The Named (18 page)

As I close the door behind me, Ethan rubs his gloved hands together, blowing on his fingertips to warm them up, enveloping them in vapour. ‘Did you leave a note?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Got the supplies I asked for?’

I point to the small backpack I use for my day hikes, ticking off the items one by one. ‘Water flask, pocket knife, dried apricots, two apples, two ropes, notebook and pen, mini first-aid kit, and, oh yeah, this one I personally added ’cause it’s the most important item, which you forgot.’

‘What?’

I say this with a smile. ‘Chocolate, of course.’

‘It’s good to see your priorities are in order.’

‘I’ve been hiking before.’

‘That I can believe. Well, save the chocolate for the way back. That’s when we’ll probably need it.’

We start moving off in the direction of Arkarian’s chamber. ‘So tell me, where are we going?’ I point towards the mountain. ‘Will we be seeing Arkarian?’

‘He doesn’t live in that mountain.’

‘Oh? Then where does he live?’

He shrugs. ‘He never said, and I never asked. Why do you want to know?’

Honestly, I’m not sure. It’s just … I’d never tell Ethan this, but there’s a strange craving inside me to know everything I can about Arkarian. ‘He’s interesting. Don’t you think?’

‘No.’

I wonder what’s got him all bristly. ‘Well, you’ve known him a long time. Weren’t you his Apprentice? I’m yours, and I know where you live.’

‘All I know is that he can’t live in our physical world because he’d stand out too much now that his hair and eyes are so obviously different.’

What he’s saying makes me suddenly sad.

‘And of course,’ he goes on, ‘there’s the fact that he doesn’t age. Anyone he makes friends with would have to wonder why they’re aging while he isn’t, and as he can’t very well explain the reason, he shuts himself off, I guess.’

‘That’s terrible!’

Ethan turns his head to look at me while we walk. ‘Why? I’m sure there must be others like him. They probably all live together.’ He shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’

The thought of Arkarian living with others like him irritates me somehow. We’re quiet for the rest of the short trip. When we get to Arkarian’s mountain, the rock disappears to allow us entry.

‘Is he expecting us?’

‘He knows, but he won’t be here, so don’t get your hopes up.’

As we step inside the torchlit hallway, my patience with Ethan’s attitude finally snaps. ‘What’s got into you?’

He ignores me.

I follow him through the hallway into Arkarian’s
octagonal headquarters, the light of the holographic sphere pulsing softly in the room. Beside it there’s a message with instructions and a map. Ethan pockets them both, then writes a message back to say what time we left.

We go to another room which resembles an empty closet. Ethan runs his hand over the back wall, looking for something. I can’t see what he does, but a soft click echoes in the small room and the back panel disappears. As we go through to another room, the panel immediately begins to re-form behind us, showering us in a layer of fine white dust; and before I have a chance to notice anything else about the cabin, it moves, dropping suddenly downwards. I realise we’re in some sort of lift. Eventually it stops and a whoosh of cold air thrusts itself against my face, and then is gone. The air here smells of damp wood and earth, but the darkness is total.

I hear Ethan fumbling for something in his pack. ‘Damn!’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I should have got my torch out first. Here, can you find it?’

I scoff at his suggestion. ‘I can’t see a thing.’

‘Very funny. What about your gift of sight?’

‘My gift is to see by any form of light,’ I explain. ‘Not
no
light at all.’

I put my hands out blindly, but he must have shifted around, so what I imagine are the flaps of his backpack are really the lapels of his jacket. Before I realise it, my hands are rummaging around inside his jacket front.

‘Hey, what are you doing?’

‘Sorry,’ I mumble, glad it’s dark so he can’t see my face turning scarlet.

‘Am I complaining?’ he jokes as I fish my hands out and slide them around to his back, eventually latching on to his pack. My fingers close around something long and metallic. I pull it out, find the switch and turn it on. Now I can see clearly, way beyond the area the torchlight reveals.

‘Wow, look at this place!’ I exclaim, forgetting that Ethan can’t see as I do.

‘What is it?’

I shine the torch around the walls and down the narrow descending stairway, revealing the intricate carvings of the pillars, posts and stone walls.

‘I remember this,’ he says, taking hold of the torch. We start moving, taking the stairs one at a time, being careful not to slip. It is so damp that drips can be seen forming down the walls in places, an occasional one dropping from the ceiling on to our heads.

‘How old were you when Arkarian brought you here?’

‘It was my fifth birthday, straight after my initiation.’

‘And you remember the way?’

He gives a sort of mocking laugh and pats his jacket pocket. ‘That’s why Arkarian left the map.’

We walk down the stairs for ages; just as well I’m not claustrophobic. The air here has a tight, thin feel. After a while I get used to it and start relaxing. ‘Look at this!’ I stop beside a carved sculpture of Cyclops, a one-eyed giant of Greek mythology.

Ethan stops beside me. ‘There’s supposed to be three of them, called Lightning, Thunder and Thunderbolt. I wonder which one this is.’

His words make me suddenly nervous. I can’t help peering around. ‘Um, who cares, as long as we don’t meet up with one while we’re down here.’

He moves along a few steps, running the torch over a beaten bronze plaque. He scrubs a patch at the bottom with the back of his sleeve. ‘Hydra,’ he says.

‘The many-headed monster slain by Hercules?’ I go down the few steps and take a look for myself.

‘Heracles,’ Ethan explains. ‘It was the Romans who called him Hercules. The name stuck.’

‘I knew that.’

He gives me an amused look. ‘After severing each head with his sword, Heracles seared the stumps with a torch of burning wood so they wouldn’t grow back. But one head was immortal, and when Heracles cut it off, he stamped it into the earth.’

‘Aren’t you full of information.’

He shrugs and we keep walking. It’s soon evident that this whole corridor is lined with images of mythological creatures. I wonder who collected the different artworks and put them here like a gateway to the past? The next carving is of Rhus, apparently god of the moon. Here he’s depicted as half human, half horse. ‘This place is unreal! Who knows about it?’ I ask. ‘Archaeologists would die to get their hands on these pieces.’

‘Wouldn’t they? But this city is too valuable to be excavated and exposed to the public. It’s protected by the Guard.’

‘There’s a whole city?’

‘Was. The city of Veridian, named in the Prophecy.’

‘How can it be hidden?’

‘Who’s going to find it? First they’d have to get into
the mountain. On the outside it’s a national park, so no big corporation’s going to come in and mine it, or excavate or anything. It’s not allowed. So at least for now it’s safe.’

‘What about the Order?’

‘They know the city exists, but there’s no evidence that they’ve managed to find their way in.’

‘Do they know about the Prophecy?’

‘Sure, from way back. Why do you think there are so many of us here in Angel Falls?’

Until he mentioned it, I hadn’t thought. But now I start to figure it out. ‘It’s something about this ancient site. We’re drawn here, aren’t we? Both sides.’

‘This is where the final conflict is predicted to occur.’

‘Wow! So you’re saying members of the Guard and the Order mostly live in our little town, drawn here by forces radiating from these ruins?’

‘That’s right. And apparently our mortal lives are connected.’

‘So people that we interact with every day up there could be members of the Order and we wouldn’t know it?’

‘Yeah. And it has to stay that way for our own protection, although the Prophecy does say something about recognising the time drawing nearer as identities are revealed.’

‘Oh, but, Ethan, that’s happening already! We know about Mr Carter being a member of the Guard.’

He goes quiet for a minute. ‘But I did that, by mistake.’

‘Are you sure it was by mistake? Maybe you were just playing into the hands of the Prophecy?’

‘Hell, you could be right. Hard to imagine Croc-face
being foretold, though.’

We keep moving, always downwards. I start pushing us along at a faster pace, trying not to get distracted by interesting objects along the way. Now I have an urge to read these prophetic words for myself.

But the path changes, the stairs becoming narrower the lower we descend, and partly eroded by landslides. We arrive at a point where the path disappears altogether. The last step is broken in half, with an open chasm a good ten metres across gaping out before us. Glancing down, I look as far as my eye takes me, and it’s a dizzying sight. Straight walls on either side descend for what appears like a forever of nothingness. The path starts up again on the other side of this wide chasm, but that’s no good to us. Crossing this will be impossible. Our trip is over.

‘Well, that’s that then.’

Ethan, torch in hand, examines the dark fathomless depths of the chasm spread out before us. ‘What are you talking about? We’ve only just begun this journey.’

‘We can’t get across this, Ethan.’

He gets out his map and instructions, making me spin round so he can spread them out over my back. ‘Here, it says this is the first bridge.’

I lift my eyes and skim a glance across to the other side. ‘Listen, I can see for about fifty metres down that chasm and I can guarantee you there’s no bridge.’

He folds up the map and points to a marked spot on Arkarian’s instruction sheet. Nervousness shortens my tolerance radically. ‘What am I looking at?’ I ask in a deeply sarcastic voice.

He taps the spot with his finger twice. ‘Read what it says right there.’

I look again. ‘“Cross the bridge using your imagination. Stick to the left side.”’

‘Exactly.’ He folds up the sheet. ‘Let’s go.’

I yank on his arm so hard that he drops the two sheets. They start drifting down the chasm. I stare at them descending, lost forever. ‘It’s an omen.’

Ethan gives me a weird look and says, ‘I didn’t think you were superstitious.’ Calmly, still looking in my direction, he puts out a hand and wills the sheets to his open palm.

I watch in awe as the papers, obeying his mental command, defy gravity and return to his fingers. Once they are safely back in his hand, he slots them into his jacket pocket.

I think about how he rescued those papers. ‘Can you use your skill to rescue
me
like that, if I were to fall?’

‘My skill doesn’t work with living things – they have their own will.’

‘Well, in that case, I’ll stay right here.’

‘Don’t you want to read the Prophecy?’

‘You know I do, but I can’t cross a bridge that isn’t there, Ethan!’

‘What if the bridge was up here?’ He points to his head.

‘Oh no. I haven’t got that good an imagination.’

An idea hits him and he nods to himself. ‘All right, let me make this easier for you.’

He glances at the chasm, holding the torch directly in front of us, then he closes his eyes. A look of calm washes over him, and as he opens his eyes a bridge of sorts begins to form. By the time he’s finished, the chasm itself can’t be seen. In its place grows a magnificent garden with rose bushes and tulips in a mass
display of brilliant colour. The scent of this garden hits my senses so vividly that I sneeze three times in quick succession.

‘Sorry,’ Ethan mutters. ‘I didn’t know you were superstitious
and
allergic.’

‘Ha ha.’ I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand, regaining some control. ‘I’m not either, actually. It’s just your garden is so full on.’ I stare at the display in front of me, trying to come to terms with what I’m seeing. It’s really beautiful. Directly through the centre of this garden runs a bridge of wooden planks, wide enough for two side by side. The railings are made of looped ropes.

No matter how stunning, I know what this is. Ethan’s not fooling me for a second. It’s an illusion. I recall how he restored his ancestor’s old cabin, so while I’m impressed with this spectacular sight, I’m hardly reassured.

‘It’s not happening, Ethan. Forget it. This is nothing but an illusion. The chasm is still there.’

‘Sure, but if it makes the crossing easier, why not use it? I did this for you.’

‘You don’t get it.’ I throw my hands in the air. ‘There’s nothing out there! There’s no bridge! You can’t fool me.’

He groans at my lack of faith. ‘Isabel, if I cross, will you follow?’

I have to think about this. ‘If you cross and live, I will follow. But that’s not going to happen. You’re not really going to cross, are you?’

He doesn’t even hesitate. I reach out to stop him, adamant he’s walking to his death, but unbelievably his feet don’t drop through the first wooden plank, not
one centimetre. He keeps walking until he gets to the other side, then turns and waves. ‘Your turn!’

I gulp. What on earth have I agreed to? OK, I just saw Ethan do it, but he’s got so much more faith than me. He’s been in this Guard thing for twelve years. That’s eleven years and eleven months longer than I have.

‘Come on, or the illusion will fade and then where will you be?’

Still here on solid ground, the thought comes. ‘All right,’ I call back, but softly. ‘Better an illusion of wood beneath my feet than nothing at all,’ I grumble, close my eyes, and take my first step.

‘The left!’ Ethan yells. ‘Keep to the left side!’

Quickly I move to the far left, gripping the loose rope railing and almost losing my balance. The bridge rocks. I try to steady myself, eventually easing my grip on the railing as I become aware of just how real the bridge is beginning to feel. But I don’t dawdle. I have no idea how long Ethan’s illusion is set to last. Hurrying the last few steps, I make it across, my knees as liquid as golden syrup.