Quest for the Sun (4 page)

The first drops of rain splashed down on our perch, exploding on impact like miniature bombs. The others huddled together against the rock wall as far from the edge as possible, taking what little shelter they could from the twisted tree. Three miserable faces peered from beneath their hoods, another, smaller one peeking out at me from the folds of Kenta's cloak. It seemed as if they were all looking to me for answers … and I had none. My heart, already close to rock bottom, clunked down another notch.

I couldn't see a way forward. Even under cover of darkness, and assuming the rain continued, there was no way we could get across to the castle unseen. And even if we did, the guards weren't about to open the gates and lower the drawbridge for five strangers, no matter how bedraggled and harmless they might look.

Richard was beside me; I slid a glance at his face. Deep in the shadow of his hood it looked stern and grown-up … and something about the determined set of his mouth gave me courage. We might look like five helpless kids, but we were
much more than that. We'd come this far, and nothing was going to stop us now. Like Hannah always said, there had to be a way. It was just a question of finding it.

The thought of Hannah with her sparkly confidence put a smile into my mind, and with it came another thought — Jamie's watchword, and one that finally got me moving:
When in doubt, eat.

I shuffled cautiously over to the others and reached for my pack. Dug inside, feeling for the packet of energy bars I knew was in there somewhere. My fingers brushed the softness of leather — Zaronel's diary — and the smooth surface of the mysterious cylinder I'd found with it. Below it I could feel the crinkle of cellophane … impatiently I pulled the cylinder out and set it to one side.

I'd forgotten about the slope. The second I let go, it began to roll … and everything sped up like a movie on fast forward. I grabbed at the moving blur, but it hit a bump and twisted away from my clutching fingers; another flash of lightning blinded me and I spun round, off balance, one hand still jammed into the neck of my pack. As I turned I caught a flash of the others' faces, mouths open in shock, eyes staring … then I was throwing myself forwards in a desperate lunge, fingers scrabbling for the tube before it vanished over the drop. Too late. Time crunched from super-fast-forward into slow motion; spread-eagled on the brink of the void I watched the shining shape slowly spinning as it fell.

Then the flickering flare that had lit the disaster was doused in darkness. I lay staring uselessly downwards, cursing my clumsiness, listening for the distant crash of the cylinder shattering on the rocks below.

 

None of us had the faintest clue what the cylinder was — I'd come across it by chance, hidden in the wall of the exit from the Summer Palace — but the simple fact that it had been there, secret and safe, told us it was precious.

Squeezing my eyes tight shut I could picture it as clearly as if it wasn't in a zillion pieces on the valley floor below: bluish-grey, with a strange metallic lustre; as thick as my thumb, and rounded at both ends. Like a test tube at school … And suddenly I knew. It hadn't seemed heavy enough to be solid because it wasn't. It wasn't a cylinder, it was a tube. It was hollow, and it held something.

We'd been blind not to see it before. It had been right there in front of us; I'd read the words myself, written in Zagros' bold handwriting.

… a secret passageway through the wall of the palace … a hidden store of potion that will render us invisible as we make our way to the forbidden depths of Shadowwood …

The cylinder had held the potion of invisibility. The one thing that might have got us into the Stronghold of Arraz. And now it was gone, thanks to me. The old Adam Equinox stirred and shuffled shamefacedly in the dark recesses of my mind.
My fault — again. But one good thing: the others don't know what we've lost … and if I don't tell them, they never will.

Slowly, stiffly, I peeled myself off the rock, turned my back on the abyss and shuffled back to where the others were waiting. ‘That's it, guys — it's gone.' I shrugged. Took a deep breath. ‘It gets worse. I've just realised what it was: invisibility potion. Zagros told about it in the diary. Would've been pretty useful, huh?' I looked from one face to the next, meeting their eyes, and saw nothing there but sympathy. What was there to say? ‘I'm sorry.'

 

I shared out the energy bars and we munched in gloomy silence. Everyone kept well away from the edge of the platform — except Blue-bum. I watched as he sidled to the edge and peered over, bum in the air, tail twisted tight round a protruding knob of rock for safety.

‘Do be careful …' cautioned Kenta.

There was a brilliant flash of lightning right above us, along
with an explosive crack of thunder that made us all jump. Blue-bum jumped highest, giving a shrill chitter of fright and landing perilously close to the edge. ‘Come back here
right now!
' Kenta yipped in alarm.

I couldn't help agreeing: the sight of him so close to the drop was making me dizzy. ‘Kenta's right, Blue-bum — it's a long way down, and it's not as if there's anything to see.'

I was wrong. Blue-bum was chittering and capering and pointing downwards … he
had
seen something. I crawled to the edge, lowered myself gingerly beside him, and waited for the next flash. It wasn't long coming — and then I saw it too, caught in the tangled branches of a thorn bush way down out of reach, almost hidden by the overhang of the cliff.

The cylinder of potion, safe and sound. My first thought was that it might as well have been on the moon. But then I had an idea … and I felt myself begin to smile.

‘I've made up my mind.' I'd never thought Kenta would remind me of the dreaded Miss McCracken, but now she did — right down to the thin line of a mouth and flashing eyes. I felt a familiar urge to back off, the only thing stopping me the sheer drop two paces behind.

‘But —'

‘Adam Equinox …'

I looked helplessly at Rich, who gave a resigned shrug. ‘Kenta has a point, I guess. She's the littlest and lightest … and if anyone can be guaranteed not to let Blue-bum fall, she can.'

So the only person left to convince was Blue-bum, the reluctant hero of the rescue mission. Hunched in Kenta's arms he looked anything but keen, and who could blame him — I'd have had doubts myself about being lowered by my tail over a bottomless chasm. But Blue-bum was the only one with a built-in rope, and none of us were happy to rely on Jamie's scout knots.

‘Adam will be holding onto my legs, and I won't let go of
you, I promise,' said Kenta. ‘You know you can trust me.'

‘And it's our only hope of getting into the fortress,' added Rich. ‘I'd do it like a shot, if only I had a tail.'

I watched Blue-bum's face. I was betting he'd refuse. It wasn't easy to read his expression, but it wasn't enthusiastic. Yet it didn't seem to be fear tightening the little monkey-face … he looked almost insulted, as if he was being asked to do something totally beneath his dignity. Yeah, that was it: the kind of expression a school principal would have if he was asked to strip to his boxers in front of the entire school …

I shook my head impatiently. I was imagining things. Since when did a chatterbot worry about dignity? It was a waste of time trying to guess what was going on in Blue-bum's furry head … and we weren't at school now: we were dithering on the edge of a cliff in the rain.

Just as I was about to step forward and try my hand at persuading him, Blue-bum did something that took me completely by surprise. He shrugged his skinny shoulders, stretched his slit mouth into a determined line, pulled up his dangling tail like someone hauling a bucket out of a well … and solemnly wound the end of it tightly round Kenta's hand. And then he gave me a sly little glimmer of a glance that said louder than a chitter — or even real words — could ever have done:
You see, Adam? You've misjudged me again.

 

Five minutes later the precious cylinder was safe in Kenta's pocket and we were edging our way along the crumbling ledge that linked our platform to the ridge.

We'd checked the contents of the tube, and as far as we could tell I was right: the two halves unscrewed to reveal a crystal phial containing a familiar-looking milky-blue liquid that glowed with a pale fluorescence in the darkness. It looked identical to the potion of invisibility we'd drunk in the Temple so long ago — but there was more of it. ‘We shouldn't use it before we really need to,' said Jamie. ‘We don't want to suddenly become
visible again right in front of the sentries.'

‘And whatever happens once we're inside, no one must tell about Adam being Zephyr. Even if we get caught …' Gen gulped.

‘
Especially
if we get caught,' growled Rich. ‘We tell no one — and I mean
no one
. A long time's passed since Shakesh, especially in Karazan years, and we don't know who we can trust.'

Though he didn't say so, I knew he meant Kai, the oldest and best friend we had in Karazan.
Friends forever
… Kai had insisted we leave him behind when we'd made our escape from the dungeons of Shakesh. Despite the danger, he was determined to continue his undercover work for the Believers, to gain the trust of King Karazeel and work towards his downfall from within the walls of the Stronghold of Arraz.
They say it will be mightier even than Shakesh, and that none — not even the True King — will be able to storm it …

Part of me couldn't suppress an ironic smile at the memory. But another part, new and strange, seemed to stir inside me like an invisible muscle flexing and feeling its strength.
Oh yeah?
that part said.
We'll see …

 

We were prepared to wait hours for the next convoy — the whole night if necessary. None of us liked the idea of camping out in full view of whoever — or whatever — might appear round the bend of the track, but we had no choice: even invisible, tagging onto a party of Karazeel's stooges was our only hope of getting across the drawbridge and through the gate, so we needed to be close enough to join the rear of the next caravan.

But we were lucky. A rocky outcrop at the side of the road gave us cover, and almost as soon as we settled ourselves behind it we heard a low rumbling I thought at first was thunder, and a span of glonks appeared out of the gloom with a covered wagon behind them. It must be part of the previous convoy, I realised — heavy and slow, it had lagged behind.

It was better than we could have hoped for. Not only was it
drawn by glonks, whose smell would cover our scent, but the rumble of its steel-rimmed wheels was loud enough to mask any sound. Out of the corner of my eye I saw first Blue-bum, then Kenta, then Gen, sip from the phial and vanish. Jamie was next; then Rich. An invisible hand groped for mine and pressed the cool smoothness of crystal into my palm, alive with the prickle of magic.

I lifted the phial to my lips and sipped, feeling a tingling nothing-taste on my tongue … swallowed. A flickering chill rippled through me. I held one hand in front of my face to double-check it had worked, though I knew it had. The transparent double-outline of my nose, the shadow of my cheekbones, the curve of my lashes were all gone; the friendly bulk of my body below, so familiar I wasn't usually aware of it. Everything looked different, as if my eyeballs were floating in space. I closed my eyes, and could still see the wagon trundling toward me.

Kenta's slim hand felt for mine and gripped it tight. I gave an answering squeeze: we'd agreed that holding hands was the only sure way of staying together. In complete silence, ghosts floating weightlessly in the nothingness of our bodies, we crept to the edge of the track and watched the cart rumble towards us.

Then it was on us: hot-horse smell, the creak of leather harness, the scrunch of hooves on the wet track, a huffing snort and the jangle of a bit. A whip snaked out and cracked over the glonks' backs. I caught a flash of a swarthy face shadowed with stubble, of rheumy eyes staring straight through me; the driver hawked and spat, the glob of phlegm missing me by millimetres.

Then they were past and we were hustling after them, keeping as close as we dared to the swaying tailgate of the cart.

 

It was just as well the cart was so noisy — a herd of elephants would have moved more quietly than we did. Stumbling along
in the dark was hard enough, but when the track began to narrow things got really tricky. Someone kept standing on my heels; someone else was constantly moving in front of me and then slowing down so I cannoned into them. But at last we sorted ourselves out into single file and shuffled along in the wake of the cart with me in the lead, still holding tight to Kenta's hand. I focused on the creaking wood and rattling chains of the tailgate, trying not to think about the sheer drop on either side.

At last a low stone balustrade appeared beside us and the track widened. We were on the bridge. The first pair of lights came into view — not the burning brands I'd imagined but pale glowing lamps set behind curved transparent covers. Two sentries loomed out of the darkness, so still they might have been made of stone: armoured figures in black cloaks, cruel faces impassive as masks under gleaming helms, only their eyes moving as they followed the slow progress of the cart.

There was a shouted challenge and the cart creaked to a standstill. This was it: the moment of truth.

The high canvas canopy hid the gate from view, but we could hear the growl of the guards and the snarl of the driver's reply.
Just lower the drawbridge and let him through
, I willed them.

A dark figure was striding past the cart straight for me. I recoiled, stumbling backwards into Richard, hearing the huff of his breath and the scuffle of a booted foot on wet gravel as the others stepped instinctively backwards. My heart jerked painfully as adrenaline kicked in, every instinct screaming at me to run. For what seemed an age the guard was staring straight at me, scowling. His skin gleamed in the rain; I could see the hairs in his nostrils, the raindrop trembling on the rim of his helmet, the wart on his eyelid. He burped, a hot blast of half-digested onions hitting me in the face; then turned towards the back of the cart. His wet cloak swung and stuck to my arm, hanging crazily in mid-air. If he turned his head a fraction he'd see it … I twitched it away and froze, the stench of his stale
sweat catching in my throat as I struggled not to gag.

The guard unlaced the leather thong holding the canopy closed, yanked the two flaps apart and leaned in. There was a waft of wheat and old sacks; the startled cackle of a chicken. A mumble, the scrape of something heavy being pushed to one side … then the canvas was flipped back in place and the guard moved away, slapping the tailgate with the palm of his hand and shouting at the driver to move on.

As he stepped back his boot landed on my foot. I bit back a yelp of pain as I felt the bones crunch: the guard staggered and almost fell, his flailing arms missing my face by a whisker. ‘What in the name of the Faceless …' he growled, wheeling round to glare down at my invisible foot.

I held my breath, every fibre in my body tensed to bolt.

‘You should drink less mead with your dinner, or you'll be over the drop,' growled a second voice. ‘That, or the Captain will hear of it — and that would be worse. Now take up your post before you fall — or I push you.'

The guard's lips curled in a snarl as he turned away. My heart gave an agonising twist and started beating again; I took a slow breath of fresh, rain-washed air.

The bridge shuddered as the gangplank crashed into place; the wagon rumbled forward, the cold shadow of the vaulted gateway fell over us … and we were in the Stronghold of Arraz.