The Circle Line (15 page)

With that Allende rose and walked softly away, stepping over the other slaves and was gone.

Aleksy lay quietly looking at the ceiling above him. This seemed too good to be true. What did this mean? How had this man made these arrangements? What would the throne room be like? And, most importantly, how would he kill the King?

Two hours later, as they were getting ready to go, Vallalar came to Sam.

‘Samuel,’ he said kindly ‘There is something I wish to show you before you leave.’

Sam was exhausted after the violence and emotion of the night. His ears were still ringing from the noise of it all. His head swam and his spine felt hot and stiff, like a heated metallic bar had replaced the bone. He got up from where he had been staring into space and stumbled after Vallalar through the wreckage and debris of the Tavern.

Much of the damage was only cosmetic. The attackers had never truly breached the defences. They had simply thrown themselves at the building again and again to draw the attention of those within. More worrying were Jēran's injuries but Vallalar had looked him over and done what he could to heal him. Sam had been reassured that he would recover soon enough. He had saved Sam's life by alerting them to Ferus' presence. Sam had only brought destruction to his home. He felt hollow.

Vallalar led Sam to a line in an unoccupied bedroom. The line sat inside a wardrobe so that when one pushed aside the old coats that hung inside and opened the doorway it was as though the back of the wardrobe disappeared. It felt faintly familiar to Sam as though he had read about it in a book once.

‘Where does this line lead, Vallalar?’ asked Sam.

‘I do not know, although I have been there before. Please, come and see.’

Vallalar ushered Sam though the line and they found themselves in the strangest place Sam had ever seen.

The entire world around them was grey mist. There was no ground beneath their feet, giving Sam the impression that he stood on a sheet of glass within thick cloud. He stared around in amazement. They were in a world where nothing existed.

‘What is this place?’ Sam said.

‘I do not know for sure.’ said Vallalar ‘But I have a theory. Samuel, I believe this is the distant future as yet unformed. I think that something is to happen. Some choice will be made which will determine the shape of this place. For now, I think, it exists only as pure possibility. I wanted to show it to you so that you could see that everything is not mapped out for you. Yes, much of what we do seems predestined but this place, if I am right, shows there are still choices to be made which will affect the entire world. It is my belief that the Riven King knows of this place. That he has seen it too. He knows the future is yet to be decided and that is why he seeks to wipe out any who threaten his own future.’ Vallalar lowered his voice. ‘Sam, there is tell of a man who will save us all. Whether it is a prophecy, a whisper of something someone has seen in the future, or mere wishful thinking, I do not know. But it is enough to have the Riven King worried, I think. There are not many who have presence and he seeks to kill us all. Should he succeed I believe mankind is doomed.’

Vallalar closed his eyes

’A fiery dragon will cross the sky,

Six times before the earth shall die,

Mankind will tremble and frightened be,

For the six heralds in this prophecy,

And when the dragon’s tail is gone,

Man forgets and smiles and carries on,

To apply himself – too late, too late,

For mankind has earned deserved fate.’

His masked smile, his false grandeur,

Will serve the gods their anger stir,

And they will send the dragon back

To light the sky – his tail will crack,

Upon the earth and rend the earth,

And man shall flee, king, lord and serf.’

'What does it mean?' asked Sam.

'Well, it is part of a very old prophecy by a lady called Mother Shipton. She was born sometime around 1488. Either she used lines or somebody told her of the future, I suspect the latter. She made many prophecies which people have interpreted as having some to pass. It is said that she foresaw motorised travel, instant electronic communication, aircraft, large-scale farming, television and submarines but she also spoke of a number of disasters which would befall the world, certain wars and the rise of particular tyrants. The passage I quoted is one that it is believed has not yet occurred. It is thought the fiery dragon refers to a comet with a red tail. Beware such a sign Sam.’

Sam took a step closer to Vallalar.

‘Thank you for showing me this place, and for everything you have done for me. Despite the threat of the King, seeing that there might be a future that is undecided has given me hope.’

Sam turned to leave. But Vallalar stopped him.

'Oh, and Sam. Keep an eye on old Weewalk. Although he likes to play the lowly kobold he is more important than you know. Maybe, one day, he will take you to the Palace of Kalapa in Shambhala, which you might know as Shangri-La. Then you will see.’

Vallalar turned away signalling the conversation was at an end and Sam slipped from the room wondering what secrets Weewalk kept.

Jak appeared in a stand of trees, the line behind him closing but the hum still ringing in his ears. He grinned and flexed his long claw like fingernails. The sound of a battle reached him between the trunks of the trees around him. He had been drawn to this place. He was always drawn to places like these. He could smell the fear and death. He crept to the edge of the copse and looked out onto a sea of mud. To one side he could see a large force of men, clad in a dull green. They fired rifles at other men that he could not see. Smoke and fog obscured large parts of the hummocked battlefield. Every now and then a large explosion threw large clods of mud through the air. One impact was close enough that small stones rained down on Jak, tinkling against the dull metal helmet that he wore. He brushed grit from his black cloak and continued to watch. A unit of several hundred men appeared out of the whiteness making for Jak's hiding place. He smiled to himself and ran his tongue over his sharp teeth and then shrank back into the trees to wait.

The men came into the trees at a trot. Jak heard snatches of voices.

‘...come on, men...quick smart....through the wood...Gerry won't know what hit 'im....form up’

Then through the trees they crept.

Jak readied himself. Stretching out with his presence he pulled fog and smoke around and into the woods so that the men could see little as they moved forward. Jak waited until they had moved slowly past then scampered up behind the last man. The man was wearing a flat green cap and carried a pistol. Jak clicked his long claws together. Hearing the noise the soldier stopped, allowing the others to move on into the fog. Jak used a flash of presence against the ground and leapt over the soldier and landed in front of him. The man's eyes widened in shock and his mouth dropped open beneath his thin moustache. Before he could move Jak had slashed at his throat with silver fingernails. The man died on the spot, slumping to the ground like a dropped sack of potatoes, a pool of deep red blood soaking into his uniform and the carpet of leaves and earth. Jak licked his fingers. He opened the line nearby and with a quick burst of presence he flung the man's limp body through the portal. The blood-lust was on him now, the other men didn't stand a chance. Shrieking with glee he leapt high and threw himself into their midst and the carnage began.

A short time later Jak stood panting in the foggy wood, his eyes closed. He felt the blood drip down his face and from his hands. A voice behind him startled him and he was ready to leap and attack before he recognised it.

‘Hello Spring-heel.’ said the voice.

Jak turned to see a figure emerging from the mists.

‘Been busy, I see.’ said Ferus, stepping over the tattered remains of what had once been a man. ‘I have a job for you. There is a young boy who I am particularly keen that you should meet. He has become rather elusive.’ This last sentence was said with such anger that even Jak quailed for a moment. Ferus continued in more measured tones ‘I don't want anyone to know about this. It is starting to become an embarrassment to me that this boy still lives. The secret keeper tells me that I don't need to worry about this boy, but I don't trust Tarak Everune. The boy must not survive. Find him. Kill him. You will be rewarded.’

Jak grinned, showing his pointed teeth. As much fun as killing in numbers was there was nothing he enjoyed more than the thrill of the hunt, the challenge of a single elusive target.

He and Ferus spoke for a short time. Jak listened carefully then led Ferus back through the line into a grisly scene. Jak had flung a large number of the dead soldiers down the line and into a room. The bodies lay in bloody heaps. He crouched atop a pile for a moment, grinning wolfishly.

Then with a nod to Ferus he climbed through a window and out into the night. Using his presence to push off from the ground, he travelled in large leaps across the town below him. Every now and then he would drop to the ground in front of a person just to delight in the look of fear on their faces. Ladies fainted. Gentlemen in tall hats raised their canes in defence. But Jak stared down at them with his red, flame like eyes and they all quailed in fear.

In the darkness of night, on the shore of a lake in a wooded Romanian valley, a young gypsy girl knelt before the still waters, a candle in her hand. Tonight she would complete the ritual, for tonight was ' Sânziene ' night. Tonight a gateway to the world of the ghosts would appear and she would be able to see the future. She was hoping for a vision of her husband. The old lady from the village had taught her how to perform the rite, on this evening when there was magic in the air. As she solemnly said the correct words she was startled to see that something had begun to happen. She hadn't expected it to actually work. The old lady was a bit mad, everyone knew that. The girl's eyes grew wide as some kind of doorway opened just off shore. Was this the vision of her husband which she had so hoped for?

There was a splash and she heard a deep voice utter a loud and extremely rude sounding curse. More splashes reached her and then a figure appeared. This must be him. Her dream man. Her breath caught as she peered into the mists, holding the candle aloft.

Her dream man had a bushy beard, round eyes and a large nose and ears. He was only a few feet tall and he was wearing, well, this couldn't be right, he was wearing a yellow spotted dress and big black boots as he squelched from the lake. He stopped and sat on a thick log at the edge of the shore. He pulled off each boot in turn, pouring lake water from them as he muttered. Then he continued his way towards her.

He growled a greeting as he stomped past. He was followed by a girl who gave her an apologetic smile, then a young man who gave her a quick and perfunctory nod and finally a slightly younger boy. The last she smiled at. He was particularly handsome. She wouldn't mind him as a husband.

He said something to her and gave her a sympathetic smile but she could not understand the language. The four figures trooped into the dark trees behind her and the girl found herself alone again, the candle flickering in her hand.

Now that the anger had been burnt out of him by the events in the Mermaid Tavern Sam felt hollow and empty. When the time had come to leave Jēran to repair the damage he had left with a cold determination in his stomach. But the trip he had taken with Vallalar had made him feel substantially better, like suddenly life was less futile. Like there was something be could do. But still he thought he might never get over seeing the death of his parents. Ferus had killed them in an attempt to kill him. He could see that Weewalk kept giving him quick glances to check that he was alright.

‘So, where are we headed?’ Sam asked as they walked along a quiet lane which meandered away from the lake and woods and into open countryside.

It was Kya who answered ‘We're going to see someone who studies Mu. We need to get to Tongue's Scar, where Tarak is being held, and this man might know how to reach it. His name is Professor Keel. His home is quite close to here. He lives close to a line to the Tavern as it's such a good source of information for him. Jēran told me about him.’

‘Wait, Jēran told you. I thought he couldn't speak.’ said Sam.

‘No-one ever said he
couldn't
speak.’ said Weewalk, ‘Only that he didn't. He seems to have changed his mind since the Riven attacked him. I've never seen him so angry. Ferus has made himself a powerful enemy.’

As they walked Sam had the chance to consider Kya. She really did look remarkably like the girl from the painting. She caught him looking and Sam quickly looked away trying not to blush. They walked for half an hour or so before reaching a narrow lane which ran towards a house, only partially visible beyond a stand of trees. A postbox at the start of the lane bore the single word 'Keel'.

‘I guess this is it.’ said Hadan, eyeing the letters which overflowed the box. ‘Should we take him his post?’

‘It seems like the polite thing to do.’ said Kya.

They waited for a moment while she gathered up the letters into a bundle and then they walked down the track to the house. As it came into sight they could see that it was quite large and rather unkempt and ramshackle. They climbed a step to the big front door and Sam pushed a button. They heard a chime sound within the house.