Phoebe Wren and the Vortex of Light (14 page)

Schnither slid nervously through the corridors of the mountain, whose only light came from oily torches mounted here and there along the walls. While he was usually glad of the miniscule amount of warmth afforded by the torches in this darkest of cesspools, today he preferred the shelter of the shadows, and moved like a slimy black phantom through the shade.

Despite his best efforts, Schnither could not delay his arrival at Abaddon’s chamber forever, and with his stomach churning violently he finally approached the gargantuan doors.
‘Déjà vu,’
he thought.
‘Definitely déjà vu!’
Abaddon’s two thick headed guards stood at the doors as before, massive spears in their fat hands, but this time their wise-guy swagger had been replaced by sombre faces and nervously twitching eyes. Schnither could see that both sentries had angry looking red marks, one on his left cheek, and the other on his right cheek, and on closer inspection it appeared that… no, it couldn’t be… could it? In the centre of the second guard’s bruised cheek was an imprint of Abaddon’s ring; Schnither could clearly see the impression of the seal of the Atoner! Abaddon had obviously struck out at them simultaneously, a fist for each guard, but the second guard had been unfortunate to catch a blow from Abaddon’s ring finger! Had he not felt so nauseous, Schnither would have found this terribly amusing!

Schnither gulped – Abaddon must have already heard of the crushing defeat at the Otonno household, and was obviously
not
in a genial mood – the news he was about to receive would certainly not serve to salve his temperament. The guards looked at him in a manner loosely resembling sympathy, and without speaking they heaved on the great doors, which swung open on the murky room within. Schnither took a deep breath, closed his eyes and gave his head a shake in an effort to loosen up his practically paralysed body. He exhaled silently then stepped inside Abaddon’s chambers, and the guards slammed the doors shut behind him with great haste. It was eerily still, unnaturally quiet, and Schnither found himself holding his breath and straining his ears in an effort to gain even the slightest hint of where Abaddon might be. He did not have to guess for long, however, as the gently swirling mists within the room were violently ripped apart as Abaddon’s snarling form burst through in a barely contained rage.

“
Schnither!
” he boomed. “I
told
you not to fail me again! Did I not tell you this? Did you not hear me?” Abaddon’s voice was shaking with fury, his grey eyes sparking and flashing. “Can you not hear me, you pathetic little underling?
Speak!
”

Despite his terror, Schnither’s pride was dented by being referred to as an ‘underling’, and he straightened up before running his yellow tongue over his lips in a desperate effort to moisten them and permit him to respond.

“S-s-sir,” Schnither spluttered. “Sir, our ranks were… well, we did not retain the upper hand. That is to say, we were defeated. We fought hard but…”

“You fought hard?” Abaddon sneered. “You fought
hard
? There were hundreds of you, I sent
hundreds
of my demons with you, and yet six…” He recoiled as if the words he was about to say offended him. “…
six
angels
were able to trample you, as if you were ants?”

“I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t say that…
exactly
, Master,” Schnither’s defence sounded puny even in his own ears, but he could not think of a single thing to say that would sound in any way suitable.

“
Really?
” smirked Abaddon. “Well, what would you say…
exactly?
”

“Well, Sir, Garshwell and I lead the attack. We were relentless, Sir, we hit those Heavenly warriors hard, we came at them from every angle… and we
almost
had them, Sir.”

“Almost?
Almost
?” thundered Abaddon. “If you
almost
had them, then you
did not
have them! They are all
still out there
, a very real threat to the success of my plans. And my plans
will not fail another time
, Schnither.”

Schnither hesitated, unsure of the wisdom of saying out loud what he was thinking. Finally, he decided that he couldn’t be in much more trouble, so he blurted out, “Cosain and his cronies think that all they have to do is get that girl and her family safely through tomorrow. They have no idea that we will bring their plane down on Friday, Sir – this plan is foolproof. Once the angels get off side tomorrow, we will make our move. And the end of the Wrens will be a mere inevitability. And…” he paused again. “And I practically removed Cosain’s sword arm, Captain, you should have seen…”

“Oh be
quiet
you lackey!” yelled Abaddon, who was obviously not impressed by Schnither’s best exaggerations.

Schnither’s jaw clenched in indignation as the work ‘lackey’ slapped him square in the face. He was incensed, but not stupid, and he kept his displeasure to himself.

Abaddon the Defiler paced his chambers for what seemed like an eternity before he spoke again, vanishing into and re-emerging from the smog at irregular intervals. His voice was quieter now, but the menacing undertone could not be ignored.

“This, Schnither, is your
very last chance
. I will not tolerate any more blunders from you. You have two days to prove to me that you are not an utter waste of space.” He spat the words, and Schnither clenched his jaw so hard that his rotten teeth were in danger of shattering.

“And just in case you think I’m joking,” said Abaddon with a sarcasm that was almost tangible, “I will leave you with this little reminder.”

Before Schnither had time to react or employ any avoidance tactics, Abaddon had pulled a short but devastatingly sharp blade from up his sleeve, and swiped at Schnither, deftly removing his left ear in one adept swoop.

Despite himself, Schnither screamed in shock and pain, and his remaining hand flew to where his ear had been only to find a mushy mess of flesh and blood. The anger and indignation that had been building within him threatened to overflow, but as wounded and furious as he was, Schnither knew better than to even consider taking on the all encompassing might of Abaddon the Defiler. Instead, he regained his composure, straightened his stance, summoned as much pride as he could muster, and slowly saluted his Dark Master.

“Yes, Abaddon, Sir,” slurred Schnither. “I will personally see to it that the Wrens are exterminated. There will be no mistakes. And no more
second chances
.”

With that, Schnither bowed low before Abaddon, and backed away from him towards the great doors, keeping a dubious eye on his assailant until he had exited the room and the heavy doors slammed shut behind him.

“You too?” asked the first guard, nodding towards the earless side of Schnither’s head, but he paid dearly for his inquisitiveness as Schnither pummelled him hard in the belly, leaving him gasping for breath.

Schnither tore through the leaden corridors at a gallop, building momentum until he burst out through the rocky entranceway like a black writhing tsunami, and shot into the starry night sky, leaving a trail of yellow ooze and curses in his wake. Yes, he would see to it that the Wrens were dealt with once and for all. And those haughty angels would pay dearly for what they had done to him.

The morning sun rose slowly over the African savannah, yawning its warming rays lazily across the plains and lighting up a pristine new day. As Bushman rabbits scampered for cover outside the Wrens’ home, and jacanas and snipes warbled in the distance, everything appeared entirely normal to the unsuspecting eye. Just another day.

Inside the house, Phoebe stretched and yawned as the light from the bright new day outside shone in through the little crack where her curtains had not quite been pulled closed. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, and for a confused moment she could not decipher exactly where she was. Surely she must be in Ireland, in the Quills’ spare bedroom, and at any minute Ella would knock her door and call gently,
“Phoebe, are you awake?”
But the familiar call never came, and it slowly dawned on Phoebe that she was in fact back in Africa – this was
real
, she hadn’t dreamed the last twenty four hours. Phoebe realised too that this day, Thursday 15
th
July, had been the day that had changed her life forever in the worst possible way, and the realisation made her shudder. As her train of thoughts advanced, Phoebe remembered that there would be no aeroplanes or flights involved in this day, therefore no crash could be evoked and – for now at least – she and her parents were alive and well. She smiled a broad smile of thankful contentment, and breathed a heartfelt ‘
thank you
’ as she threw back the bedspread and prepared to face the day that never was.

Phoebe clambered out of bed, stretched her arms up over her head, then grabbed her pink fluffy robe and pulled it on over her nightdress. She stepped out into the hallway, tying the robe’s belt around her as she descended the stairs. From below, she could hear the happy chatter of her parents as they prepared breakfast, and the simple wonder of family breakfast struck her anew and made her smile.

“Good morning Dad, good morning Mum,” Phoebe said as she entered the kitchen. “Something smells good!”

“Morning Honey,” smiled Eva. “Did you sleep well? We thought we’d treat ourselves to a nice big breakfast this morning. Are you hungry?”

Phoebe nodded that she was, and sat down at the big wooden table where the Wrens had enjoyed many family meals together.

“Anything you want to do today, Phoebe?” asked Jack, as he set a huge plate full of eggs and bacon on the table in front of her.

“Thanks Dad,” said Phoebe, “Looks great!”

“It is!” grinned Eva, who was already tucking in to her own breakfast.

“There’s nothing in particular I want to do today, I’ve said all my goodbyes and packed all my stuff, so I’m not fussy.” Phoebe set her knife and fork down just long enough to swallow a gulp of hot tea before getting back to her bacon and eggs. “What do you reckon? Is there anything you still need to do?”

“Well,” said Jack, taking his place at the table beside his wife and daughter. “Your Mum and I thought we might just go back to the hospital, see if we can help any more with the tidy up operation. We got on well with it yesterday, but there will be a lot more to do, and since we have this unexpected free day, we thought we might as well pitch in. You can join us if you want, or just hang out with Dem, it’s entirely up to you.”

Jack didn’t wait for Phoebe’s response, and wasted no time in starting his breakfast. Phoebe looked at her parents, happily enjoying their breakfast, and realised that they couldn’t possibly be aware of the implications of the next forty eight hours. She toyed with the idea of telling them the whole story – right here and now, over breakfast. They were alone and she would have their complete attention; this could be the perfect opportunity for Phoebe to let Jack and Eva in on her incredible secret. But as Phoebe played the potential conversation silently through in her head, she realised just how absurd and implausible it sounded, and she decided that it would be much simpler to keep it just between her and Demetrius.

“I’ll probably just call with Demetrius,” she said at last. “Maybe help him with his packing, he’s bound to have a lot to do! I can’t believe you made arrangements for him to come home with us, it’s gonna be so great!” Phoebe was genuinely delighted by the prospect of Demetrius joining her in Ireland, and her face reflected her joy.

“We reckon a new start back in Ireland will be so good for Demetrius,” said Eva, her kind eyes smiling at the thought of the young boy who had become like a son to her. “I know he has Esau and Martha here, but with Julius and Teddy gone, he has no real ties in Africa, and your Dad and I feel that Ireland opens up so may opportunities for him. He’s such a smart kid – like you, Phoebs!”

“Mum, we are not ‘
kids’
,” Phoebe started to protest, but she caught the twinkle in her mother’s eye and realised that she was being teased. “Oh
ha ha ha
, Mother,” she quipped, and rolled her eyes as Jack and Eva laughed together at how easily Phoebe had taken the bait.

The family finished their breakfast, chatting animatedly about Ireland and how good it would be to get back there and catch up with family and friends. Phoebe helped Eva to tidy up and wash the dishes, then she went back upstairs to get washed and dressed. It was already 10:00am, and Phoebe was excited to get round to Dem’s house.

Jack and Eva shouted up the stairs to Phoebe before they left the house, and she came downstairs dressed casually in cut off jeans and a faded grey tee shirt to hug them before they set off.

“Now, you can come over to the hospital any time you like, and we both have our cell phones so just call if you need anything, okay?” said Jack as he tousled Phoebe’s wavy hair. “Do you want a ride over to Demetrius’s? It’s on our way.”