?’
‘Tombstones,’ he said.
The vehicle ground to a halt before the trail of steps leading up to the grand building’s front door, and the three bounded out, each with a careful grip on their captain, who slumped as lifeless as ever. Dimal looked up to see the grand door at the top of the steps already open. In the doorway stood a man.
‘Antal!’ the figure called, bounding down to help the three carry him in. ‘Water!’ Up the steps, the door slamming shut behind them. ‘Water and towels!’ he said. Several servants disappeared through the rooms leading off from the entrance hall.
Noah breathed out loudly and cleared his throat. ‘He’s not giving birth, dammit! And he’s certainly not some lost canine! Take us to the kitchen, or somewhere with a large, open surface, closest to the kitchen.’
Von Vortan stopped. At least, Dimal imagined that’s who he was. Dressed in a dark-brown night gown, he looked like he belonged in one of the graves outside. He was tall and emaciated, weak-looking and sallow. Almost ill.
‘And just who are you?’ Vortan boomed.
‘He’s the man who’s going to save Justus’ life,’ Dimal said. ‘Now get him what he needs.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Adra Dimal. He told me about you, Lanfranc Vortan. He needs you now, not to save him, but to trust us. If he were awake right now he’d tell you—’
‘To shut the hell up.’
They looked down to Justus, who stared up, bleary-eyed and paler than ever. He smiled weakly, and looked from Vortan to Dimal, before tensing up and collapsing again.
‘No!’ Aíron squeaked. ‘Noah, do something!’
‘Take us,’ Noah said to Vortan.
‘An open surface?’
‘Near the kitchen, yes.’
‘Will the kitchen do?’
‘Of course!’
Dimal followed. ‘Aíron, wait out here.’
‘I don’t want to!’
‘I said wait!’
‘You too, Adra,’ Noah said. ‘He and I can take care of this.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Justus wouldn’t want you seeing him like this.’
‘If you think I’m going to abandon him.’
Noah nodded to Aíron. ‘She’s only a child. Take care of her. Let me see to the captain.’
Dimal stepped back as the two men hauled the man she loved through into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind them.
‘I need something to cut his clothes with,’ she heard Noah shout.
‘Right away.’
‘And water. Get me water.’
Dimal and Aíron waited outside for what felt like hours. One of the servants brought them some hot cocoa, which helped a little. But not enough. Neither said a word. She wanted to comfort Aíron, but she didn’t know what to say. If he died, she didn’t plan on sticking around.
At long last, Noah came out of the kitchen. Blood stained his arms and clothes.
‘Now what?’ she asked.
Noah sighed complacently, and shrugged his shoulders.
TWENTY-THREE
THERE WAS STILL the chance to escape.
Anna’s mind raced. If she were quick they could do it. Find a way past the guards and out to a craft. She had done it before. She had no idea where the others were, but she and Gílana could get out. It had been a mistake. An awful error. Coming back was going to cost them their lives.
Anna sat on her couch in the silent apartment, her little sister spread out across her lap. She stared up at the ceiling, and every so often out of the window to eternal night. Exhausted, Gílana had cried herself to sleep. Anna hadn’t slept a moment. If the surrogate sun had been working, the light would be fading at this time. All was quiet.
Then silence no more. A sound outside the door. She ran her hand through Gílana’s hair, stroking her head, rousing her softly. Both waited, knowing there was nowhere to run. Wait, no. Anna’s thoughts twisted towards the concealed entrance to the vault. Could they? No. Time was up. Three Crilshans entered into their home and smiled when they saw the two sisters.
Anna sat Gílana down, then stood. ‘What do you want?’
‘Quiet!’
She said nothing more. Without explanation, the Crilshans escorted the two, terrified and silent, out of the apartment and down through the building, to a waiting ground vehicle outside. They were forced in and surrounded by more Crilshans, who proceeded to take them across central city towards the towering Command Dome.
Into the Dome Anna entered first, holding her sister’s hand. Neither were bound. There would be no point. Where was there to run? Up high, past the council chambers and lower offices, they were pushed, until they reached a heavily guarded wing. Into a wide hallway, where they stopped. Figures waited on the floor. There sat Callista, with a cut lip and a swollen eye. Captain Ferranti and Xerin Kramer were there too. Anna and Gílana sat beside the old woman, heads bowed down.
Callista waited until the Crilshans had backed up before leaning in. ‘Are you two all right? Did they hurt you?’
Anna shook her head. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m just fine, Anna. Just fine.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘There’s somebody in there. They’re questioning us, one-by-one.’
‘What’s wrong with Ferranti?’ she asked, pointing to him as he lay silent and wilted nearby.
‘He’s already been in,’ she explained. ‘Whoever it is, I can see only their air, like a dark cloud.’
‘
Is it him? Is it Mal—’
‘Shhh! Don’t say his name.’
‘Am I next?’
‘I don’t know, child. I’m hoping it will be me. Perhaps there is something I can do, or say.’
At that moment the office door swung open. Two large Crilshan soldiers backed out, dragging Avéne Ketrass’ limp, unconscious body behind them. A third followed. They hauled her out of sight, before returning for the next.
‘Bring him in,’ spoke the Crilshan in charge.
The two nearby picked up Xerin Kramer and threw a cloth over his face, before dragging him into the room. The door slammed closed.
‘Who is it inside there, Callista?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What do they want?’
‘I don’t know.’ She sounded frightened, almost resigned to defeat. ‘But whatever it is, I can’t say that everything will be all right . . . this time.’
Xerin Kramer felt the straps around his chest, hands, and ankles tighten. Heard the rough movements of his Crilshan escort. Smelt the unexpected womanly scent of honey-flower. His wrap was ripped from his face.
‘Hello, Xerin,’ spoke the veiled woman, facing out of the shattered floor-to-ceiling window.
‘Sudana?’
‘Long time no speak.’
‘I don’t happen to recall much speaking the last time we met.’
‘You don’t? Perhaps we should explore that, you know, help you to recall—’
‘No need! Really . . . no need.’
‘I happen to disagree, Xerin. I think I very much need to know what’s in that swollen head of yours.’
‘We both know what you’re going to do. Let’s skip the mind games. I’d prefer you got it done so I can return to my cell.’
‘First-rate hospitality, I hear.’
‘Preferable to yours, mistress.’
Sudana twisted on her heels, pressed something within her desk. A drumming rhythm pound throughout the room. ‘Let’s get on with it then.’ She increased the thunderous roar as it shook him in his chair. ‘You recognise this?’
‘Crilshan sacred song,’ he said. ‘Delightful.’
‘One word for it,’ she said with an insincere smile. ‘I thought it might beget a sentiment. Take you back, as it were, to your childhood.’
‘Why my childhood?’
‘It is when we are at our weakest. Our childhood selves represent our psychological immaturity. It will make accessing your recent memories that much easier.’
‘You have seen my childhood already. You did it once before.’
‘And I will do it again.’
‘No!’
Several minutes after he disappeared within, Anna watched the limp body of Professor Kramer dragged from the office. Gílana squeaked beside her. She clutched her hand tightly as he disappeared from sight.
‘Anna Berenguer will come with me,’ said one Crilshan suddenly.
‘No.’ Gílana took her hand.
‘It’s okay,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll be fine. Stay here with Callista.’
She stood and followed the Crilshans inside Maxim Pinzón’s old office. She had never been inside before, but it did not look as she would have imagined. The Crilshans, squinting in the light of a bright lamp, sat her down in a chair before the wooden desk, tying her legs and arms to it.
A woman stood at the window, her back to them. She only turned once the Crilshans had left the room. Anna breathed out as she walked over and knelt in front of her. She was covered head-to-toe in black, a veil across her face. Her voice was deep for a woman and the tone was sharp.
‘My name is Sudana,’ she said, still knelt.
Anna breathed out.
‘You are Anna Berenguer?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s your sister out there, Gílana Berenguer?’
‘Yes.’
‘Know any other words than yes?’
‘M-hmm.’
‘And the old woman, that’s your dear old grandmother?’
‘Second aunt.’
‘She’s a relative of yours then?’
‘Yes.’
‘But not blood related?’
‘I . . . don’t—’
‘Let me repeat. Not blood related.’ It was not a question.
Anna shook her head. ‘She’s family.’
‘According to the Cities’ records,’ she continued, ‘Callista Berenguer did not exist until over four decades ago. Where did she live before she came here?’
‘Err . . . Earth, I think.’
‘And how old is she?’
Anna had a rough idea, but to say one-hundred or more would only trigger deeper suspicion. ‘She’s in her eighties . . . nineties maybe. I don’t know.’
‘But you’re her relative. Interesting. Very interesting.’
‘I don’t think it is.’ Anna felt her lip quiver, but gritted her teeth so that her jaw did not tremble.
Sudana remained on one knee and raised both hands to her face, slowly raising the veil to reveal what was beneath. A sharp intake of breath. Anna held in her gasp. The woman appeared to smile behind the dull skin, sallow and stretched tight.
‘Does this frighten you, Anna?’
‘No,’ she said, and shook her head. ‘It’s the scars you have on the inside that scare me.’
The woman chuckled and pulled the veil back down, then moved behind the table, checking her reflection in the mirror displayed nearby. She peered down at a screen embedded in the desk. ‘It says here that you were a member of the Central Institute, preparing to enlist in the Titanese Guard. Correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘It also says you did not attend this Institute for some weeks leading up to the Crilshan occupation of the Cities. Adding to this odd tale, my general informs me you were part of a group found outside the Cities. In a Titanese lander of all things.’
Oh, no.
‘What on Earth were you doing out there? Recently returned from an outing?’
‘I . . . I—’
‘Come now, Anna. You don’t have to be afraid of me, remember. You can be honest. I’m not like these Crilshan scum. I’m not interested in blood or ego. I just want the truth.’
‘I don’t . . . I—’
‘You see how the others left this room?’
‘M-hmm.’
‘They left this room like that because they refused to speak. Now I’m sure you can tell the difference between heroism and unnecessary bravery.’
Anna held her tongue.
‘If you don’t tell me where you were, then I’ll find out anyway. I’ll find out whatever I want. Your dirty little secrets. Your deepest yearnings. Things not even you knew you were capable of thinking.’
She shook her head. She couldn’t.
Sudana stood, and a chill filled the room. Quiet. A cold hand gripped Anna’s arm tightly; the frozen sensation shot through her spine, all the way to her centre. Sudana disappeared and a child, a little girl, gazed up at her. She couldn’t move. It felt like she was crumbling. This was dying, she was sure of it.
Sudana’s voice appeared out of nowhere. ‘A lonely child, I see. A desperate child, desperate to live up to her family’s standing. A family torn apart. Ah, I see. So much responsibility for such a young girl. So misunderstood. So underestimated. Capable of so much and yet so discouraged.’
How can she know this? How can she know?
Part of her was making the connection, but another part was not allowing her. No, you mustn’t think of her. You know what she is doing. You know what she is. She’s a Iás—No, you mustn’t. She mustn’t know that you know what she is!
‘Now show me!’ she said. ‘Show me where you were. Show me what you saw!’
Anna closed her eyes, but it was as though they were being forced open. She looked down to the frozen child, both of them shivering. Then the girl evaporated into thin air, to be replaced by—
No!
Jon Del’oueste, her best friend since childhood, looked up. Sh
e was holding him in her arms, his blood surrounding her.
How?
‘Anna,’ he said. ‘I gave myself for you. You did this to me . . .’
He too evaporated, and both her parents took his place. They said nothing, glaring with hatred at their disappointing daughter. And then, her father transformed before her eyes. She was back in the tunnel. The tunnel of Tempest-Beta. Black, horned creatures leered at her from the shadows, claws scrabbling for her flesh. Her father stood over her, great horns bearing down.
But no! A figure threw the creature aside. A burning flame filled her vision. Peter Marx looked up, a small child with night-black hair. He smiled, and threw himself at the monster, taking them both over the edge of the cliff face. A rumbling grew beneath her. This was it. The end.
But no! A hand took hers. A warmth filled her heart and her mind. She looked up at the face of Antal Justus. He pulled her close. They both turned. The black orb. No! No! GILAXIAD! No!
GILAXIAD!
GILAXIAD!
GILAXIAD!
‘Stop it!’
A rush of warmth filled Anna’s body. The tunnel was gone, her father, Peter, Justus . . . she was back in the office.
‘Stop it!’ Sudana screamed. ‘Stop it now!’
‘I didn’t do anything.’
They were both out of breath, Sudana no longer behind her desk, but knelt on top of it. ‘Stop,’ she breathed.
‘What was that?’ Anna felt tired, drenched in sweat, unable to concentrate on any single thought.
Sudana, it seemed, had reacted worse. She stepped down from the desk, readjusted her veil, and pressed a switch on the underside of the table. She said nothing to Anna, and made no eye contact as she was untied by two Crilshans and taken from the office.
TWENTY-FOUR
A FAMILIAR SMELL ascended the grand staircase of Vortan Manor, passing maids, paintings, and massive murals, mounted sabres and more, until it reached the dusty bedroom, and through into Antal Justus’ bruised nose. At once he sprang up from his bed and onto his bum. He recognised his old bedroom immediately.
The open drapes of the room offered the daylight outside, but the cold wind which flowed through the open window, uninvited, reminded him that summer was yet to arrive. Moreover, it reminded him that although this place was once his home, he too was a stranger here.
Still, he thought, there was nothing quite the same as the familiar smell of a home-cooked meal. Mrs Dunstan was obviously still here, and it allowed for at least a few good memories.