Chaos Quest (8 page)

“Kate, where have you been? We’ve been so worried. I’m sorry about what I said at the hospital. I’m so sorry …”

David turned and left quietly and walked slowly home.

Tethys howled with fury as she looked at the corpses of the wolves.

“I will have his heart for this,” she shrieked. So agitated had she become that the physical form she usually wore was blurred and twisting at the edges, like a figure seen through a heat haze, giving glimpses of what lay beneath.

The Hunter gave a short laugh and she stilled immediately.

“You set your pets to hunt often enough without a thought for the quarry,” he said. “Perhaps this is what they mean when they talk of justice.” The thought seemed to please him and he laughed again.

Tethys gave him a look that burned with resentment, but her voice, when she spoke again, had grown quiet. “I claim his life for what he has done.”

“You will not touch him.” The Hunter’s voice was calm, but as she spoke he had moved in a heartbeat to where she stood and twisting his hand into her dripping hair, forced her head back. He traced her throat with a filthy nail and though she stood still, her form was frayed at the edges again. “You will not touch him. We need him and when we do not, he is mine. If you touch him I will feed you to my hounds.”

The Queen watched the exchange eagerly, feeding
on the conflict.

“Does it matter if he destroys her?” asked the Lightning King softly, lounging at her side.

“Not now,” she replied. “Better that than that she should destroy Morgan. He is our best chance to control the Stardreamer if we cannot do it through the children.”

The Hunter let Tethys go. She sprang back, hissing like a cat, and fled.

“Where have you been, while Morgan has been killing poor Tethys’ wolves?” The Queen plucked a tendril of lightning from the King’s robe and watched it twist.

“I believe I have found us a gateway into the children’s world,” he replied. “It only remains for someone to invite us to step through it. The barriers there are so thin almost anyone will do …”

Kate wasn’t at school the next day. David was distracted in classes, fretting about her, then feeling guilty for not being more worried about Ben. He tried calling and texting her, but could see that visitors might be unwelcome just now.

On the off chance that she might be there – though he would have been surprised if she was – he walked down to the house after school. There was no trace of Kate, but Erda was there, as though she’d never been away, sitting on the kitchen table, eating cereal from the packet.

They stared at each other in silence, Erda with a
handful halfway to her mouth.

“Where have you been? We were worried about you.” He took in her appearance, torn, filthy and drawn. “You look terrible. What happened to you?” He knew all too well, of course, but wanted to see what she would say.

She turned the question aside. “Kate’s brother was hurt,” she said, “but he will be better?” It was
half-statement
, half-question.

“Yes.”

“But what about Kate? Her spirit is hurt by what happened. Where is she? I cannot see her. She is trying not to be.”

“She thinks it was her fault.”

Erda looked distressed. “No! It was my fault – this as well.” She sighed, pushing her tangled hair back from her face.

“Maybe I can bring her to talk to you and you can convince her it wasn’t her fault,” he suggested. “Promise you won’t run away again anyway.”

“Promise?” She looked puzzled. There was no picture in her mind.

He tried to think of a way to explain it, but as he did so he saw comprehension spread over her face.

“Ah … promise. I understand. I will try.”

Well, it was half a promise. Now all he had to do was get Kate.

To his surprise, she called soon after he got home, asking him to go round to her house later. He felt very
unsure as he rang the doorbell. He must have stood here like this hundreds of times, but tonight he didn’t know what to expect.

Kate opened the door. She looked okay, maybe a bit pale, or maybe he was imagining it.

“Mum and Dad want to say hello and Ben wants to show off his bruises,” she said with a wry smile. “You may as well get it over with now.”

They went into the sitting room and Ruth immediately got up and came over to hug David, much to his embarrassment.

“David, thank you so much for yesterday. You’ve been such a good friend to Kate …” Robert contented himself with nodding in agreement from the sofa, while Ben sniggered at David’s discomfort from behind his mother’s back.

“Look at my bruises!” he yelled a few seconds later.

David had to admit he looked quite impressive, one side of his face – he insisted on showing David his matching body as well – was blotted with scrapes and patches of blue and purple, with a line of paper stitches above one eyebrow where he had cut his head.

He was just as annoying as usual though; if you shut your eyes, everything was completely normal.

As soon as it became possible, Kate and David extracted themselves and took refuge in Kate’s bedroom.

“So,” David said, “I’ve seen Ben’s bruises; how are
you
?”

“Okay.” She gave a shaky smile. “I keep seeing it happen if I’m not concentrating on something else. The
doctor said that’s normal and it’ll go away, but …” She sought for words. “You know, it sort of creeps up on me …” She shook her head as if to clear the vision from it.

“Thanks for last night,” she went on. “I was in such a state I didn’t know what to do. I thought Mum and Dad would hate me for what happened … I couldn’t go home.

“They’re being really nice about it, but it was my fault. Ben could have been killed.”

“But he wasn’t. He’s fine. Anyway, Erda says it was her fault, not yours.”

Kate frowned. “When did you talk to her?”

“After school. She’s back at the house. She wants to see you. She wants to convince you that she’s to blame, not you. We could go round tomorrow.”

Kate looked away suddenly.

“I don’t know … All this stuff Mr Flowerdew said about the Light and Darkness in us – maybe what happened with Ben was the Darkness coming out.”

“Kate, no!” David interrupted. “It was an accident – a straightforward accident. Ben ran into the road.”

“But it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t seen Erda. If I was leading a normal life, like everyone else. That’s what I want David, I want to be like everyone else; I don’t want to come and see Erda, I want all that to stop.”

David bit back the words that threatened to spill out and tried to keep his voice level. ‘We are what we are, Kate. Pretending won’t change it.”

“But didn’t Mr Flowerdew say in that letter ‘Do what you think is right?’”

“Yes, but …”

“This is what I think is right. I’m not having anything
else to do with Lords or Guardians or Stardreamers. I’ve got a family and friends here and now, they’re more important.”

David thought fast. “You’re right. It’s your decision; but
please
just come and say goodbye to Erda tomorrow. She feels so guilty about what’s happened.

“You know what that feels like,” he added, turning the knife ruthlessly.

Kate closed her eyes briefly, then gave a resigned sigh. “Promise that if I come you’ll leave me out of all this afterwards?”

“Promise,” lied David.

“All right. I’ll come.”

They discussed football on the way. All the school teams, boys and girls, were playing in a tournament against the equivalent teams from their great rivals, one of the other local schools, the next weekend.

“They’re terrible hackers,” said Kate.

“
And
they’re always taking dives,” David added. “We’ll probably all lose.”

“Brian’ll go spare if we lose again.” Brian was the long-suffering coach of the team Kate played for; one of the dads who inexplicably gave up their Saturday mornings week after week, for no other reward than sometimes seeing their players triumph.

“George won’t be too pleased either. We’ve lost our last three matches.” George was the coach for David’s team and seemed to take every defeat as a personal blow.

They pushed the gate open.

“Are you sure she’s going to be here?”

“No. I hope she is. She said she’d stay.”

Kate opened the door and David called Erda’s name. She came down the stairs. She looked better than she had yesterday, David thought. She’d combed her hair and looked as though she’d had some sleep and she’d changed into cleaner clothes. She looked apprehensive as she approached Kate.

“I am sorry your brother was hurt. It was my fault. You would not have left him if I had not been there.” Kate opened her mouth to protest, but Erda went on, “Your brother will be better soon. He is not much hurt.” She put a hand up to Kate’s cheek. “You think it is you who made this happen, but it is not. It is nothing inside you. You have done nothing wrong.”

Kate gaped at her, astonished. How could she know what Kate was thinking, feeling? Kate spoke. “You too. You should stop blaming yourself for Ben and for Thomas. We know what happened. It was an accident. Even Morgan understands that now. Stop running from him. Let him help you.”

Erda shook her head. “I have caused someone’s death. That will not go away.” She looked up. “I must go. He is coming.”

“What? Morgan is coming?” Kate looked round, wondering if that was what Erda meant. When she turned back, Erda was gone. “Erda? David, where did she go?”

David looked blank. “I don’t know. She just … wasn’t there suddenly. I don’t understand.”

They ran to the door and went out into the street, but she was nowhere to be seen. They came back inside, baffled.

Morgan was coming down the stairs. The look on their faces told him. “She was here, wasn’t she? I’ve missed her again.”

There was a bow in his hand, a fact of which he seemed quite unconscious. Kate looked at it nervously.

“Why do you need that?”

He noticed it and sat down a couple of steps from the bottom, laying it carefully down beside him. “I’m sorry. I forgot I had it with me when I came through the Door.” He stopped to read their expressions again. “I’m not hunting her. Not like that. It’s for protection. I think something hunts us both.”

He had spent two days with Tisian after killing the wolves, resting and talking and speculating, and she had told him about the children’s visit.

“I know you spoke to Tisian. I know what she told you.”

“Why did you lie to us before?” asked Kate
suspiciously
.

Morgan sighed. “It was easier. You seemed to be her friends. You would never have helped me if you had known what I meant to do.”

“Why do you assume we wouldn’t have understood if you had explained it properly?” demanded David.

“You are young.” Morgan was taken aback by the question. “You are barely more than children.”

“You don’t know anything about us,” said David angrily. “We have fought for the Guardians. We
faced the Water Witch and the Lightning King. We understand much more than you think.”

“I am sorry. You are right. I should not underestimate you because you are so young.” He got to his feet and propped the bow against the wall. “I must go after Erda. I’ll leave this here.”

“Why?” said Kate suddenly.

“No one carries them in your …”

“Not the bow,” Kate cut him off. “Why do you have to go after Erda?”

So much for understanding.

“Now that the Stardreamer’s power has been brought to the Worlds it must be merged with the Heart of the Earth. If the Lords have their way and her power is released outside, all that we know will be destroyed.”

“Why can’t you just let her go?”

“Go?”

“Yes. Go back to the stars, space, wherever it is. The power would be removed and the Worlds would be safe. She didn’t ask to come here. It’s not right. You’re all trying to use her.”

Morgan stared at the girl in astonishment. For the moment he couldn’t think of an answer, of a reason why she was wrong, but she must be wrong, surely?

“You should ask her what she wants when you do find her. Maybe she wants to be left alone.”

David was avidly watching the change of expression on Morgan’s face. He looked completely baffled, as if all the certainties of life had just been taken from him.

“Whatever happens, I have to find her,” he said, and pushed past them out of the front door.

David turned to Kate. “Wow! That was quite
something
. I wish I’d thought of that. Did you see his face?”

Kate fished in her pocket, pulled out her keys to Mr Flowerdew’s house and put them down on the table beside the grandfather clock.

“Kate, what are you doing?” asked David, a chill creeping through him.

Kate’s face was serious. “I’m not coming back here. I told you, David, I’m done with all this. I don’t want to be a Child of Light and Darkness. I want to be normal.” She opened the front door. “See you at school tomorrow.”

And she was gone.

It was very weird. Kate was at school the next day, acting as if nothing had happened, answering questions about Ben’s accident without getting upset; being
normal
. Being determinedly normal.

They sat together in the lessons they shared as usual and chatted away and all the time David was thinking
Come on, Kate. See sense. You can’t keep this up
.

But she did.

They walked part of the way home together and when they came to the point at which the routes to Kate’s and Mr Flowerdew’s houses diverged, she said goodbye and turned towards her home without hesitation.

David found he didn’t want to go on his own just then, so he turned and trudged home, unable to decide whether to be irritated or worried.

“I’m back,” he shouted to Claire as he came in and heard a muffled reply from the kitchen. He dropped his bag and sweatshirt. No Tiger to wind himself, purring, round his legs. There was a delicious smell when he opened the kitchen door.

“Mmmn, that smells good,” he said as he went to make himself a sandwich.

“It’s just a chicken roasting,” said Claire absently, peering at the calendar. “Even you could make it. Half a lemon up its bum and Bob’s your uncle.”

“Charming. That’s put me right off it.”

“You won’t be saying that when it’s on a plate in front of you though.

“What age are you now?”

He did a double take. “I’m thirteen. You know I’m thirteen. Why?”

“It’s about time you learned to cook.”

“I
can
cook.”

“I don’t mean putting pizza in the oven. Proper food.”

“Like roast chicken?”

“Like roast chicken. I’m not always going to be able to cook your tea for you, you know.”

David’s blood ran cold. Christine must have done it. She must have told Claire to leave.

“She can’t make you leave. Don’t listen to her. You mustn’t go.”

“Leave? What are you talking about? I’m not leaving. I’m talking about when the baby comes.”

David was flabbergasted. “You’re having a baby?”

Claire closed her eyes and put her hands briefly over her face.

“Oh dear, Davie boy.” She took her hands away. “Not me, you eejit. I thought you knew.”

David could feel his mouth hanging open, but he couldn’t summon the will to shut it.

“Christine’s having a baby. The last thing she wants is for me to leave. She wants me to look after it.”

“Oh.” It was a stupid response, but it seemed to be the only sound he could make.

“Let me guess. Christine tried to tell you and you
jumped to the wrong conclusion?”

He replayed
that
conversation in his head and nodded.

Claire sighed and sat down opposite David at the table.

“I know it’s hard for you, but it’s hard for her too. You need to give her more of a chance, listen to her properly instead of leaping to conclusions whenever she opens her mouth.”

A baby. A little brother or sister. Like Ben. He burst out laughing at the thought.

“All right. Next time they try to tell you,
listen
. And for goodness sake act surprised. You shouldn’t have been hearing this from me at all.”

A baby. He nodded. “Trust me. I’m good at surprised. Now, what do you do to the chicken once you’ve stuck the melon up its bum?”

Claire threw a tea towel at him and they both dissolved into laughter.

The next couple of days were uneventful enough to satisfy even Kate. David told her about the baby, about whose existence he’d managed to get himself told the same evening he’d had the conversation with Claire.

She beamed.

“David, that’s great. A baby, wow.”

“You never say Ben’s great.”

“That’s different. He’s a maggot, not a baby. So are things okay with you and Christine then?”

He thought of the fragile truce between the two of them, through which they were tiptoeing as though the slightest mistake might shatter it – which it might, of course.

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Kate, David; less talk and more drawing please.”

“Sorry Miss.”

It was double Art, one of David’s favourites.

“Don’t forget the Art Club trip on Monday,” Miss Roberts said to the class.

“What time do we get back?” someone asked.

“It was all on the consent form,” Miss Roberts said with a sigh. “Don’t you ever read them? No, don’t bother answering.

“We leave at three – you’ll have to get permission to miss last lesson. We’re going in the minibus. We’ll be back at five thirty. Got that?”

“Are there any spare places?” asked Kate.

“There might be. I’ll check.” Miss Roberts retreated to her desk.

“I thought you didn’t want to join the Art Club?” said David.

“I don’t, but Mum keeps going on about this Chapel place, says I ought to go and see it, so I thought I would.”

“There is a place Kate,” called Miss Roberts. “Do you want me to put you down?”

“Yes please.”

“You’ll need to take this form home and get it signed.”

“Okay, thanks.”

David tried again on the way home that day. “Do you want to come round to the house for a while? At least to water the plants?”

Kate shook her head. “I’m sure you can manage. I’ve got a Chemistry test tomorrow. I want to try and do better this time.”

“Oh. All right. See you tomorrow then.”

“Bye.”

He decided he’d better go and look at the plants. They kept forgetting to do them, with everything that had been happening. He didn’t know if he wanted to see Morgan and Erda, but in the event neither of them was there, so he topped up the plant pots and went home.

Monday afternoon came: end of school, sun and blue sky yet again and the same forecast for the next few days. Twelve of them jostled for the best places on the minibus while Miss Roberts and Mr Graham got in the front more sedately, carrying bags of art material.

“Put your seatbelts on.”

It was still early enough that the roads weren’t clogged with people escaping home from work for the day.

“The famous Rosslyn Chapel,” said Mr Graham as they got out of the bus.

They could only see the top half of the Chapel from where they were, their view blocked by a wall and the visitors’ centre.

Kate squinted up into the light. The Chapel was shrouded in scaffolding. Behind the metal poles and walkways she could make out pinnacles of dark grey and honey-coloured stone. They milled about the shop, picking things up and putting them down, while the teachers paid the entry fee, then they emerged from a door to find themselves on the other side of the wall.

“Right everyone. We’ll have a walk round the outside first. It looks as though we can get up on the scaffolding, there are steps and a walkway, look, there.

“Once we’ve done that we’ll go in and have a look at some of the carvings I’ve been telling you about, then you can spread out and choose where to work. Remember you’re in a church though: behave properly.”

They walked together round the base of the Chapel, pausing to look at an ornate tomb and at a crumbling carving of a dove eating fruit, then climbed the clanging metal stairs up to the scaffold walkway. It went all the way round the Chapel and though some of their friends decided to have a race round it, Kate and David dawdled to look out over the countryside.

To the east there was a steep, wooded valley, from which came the sound of running water. They walked further round and looked out to the south. Over the wall which surrounded the Chapel grounds in this direction lay scrubby ground, except in one place, where there was a little meadow of parched grass on which half a dozen rabbits hopped, unconcerned. They watched the white scuts bouncing up and down.

“Look, Kate.” David pointed to one edge of the meadow. Kate looked and saw a black rabbit.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Have you ever seen one like that?”

“No,” whispered David. Their classmates appeared below them, laughing and talking, but the rabbit, oblivious to their presence, hopped into the centre of the grass as they watched, mesmerised.

“Kate! David! Come on down. We’re going inside now.”

The spell was broken. The rabbits looked up sharply and disappeared in a multiple flash of white and they went down to join the others.

The cold struck Kate as soon as she crossed the threshold. It raced up from the stone through her body and she shivered. Beside her David rubbed his arms and stamped his feet.

“It’s freezing in here,” he said.

Miss Roberts laughed. “It’s just that you’ve been out in the sun. It’s always cool in here because of how thick the stone is – you should try coming here in winter; it feels colder inside than out, even when there’s snow on the ground – but it’s not
that
cold today.”

Right enough, no one else seemed to feel it, standing unconcerned and un-goosepimpled in their t-shirts.

They moved slowly round the Chapel listening as Miss Roberts and Mr Graham pointed out details of the carvings: Robert the Bruce’s heart, a fallen angel bound with ropes, sweetcorn and bagpipes and the dance of death and, of course, the Prentice Pillar, gorgeously carved by a disobedient apprentice in his master’s absence; the ‘prentice supposedly murdered by the master mason on his return. And everywhere, over and
over again, the strange figure of the Green Man – not fit for a Christian church at all, said Mr Graham – a face with vines emerging from its mouth, not a comfortable thing to have looking down at you, thought Kate. She shivered again, not just from the cold.

They were given pencils, paper and drawing boards and set loose. David tried first to draw some of the carvings from the pillar, but it was too complicated. He settled down instead to draw some of the angels, wishing he’d had the sense to bring a sweatshirt with him.

It took Kate longer to settle. She wandered around looking at the visitors’ book, reading notices, trying to get warm. Finally she started drawing the carved vine which seemed to go all the way round the Chapel, but her fingers were too cold to hold the pencil properly.

“Hey, Kate, come and see what I’ve found.”

Kate looked round to see Jamie Grieve. “What?” she asked suspiciously, wary of a trick.

“There’s a downstairs bit they didn’t show us – a crypt or something. Come on down and have a look.”

“All right – just for a minute,” she said cautiously.

He led her to the end of the Chapel where David was working, persuading another two classmates on the way.

“David,” Kate tugged at his sleeve.

“What?”

“Jamie wants me to go and look at something with him. I bet it’s a trick. Come with me?”

“Sure.” He put down his drawing.

Jamie stood at the top of a short flight of steps they’d thought was closed off from the public, but now that they
looked properly, they could see it wasn’t. It led down, not into the creepy darkness Kate had expected, but to a brightly lit room, much smaller than the Chapel above, with a ceiling curved like the inside of a barrel and a stained glass window at one end. It was even colder down here.

Despite the presence of a big stone with a figure of Death carved on it, it wasn’t really very interesting. They looked at the information boards without taking in the information. Kate glanced up at David. He was pale and frowning.

“Are you okay?”

“My head hurts. I think I’ll go outside for a bit.”

“Wow! Look at this.” Jamie’s voice sounded genuinely excited. He’d pushed open a door and found another little room. In it stood an enormous cupboard, made of wood that was almost black, covered in carvings of knights and coats of arms and what looked like a scene from the garden of Eden. It looked as if it had stood there forever.

It was so cold in the room that Kate’s head had begun to ache. She couldn’t understand why it didn’t seem to be affecting anyone else.

Except David. Oh no. What was going on?

“I wonder what’s in it?” Jamie was saying. She watched his hand reach out to turn the key and found herself yelling, “No! Don’t open it!”

Jamie paused, laughing. “Why, Kate? Afraid the Bogeyman’s in there?”

No. Something much worse
.

She felt David’s hand on her arm. Jamie turned the key and pulled open the black door.