Descent (2 page)

Outside time and consciousness, in a place far from the known world, a creature of malevolence was growing. And as it grew in strength, powered by remembrance and anger and hatred, so did it struggle.

The bindings that had been placed on it a thousand years before were strong, the banishment powerful, and yet all this time it was growing, feeding itself on thoughts of revenge, sustained in the knowledge that soon it would be free.

‘So. Where the hell are we?’

Jack and Mia stared at each other. They were standing in the middle of a wide, sparse plain, cold wind ruffling their hair. A large stone monument nearby read:
In memory of all those who died here in the fight for freedom.
There was definitely no beach cliff anywhere in sight.

In the distance was a huge, high wall. A castle’s spires rose behind it, its colourful flag flapping in the breeze. To their right there looked to be some sort of marshland and far in the distance they could see puffs of smoke billowing into the air.

‘Is that—a castle?’ Jack asked, shading his eyes as he squinted into the setting sun.

Slowly Mia turned to him. ‘What do you know. I guess it worked after all. I guess we got through the portal.’

‘Well, well, well.’

Jack and Mia spun on their heels. A young man atop a grey horse stared down at them. The horse was breathing deeply, its flanks sweating.

The boy’s expression was one of rapt amusement, despite the fact that his cheeks were flushed as if he’d been riding hard.

Mia cast a glance at Jack then turned back to the boy. He looked to be about their own age—maybe sixteen or seventeen—but there was something about his manner, something in his dark eyes that made him seem older.

‘The long lost saviours are here at last,’ he murmured, his voice deep and soft.

They stared at him, uncomprehending.

‘Who are you?’ Jack asked bluntly.

‘No one important. My name is Altor.’

‘Well I’m Mia and this is—’

‘I know who you are,’ he interrupted smoothly.

Jack folded his arms. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

The boy’s smile grew wider. ‘No one in their right mind would be standing out here at this time of day unless they were brand new.’

Mia blinked, unnerved by the way Altor was so still atop his horse. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, but she wasn’t sure why—she was edging between fascination and distinct unease. The breeze ruffled the end of the boy’s black cloak, and Mia shivered. The air had a bite to it, even though it had just been sweltering on the cliff. By the height of the sun, it was going to be night soon.

‘Where are we?’ she asked finally.

Altor dismounted his horse gracefully. He was of medium height and build—he should have been completely unremarkable, and yet he wasn’t. There was a large bow slung over his back, and a quiver of arrows on one shoulder.

And there was a sword at his waist.

A
sword.

Fear fluttered in the pit of Mia’s stomach. The boy certainly seemed malicious. On top of which there was an unexplained sense of urgency to the way he kept looking at the sky.

‘You are in a world called Paragor,’ he told them, leaning against his horse and gazing at them through long lashes. ‘An entirely different existence to where you’ve come from. And I’d suggest you get used to it, because there’s no way back.’

Jack made a show of rubbing dirt out of his ears.

‘Uh ... what?’

Mia had a stupid, hysterical urge to laugh. ‘He was right,’ she muttered, shaking her head. ‘The bastard Harry was right after all.’

‘Never let him hear you say that,’ Altor warned, eyebrows arched.

‘You know him?’ Mia exclaimed. ‘Harry is here? Where? And how?’

Altor stroked his horse’s mane before turning back to them. He grinned the slowest, widest grin Mia had ever seen. ‘Don’t ask me how or why, sweetness, but the two of you are a little late.’

Before either of them had a chance to respond, Altor clapped his hands, looking at the sky again. ‘We’re out of time,’ he snapped, all amusement gone from his voice. ‘If you want to live, you’ll start walking. Very quickly.’

Satine looked down at the parchment, chewing the tip of her quill absently. It was a strange, melancholy evening. Her thoughts kept darting to the past, tugged inevitably to a snowy morning exactly two years ago to the day.

‘How could you even think about working on a night like this?’ A drawling voice came from behind her and she
turned to see her son lazing in the doorway. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to come and have a drink with your only child to celebrate our glorious victory?’

Satine knew he was trying to antagonise her. He knew she hated celebrating the war, hated remembering anything about it. ‘Do not start,’ she warned.

Altor rolled his eyes as Satine asked, ‘How are you feeling today, darling?’

He frowned and ignored the question, as he did every day when she asked.

‘Do you want a drink or not? Or would you prefer to sit here on your own and mope?’

Satine hesitated, using the moment to scrutinise him. Was that a new line next to his eye? Was his jaw a little bit wider than yesterday? His muscles more defined? There was a desperate need in her to memorise every hair on his head, every freckle on his skin, every expression that crossed his face, in order to gauge how fast it was working, how quickly he was changing.

Altor gazed back at her defiantly. ‘What do you see?’ he asked softly, and there was no disguising the rage in his voice.

She plastered on a false smile. ‘Nothing new.’

Altor’s mouth stretched into a bitter grimace. ‘Liar,’ he said, but it was a mild rebuke. Leaning against the doorframe lazily, Altor looked away from his mother. Trying, as always, to escape her concern. ‘Come now,’ he said, looking up at her through hooded eyes. ‘I only came to tease you about your sulking and implore you to join me in the festivities, but as usual you seek to depress us both with all the problems in life.’

‘Not all the problems,’ she muttered, turning back to her desk. ‘Just one.’

‘I’ll ask it again then,’ he replied. ‘Will you come and join me?’

‘Altor, my heart, some of us have to work. We cannot all charm our way through life.’

Altor gave her a withering laugh, his eyes flashing.

‘Charm? I had no idea I possessed such a thing.’

‘You have more charm than anyone I’ve ever met. But instead of using it you prefer to manipulate people into doing what you want.’

Altor tilted his head. ‘Charm is obvious; so is the way people react to it. True personality arises when one is frightened or uncomfortable. It pleases me to see this.’

‘You play with people like they are toys.’

‘What else are they to a prince?’ he asked softly.

Satine shook her head. She knew his arrogance was mostly an act, that he didn’t actually see himself as any better than his people. But she also knew Altor would say anything at all if he thought it would get a reaction.

He laughed. ‘Mother, you are no fun. If you won’t come with me I will have to find someone who will. Maybe our new guests would enjoy an evening ale.’ The tone was soft, his eyes watching her closely. Sometimes the dark intelligence in those eyes startled her. Traitorous thoughts crept into the furthest corners of her soul, making her wonder what he could be capable of, what he desired. But no matter how wary she might be, Satine could never fear her own son.

‘What new guests?’

Altor idly picked at a fingernail.

Just then Satine spotted something on his arm. ‘Altor! Is that blood? What happened to you?’

He flashed an indulgent smile. ‘The last of the six Strangers have arrived.’

‘What?’ Satine stood up so fast her chair flew to the ground. ‘You think to tell me this last? Altor, in all the gods’ names, what is wrong with you?’

‘It slipped my mind,’ he offered.

Satine shook her head in exasperation and swept from the room. ‘Where are they?’

‘Waiting for you in the entrance hall. And they might be a little upset.’

‘Why? Because of the crossing?’

‘No,’ he answered slowly. ‘I found them outside, Mother. And look at how dark it is.’

Satine turned cold. ‘Oh gods,’ she whispered, and broke into a run.

Images from last night’s dreams intruded on his focus, and as a result Harry sent his last arrow just shy of the bullseye. He breathed out slowly, trying to force the pictures from his mind. Angels.
Again.
But these were different to the one he’d dreamt about so long ago, the angel dream that he and his friends had shared. These were dark, and violent. Black wings covered in blood fluttered through his vision every night, waking him in a cold sweat, leaving him exhausted and unsettled. But there wasn’t time to focus on dreams. Not when there were real creatures that needed killing. Not when Harry spent all his time training to kill them.

Archery wasn’t the only thing Harry had been learning. With nothing to define him except the legend that shaped the very way people looked at him, he had a great deal of time on his hands. Time for horse riding, weaponry, teaching himself about Paragor’s history, and searching, always searching, for a way home. He didn’t know if he would take that way home, or even if he could after everything they’d been through, but he knew the others would want the option. There was a difference between choosing this life and being trapped here. It was a dangerous prison of Harry’s own making, and
even though no one on Earth could possibly miss the nobody he’d been there, those kinds of thoughts could drive a guy crazy.

Harry walked to the end of the training room to retrieve his arrows. Something about this night always made him miss his friends more than usual. It was the anniversary of the war. Sometimes he wished he lived in Amalia with Anna and Luca, but he felt a connection with Burmia, the place he’d first crossed to, and couldn’t imagine leaving Satine and Altor.

He shot another ten arrows, but as he went to retrieve them he felt a familiar jolt to his senses and froze.

Harry, are you there?
Luca whispered in his mind, like a gentle nudge on his brain.

Yes, I’m here,
Harry replied.

Accolon wants Satine to know he’s planning a trip to Burmia.

Why? Luca—what is it this time?

Luca hesitated.
Stupidity and jealousy, again.

Harry sighed.
What are we going to do about this?

There was a long silence.
Relay the message to Satine. Have to go.

The breaking of the mind-link was clumsy and painful, which was unusual for Luca, usually so fluid with everything he did.

Harry sat down heavily and massaged his temples, trying to rid himself of the headache such a disconnection created.

When the four Strangers had merged to fight Leostrial, a strange link had been formed, a conduit for their thoughts if they chose to share them. Each one of them had a different texture, a different feel. Harry often had trouble explaining that bit, so the three of them had decided to call it their mind-voice. Anna’s was a brilliant yellow shining thing, always loud on approach,
but never painful. Luca’s had always been darker—a snaking embodiment that crept inside Harry’s mind unexpectedly, stealthy and strong and gentle. In the beginning it had been a turquoise blue, but as the days and months passed, it had grown much darker. Harry didn’t know what caused this, but neither of his friends would speak to him about it.

Tiring of practice, Harry walked from the training room and out onto one of the balconies that wrapped around the southern side of the castle. There he dawdled, unsure why he felt so out of sorts. He couldn’t stop thinking about the dreams. Resting his elbows on the railing, he gazed out onto the plain beyond. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and Harry shivered, casting a wary glance into the sky.

His eyes caught something and he gasped. There were people out there! On the plains. At night. Harry’s heart began to pound in horror as he broke into a run.

‘What’s going on, man?’ Jack asked. He and Mia were both shivering in their t-shirts and shorts, the temperature having dropped dramatically with the sun. Neither had any idea what was happening, but both sensed danger in the air. The boy, Altor, was walking as quickly as humanly possible, and Mia could see that he was itching to get back onto his horse.

‘I’ll explain when we’re safe,’ he snapped, shooting them a hard glance.

‘Well, can you at least tell us how you know who we are?’ Jack asked.

‘I’ll leave that to my mother, Jack. I’m hardly the person to be answering things of any importance.’

Mia realised with a jolt that they hadn’t told Altor Jack’s name. ‘What does that mean? Who are you?’

‘I told you,’ he sighed. ‘I’m no one.’

‘That’s a stupid thing to say,’ Mia muttered. ‘Everyone’s someone.’

Altor laughed softly and turned back to look at her. ‘Get used to disappointment, precious. It’ll be a friend of yours here.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Tell me,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘What is it you are here to accomplish?’

Jack looked at Mia, bewildered. ‘I dunno. We didn’t even believe the portal was real until we dove through.’

‘Hasty actions, don’t you think? Walk
faster.
’

Jack stumbled slightly as he picked up his pace. ‘If the company’s all like this then I’m regretting it already.’

Altor shot them a dark grin over his shoulder. ‘The lad has a spine!’

‘What’s your problem?’ Mia snapped. ‘Have we done something wrong?’

‘Like I said. You’re late. And you’re walking too slowly. I’m about ready to leave you behind.’

‘What,’ Mia exclaimed, ‘are we rushing for?’

Altor didn’t reply, his eyes scanning the sky constantly. The city walls were still quite a distance away.

‘Have there been others like us?’ Jack asked breathlessly. ‘To cross through?’

‘Strangers, we call you. Indeed there have.’ There was a kind of malicious amusement in his voice. Mia was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

‘And they weren’t able to go home?’ Jack pressed.

‘Like I said, there is no way back.’