Archibald Lox and the Bridge Between Worlds Page 7

  “Inez,” I groan. “We have to help him.”

  “He told us not to,” she says, her teeth chattering.

  “But they’re killing him,” I cry.

  “If they do, they’ll kill us soon after,” she says. “He seemed confident that he could handle them. Let’s hope he was right.”

  The hell jackal that’s choking Preston leans in close to bite a chunk out of his face. As it presses in, something pulses in Preston’s unnatural silver eyes, then twin bolts of silver light shoot from his sockets and hit the hell jackal’s tiny, yellow eyes.

  The hell jackal’s eyeballs explode and it reels away from Preston, still screaming, but now with excruciating pain instead of delightful hate, the remains of its eyes dripping down its cheeks.

  The hell jackal that bit into Preston’s thigh starts to cough. It falls backwards, a strip of flesh tearing free from Preston’s leg. The creature’s mouth is full of blood, but it’s not the juicy, tasty blood it was expecting. This blood is acidic, and the hell jackal’s jaw starts to dissolve from the inside out.

  The two hell jackals still on their feet are fast and strong, but Preston is faster and stronger. In one swift movement he smashes their heads together. As they stagger away, dazed, strands of cloth whip free of the robes that he’s wearing and wrap around the hell jackals’ necks. More strands follow, and within seconds each of the monsters is in the grip of a tightening noose. The choking beasts thrash across the deck, wheezing pitifully, clawing at their throats as their faces turn purple.

  As Inez and I watch in stunned silence, Preston turns to the blind hell jackal, picks it up, then lobs it ashore. It almost crashes into Orlan and Argate, but they duck and it smashes into the man with the binoculars instead. The handler, Clara, moves forward to try and calm it, but the hell jackal lashes out with fear and rage, its claws ripping into the petrified man’s stomach.

  The hell jackal’s fingers find the binoculars and tear them free, then whack the man over the head with them. He spins in a circle with his tormentor, crying out with terror, and the pair topple into the red, all-destroying river of blood. They go under and neither surfaces again.

  Preston has turned his attention to the hell jackal that bit him. Most of its face is now a gooey mess. As the acidic blood eats into whatever is left of the ruined thing’s shrivelled brain, Preston uses a foot to gently nudge it overboard, where the blood of the river finishes the job that the steer’s blood started.

  The only hell jackals left are the two that are choking. Preston stands between them. The material of his robes billows around him, even though there’s no wind, and lengths of cloth extend like extra arms. One length wraps several times around the torso of the hell jackal to his left, the other around the creature to his right. Then Preston tugs the arms sharply back towards himself, and the hell jackals are sent spiralling across the deck like spinning tops. They shoot off the craft and hit the river at the same time, still tugging at the strands that are digging into their throats, and that’s the last we see of them.

  Orlan tuts and Argate curses. Without a word, they draw their weapons, take aim, and send them flying at Inez.

  Preston makes a short gesture with the fingers of his left hand, and jets of liquid shoot out of the river and hit the sword and axe. They dissolve in the air, hitting the deck in a stream of sticky ash.

  Preston turns to face Orlan and Argate, who are staring at him with icy awe.

  “You’ve surprised us, Steer,” Orlan says.

  “We didn’t know your kind made such good fighters,” Argate sulks.

  “I have more surprises up my sleeve,” Preston says coldly, wincing as he rubs his leg where the hell jackal bit him. Letting go of the leg, he waves a hand and a plume of blood rises out of the river.

  Orlan and Argate sense what’s coming, and turn and streak away with the speed of Olympic sprinters. The distraught Clara yelps and hurries after them but she can’t run as fast as they can, and neither man stops to offer her assistance.

  As the trio flee, Preston sends a geyser of blood from the river whipping through the air above the bank. It strikes Clara across her back and knocks her sideways, but although it crackles close to the heels of the assassins, they’ve outpaced its reach and keep on running.

  The whip of blood snaps back towards the river, not a drop falling on land. Clara is on her feet, shrieking, gaping wounds in her back where the blood struck. It strikes her again as Preston hauls it in, and this time she’s pulled along with it, vanishing beneath the surface of the river, to follow her hell jackals to wherever it is that such wicked souls go.

  Moments later, all is peaceful. Orlan and Argate are still tearing away from us, and the surface of the river is still.

  The boat starts moving again and Preston sits down to examine his wounded leg.

  “Are you alright?” a stunned-looking Inez asks.

  “Nothing too serious,” he says. “It will heal.”

  “That was...” I blabber. “I’ve never seen... The way you...”

  Preston sighs. “I’ve never had to fight before. Every steer is equipped to defend their craft, but few of us ever have to test those skills.”

  I laugh sickly. “Orlan and Argate won’t mess with a steer again in a hurry.”

  “No,” Preston says, but he doesn’t look happy. “A pity they escaped. We try to keep word of our powers to ourselves.”

  Inez crouches beside him. “You saved our lives.”

  “It was my duty,” he says. “I would have done the same for them, if they were my passengers.”

  “Not that you’d ever give passage to a pair like that,” I snort.

  “The steers grant passage to everyone,” Preston says. “If they return to this realm and seek a ride, I won’t deny them.”

  “After they tried to kill you?” I ask incredulously.

  Preston flashes a rare smile. “They didn’t try to kill me. They only had eyes for Inez.” He points to my cloth-wrapped head. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind returning those, I’ll make bandages out of them.”

  I start to quickly unwrap the cloth, worried that Preston’s injury is worse than it seems, and as I’m doing that, we slip through a borehole in the zone’s buffer and exit this wasteland of savage conflict and death.

  SEVEN — THE KING

  18

  We pass through a variety of zones, abandoned and hushed, with no further drama. Preston has tied the strips of cloth around his wound and doesn’t appear to be in too much pain, though he remains sitting for much of the journey.

  Eventually we exit a borehole and spot Sakkara downstream. It looks like a city on Earth, lots of low-lying buildings with several taller structures scattered among them, and three skyscrapers in the middle that must be thirty or forty storeys high.

  “Magnificent, isn’t it?” Inez sighs as we drift along.

  “It’s OK,” I shrug.

  She shoots me a sharp look.

  “It’s nice,” I hurriedly add, “but it’s no London, not from this distance anyway. Maybe it’s more impressive up close.”

  Inez blinks, then laughs at herself. “I keep forgetting you’re Born. You have loads of cities packed with skyscrapers. In the Merge we don’t, and until a hundred years ago, Sakkara was like the others. Then King Lloyd came back from a stay in the Born, summoned his devisers and set them the task of erecting a metropolis.”

  We’re almost at the city boundaries. Inez points to the skyscrapers at the heart of the complex. “Nobody thought we could build anything like those. People in other realms mocked King Lloyd. Even his own subjects doubted him. But the devisers and their teams worked tirelessly, and as you can see...”

  “There should have been even more skyscrapers,” Preston says, “but the work stopped when King Lloyd’s condition deteriorated. His thoughts wander wildly these days, and his devisers have all gone — in a lucid moment, he gave them permission to leave the realm.”

  The river leads into the city, then stops in fr
ont of a viewing platform. Preston guides us towards the bank and the boat comes to a halt. He limps to the edge of his craft to see us off.

  Inez steps onto the paved street and turns to face Preston as I skip off the boat after her. “I won’t forget what you did for us,” she says.

  Preston shrugs. “It was my duty. Will you need another ride when your business here is finished?”

  “I doubt it,” Inez says. “I plan to slip through a borehole.”

  “If your plan changes, summon me,” Preston says, “and hopefully we won’t run into any hell jackals the next time.”

  The pair smile at one another, then Preston departs. He doesn’t wave goodbye, and Inez doesn’t wave after him. Instead she sets her sights on the skyscrapers and leads me into the heart of the gleaming, ominously silent city.

  19

  I never thought a city could be this quiet. The streets are completely deserted, not a single person at large. We move along swiftly, nervously. Inez said it was unlikely that Orlan and Argate would come here to hunt for us, as we could leave Diamond through any of its zones, but we can’t be a hundred percent certain. Now that they’ve linked her to the realm, there’s a chance they might target its capital, hoping for a stroke of luck.

  I keep glancing at the buildings as we pass, intrigued despite my worries about the killers. The blocks are a dirty brown colour in most cases. Hardly any of them have been plastered over or painted, and the binding cement is a greenish paste.

  “They didn’t get a chance to work on the facades,” Inez says, noting my interest and filling me in on a little of the city’s history as we hurry along. “The rush was to raise the buildings. The finer details would have been applied later.”

  She hesitates, then says a minute or two probably won’t make a difference, and pushes open the door of a building that’s seven or eight storeys high. The lobby is a classy affair, slabs of marble lining the floor and walls. The windows are stained glass, and a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling. It’s studded with candles.

  “Don’t you have electricity in the Merge?” I ask.

  “No,” Inez says, “but we do enjoy some advanced features.”

  Inez claps and the candles flicker into life, lighting up the room.

  “No way,” I gasp. “How can they do that without electricity?”

  “Sound-activated gleam,” she says.

  “Can I try?” I ask.

  “Go ahead,” Inez says.

  I clap my hands and the candles quench.

  “Cool,” I purr.

  “I’m glad you’re impressed,” Inez says drily.

  “There are lights like that in the Born,” I tell her.

  “They borrowed the idea from us,” she says. “We’ve been doing this for thousands of years.”

  “How would someone in the Born know that?” I frown.

  “It was probably a king or queen,” she says. “Family members tend to maintain homes in the Born. They can move freely between spheres, and even though most of them spend more time here than there, they all like to pop back every now and then, even if only to enjoy some home comforts and a holiday from the Merge. Sometimes they take the knowledge of things they’ve seen in our sphere and find a way to mimic them over there.”

  We quickly explore a few of the other rooms. No televisions, computers, vacuum cleaners or microwave ovens. Basic kitchens. No toilets. Hardly any baths or showers. Beds are often just uncovered planks.

  “Seen enough?” Inez asks.

  I nod and she ushers me back out onto the street. We continue until we’re almost at the centre of the city, where we start down a long avenue towards a skyscraper. The avenue has been designed to highlight the building — as we march along, it gets bigger and bigger, until it fills the entire horizon.

  There are stone gargoyles set on pedestals on either side of the avenue, a pair facing one another every four or five metres, though some are missing. I’ve seen gargoyles set into the walls of buildings here too, lower down than they’d normally be in the Born. They seem at odds with the rest of the architecture. Maybe they’re a throwback to the way this place looked before the king decided to change it.

  We’re nearing the end of the avenue when a woman comes out of the skyscraper and storms towards us. She’s dressed in a dark top and trousers, and her hair is pinned up. She’s scowling and muttering. At first I think she’s come to challenge us, but when she looks up and spots us, she jumps with fright.

  “Who are you?” the woman snaps. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m Inez,” Inez says, making the greet. “This is Archie. We’re hoping to see King Lloyd.”

  That’s the first time she’s mentioned meeting the king, and I’m startled.

  The woman squints at us suspiciously but returns the greet. I wonder if I should make the gesture as well, but Inez doesn’t say anything, so I guess only one of us needs to do it.

  “What makes you think you can wander in off the street and announce yourself to a king?” the woman asks.

  “I did some work for him in the past,” Inez says.

  “What sort of work?”

  “I’m a camel,” Inez says, and the woman relaxes.

  “Do you have something for the king?”

  “No,” Inez says, “but I’d like to offer him my regards.”

  The woman sighs. “I doubt he’ll remember you. His mind these days... Still, it isn’t my place to decide who gets presented to him — the ones who made those decisions fled a long time ago.” Her face darkens and she starts muttering again.

  “A lot of his servants have deserted him?” Inez asks.

  “Almost all of them,” the woman growls.

  “But not you,” Inez notes.

  “I’d never abandon King Lloyd.” The woman forces a tired smile. “I’m Nora. I’ll take you to see him if you’ll grant me a few minutes of your time.”

  “Happily,” Inez says. “What can we do for you?”

  Nora heads down the avenue. She stops at one of the pedestals with a gargoyle and nods at the ugly statue. “Can you help me carry it?”

  “What for?” I ask.

  Inez digs an elbow into my ribs. “We’d be delighted to help,” she says.

  Nora spreads her legs, grasps the gargoyle and picks it up. I see her muscles strain and her mouth twist with the effort, but then she stands straight and breathes out. “These things never get any lighter.” She jerks her chin at me. “Let’s see if you can take the load.”

  I step forward nervously, worried that it will fall on my toes and break them.

  “Don’t panic,” Nora says. “It’s not that heavy.”

  “But what do you need it for?” I ask again, this time making sure I’m clear of Inez’s elbows.

  “You’ll find out when we get inside,” Nora says, then cocks an eyebrow at me. “If you’re going to take it, take it. If you’re not, stop wasting my time.”

  I flush, then stick out my arms. Nora eases the gargoyle into them, waits until I have a firm grip, then lets go.

  “Whoa!” I gasp, feeling my arms plummet. I readjust and lean back, pulling the statue tighter into my chest.

  “Are you alright?” Inez asks.

  “Fine,” I wheeze.

  “Will you be able to walk with it?” Nora enquires.

  I take a few staggering steps before answering weakly, “Sure. No problem.”

  “It’s good to have a big, strong man around,” Nora says to Inez, and I’m sure I’d catch them smiling if I could see over the top of the gargoyle’s head.

  With Nora leading and Inez hovering close by in case I stumble, I drag my way towards the skyscraper, gargoyle clutched in my arms, and moments later we step off the avenue and into the gloom of the towering building.

  20

  The lobby is massive. The floor is a mix of marble tiles and squares of grass, while the walls feature scores of long, twisting plants. Most of the plants have withered, but this must have been an amazing plac
e when the flowers were in bloom.

  There are lots of glass statues, including one of a life-sized small plane hanging from the ceiling. I stop to look at it admiringly, forgetting the weight of the gargoyle for a few seconds.

  “I love these sculptures,” Inez says. “It will be a shame to lose them when... I mean if the realm falls.”

  “There’s no need to be coy,” Nora says. “We’re resigned to our fate. Barring a miracle, we know we’re finished.”

  “How many of you remain?” Inez asks.

  “Eight in the palace,” Nora says. “There are others scattered around the city, and more elsewhere in the realm. You’ll always find a few foolish rats who want to go down with the ship.” She has a chuckle at her own expense.

  “Let me take that for you,” someone says, and the gargoyle lifts out of my hands.

  “Thank –” I start to say, then stop.

  The man in front of me is the biggest man I’ve ever seen. He’s not just tall, but broad and muscular. Each of his fingers looks like a battering ram, and he could crush my head in the palm of either hand. The goliath is balding, but has a thick ginger moustache, which clashes with his blue jumper and trousers. He smiles — one of his front teeth is missing, giving the grin an unsettling edge. “It’s OK,” he says in a deep voice. “I won’t bite. You don’t look tasty.”

  “Be nice, Cal,” Nora tuts.

  The huge man balances the gargoyle in one hand and jolts it up and down, as if weighing it. “This is heavy,” he says. “You must be stronger than you look.”

  I smile shyly at the compliment.

  “I’m Cal,” the man says, making the greet with his free hand, and I return the gesture.

  “Archie,” I say.

  “Inez Matryoshka,” Inez adds.

  “My back would be in better shape if you came with me to collect the gargoyles,” Nora says to Cal.

  “And desert my post?” Cal replies, flashing that gap-toothed smile again.

  “Cal is the reason the statues are still here,” Nora says. “He was part of the elevator team, but as our numbers dwindled, he appointed himself head of security.”