Epic (25 page)

“No. That’s true.” B.E. sighed. “Oh, I don’t know.” He got up and stretched, arms lifted to the gray sky. “If I walk fast, I will be able to get to Judna’s farm and back before dark.” He jumped decisively from the rock, landing with a crunch onto the shingle. “Good luck in the game, Erik. I hope you can escape with your life, and I’m sorry your plans have gone wrong.”

 

The first appearance of buds in the pruned branches of the trees was usually a period of happiness in Hope District, for it meant that the winter was over, and spring had truly arrived. Moreover, spring was often the more pleasant time of year for their part of the coast, summer itself being too hot and tiring. Right now, a fresh breeze was brushing over the daisies, dandelions, and buttercups that were rising through the grass of the fields left uncultivated for pasture.

For Erik, though, the turn in the season brought little pleasure. It was a season to be shared, but this was the first time he had experienced it alone, his mum and dad half a world away. His sense of being alone was increased by the fact that for the first time in weeks he could no longer even converse with them through the game. For since the burning of the
White Falcon
, there was no sign of Harald’s character, while his mum’s remained in the vicinity of Newhaven and could not contact Cindella even if she were not a prisoner.

Over at the Rolfsons’, the atmosphere of the farm seemed miserable and subdued. Erik found Injeborg walking their pet dog, a sheepdog called Hafni, through the rows of olive trees.

She waved, by contrast to Sigrid, happy to see him, and Erik immediately felt uplifted.

“Look,” she said, pointing. “Isn’t that the rock on which you broke your tooth?”

Involuntarily Erik ran his tongue over the half tooth.

“Yes.” His smile was slightly embarrassed, conscious as he was that she was looking at his imperfect grin.

“I would miss that smile if you had it fixed,” she responded, as if reading his thoughts.

“You don’t think it makes me ugly?” He was only half joking.

“You are very handsome, Erik Haraldson, and you know it.” Laughing, she patted his cheeks with her cold white hands, and for a dizzy moment Erik felt like grabbing her and pulling her to him, to hold her slender body against his, to kiss her. But even if he could be sure that she would not pull away, this was not the time.

“Where’s Bjorn?” Erik asked.

“Up on Ogail Hill. It’s a good day for painting.”

“Would he mind if we went up?”

“No. I’m sure he wouldn’t. We all need to talk anyway, and make plans.” Injeborg’s tone was more positive than the situation deserved, but her confidence was infectious. Picking up a suitable stick, Erik threw it towards the path they would take, setting an eager Hafni off ahead of them.

The path ended some distance before the top of the hill, and they had to climb over boulders to reach the top, Hafni carefully eyeing up each jump before she leapt from rock to rock after them. When they crested the last boulder, a spectacular coastline came into view. They were high enough up that the fields were a like a chessboard of greens and browns—varying according to whether they contained olive trees or pasture. The clouds were passing briskly overhead, causing shafts of light to race each other across the land on their way to the distant sea where they sent glittering ribbons of silver across the water and on to the horizon.

With rocks piled around his easel to hold it steady, Bjorn was sitting on a stool, an earnest look of concentration on his face. It warmed Erik’s heart to see his friend, so big and muscular, with such sturdy fingers, nevertheless carefully holding a brush with which he delicately made strokes on the canvas, face set in concentration. Both Erik and Injeborg paused, so as not to disturb him, until Bjorn lowered his hand and looked down to his paints.

As they drew closer, Erik could see that the version of the landscape that Bjorn had set onto the canvas was gloom ier than their actual view—the clouds darker, the land more somber. It seemed to say more than words could about his friend’s state of mind.

“Hi, Bjorn!” Injeborg approached him first.

“Hello.” He did not turn around.

“Hi, Bjorn.”

“Hello, Erik.” Bjorn began to wash his brush.

“Mind if we join you awhile?” His sister asked. “We need to talk.”

“No,” replied Bjorn slowly. “I don’t mind. This one is finished.”

Erik sat on a flat-looking rock, and played with Hafni’s ears.

“What happened to you when the rest of us were captured?” Erik asked.

“I unclipped.”

“Hmmm. I thought about doing that. But was worried that if the ship sank, I would find myself in a cabin at the bottom of the sea when I resumed, and would drown before regaining the surface.”

“Ya. That is right.” Bjorn looked up, then gave a slight smile of self-approval. “I put on my water breathing helmet first, of course.”

“Ahh, of course!” Erik jumped up excitedly and Hafni dropped the stick she had patiently been carrying, leaping up in response, ready to run. “So you are still alive! That’s great, Bjorn, I feel so happy. At least one of us might keep their fortune!”

“Maybe. But it’s dark there at the bottom of the sea, and muddy. I’m lost. I’m plodding along like I’m in a giant cave, not even sure if I’m walking in circles, and all the time I’m afraid some giant sea monster is just going to pounce on me and eat me.”

“But still. You are alive!”

“So are the two of you, right? And Sigrid?”

“At the moment,” answered Injeborg. “But our situation is desperate. Duke Raymond wants our treasure as a ransom, but we don’t trust them to release us if we send the soulbound djinn off.”

“I think the only reason they haven’t killed anyone is that I’ve promised to lead them to the buried treasure if they let us all live,” Erik added. “I’m hoping that when we get to the island, a chance of escape will present itself. Because once they get the treasure, they will go back to trying to get a ransom out of us.”

“I see.” Bjorn nodded, his face more animated now, as he thought about the problem. “Do you have any ideas of how to escape?”

“Not at the moment, but I did manage to keep my ring. It might reveal something.”

“Perhaps, if you are very fortunate.” Bjorn sighed.

“What?” asked Injeborg.

“This nonsense. This whole adventure. It was so irresponsible, so frivolous. We took a big risk fighting the dragon. It paid off. We should have been content. But we had to go off into strange and dangerous places. Very wrong of us, to treat the outcome of our lives in such a wild way.”

“No!” interjected Injeborg loudly, making her brother look up sharply from his cleaning. “No. We are not frivolous. We cannot be content to just take the money and live comfortable lives, because the world is wrong. So many people, wasting so many hours, grinding away at the accumulation of pennies. Our dad, Bjorn, our dad, remember? Working in the mines for a year because we had no solar panel on the farm. The lives of all of us are getting harder and harder, our work longer and our time in the game longer to no useful purpose. Erik was right to want to change this. To challenge Central Allocations. And the amnesty was only the first law you were going to introduce, wasn’t it, Erik? After you had shown you could do it, you were going to change more, weren’t you? To make the world a fairer place. To put more resources into developing our agriculture and our economy? To reward people who actually work in this real world and not those who play professionally in the game.”

This was a revelation to Erik, and he had no words when they both turned to look at him, Bjorn skeptical, Injeborg passionate.

“I er . . . to be honest, I hadn’t thought of it like that, Inny. I was thinking more of my dad coming home than anything else.”

“I know. I know how you think.” Injeborg patted him on the arm. “But you do agree with me? You hate injustice.”

“Yes. Yes, I do. I just hadn’t thought it through as far as you. But why not? Why not use the money like you say? Give it to those who work. It makes sense. But . . .”

“Yes?” she asked earnestly.

“But it seems irrelevant to talk about changing the world, when our plans to challenge C.A. are in ruins.”

“That’s right. Escape first. Then daydream.” Bjorn smiled at his sister, half mocking her, but in part full of admiration for her.

Sensing their talking was done, Hafni gave a short bark, and looked back and forth.

“She wants to go home,” observed Bjorn. “I’m finished here. Let’s go and see how matters stand in the game.”

Chapter 24

ARGUING WITH A VAMPYRE

“So you are
here at last.”

Slightly dizzy from his entry into Epic, Erik took a moment to check that nothing had changed in the dark room that held them prisoner. Anonemuss was sitting, leaning against a wall, arms still bound tightly to his sides.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Harald has been insisting that I tell you he is alive and working on an escape plan.”

“Dad’s alive! Where?”

“On the ship.” Anonemuss dropped his voice to a whisper. “He is invisible amongst the ropes and boats of the deck. But he fears the warding spells of the ship’s sorcerers will reveal him should he try to come inside. So for now he waits and watches.”

“That’s wonderful,” Erik whispered back. “Maybe when we are on the island moving towards the treasure, he will be able to act?”

“Perhaps.”

If Anonemuss had any further comments, they were cut short by a flowing chill and darkness that caused them both to turn their heads towards the door. Silently it opened, and the evil scarlet eyes of Count Illystivostich glared at them. As the vampyre swept down into the room, Erik noticed that the rats were entranced, gathering into a great silent horde at the edges of the room, barely twitching.

“I wish to talk to you.” The vampyre spoke in cold, clear words, like jagged shards of ice; gone were any trace of the succulently soporific tones that he had customarily employed in their presence. “This treasure that you would bargain with for your lives, the treasure on the island. Do you know what it contains?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. What’s it to you?” Anonemuss replied angrily.

“I’ll tell you what it means to me,” the count shot back. “Simply this. If you give the wrong answer, I will feed upon you both this very instant.” He snarled angrily, baring his fangs. Erik flinched and the rats cowered against the walls.

“Of course we know what it contains.” Anonemuss spoke up proudly, refusing to be intimidated.

“Wait!” interrupted Erik. “No, we don’t know much about it; we just have the information that it is the treasure of the
Black Falcon
.”

Anonemuss glared at Erik, but the vampyre laughed. “So the words
finem facere mundo
mean nothing to you?”

“Nothing,” Erik replied, heart racing with anxiety. Was Cindella about to die?

The count came closer, and slowly caressed Cindella’s face with the back of a long, warped fingernail, all the while staring deep into her eyes.

“Is that the truth?”

It was almost impossible to look into the shocking eyes of the vampyre, and yet the gaze of the creature was compelling. It was like attempting to force two poles of a magnet together. Erik could barely withstand the blaze of scarlet energy that flowed into his view. The vampyre’s words were a vice, locking his head in position, insisting he answer.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The pressure suddenly eased, and with a sigh, Cindella dropped her head.

“That is the right answer. Cindella has saved your life.” The count paused and looked at Anonemuss. “For the moment.”

The vampyre floated above them, hands together, slender fingers pressed against each other as if in prayer. He surveyed them.

“You might be surprised to learn that there is something I fear. Yes, even I, outside of the gods themselves, the oldest of the world’s creatures.” The count spoke slowly, contempla tively. “What is it that I could fear? I sense your curiosity. But the answer is no riddle, it is simply that which we all fear. Nonexistence.”

Pointing to a rat, the count smiled with melancholy and sinister lips. The rat slumped, and immediately the pack rushed in upon the body to devour it. Disgusted, Erik looked away.

“I must preserve my existence. And while I could be slain in combat, under certain, particular conditions, it is not that prospect that concerns me, as it seems extremely remote. No. What disturbs the velvet comfort of my being is the thought that the entire world may end, and, of course, all the creatures within it.”

Anonemuss suddenly sat up.

“This subject interests you?” The count raised an elegant eyebrow.

“Immensely,” the dark elf replied.

“Good. Allow me to translate.
Finem facere mundo
—‘to make an end to the world.’ There is a way to do this, and the buried treasure you seek contains a most significant item with regard to destroying everything, both good and evil.”

For the first time ever, Erik saw the vampyre’s solemn expression lapse as he was taken aback, for Anonemuss began to chuckle.

“Why do you laugh?”

“You went to all this trouble, to come with us, to betray us to Duke Raymond, because you thought we were trying to unearth the treasure and in some way end the world, but ironically, if you had left us alone, we would not have gone anywhere near it. The story of the treasure was just a cover, to disguise the true nature of our journey.”

“Ahh. Really? What true nature?” Despite his surprise, the vampyre had recovered his calm, icy expression.

“To be brief, we intended to escape our enemies in Newhaven, and challenge them from the arena in Cassinopia, the ocean preventing them from employing an assassin and stopping the battle.”

For a while, the vampyre remained silent in thought. “Nevertheless, it pleases me that you have no understanding of the nature of the item I refer to. I had resolved to kill you at once, it being too dangerous to let you live, should you really intend to bring a finish to the world. But now . . . I believe it wise to obtain the item for myself and move it to a safer place. Since, irrespective of your actual mission, you have correct information about this treasure, others might one day retrieve it, and one link at a time, a chain of destruction may be forged.”