Quest for the Sun (5 page)

It was more of a gigantic tunnel than a gateway. Creeping behind the wagon in almost total darkness, I had the claustrophobic feeling of being swallowed by some colossal beast; and with it came the uncomfortable knowledge that while getting in had been hard, finding our way out again … well, that would be pretty much impossible.

The entrance tunnel opened onto a courtyard, stark black walls rearing up on every side. The wagon would be headed towards the stables, which was no good to us, and I watched it disappear into the gloom with a twinge of regret. It had been comforting having something to follow, but now we were on our own, and I hadn't a clue what to do or where to go next.

I stared around me. It seemed as if we were in the middle of a maze — or a nightmare. The courtyard was a jumble of angles, alleys and archways leading away in all directions … but none of the corners were right angles and no two walls seemed the same height. Nothing matched: walls reared up haphazardly and then leaned away into nowhere; there were
doorways high in the middle of sheer walls, with no apparent way of reaching them. Narrow stairways wormed their way upwards, then angled back on themselves and vanished into the walls at random heights that made me wonder where they could possibly lead. Others zigzagged pointlessly upwards only to end in a blank wall. The treads of the steps tilted wildly, yet none of them had a handrail. I followed the progress of one up the far wall: it turned this way and that before jutting away from the wall and breaking off in mid-air. Even the walls themselves seemed to slant at impossible angles … tilting my head, I followed them up to the crooked spires that reached like clawing fingers towards the tattered sky.

The storm was over. The moon was struggling to break through the clouds, but some strange trick of light had turned its pale glow red as blood, as if the pinnacles of Arraz were jagged shards that had pierced the sky.

‘Well, that wasn't so hard,' Rich whispered. ‘Now all we have to do is find our way to wherever Karazeel and Evor are hiding in this rats' nest.'

But which way?

I didn't realise I'd spoken aloud till I heard Gen's whispered reply. ‘Even if we knew where we were headed, we'd never be able find the way — not in a million years.'

‘True enough,' agreed Rich cheerfully. ‘This place is a disaster. It must have been designed by a total nutcase.'

‘It gives me the creeps.' There was an ominous wobble in Jamie's voice. ‘I wish we could go home.'

‘Well, we can't —' Rich's answering growl broke off.

‘What is it, Richard?' Kenta, close to panic. ‘What's happened?'

‘Something
bit
me, just above my boot. A … rat, maybe …'

‘No rat could reach that high,' whispered Gen.

‘An invisible
giant
rat …' quavered Jamie.

‘… with teeth like razors,' finished Rich through gritted teeth. ‘It's bleeding. I can feel it trickling down my leg.'

The thought that we might not be the only invisible creatures in the darkness sent an icy chill down my spine. There was a soft hiss, and something scrabbled at my arm. My blood froze. Something way bigger than a rat was scrambling up my arm, its claws snagging on the rough cloth of my cloak.

I stumbled away from the others, letting go Kenta's hand and raising my arm to swat the
thing
off me. It tilted and pitched, clutching at my shoulder … then bony fingers twisted into my hair and I heard a familiar chitter in my ear.
‘Blue-bum!'
I growled. ‘Next time give me some warning!' The grip on my hair tightened, and his leathery little face pressed against my ear. He chittered softly, then tugged, then chittered again, more of a vibration than a sound.

I groped for the invisible forms of the others, drawing them into a damp, trembling huddle, the feel of them solid and wonderfully real. We hugged tight.

‘Guys, Blue-bum's up on my shoulder, and —
ouch!
I think he's trying to tell us something.'

There was a lurch and a scrabble, and Blue-bum was clambering down my arm. I felt scrawny little fingers twine themselves round mine; then a series of insistent tugs. Blue-bum's message couldn't have been clearer. ‘He wants us to go with him,' I whispered.

‘That's dumb,' retorted Rich. ‘How would
he
know which tunnel to take?'

‘Unless …' Gen's voice had an edge of excitement. ‘We've been assuming Blue-bum was kept prisoner in Shakesh. But what if he was brought here, to Arraz? That'd mean he's been here before, and managed to escape. And if he found his way out …'

‘Then maybe he can find his way back in,' finished Jamie.

There was a long pause. At last Kenta spoke, very gently. ‘Are we right, Blue-bum? Have you been here before? Can you help us get close to Karazeel and Evor without being seen?'

There was another tug on my hand. ‘Looks like he thinks he can.'

‘What d'you say?' whispered Rich. ‘Do we give it a go?'

The way I saw it, we didn't have many other options. But I found myself wishing Blue-bum wasn't invisible — that I could see his face and look into his eyes. Could we really trust him? It was Blue-bum who had spotted the cylinder we'd thought was gone forever, I reminded myself; Blue-bum who had allowed himself to be dangled by his tail to retrieve it. It was Blue-bum who had got us into Arraz. And it was Blue-bum who had been tortured by Karazeel and Evor — and if that wasn't a cast-iron reason for him to be on our side, nothing was.

I didn't need to see his face to remember that strange glitter in his eyes. It hadn't been there before … but just because he'd changed, it didn't mean he wasn't on our side. It might mean he
was
— more so than ever.

‘Go on then, Blue-bum: lead the way.'

 

There was no doubt Blue-bum knew where he was headed. Across the courtyard we shuffled, hand in invisible hand, Blue-bum in the lead with me right behind, terrified of standing on him by mistake.

Past a crumbling stairway leading to nowhere … past the crooked rectangle of darkness that had swallowed the cart … past the archway I'd earmarked as the most likely way in. At the far side we stopped, waiting for Blue-bum to get his bearings — because wherever the entrance to the castle was, it couldn't be here. We were standing under the one wall with no openings at all, the one with the zigzag stairway. From across the courtyard I'd thought the wall seemed to tilt, and now, staring upwards, I saw I'd been right. It hung over us, what we could see of the sky bisected by the sawn-off stub of stairway jutting out into nothingness way above. For a crazy moment I thought it was falling, the wall starting to topple … a wash of dizziness swept over me. I felt myself stagger and hurriedly looked down at where my feet should have been. ‘Hurry up, Blue-bum,' Rich whispered. ‘Which way, left or right?'

But it was neither. Instead, Blue-bum headed towards the stone stairway, tugging me after him. At its foot I hesitated. This couldn't be right. I felt a none-too-gentle shove, and a familiar voice growled: ‘Go on then, Zephyr — or d'you want me to go first?'

This time, the challenge in Rich's voice was clear. I pressed myself as close to the wall as I could and started to climb crab-wise, my back to the drop. There'd be a doorway at the top — we just hadn't been able to see it from below. That was what kept me going: the thought of having solid stone on both sides of me and a level floor underfoot … and the simple fact that once we were on the stairway there was no place to go but up. Behind me I could hear Jamie scrabbling and snuffling like a baby bulldog, and I found myself mumbling encouragement as I climbed — or was it to myself?
‘Keep going … one step at a time … nearly there now … stay close to the wall … you're doing great …'

One thing's for sure, I thought grimly: it can't get any worse.

But I was wrong.

 

I stopped just below the place where the stairs left the wall and jutted into space, staring in disbelief. Where the doorway had to be there was nothing. Worse than nothing: solid wall. We were strung out on a staircase no wider than my desk at school, the equivalent of four storeys up with no place to go. I heard a strangled bleat from behind. And at the same time, impossibly, the softest chatter came from above me to my right — from the stub of steps suspended over the postage stamp of courtyard way below.

Two words collided in my brain. Blue-bu
m
and No. The chatter came again, urgent, insistent. I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a wordless croak. At last I understood. Very cautiously, I lowered myself to hands and knees. Almost hugging the uneven surface of the stone, I turned my back on the wall and crept out over the drop. With both hands on the
last step, I stopped. Peered over the edge, feeling the world tip. Another soft chitter came from up ahead, suspended in mid-air. I groped with one hand, feeling the roughness of stone ahead of me. Somehow the fact that I was still invisible made it easier to believe — easier to trust my weight to the void. I heard a little whimper behind me. ‘Remember Rainbow Bridge, Jamie?' I croaked. ‘You did that. You can do this too. Close your eyes and pretend it looks as real as it feels — as real as it
is
. And … be careful.'

One behind the other we crawled over the abyss, fumbling with invisible hands for steps we couldn't see. I closed my eyes, pretending it was all a dream — a nightmare where if I fell I'd jolt harmlessly awake in my own bed.

At last, after an eternity, I opened my eyes a chink and there was an opening ahead of me in the wall. It was just in front, damp stone close enough to smell, close enough to touch … and then I was scuttling on all fours into the dank mouth of the tunnel, hearing Jamie's whimpers change to sobbing echoes behind … staggering to my feet and leading the others away from the nothingness at a stumbling run.

‘One thing's for sure,' whispered Rich, ‘if any entrance is secret, that one is. Way to go, Blue-bum.'

We were huddled in pitch dark in a tiny room off the main passage. Blue-bum had dragged us in and pulled the door tight shut behind us. For the first time we felt safe, and having hard rock under my bum had never felt so good.

‘I vote we stay here a while.' I could tell Jamie was struggling not to cry. ‘Maybe till morning …'

‘What say we have something to eat?' I wasn't hungry, but it was the only sure-fire way I knew to cheer up Jamie.

‘I don't …' There was a choking catch in Jamie's voice. ‘I think I'm going to throw up.'

That's when I felt it too: a weird sinking feeling, as if my stomach was being sucked out of the soles of my feet. Instinctively I threw my hands out, clutching for the walls … beside me one of the girls gave a low cry. My body felt as heavy as an elephant, as if gravity had doubled and I was being squashed through the floor. Even in my panic, I realised dimly the feeling reminded me of something …

‘What's happening? Blue-bum?' Gen's voice cracked.

‘What's going on?' Rich, angry — or afraid.

‘Blue-bum? Where are you?'

‘
Answer us!
' A cold certainty flooded through me. Blue-bum had gone. He'd led us into a trap — some kind of time-warp, or a gateway to another world — and now he'd gone. The floor beneath me was shuddering, juddering with a faint, somehow metallic vibration. Again, it was weirdly familiar: a feeling that was ordinary and everyday and didn't fit with Karazan …

There was a gentle bump, then stillness. Then a sound. Blue-bum hadn't gone. His familiar chatter came from behind me, but now it didn't seem friendly or encouraging. It was low and menacing and somehow triumphant and it turned my blood to ice.

There was the faintest click, a wheeze and a section of the back wall slid open. I stumbled to my feet, shielding my eyes from the sudden dazzle of light. Somewhere at the back of my mind a memory was struggling to surface: a long-ago school trip up the sky tower in the lift … Then my eyes snapped into focus, and two facts smashed into my brain like bullets.

We were no longer invisible.

And we'd found King Karazeel — or rather, he had found us.

 

Blue-bum was sidling towards him, grovelling and fawning and bowing low. Karazeel ignored him. His eyes were fixed on us, huddled in the doorway. For a long moment the world stood still. My eyes flicked over the room, looking for options, knowing there'd be none.

Karazeel. The twisted crown of Karazan on his head, his hair smooth and dark, his face unlined. He must be more than seventy, but he had the appearance and bearing of a man in his prime. The face was handsome but the mouth had an unmistakable curve of cruelty, and the pale eyes were shadowed with the dull cast of corruption.

To the left, a vast curve-paned window looked onto the night sky. I didn't need the sprawl of stars to tell me we were way, way high. In front of the window stood a gleaming pedestal made of what I suspected must be pure gold. Beside the window was a dome shrouded in black cloth. I had a momentary flashback to the computer room at Quested Court, to the plasma globe and the test that had started it all …

There was a whirring sound, and my eyes jerked to the object that dominated the room, the shrouded shape instantly forgotten. It was an enormous square contraption bristling with knobs and levers, buttons and flashing lights … a weird device that hummed and blipped and buzzed and gave off an almost visible tingle of electric power.

Electric … The room was bathed in harsh fluorescent light. The smoking torches of Shakesh belonged in another world, another age. Karazan had moved into a new era, in this high tower at least.

‘So.' The king's voice was as I remembered it: soft as silk, cold as steel. ‘You have delivered them. Well done, faithful servant.' He held out one hand. Sickened, I watched as Blue-bum clambered up his arm and settled on his shoulder, chittering softly in his ear.

There was a choking sob beside me. Kenta. ‘Oh, Blue-bum — how
could
you?'

Blue-bum looked at us and smirked, and I saw the dribble of dried blood below his slit monkey mouth. ‘
You
bit me!' Richard growled. ‘I'll throttle you with your tail, you mangy little traitor! We trusted you —'

He was interrupted by a shrill squawk from beneath the black cloth by the window. Suddenly I realised what it reminded me of: a parrot's cage, covered for the night. My mind made the connection without even beginning to make sense of it. Jumbled fragments of thought were flapping uselessly round my brain like birds in a dark room, going nowhere.
Blue-bum — Weevil — Zephyr — me —

Then another thought, clean as a blade:
This is the man who killed my father.

And suddenly, on a tide of roaring redness, I knew that what I had to do would be easy. I would do it now, with my bare hands — with my fists, hard as stone. I took two long strides into the room, a slow drumbeat of blood pulsing through me. It was as if I was standing in a long tunnel, and at the end, in a circle of light, was Karazeel. I could see every detail of his face, and for the first time I saw how like my own it was. The dark hair … the dusky skin … the eyes the colour of mist …

A smile twitched the corner of Karazeel's mouth, as if he could read my mind. One hand flicked up. A whirr — a rattle — something huge and heavy dropped from above. Faster than a striking snake a gleaming metal cage settled on the floor, enclosing us in a circle of steel bars.

‘I have waited long for this moment,' whispered Karazeel. ‘Welcome, children — welcome back to the world of Karazan. I know where you come from, and I have plans for your world. The world beyond the Cliffs of Stone … the world to which another child was taken, more than fifty spans ago. I did not know that then — but I know it now.'

The tide of rage had drained away, leaving me trembling and dizzy, the room spinning. I clung to a thin thread of hope. Karazeel didn't know who I was.

‘My memory is long. You do not steal from King Karazeel and live, though I have replaced what was taken.' He was talking about Tiger Lily, who we'd magicked away from the dungeons of Shakesh. But how could he have replaced her? There were no cats in Karazan. ‘You will be punished for the theft of the Mauler.' He smiled. ‘Fate has a pleasing symmetry, as you will see.'

As he spoke he was pacing slowly round our cage, staring in. Jamie and the girls stood in a petrified huddle, not daring to look at him; Rich shot him an occasional glare from under glowering brows.

I'd been turning in a slow circle to keep Karazeel in view and keep an eye on Blue-bum. All pretence had vanished. Staring at his contorted face, I couldn't believe he'd been able to take us all in so completely and for so long. During his circuit of the cage Karazeel had somehow managed to ignore the hunched figure on his shoulder jabbering in his ear; but now Blue-bum grabbed a handful of the king's hair and gave a sharp yank, almost dislodging the twisted crown.

Karazeel's face darkened, and I had a second's wild hope he might lose his temper and throw Blue-bum out of the high window, along with everything he knew. But the frown was replaced by a chilling smile. ‘Why yes, my furry friend,' he crooned, ‘you have a report to make, do you not? I shall be most interested to hear what you seem so anxious to tell me.'

We watched as Karazeel crossed to his throne and reached down to a low table. A rack of crystal phials rested on its surface, a canister the size of a salt cellar beside them. It was full of a transparent liquid that looked like water. Karazeel picked it up and set Blue-bum down in front of the throne. I stared at the two figures, so focused on what was happening I hardly noticed the shrill screeches coming from the parrot's cage.

Karazeel upended the canister and shook once, twice. A fine spray of droplets landed on Blue-bum's fur. He twitched and jerked as if he'd been burned, his monkey mouth stretching into a mockery of a grin. He gave a last chittering shriek; then his back arched and he fell backwards, his furry head connecting with the flagstones with a crack. His body jack-knifed. Beside me I heard Kenta give a choking sob, and I put out one arm and hugged her close. ‘Don't watch,' I muttered … but I couldn't take my eyes away.

For a second I thought the liquid must be acid, or some kind of poison; that Karazeel had decided to kill Blue-bum. But as the tiny body twisted and writhed, I realised what was happening. I saw the limbs straightening, elongating … the scraggy fur melting away. The face flattening, the nose
lengthening, the tail sucking itself back into the body.

A pool of purple rippled out around the huddled shape on the floor like blood; it gave a last convulsive twitch and a rattling cry. There was a long silence. Slowly the prone figure levered itself up onto its elbows, moving as stiffly as an old, old man. His back was to us, and at first all I could see was a cloak and a tangle of hair. In a series of arthritic lurches, the figure struggled to its feet. Turned and hobbled towards us, cackling and cracking its knuckles.

Not Weevil.

Evor.