The Dark

CHAPTER Four



Arkarian


Isabel is late. Something is keeping her. I hope Marcus Carter hasn’t run into any problems co-ordinating this mission. Even though he’s worked in the Citadel for a long time (as well as teaching at the local high school), tonight he’s filling in for me, and he’s not used to working the equipment in my chambers. Maybe I should give him a brief visit. I could use my wings and be back here in a few minutes. It would be a relief to get out of this room. This room in particular. Why is the Citadel doing this? Choosing such a room for our first mission together?

Suddenly Isabel arrives, landing squarely on her feet, her back to me. But the room gets her attention before she notices I’m here. Of course it would.

She whistles, softly, then turns and sees me. ‘Wow. This is really something.’

‘Well yes, though I do find the bed a bit over the top. Don’t you?’

She giggles at the heart-shaped structure covered with pink and white heart-shaped cushions. Her laughter eases the tension of being thrown together in a room that could only be described as a lovers’ paradise.

‘It could be a honeymoon suite at a really posh – no, tacky, hotel,’ she remarks. ‘Why do you think …?’

Her words drift away, while her face changes colour to a deeper shade of pink than the half dozen cushions sprinkled across the double bed. But it’s plain what she’s asking. I shrug my shoulders and smile. ‘Hmm, who knows the mind of the Citadel, or its keepers? I have no idea.’

And I really don’t. The Citadel is an enigma. Even while I live here I can still be amazed. It’s as if the building has a mind of its own. I’ve seen the high-tech machinery that lines the walls of its central work station, but sometimes it reacts as if it is working on instinct, or emotions. Though I suspect Lorian, and of course the others that live here, may have something to do with this aspect of its functioning.

I try to switch Isabel’s thoughts away from this replica of Cupid’s own bedroom. ‘I think we’d better get going. You’re late. Did you know that?’

‘Sort of,’ she answers ambiguously.

In another room, this one decorated more appropriately, we find ourselves clothed in period dress fitting our destination. Isabel ends up wearing a long green gown, with flowing sleeves, belted slightly above the waist. Her hair is now black, falling in an array of wild ringlets.

I stare at her for ages, completely speechless. She notices, and her hand slips to touch the bottom few curls, twirling one round and round her finger. She twirls it so tightly I think it’s about to cut off her circulation. Especially when her finger starts turning purple.

I go over and unwind it. At first she doesn’t get what I’m doing and stares up at me.

‘Your finger’s about to drop off,’ I explain.

‘Oh?’ she says in a voice that sounds detached. Then she looks at her fingers and gasps, ‘Oh!’

She spins away from me and shakes her hand a few times. After a minute she turns back. ‘Well, I guess we should be going. But … I don’t know who I am yet.’

‘Hold on.’

Just as I say this a sprinkling of shimmering dust comes down on top of us, filling us with the knowledge and language skills we’re going to need on our journey.

‘Ah, so I’m a governess.’

‘Phillipa Monterey,’ I confirm with a bow.

‘And you, who are not quite so elegantly dressed?’

I glance down at my woollen hose and coarse over-shirt secured roughly at the waist with a plaited cord, and take my cap off to reveal a mess of light brown hair. ‘It appears that I am going to be a stable hand, I believe, by the name of Gascon.’

‘Well, Gascon, I’m going to miss your long blue hair. How on earth will I find you in a crowd now?’

Her humour makes me laugh, easing any lingering tension between us. Lately she’s been so mysterious. I’m concerned she’s keeping something from me that might affect our mission. I think I know what it is anyway. Perhaps she doesn’t want to mention it yet because it frightens her. As we step into our departure room, I can’t help asking, ‘Has your second skill emerged, Isabel?’

She stops. ‘Don’t tell me Ethan’s right when he says there’s nothing you don’t know?’

‘There’s a lot I don’t know, such as what exactly your new power is.’

She sighs wistfully. ‘I think I’m experiencing psychic visions, or something like that.’

‘Are these visions of the future? Or of the past?’

She seems surprised by my questions. ‘So both are possible, huh?’

‘Yes. And when you’ve evolved this skill, you’ll be surprised what you can do with it.’

‘How do you mean?’ she asks.

‘You may be able to project your own images and issue warnings; one day, perhaps even heal.’

‘Wow. Well right now I have to admit these visions are a little scary. I don’t know how to control them, and they can be painful like you wouldn’t believe. They hit without warning – anywhere, anytime.’

‘So how many have you had?’

An opening appears in the wall before us, and as we near it, ready to leap into the past, she turns just slightly. ‘I think I’ve had two. The first was that powerful storm only seconds before it happened. And last night I saw Ethan’s mother trying to kill herself.’

She goes to leap, but I grab her arm. ‘Show me.’

‘What?’

‘Recall the vision and don’t try to block your thoughts.’

She closes her eyes and the vision unfolds for my viewing. When it is over, she leaves me with my thoughts and silently leaps.

I drop behind her on to a well-worn dirt road, outside a stone wall with high wooden gates. The time appears to be early dawn. And even while I’ve made many time-journeys before, I still experience a moment of intense excitement and relief, when the leap is successful.

While we straighten our clothes and gather our bearings, I can’t get Isabel’s graphic vision out of my mind. Ethan, my Apprentice since he was a child of four years, has seen so much in his life. Ever since his sister was murdered by Marduke, he’s lived with a seriously depressed mother. While his father was unable to help, he took on the huge responsibility of caring for her. Ethan has had an uneasy life, full of fear and sadness and feelings of utter helplessness. He coped. And coped well. But he’s only human. How much more can he take?

Before we go any further I lay my hand on Isabel’s arm. ‘All those years as Ethan’s Trainer I’ve watched him suffer, but couldn’t do anything to help.’

She glances into my face. Time and motion cease to exist.

Then she says, ‘No one could, Arkarian. Does anybody know why Laura’s depression has gone on for so long? Or why she isn’t getting any better?’

‘Losing a child, no matter how long ago, can’t be easy. But the fact that Laura is getting worse, has me thinking there’s something else stopping her from moving past her grief. Something that’s keeping her constantly on edge.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just a theory. But what does worry me is how Ethan will cope. Does he know about your vision?’ We push through the gates and make our way past several small wattle-and-daub cottages to the castle up ahead.

‘He does, and he’s really worried.’

‘Try to reassure him, Isabel, that everything will be all right.’

‘He thinks saving his mother will be as simple as stopping her from going to the sanatorium.’

Is it possible to avert a tragedy by simply stopping a person from being in the place at the time they’ve been seen to take their own life? ‘I think we need to find the cause of Laura’s continuing anxiety.’

‘But how?’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to stop working on this problem until I’ve figured out what’s wrong. I promise.’

‘You have to hurry, Arkarian. There are only ten days until Laura goes to this place.’

‘Yes. And a lot can happen in ten days.’