Erebos (10 page)

Suddenly he became aware of how absurd the situation was. Why was he here? Because a character in a computer game had instructed him to look for something under a tree? God, that was ridiculous.

At least no-one knew about it. He could go home again and forget the whole thing, have breakfast with Mum and then go out somewhere with Jamie later. Or settle down and play on the computer.

Except that the game wouldn't start any more. The bloody crap game.

To keep himself occupied and give his morning outing some purpose, Nick walked once around the churchyard of St Andrew's, studied the red brick building with its square white tower, and came to a decision. It was stupid to go home without at least taking a quick look at the yew.

Ancient crooked gravestones stood in the shadow of the tree. Great atmosphere, thought Nick. He touched the mighty trunk almost reverently. Would it take four people to reach all the way round the tree? Or even five? It wouldn't be at all difficult to hide things inside the trunk, either. But there was nothing there anyway, at least not at first glance. Nick reached his hand into a wide crevice in the wood, and felt earth that had collected in there. He lowered his gaze to the ground. There wasn't anything there either – how could there be?

He walked on, ducked under the low-lying branches, got to the rear of the giant tree. Bent down.

There was something square and light brown peeping out from between the plants that grew in bunches close to the cracked bark of the tree. Nick pushed the stalks aside.

The box was about the size of a thick book, and its edges were sealed with wide black duct-tape. Nick picked it up incredulously, registering fleetingly that it was heavy. Abstractedly he wiped off the earth that was still sticking to it.

‘Galaris' was written on the wood in sweeping script, and there was a date underneath: 18.03. Nick struggled with a sense of unreality.

The 18th of March was his birthday.

Nick stared out of the train window; the bag containing the light-brown box was resting on his knee. One part of him was concentrating on not missing the right stop. Another, and considerably larger, part was trying to make sense of it all. It had been almost two in the morning when the messenger had given him the order to look for the box. Had it already been lying under the tree at that point? And even more important: how had it got there? Why was his date of birth on there? What did the word ‘Galaris' mean?

More than ever he wished he could talk his questions over with Colin. He was bound to know a lot more about Erebos already. Had he also been sent to the old yew?

Nick got out at West Finchley. He had a good fifteen-minute hike in front of him, but at least it would be through the countryside. He knew the area; he'd often gone for walks around here. It was a paradise for joggers and dog owners. As Nick was crossing a small bridge over the Dollis Brook he got his phone out of his pocket and dialled. Colin answered before the second ring. Nick was so surprised that he forgot for a moment why he'd even called.

‘Listen, I've got stuff to do,' said Colin. ‘If you want to chat, we can do that at school. Okay?'

‘Wait a sec! I wanted to ask you something about Erebos. It's . . . I got such a weird task, I had to —'

‘Shut your mouth, will you?' Colin interrupted him. ‘You've read the rules, haven't you? Don't pass on any information, not even to your friends. Don't talk about the contents of the game. Are you stupid or what?'

For a second Nick was speechless.

‘But . . . but . . . are you taking it that seriously?'

‘It is serious. Keep it to yourself, or you'll get kicked out before you can count to three.'

Nick said nothing. There was something very unpleasant about the thought of being kicked out. Humiliating. ‘I . . . I thought. Forget it,' he said.

When Colin answered, his tone was noticeably friendlier. ‘Those are the rules, mate. And believe me, it's worth obeying them. The game is wicked. And it keeps getting better.'

The bag with the mysterious box weighed heavily in Nick's hand. ‘Great,' he said. ‘Well then . . .'

‘You haven't been there for that long.' Now Colin sounded eager. ‘But you'll soon see. Stick to the rules. And one of the rules is that you don't go round blabbing.'

Nick took advantage of his friend's change of mood for one last question. ‘Has the game ever actually crashed on you?'

Now Colin laughed. ‘Crashed? No. But I know what you mean.' He lowered his voice as though he feared someone might be listening in. ‘Sometimes . . . it doesn't want to work. It waits. It tests you. Know what, Nick? Sometimes I think it's alive.'

Nick had left the colourful garden allotments on either side of the path behind him. Dollis Brook flowed sedately along next to him, almost without making a sound.

Sometimes I think it's alive. Very funny, Colin.

The sun came out from behind the clouds at exactly the moment the path took Nick into the forest. He stopped and turned his face to the warming rays. If he found himself a nice quiet place in the forest where he could loosen the tape off the box ever so carefully . . . Just for one look? Just to find out what was so heavy?

Nick let three joggers pass him and looked around. Nobody was looking at him now. He could see a woman who was walking a dog, but she was still far enough away.

The back of his neck tingled as Nick got the box out of the bag. It was as big as a cigar box at most, but the contents certainly didn't have anything to do with cigars. Nick held the box at an angle, and whatever was in there slid to the left.

It was probably made of metal, and not especially big. If you took into account the time it took to slide from one edge of the box to the other, it didn't even fill up half of the container.

Nick stuck an exploratory fingernail under the edge of the adhesive tape. It was incredibly well sealed. Trying to get it off would take ages, and leave telltale signs. Not a good idea.

Furious yapping interrupted Nick's thoughts. A Labrador and a light brown hunting dog had encountered each other a short distance behind him and obviously didn't like each other's looks. The owners of the dogs in question were yanking at the leashes in order to separate the animals.

Nick slipped the box into his bag and entered the forest, accompanied by the howls of one of the dogs.

It wasn't difficult to find the Dollis Brook Viaduct – it rose high above the wood and the road, not to mention carrying the track for the Northern Line. An Underground line that ran sixty feet above the ground, in the bright sunshine. Underneath the viaduct, however, it was shady and damp.

One of the arches near the road, the messenger had said. ‘Near' was relative. Nick decided on the second of the massive arched columns, and submerged the box in the grass, which was particularly rampant right at the foot of the brick pillar. Someone would be able to find it here, but no-one would stumble on it accidentally.

All done then. Nick was taking a look around until he remembered the messenger's words: ‘Leave without looking back,' he had said.

Because
what
would happen otherwise? If you thought about it logically, absolutely nothing. The game couldn't know if and how he had followed the instructions. On the other hand it had known his name. The hiding place of the box and the inscription, Galaris.

A train thundered above Nick's head on the way to Mill Hill East. He wasn't supposed to turn round now. Actually there wasn't the slightest reason to do so. Apart from a persecution complex, maybe, and Nick certainly didn't suffer from one of those.

He folded the PE bag up into a small bundle and stuck it under his jacket. Then he left, without once looking back.

It was getting very close to midday by the time Nick got back home, carrying a paper bag with the four muffins he'd bought. Mum was on her second coffee.

‘We got talking,' Nick murmured and arranged the muffins on a plate. He was dying of hunger.

‘Want a coffee?'

‘Love one. If it's quick.'

His mother set to work on the espresso machine, although she kept sending covetous glances towards the plate of muffins. ‘Are they the ones with the chocolate chips?'

‘Yes, the two dark ones. Keep your mitts off the coconut ones – they're mine.'

Mum put a jumbo-sized cappuccino with frothy milk under his nose.

Nick devoured his first muffin, feeling as though he'd barely escaped death by starvation, and chased it down with half his coffee.

‘I'm going over to your Uncle Harry's this afternoon. He's renovating. It would be nice if you came too. Dad has to fill in for a colleague, so you're the only one who can reach the ceiling without a ladder – and someone has to paint it.'

Nick's mouth was full, which gained him valuable seconds. ‘I'd like to,' he said and put as much regret in his voice as possible. ‘But the thing is, I've got to hand in a really difficult Chemistry assignment in a few days – and I'll feel terrible if I don't keep on working on it. I thought I'd do that today . . .'

The look his mother gave him was amused and searching at the same time. ‘You want to study Chemistry? Not go down to the sportsground or to the cinema?'

‘No, I swear. There's no way I'm going to the sportsground or the cinema today.' Nick smiled at his mother, his conscience as pure as the driven snow. His last sentence was true, word for word.

CHAPTER 8

Turn the computer on. Insert the DVD. Put the headphones on. Wait. Tense seconds till the program starts.

‘Sarius,' whispers a ghostly voice.

He is in the cave where he met with the messenger last night. But, unlike yesterday, light is radiating from the walls, which are bright and polished, like crystal. Wish crystal?

Sarius is bending down for something that looks like a gold coin when the cave entrance opens and the messenger enters. He studies Sarius with his yellow eyes.

‘You carried out my instructions,' he says.

‘Yes.'

‘Out of interest: What was written on the box, other than “Galaris”?'

‘Numbers. 18.03.'

‘Very good. There is new equipment for you here. A breastplate, a helmet and a decent sword. I am satisfied with you, Sarius.' He points to a rock that resembles a table, up against the crystal wall.

Curiosity drives Sarius over towards it at once. The helmet gleams in copper tones, and is ornamented with the engraved head of a wolf baring its teeth. Sarius is happy – wolves are among his favourite animals. He dons the harness – nine points of strength! – and reaches for the sword, which is longer and made from darker metal than his current one. It changes his whole appearance, right away. To crown it all he puts the wolf helmet on.

‘Are you satisfied?' the messenger asks.

Sarius gives his wholehearted approval. He is a Two, and he looks cool.

‘There's more to come.'

The messenger draws his cloak tighter around his lean body.

‘This is Erebos. You will see that loyal service is rewarded. Tell Nick Dunmore he should ensure that no outsider can intrude, then he should make his way to the inside courtyard of the block next door. The grating on one of the ventilation shafts is loose. If he removes it and reaches into the shaft, he will find something.'

Find something? Sarius doesn't actually want any interruptions right now – he wants to get started and try out his new sword.

‘Right now?' he asks.

‘Of course. I'll be waiting.'

The messenger leans back against the crystal wall and folds his arms across his chest.

Delays, and more delays. Nick removed his headphones. To be on the safe side he would have to lock the door to his room. But if Mum noticed she would ask questions. He had to walk past her too, and if she asked where he was going, he couldn't give her a sensible explanation.

He'd better get it over with quickly. He snuck out, turned the key very very quietly, and listened for sounds in the flat. He could hear Mum's voice in the kitchen – she was talking on the phone. That was a stroke of luck. Nick crept to the front door, slipped his runners on quickly, and grabbed his jacket. He was outside. The inside courtyard of the block next door exuded benign neglect. Years before someone had attempted to grow flowers in the tiny open space – most of them had withered. Anything that had survived was growing wild.

There were three ventilation grates, all mounted at knee height. The first one was rock solid. Nick jiggled a bit, but nothing moved. He peaked through the square holes in the grating – there was only darkness and the whiff of damp basement.

The second grating seemed more promising. It sat in the wall loosely and barely offered any resistance when Nick pulled it out.

Only now did he wonder what was waiting for him in the gap behind it. Another box with his date of birth on it? Another task? Or would it be the reward that the messenger had hinted at?