The Dark

CHAPTER Twenty-eight



Isabel


Standing at the edge of what is supposed to be a lake, we stare out at nothing but ice. By my side John nods and flaps his wings.

‘What’s got you so excited?’ Ethan asks.

‘I think you might be in luck.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘It’s the lake,’ John explains. ‘It’s iced over.’

It doesn’t feel like we’re in luck. Across the lake we hear the sound of a familiar ear-shattering roar.

Ethan grabs my arm. ‘You were right! He’s alive!’

‘And he’s over there, in the temple with Arkarian.’

‘Who’s with Arkarian?’ Matt asks, coming up beside us.

‘He’s going to murder him.’

‘Who!’ Matt yells.

John tugs on Matt’s cloak. ‘The master.’

Matt looks at me, then Ethan. ‘Marduke? That one-eyed freak who dragged me into the past and tried to burn me at the stake?’

We both nod.

‘But he’s dead, isn’t he? You killed him.’

John gasps and stares at Ethan. ‘That was you!’

‘But he’s not dead,’ I say.

John shakes his head with deep concern. ‘No, but he’s uglier than ever. The mistress is not pleased.’

Ethan doesn’t get it. ‘OK, so she’s not pleased. But he’s alive, so why does she still want to kill me?’

I’ve seen what Marduke has become. For me, the answer is obvious. ‘He’s more monster now than man and the Goddess can do nothing about it.’

‘Oh,’ Ethan says.

‘Yeah, well. Forget about her right now. Sera’s last connection wanted us to hurry.’ I pick up my pack and head straight for the lake.

John leaps after me, dragging me back only seconds before my feet connect with the ice. I turn on him, irritated that anyone or anything should try to stop me now. ‘What!’ I yell louder than I should. So far John has proved himself a trusted friend. Except … how does one trust a murderer from another lifetime, or a traitor from this one?

‘No, miss,’ he says in a frantic tone. ‘The ice is unstable. It’s not like any you would be used to. You must prepare by adding protection – anything – to your feet.’

Ethan pulls on John’s shoulder. ‘What’s wrong with the lake? Is the ice too thin? We can tie ropes to each other. In case one of us should drop through, we can pull them out.’

‘There would be no point,’ he says. ‘If you fall through this ice, you’ll die a horrible death.’ He holds his hands up high to stop our questions. ‘Let me explain. The lake is not made of water, it is made of acid.’

‘Acid?’ Ethan stares at the ice, the light from his torch adding a gentle glow. ‘Frozen acid?’

John nods. ‘Actually, the top layer is a mixture. Some of it is water – snow, some recent rains, but mostly acid. It’s a strange composition. Very unstable.’

‘Can we walk on it in this state?’

‘I can’t be sure. You will have to protect your feet and be careful not to rest in one spot for more than a second.’

Matt still struggles with the concept of unstable ice. ‘But our feet are already protected by our boots.’

John explains patiently, ‘The ice is called crystal ice. As soon as something solid hits it, it will ignite. The more protection, the safer your feet.’

John’s warning has my stomach twisting into knots. How can we cross this lake when every step will turn ice into fire? To get this far and fail is too horrible to think about.

Ethan gets down on his haunches, his long cloak fanning out across the snow. He starts digging into our packs. He finds a thick pair of socks and hands them to Matt. He hands me a jumper. I rip off the sleeves, tying them around my boots, then give Ethan the front and back parts. He secures one each around his own boots, then tears up his spare jacket, offering two pieces to John.

But John steps backwards, his eyes blazing. ‘Oh no. Your offer is generous. But this is as far as I come.’

‘Why won’t you cross the lake with us?’ Matt asks.

John flicks a nervous glance across the ice. ‘They used to live there before they disappeared. And now there is another.’

While I don’t know who ‘they’ are, I strongly suspect the one that John says has returned is probably Ethan’s sister. I try to make him understand that his fears are unfounded, and that the ghost he earlier referred to is the same person who’s been guiding us all along.

He remains adamant. ‘I won’t go there. You’re on your own now.’

I groan loudly and kick the snow-packed ground. I really don’t feel like spending one more moment trying to convince John that his fears are unfounded. My heart tells me Arkarian is in serious trouble and in need of healing right away. ‘OK, have it your way, John. But when you’re here – alone – and the master calls to make you pay for your treachery, don’t expect us to turn around and come running back for you. We won’t, even when we hear you scream. We’ll be too busy rescuing Arkarian. That’s what we came here for. Got it?’

Taking a deep breath I start to cross the lake. The instant my feet step on the ice a flame ignites under them. And even though I know this is going to happen, seeing the flame, watching it lick up the side and back of my foot, startles me.

‘Don’t stop! Don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you.’

I recognise the voice without looking all the way round. It’s John’s. Relief sweeps through me, giving me an added push.

We almost make it across without incident, when a familiar, unnerving shriek pierces the air, quickly followed by another, and another, the sound becoming unbearable.

‘Keep moving,’ John calls out, just as the flapping of many wings flying together comes into view.

They’re the birds John told us about, large as eagles, but far less graceful. They fly into us, flapping their wings to knock us over, attacking us with their sharp needle-like beaks, shrieking wildly. We fight them off as best we can, while trying to keep moving and yet maintain our balance. Fire licks at our feet, and other exposed parts when we fall.

‘Keep moving,’ John squeals, using his wings to leap up and draw the birds away.

But ultimately it’s fire that gets rid of them, from our torches and burning pieces of cloth. They take flight, and, while the birds are momentarily gone, we finish the crossing.

Releasing a sigh of relief that the ice held and we made it across with mostly minor injuries, I turn around for the first time. Matt, Ethan and John turn with me. All of us gasp at the sight. The lake is alight with hundreds of tiny fires at the places our feet touched its icy surface. And, while otherwise immersed in darkness, it is truly an amazing sight.

‘If I were an artist, this is what I would paint as my vision of hell.’

The others simply nod.