The Dark

CHAPTER Twenty-six



Isabel


It takes a couple of days to get to black-ice mountain, though it’s hard to tell without a sun or even a moon. And our watches don’t work here, nor our torches any more. The batteries, only lasting a few hours, ran out long ago. John, as we call him now, has shown us how to make long-lasting torches by burning an element dug out of the ground. I try not to think what it’s made from. The foul smell is enough of a clue.

I’ve learned a lot about this place, thanks to John, who’s full of information, though he can’t remember how long he’s lived here, or where he lived before. As we pass through different landscapes, one thing that doesn’t change is the harsh weather. It makes me wonder if there are seasons here and maybe we were just unlucky enough to be making this journey in winter.

‘The cold is something I don’t feel and have no memory of,’ he explains. ‘But to answer your question, sometimes all but the most lush of valleys are covered in ice.’

The thought of lush valleys makes me wonder about the many different trees and grasses we see. ‘How do plants grow here without light or warmth?’

‘Where there is a will to survive, a need, a desire …’ he shrugs, and I recall the thousands of brilliantly coloured fireflies we saw soon after our arrival.

‘But there is a moon,’ he goes on to explain, surprising me. ‘Over there.’ He points into the distant sky ahead. ‘Once a month, for a matter of minutes, it rises high enough to bathe the land in a rich red glow, directly over the master’s garden.’

I glance in the direction he points, but the mountain is too high, and the darkness absolute, reminding me of our vulnerability.

‘Can you see it, Isabel?’ Ethan asks from beside me.

I shake my head. Weariness is starting to get to me. And the lack of food doesn’t help. We’re down to only a small ration of dried fruit now. ‘I can’t see over the mountain.’

‘What about you, John?’

‘My eyesight is very poor. Living here in the dark, what use is it?’

And yet it’s in this darkness we’ve seen so much, sights that I know will live with me for the rest of my life, some that will give me many sleepless nights. Like the hundreds of different types of creatures, those with human features such as eyes and hands, or whole bodies, though skeletal in appearance. Others with wings (that actually work) or tails or leathery skin. Attracted to our flaming torches, they come in droves to see who these strange travellers are. Some even follow us for a kilometre or two. Luckily, with John by our side, for the most part, they leave us unharmed. The one creature we haven’t spotted yet is the one making that mournful shrieking sound. John tells us it’s a bird, with long talons, beaks to match, and eyes like ours. I still shiver every time I hear it, and try hard not to visualise its eyes.

Hours later we finally stand before the mountain; and from this close the mere sight of it makes my chest tighten. It’s not as if I haven’t climbed a mountain before. But never in such consuming darkness, and never a mountain made completely of ice. Where on earth will we find footholds? This ice is too smooth, with incredible sheer drops. ‘Impossible,’ I whisper, feeling humble and small in the face of such power and force. ‘We can’t climb this.’

‘Well what do we do now?’ Matt asks.

No one appears to have any idea.

‘What about my sister?’ Ethan asks. ‘She helped us before.’

Right now Sera is our only hope, but so far she’s been the one to initiate contact, and I haven’t heard from her for some time now. This psychic skill is still new to me. I don’t know its potential. I hardly understand how it works. ‘I’ll try to make contact,’ I say tentatively, not promising anything that I’m not sure I can do.

Unwilling to venture far on my own, I take my torch and stay within visual distance of our makeshift camp. I sit cross-legged, wrapping Lady Arabella’s warm cloak around me like a blanket. The air here is vastly colder than anywhere we’ve travelled so far, the ground frozen beneath us.

Closing my eyes, I take several deep breaths, releasing as much tension as I can. Not really knowing what to do, I use instinct to guide me. I visualise the rest of our journey the way Sera first showed it to me, zooming past the mountain, crossing the lake, taking myself right up to the white pyramid-shaped temple as if standing at the front door. ‘Sera, can you hear me? It’s Isabel. I need your help. I need you to show me how to cross this mountain.’

Not really expecting my simple request to work, or to work so quickly, I’m way not prepared for her screaming reply. The vision she sends me thunders into my brain. When she’s done, I get up and stagger, unbalanced, for a few seconds.

Matt and Ethan run over. ‘Are you OK?’ Matt asks quickly.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ I look into his face, then Ethan’s. How do I tell them about this test, and what happens if we don’t pass it?

But Ethan reads my expression. ‘Just come out with it. We’ve come this far, we’re not going to turn tail and run now.’

I tell them about a secret path. ‘It cuts straight through the ice. Apparently all we have to do is walk along this path until we get to the other side.’

‘That’s too easy,’ Ethan says. ‘What’s the catch?’

‘Well, according to Sera, we’ll be confronted with our hidden truths. As long as we keep focused and don’t stray from the path, we’ll be OK.’

Ethan isn’t buying my watered-down version. ‘What happens if we don’t pass the test?’

‘Well … the mountain will make us permanent fixtures in its corridors of ice.’

‘Permanent?’ Matt asks, his voice strained. ‘As in …?’

‘Eternity.’ That said, I try to distract them. Dwelling on what’s ahead will only make us nervous and prone to error. ‘According to Sera we have to hurry.’

‘What did she say?’ Ethan asks.

‘She didn’t speak to me exactly. There was just this urgency in our connection. It was very strong.’

Ethan starts collecting our things, but Matt’s thoughts are still on the challenge ahead. ‘How do I stay focused? Do we know what form our “hidden truths” will take, or even what they are?’

Ethan hands Matt one of the backpacks. ‘Just try to keep your mind clear of all negative emotions.’

‘Oh yeah, that should be a piece of cake,’ he replies sarcastically.

Ethan thinks for a second. ‘What do you feel when you think of Rochelle?’

Matt gives him a sharp look, like he wants to thump him. I don’t think he’s going to reply, but then he mutters, ‘Anger, mostly.’

‘And when you think of being a Guard?’ My brother’s head shakes negatively. ‘I think the Tribunal made a mistake and that I’m not Named at all.’

He’s so full of doubt! How on earth will he get through this challenge? An idea hits me, as I recall his reaction to meeting someone at school recently. ‘What do you feel when you think of the girl Neriah?’

Ethan’s eyebrows lift at this suggestion, but he gives a little nod. He’s seen Matt look absolutely besotted by this girl too. A dreamlike expression makes his eyes look glazed. ‘Hold that thought,’ he tells Matt. ‘Forget your problems. Forget everything. Draw on the image of Neriah, and fill your head with only positive thoughts. OK?’

We take off in the direction Sera showed me, to a point that looks like one ice wall, that in fact is actually several walls slightly overlapping. Between these zigzag walls is a path.

Before we begin, Ethan pulls me to the side. ‘You should take the lead.’

My instinct is to argue. But he knows what I’m thinking. He knows I’ll be worried about Matt.

‘Let me look out for Matt. If I sense he’s getting into trouble, I’ll pull him back and stay with him on this side. You keep going with John and rescue Arkarian.’

It’s a selfless act. But it doesn’t surprise me. I give him a hug, and he holds me close. His reassurance makes me feel as if everything is going to be all right.

When we pull apart he says, ‘You’ll be fine. And so will Matt. He’s just so full of doubt right now, it’s stopping him from being his true self.’

Matt comes over, probably wondering what’s taking us so long. I force a smile to my face I don’t really feel. The last thing I want is to fill Matt’s head with more doubt.

So the four of us make our way along the zigzag path, with me in the lead, then John, Matt, and Ethan at the end. Not knowing when exactly the test will begin, I start screening my thoughts and clearing all negative ones straightaway. I tell myself, no matter what comes at me, don’t turn around. If the others should see my face, and read fear or something else just as off-putting, it could affect their concentration. Carrying one of the lighted torches, and with a pack on my back, I force one foot before the other. Meanwhile, I try to keep my breathing slow, and my mind clear of doubts.

The path is actually a tunnel, right through the ice! I’m not sure when it starts to change, or when I feel the pressure building. But soon the tunnel opens up and a valley spreads out before me. I’m not expecting to see anything quite so breathtaking; it takes me by surprise. But quickly the valley changes, and the path turns into a bridge over a trickling stream that leads into a lake. Along its borders sit barbecue tables and playground equipment. Where am I? I get a distinct feeling I’ve been here before. I try to place the memory.

But up ahead, someone is standing on the bridge, directly in my path. It’s a man, leaning on his elbows, overlooking the stream that flows briskly beneath him.

The impulse to turn and check on the others is strong. Especially as right now I’d like to see Matt’s reaction. I think this man is our father.

As I draw nearer, the man turns his head, and I see that it really is our father. My heart slows to a heavy beat. What is he doing here? And why does this bridge and everything around it seem so familiar? I’ve been here before; the feeling is strong.

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed by a compulsion to ask the question that’s been gnawing at my brain ever since that vision I recently had of him. But I don’t want to get distracted. The danger is too real. And I mustn’t stray from the path!

Despite all this, when I get close enough, I still can’t stop myself. ‘On the last day we were together you told me you were leaving because you were deceived. Who was it that deceived you?’

His head tilts to one side, while his mouth forms into a small smile of regret. I blink away a tear and try to keep focused. I have to remember not to pause too long. But my feet won’t budge until I have his answer.

‘Your mother,’ he says simply.

‘How?’ My voice sounds odd, like it’s coming from deep inside, or far away.

He sighs. ‘How I wish I didn’t have to go. And you, my sweetheart, must move on with your life. Forget this conversation. It’s the last time we’ll speak of it.’

I grab his arm. ‘Daddy! What is it?’

For a second I stop breathing. Was that my voice? But it was the voice of a child! What’s going on?

Around me the temperature drops. A cold wind whips across my face. ‘Please, Daddy! What’s wrong?’

His hand reaches out to touch my face. He tugs a lock of hair blowing across my eyes, and tucks it behind my ear. ‘When I married your mother she was already pregnant.’ He lays both hands on my shoulders. ‘I love your mother, Isa. I love you all. But this deceit is hard for me. Do you know what a secret is?’

I nod, unable to speak, my mouth is trembling too much.

‘Your mother keeps secrets from me. Secrets I can’t live with any more.’ And then he says, ‘Matt is not my son.’

A gust of wind blows fiercely, pulling at my cloak, distracting me. When I look up my father is gone. I spin around, searching for him, but there’s only darkness behind. A shadow passes overhead and I look up. There’s a wall of ice lowering on top of me! The wind turns into a chilling gale and my torch blows out. I’m plunged in total darkness. The air turns so cold I find it hard to breath.

‘What’s happening!’

I reach up and my hand hits solid ice. The walls are shifting and now I hear voices. People are screaming and they’re very close. I slide down with the pressure of a mountain closing around me. Flat to the floor I find an opening, but it’s disappearing fast! I crawl on my stomach, but my pack gets stuck. I yank it off as fast as I can. The screams grow louder. Blindly, I keep crawling. At last a blast of sleet hits my face and I realise I’m out.

I stagger to my feet and run. Matt is not my father’s son! I keep running until I can hardly breathe. What does this mean? Every step becomes more painful as I suck in huge gulps of freezing air. How could I not know? If my father told me all those years ago, could he have told Matt too? Did Matt bury this knowledge into the pit of his very being as I did?

With nothing but darkness around me I stop. What the hell am I doing?

I turn right around, slowly, making sure I’m now facing the exact direction from which I came. And with one foot carefully placed before the other, I walk until I feel a wall of ice with my own hands.

Depleted, I sit on the ground and wait. It’s not long before I see John’s torch come out of the path, making the whole area light up for me. He looks strained and scared and I go over to him.

He sinks to his knees, his short legs jerking nervously under him; and I wonder what truths – or memories – or demons, confronted him on the path.

‘Are you OK?’ I ask with real concern, burying my own experience for now. There’ll be time to think soon enough.

Looking at John heaving with exhaustion, I can’t help wonder how friendships, made over a brief period of time, can have the potency of one made over many years. And to think at first I couldn’t trust him.

‘The truth is, Isabel, I saw a lot of things. Things that reminded me of another time, another world, a long time ago. And yes, I’m fine … now. I think I’m really fine.’

His words, the relief he obviously feels, make me inquisitive. ‘What did you see, John?’

‘Well, I think that’s private,’ he begins, but goes on to explain anyway. ‘I saw a woman. A beautiful woman. She was my wife.’ He waves a hand briefly in the air. ‘I loved this woman very much. She was my wife you know.’ He looks up at me. ‘Did I tell you this woman was my wife?’

I nod and smile, hoping to encourage him to go on. Obviously his experience has touched him deeply; he’s practically stuttering over every phrase. But when he does continue, his words shock. ‘She was so lovely. Even in death, she was lovely. I wanted her so much, I couldn’t let him have her.’

I moisten my mouth and try to form the question bursting to be asked, ‘How did your wife die?’

While looking straight ahead he says, ‘I murdered her. I killed her. I put a knife in her stomach.’ His arm moves and makes the killing motion several times. ‘I stabbed her seven times. And then I took this knife and I put it here.’ He thumps his chest with a closed fist. Silently, a tear falls.

As I sit shuddering inside my cloak, I wonder what sort of place this is. The last place you want to get trapped in, the thought occurs. Suddenly the urge to get out of here overwhelms me and I feel dizzy. And then Ethan comes staggering out, holding his head with both hands.

I run over to him and he sags in my arms. ‘We can’t go back that way.’ His head rocks from side to side. ‘There has to be another way. OK?’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

He doesn’t answer, so I prod a little, thinking it might help to relieve him of the trauma. ‘Did you see your sister’s murder?’

‘No.’

‘Was it something about your mother?’

His stillness and refusal to explain is unnerving. But it’s his decision, so I rub his arm gently to let him know that he has a friend, right here next to him, just as he does for me all the time. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and over the top of my head his words pass, ‘I saw Rochelle. I saw her face in the wall. Did you see those walls? They were full of people. I think they were dead, but hell, Isabel, they were screaming!’

I stay silent and he goes on in a softer tone, ‘Rochelle was one of those people, screaming for me to save her.’ He looks down at me. ‘What do you think it means?’

Honestly, I have no idea. ‘My experience was a memory, so I really don’t know.’

‘I have to know, Isabel. I have to find out, or how will I ever be able to sleep again? Does it mean Rochelle is in trouble? How can this be a hidden truth? And what was it John said about this challenge? That we’d be facing our inner demons?’

‘Maybe it was a reflection of your concern for her.’

He looks at me strangely, and I elaborate, ‘I think you’re in love with her, Ethan.’

He pulls away. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about!’

He could be right, and maybe I don’t, but I see the way he looks at her. And he’s the first to jump to her aid, and when needed, even her defence. But Ethan’s not ready to admit it, not ready to accept the truth. Maybe that’s the reason he saw Rochelle in the ice. She loves him. Well, that’s what I think. And without his love in return, she will always be lost to him.

He remains silent. And it’s in this silence I feel an odd sensation, like a part of my arm, or my lung, or something, has gone missing. It dawns on Ethan the second our eyes connect. ‘Oh no! Where’s Matt? He should be out by now. He went through before me. But I didn’t see him. Once the path turned ugly I didn’t think of Matt any more. I didn’t think of any one of you.’

‘We have to go back and look for him. What if he’s been enclosed in that wall?’ And then I recall, ‘My pack’s still in there! What will we do for tools?’

‘We’ll find a way,’ Ethan says. He sees John huddled on the ground nearby and starts to call him, but notices something from the corner of his eye. ‘Look!’

It’s Matt, coming out of the mountain. He’s strolling down the path, whistling, as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

‘Matt?’ I stop just short from giving him a great big hug. Something about him makes me freeze. And it’s not because of what I just learned about him. We may not have the same father, but we’re still brother and sister. I try to put my finger on what’s different. It’s the look he’s wearing. Slightly glazed around the eyes, as if he’s overwhelmed by something, something that’s taken his breath away. ‘Are you OK?’

He looks down at me and smiles. ‘Oh yeah. Wasn’t that the greatest?’

‘Huh?’ Ethan and I exclaim together.

He glances over his shoulder. ‘In there. Wasn’t it just so beautiful? And what about those waterfalls? Magnificent. And the flowers. I’ve never seen anything like them before. And those butterflies … weren’t they the most amazing colours?’

Ethan’s head simply shakes. ‘Well I wouldn’t know. I didn’t see any butterflies.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Matt sounds amazed, then opens his palms and releases twenty or more butterflies into the air, all shapes, all sizes, all brilliant colours. They flutter around us briefly, as if reluctant to leave. Finally, after a last circle around Matt’s shoulders and head, as if sharing a secret goodbye, they take off. With their wings flapping they create the most amazing range of colours. Some I can’t put a name to.

Ethan looks at me with questions struggling to form. He’s shocked at Matt’s strange euphoric experience, so unlike his own. Unlike mine or John’s as well.

I have many questions too, but a sudden surge of energy hits me, along with a flash of blinding light. It’s a vision again. Straightaway I know it’s from Sera, but it lacks the clarity of her other contacts. This one is strained and, if I’m not mistaken, fuelled by something powerful – fear or anxiety.

When it’s over I look up at Matt and Ethan, knowing that my questions are going to have to wait. ‘Something’s wrong. We have to hurry.’

‘What did you see?’ Ethan asks, his voice filled with concern.

‘I didn’t see anything really. I only felt.’

Matt’s eyes start focusing clearly again. ‘What did you feel?’

‘Fear mostly. Sera’s. She was shaking with it.’