Beyond the Shroud (19 page)

We stood there holding hands, the silence stretching forever.

‘Try again.' Jamie's voice wobbled.

I tried again. Nothing.

‘Do you think it could be the battery?' There was something crazily out of place about Kenta's question — the kind of thing you'd ask if the car didn't start on a trip to the shops. In spite of the desperate situation we were in, I felt myself grin … and with the grin, my mind started working again.

‘I don't think so. I think it's the dungeon — the rock all round us, metres deep. More. Remember what Q said that first time? About trying to make our re-entry from the same point we arrived at … the interface between the two worlds being stronger there? We're at least two days' journey from Arakesh — and under a mountain. I'm sure it'll work once we're out in the open.'

‘Maybe,' said Jamie hollowly. ‘Only problem is, we aren't
likely to get a chance to find out.'

‘So,' said Rich, ‘what now?'

I was busy fishing Tiger Lily out of my backpack and emptying the contents onto the floor. ‘Plan A didn't work,' I said over my shoulder. ‘So on to Plan B.'

‘What's Plan B, Adam?' The confidence in Hannah's voice warmed me to the tips of my toes.

‘I don't know.' I grinned at her. ‘I haven't thought of it yet. But I will. We'll start by looking at what we've got available. There must be
something
we can use to get us out of here!'

I dug through our equipment, praying for inspiration. Tiger Lily was rubbing her head against my hand, getting in the way like cats do. Her heavy golden collar was studded with jewels — red, blue and green — and they scratched my skin as I shoved her gently away. Under the ornate collar, looking very shabby in contrast, I saw to my surprise that she was still wearing her old leather one, its square black cat-door magnet hanging down like a pendant.

Kai crouched by the bars watching as I fished more and more stuff out of the bag — everyday things to us, but strange and exotic to him.

‘What be that, Adam?' he couldn't resist asking when I produced a disposable lighter. I flicked it on, the flame burning brightly in the gloom. ‘Ah — a tinderbox! Now
that
be tempered and honed … and that, Adam? What be that?'

With an inward sigh, I flicked on the small, powerful torch, squiggling its beam in a figure of eight to demonstrate. Instantly, Tiger Lily hopped after it, pouncing on the circle of light as if it was a mouse.

Hannah laughed, the sound like music in the bleak dungeon. ‘Again, Adam — do it again!' I smiled back at her, wiggling the torch … and again, Tiger Lily scampered after it, trying to catch the beam with her paws, the jewels
in her collar gleaming, the magnet swinging back and forth.

And then it came to me, like flicking a switch and seeing a ray of light where there was none moments before. Plan B. And it would work … because it had to.

We crouched at the front railing of our cells, peering through the bars. There was absolute silence except for the distant drip-drip-drip of water. I turned on the torch and Kenta lifted Tiger Lily out into the wide corridor that separated us from the guard station.

I played the beam of the torch on the far wall. It made a fuzzy, bright patch the size of a dinner plate. Would it be enough? I hoped so.

Tiger Lily sat down in the corridor and started washing her face. With my heart in my mouth, hardly daring to breathe, I shone the torch onto the floor beside her paw. She ignored it.

‘Come on Tiger Lily,' I muttered. ‘If ever there was a time to play, it's now! Come on, Mauler — maul!'

But instead, she settled down on the floor with her paws tucked under her, too far away for us to reach. Time for a nap. Desperately, I dabbled the bright circle of light under her nose. She watched it haughtily … and then suddenly her eyes went triangular, and her whiskers bristled. ‘She's the cleverest cat in the world, Adam,' Hannah whispered. ‘And she's going to do it, you'll see!'

Utterly silent, we watched Tiger Lily rise slowly to her feet, crouch, wriggle her haunches from side to side … and pounce. Quick as lightning, I scooted the beam away, over to the leg of the table. Jiggled it, so it danced up and down the table leg.

Tiger Lily was after it in a flash. Up onto the table, chasing the light.

With my heart in my mouth, I shone the beam on the rack of keys … onto the rusty iron key second from the left … and then above it.

For a long moment, Tiger Lily seemed to consider. Then she stretched up, up, her paws patting at the circle of light … and her collar, with its dangling magnet, brushing against the key.

A centimetre more … she wasn't close enough … and then it happened. The key swung forward and connected with the magnet with a solid metallic
chink.

Moments later Tiger Lily was purring smugly in Hannah's arms, and we'd unlocked our cell and were out in the corridor. Hannah pointed out the key to her cell, beside ours. I unlocked it, my hand shaking. Looked over at Kai, a question in my eyes. He shook his head.

It felt like freedom — but it wasn't.

‘What now? Do you think one of the keys fits the portcullises?' Rich asked doubtfully.

‘It's worth a try.' I scanned the long line of keys. They all looked the same, except one, alone on the bottom row … and it couldn't be that. It was covered in cobwebs, and obviously hadn't been used for years.

‘Nay, my friends.' Kai sounded grim. ‘The guards take the portcullis keys with them. There be only one way out of the Dungeons of Shakesh, and that be the Way of the Dead.'

A chill trickled down my spine. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Sewers run under the castle. The bodies of prisoners be cast in among the waste and excrement.' He nodded towards the massive metal grid set into the floor. It must have been two metres square, thick, rusted bars intersecting every twenty centimetres or so to form a rigid network of iron. It would have taken a crane to lift it. Tiger Lily — and maybe Weevil — were small enough to fit through the gaps … but the stench rising up from it was sickening
— especially now we knew what it came from.

‘The sewers run out into the swamp,' Kai was saying. ‘But it takes many grown men to lift the grating. And even if you could — even if you found your way through the sewers, and the shroud — they say the ford has been destroyed. There be no way to cross the River Ravven … for who knows if Rainbow Bridge — the Bridge of Sighs — be truth or legend? King Karazeel would loose the Faceless, and they would hunt you down. You have done bravely, my friends … but there are times when even the bravest must surrender to their fate.'

‘Oh yeah?' Rich's face wore a crooked grin. ‘I can tell you don't have much confidence in our computer, Kai,' he nodded down at it, lying on the guard table, ‘but we've used it before, and we know it'll work once we're out of here. As for that: I don't much fancy what's under that manhole cover, but I like what's above it even less. If there is a way out, that's it. And I think I know how we can open it. There's something you've all forgotten. Look.'

He opened his hand. There in his palm lay a crystal phial, gleaming black as ink. Rich grinned. ‘Yup — the Potion of Power. Worth a try, anyhow. Anyone for an arm wrestle?'

Richard took off his cloak with a flourish, hanging it on the horizontal bar of Kai's cell. He pulled out the stopper and downed the potion in a single gulp, upending the phial over his open mouth to make sure he didn't waste a drop. We watched warily, not at all sure what the effect would be. Kai hung through the bars staring, his eyes like saucers.

Rich licked his lips, and flexed one arm experimentally. Then he spat on each hand in turn, rubbed his palms together, and advanced purposefully on the grid.

Rich looked the same as ever, but none of us had a moment's doubt that downing the potion had turned him into Superman — and neither did he. He swaggered up to the grid, bent and gripped the bars firmly in both hands, and flashed us a swashbuckling grin before heaving it effortlessly up.

Except it didn't budge.

Rich frowned. Shuffled his feet further apart, bent his knees, and crouched low over the stinking cesspit. The look on his face had changed from jaunty self-confidence to grim determination. He drew a deep, deep breath … held it. Then his thighs tensed and the muscles in his broad shoulders bunched and flexed. His face contorted with effort; sweat popped out of his skin and rolled down his face, leaving shiny tracks in the dirt. I could almost hear his muscles creaking with the huge strain of lifting.

And still, the grid didn't move so much as a millimetre.

At last he gave up, falling forward onto his knees
exhausted, his breath harsh as a hacksaw. He knelt there for what seemed a long time, while his ragged breathing gradually eased. He didn't look up at us.

Then he clambered stiffly to his feet and crossed to where he'd left his cloak, still not meeting our eyes. He felt he'd failed us, I knew — but he hadn't. He'd given everything he had, and more. I didn't know what to say.

It was Kai who broke the silence, echoing my thoughts. ‘You did as much as any man could, Rich. I salute you — you are a true hero.' A dark flush of pleasure spread over Rich's face. It was clear he didn't know how to respond. He shot Kai a sheepish glimmer of a glance, reached one hand through the bars, and gave his shoulder a friendly shove.

Kai flew backwards across the cell as if he'd been hit by a freight train, smacked into the far wall with a sickening thud, and crumpled to the floor.

We stared at Kai's limp form with our mouths open … and then at Rich. Then Kenta spoke urgently to Hannah. ‘Which is the key to Kai's cell, Hannah — do you know?' Within seconds she was bending over him, the rest of us in an anxious semicircle behind her.

At last she glanced up. ‘He'll be all right, I think. There's a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head, and he's unconscious — but he's breathing normally, as far as I can tell.'

Richard was green with guilt. ‘Cheer up, Rich.' I was thinking aloud. ‘Maybe it's not a bad thing. If the guards find Kai unconscious, they'll think we overpowered him and took Tiger Lily by force — there'll be no question of blaming him. And it'll be obvious he doesn't know how we escaped — so they won't try to make him tell.'

‘Adam's right,' Jamie grinned. ‘If Kai could, he'd be telling us everything happens for a reason. I vote we get moving while he's still out cold — and before the guards come
back. Because one thing's for sure: we'll be able to now. It just took a moment to work — though not as long as Gen's beauty potion, thank goodness!'

Quickly, with gentle hands, Kenta put Kai into what she called the ‘recovery position' and covered him with his rug. Then we re-locked his cell, hanging the key in its place.

Once again, Rich took up his place in front of the grid. He bent and grasped the bars, just as he had done before. He closed his eyes, almost as if he was praying … and lifted the huge grating up and out as easily as if it was made of polystyrene.

He set it down at an angle over the pit, leaving a wedge-shaped gap. The shaft below looked very dark, its sides glistening with black slime. The stink made me want to puke.

Jamie gave a tiny whimper. And then I was aware of another sound, from further away — a low, rhythmic lament. My heart skipped a beat — and then I realised what it was. The prisoner in the depths of the dungeon, down the stairway we'd passed on our way to the throne room. Suddenly I knew what I must do.

Quickly, I scanned the row of keys. Time was running out — the hour must be almost up. Which key would it be?

Then my hand was reaching out … reaching for the least likely key of all, the one covered in cobwebs, coated with dust. For a second I hesitated — surely it couldn't be?
Trust your instincts,
whispered a voice in my mind.
Q.

I grabbed the key. The others stared. ‘Get ready to leave. Put Tiger Lily in my bag for me — someone take Weevil. Jamie, pack some food — and whatever you do, don't forget the microcomputer! I'll be back in a sec.'

I spun and ran down the passage, the key clenched in one fist, my torch in the other. Reached the gaping mouth
of the stairway; swung a left, and leapt down the crumbling stone steps two by two. Stumbled and almost fell — it was dark … too dark. I flicked on the torch and moved more cautiously. At the bottom I hesitated. The chanting was louder now, with a haunting note of despair that chilled my blood.

I crept quietly towards the sound, my heart thumping in my chest. The stone corridor stretched ahead into blackness … and then at last the dim circle of torchlight shone on metal bars: the door of a cell.

I fumbled for the keyhole, my hand shaking, praying the key would fit. Now the words of the chant had taken form:
‘I am Meirion — Meirion the Prophet Mage. I am Meirion — Prophet Mage of Karazan.'
Understanding flashed through me. Alone in total darkness for who knew how long, the invisible prisoner was clinging to sanity by repeating his name over and over … holding on to who he was, because it was all he had.

The key grated into the lock — jammed. Cursing, I twisted it back and forth. It was stuck fast. I could feel the roughness of rust in the lock … desperately, I jerked, and it came free. I spat on the key — once, twice — rubbed it. Back into the lock — left … right … something gave, and the key turned.

I eased the door open. Silence filled the cell now, except for the drip — drip — drip of water. I edged towards the back wall, following the beam of light. Something squealed and skittered away. I could see something on the floor — a bundle of twigs. No — not twigs.

Toes, the flesh fallen away to leave bare bones under tents of skin. Above them, legs, shrunk to nothing, the knees obscene lumps. A filthy loincloth. Ribs as bare as a skeleton's. Arms cruelly stretched, shackled wrists bolted to the wall. A beard, matted with grime. A tangled mane of hair, dark with the filth of years. A face with no eyes,
shrunken lids loose pouches of skin over empty sockets … a face tilted up at a strange angle as if it was staring sightlessly towards the invisible sky. An iron collar as wide as my hand circling the neck, forcing the chin up. The steady drip of water falling on the bare forehead, then trickling into the empty sockets and down into the beard like tears.

My hand shaking, terrified of touching him, I reached up, fumbling for a keyhole. Yes! There it was, I could feel it … but it was tiny, encrusted with rust. There was no way the key would ever fit …

A whisper of breath brushed my cheek like a cobweb. I froze. The face was expressionless as a corpse — but I realised I could hear words — the faintest whisper, dry as dust in the darkness.
‘The five are come, Man-child … the time is nigh …'

There was the scrape of a boot behind me, and a heavy hand fell on my shoulder. My knees buckled … and Rich's voice came hoarsely out of the darkness: ‘Hurry, Adam! They're coming back!'

‘Rich — the shackles — the key won't —'

Rich pushed past me to the living skeleton hanging from the wall. Reached up and snapped the iron manacles and the collar like sticks of spaghetti. Hoisted the limp body in a fireman's lift and headed out of there at a run, with me behind him.

We raced back along the main passageway. The others were clustered round the open pit, Jamie stuffing a last handful of pastries into his pack. I could hear the rattle of the portcullis, and the echo of heavy footsteps marching towards us.

I stuffed the torch into my pack and shouldered it, Tiger Lily squirming inside. Vaulted down into the void. Felt myself falling, a metre, two metres — then landed thigh-deep in raw sewage, thick and stinking. Held up my arms
to Rich. Took the prisoner from him, light as a feather … lowered him beside me. Jamie tumbled down with a splash and a moan. Rich lowered Gen, pale and bewildered-looking. Kenta hopped down, trying not to retch. I took Hannah gently from Rich's outstretched arms, and held her close. She clung to me like a little limpet. ‘Yuck,' she whispered in my ear, and hugged tighter.

‘Are we all here?' I breathed. ‘Who's got Weevil?'

‘Me — Kenta.'

The square of grey above us darkened, the stocky form of Rich blocking out the light. My heart lurched. The grid — how would he close the grid from inside? There was no way he could reach it once he'd dropped into the sewer. But Rich had thought of that. He swung by his hands from one rung to the next, monkey-bar style; then braced his feet against the wall of the shaft and heaved. The grill grated across the floor with a grinding squeal that almost drowned out the clatter of the second portcullis, close — so close.

The grid clunked into place and Rich plopped down beside me. ‘Hard to tell whether we're in the shit, or out of it,' he muttered with a grin. ‘And now — let's get out of here!'