Alive (The Veiled World Book 1) (4 page)

The loudspeaker crackled to life.

“Bruce here. Getting ready to land. Please remain buckled in your seats until we land or until I instruct you otherwise. I repeat, return to your seats for landing. When we touch-down I’ll explain everything. By now you should all know that you haven’t been selected to sample my energy drinks. You have all been carefully selected for a higher purpose.”

The loudspeaker crackled for a few more seconds, then silenced.

I crawled, using Reuben’s seat then Jacob’s. But before I could move on, I seized Jacob’s seatbelt and strapped it around his stomach. His eyes snapped open and he seemed surprised to see me there, with my hands on his belt. But he quickly realised what I had done and nodded a thanks before screwing his eyes shut once again.

I passed Noah, who was already buckled in, his eyes closed, possibly praying by the looks of his moving lips.

In what seemed like forever, I finally got back to my seat and strapped myself in.

“We’ll survive this, Amber, won’t we?” Claire shouted through her tears, and I nodded to reassure her, though my heart was going a mile a minute and my skin was coated in sweat.

“It’s just a storm, don’t worry,” I shouted back. “He flies this thing all the time. We’ll be okay.”

My ears began to ache, a sharp pain that radiated down my jaw as we descended, and I recalled Sam and myself both suffering excruciating ear pain upon landing in Bali last year.

I leaned my head back on the seat and gripped my armrests with sweaty palms. My head still throbbed from where Reuben butted me and where the tray hit me.

Mum and Dad sprang to mind. If we crash-landed and I died, how would they cope with the loss of another child?

But as the plane took a sudden dive and shuddered even more, causing the muscles of my arms and legs to vibrate against the seat, all I could think about was those seven words that had appeared on the screen in front of me.

What if you could bring them back?

Chapter 4

Axel

“Bring him up!”

I rubbed my eyes. I must have dozed off again because the old man, Dream Master, was now in the corner, curled up like a cat on a dirty rug, and a guard was in the dungeon with us.

The old guard started to yank Dream Master’s torn shirt, but King Cyril swore.

“No, not him, bring the boy!”

I looked up to see King Cyril staring down at me through the open hatch. From this angle he looked extra weathered and droopy, his wrinkles deeper. If he ever got his wife back from the Land of Resting Souls, they would look odd, like father and daughter. Unless the dead continued to age in the afterlife…which would make my brother thirteen.

I smiled to myself as a vision of my baby brother, all grown up, filled my head. He’d be tall, like me, and his hair would be curly and wild like mine.

The guard seized me by my shirt collar and yanked me to my feet before staring up at the king for confirmation.

“Yes! Now bring the boy to me!”

I was about to give cheek and remind the king that Prince Ollie and I were the only “boys” left living in the kingdom because they’d all died in efforts to bring back the queen from the dead, but I knew it best to keep my mouth shut, lest I muck up my chances at getting my brother back. Perhaps Ollie hadn’t had a chance to poison my reputation yet.
The king still may wish to nominate me as a challenger
.

The guard poked and prodded me with the tip of his sword until I climbed out of the hatch. Completely unnecessary, seeing as I wanted out of the dungeon. Then he shoved me so that I knelt in front of the king, the bones of my knees already aching from a night sleeping on stone. My eyes watered at the brightness of the morning sun so I stared down at the stone beneath me.

“Good luck, my son!” I heard Dream Master shout, his voice coming at me in echo form so that I heard it three times. “You will be great-great-great! I have seen it-seen it-seen it! I have seen your success-success-success! The dead will return-return-return!”

Silently I thanked Dream Master and hoped the guard, who had quickly climbed down into the dungeons to silence the old man, wasn’t unnecessarily cruel to him. But he was the one who’d poked and prodded me out of the dungeon so my hopes weren’t exactly high. No matter. After returning to the king with his dead wife
and
my brother, I’d be welcomed back to the kingdom a hero, and my first demand would be Dream Master’s release.

“Are the challengers here?” I asked, forgetting myself in all the excitement of my daydreams of becoming a hero in the near future.

Cold steel forced my chin up and I blinked rapidly to see three guards surrounding the king, including the guard with his sword beneath my chin.

“You forget to address me, boy. I am Your Majesty, remember that.” But King Cyril’s stern expression gave way and his eyes widened, unable to hide the glittering joy inside of them. “The challengers are not yet here but they are on their way and we must prepare for them, boy. I’ve brought you out for the preparations. You will assist the challengers, prepare them before they set out on their journey to the Land of Resting Souls.”

But hadn’t he heard what Dream Master had said about me being a success? After all those echoes?

“Preparations? But I thought you might like to consider me—”

“Enough, boy! I’ve banned all my subjects from going on the journey. Too many lives lost. You do realise that between you and Prince Ollie there are not many young, virile men left to repopulate our kingdom. And the only two women left to impregnate are my sister and the cook, Violet. Which I’ll have to arrange very soon, actually. Violet is getting on in her years.” He turned on his heel, snapped his fingers, after which the guards sheathed their swords, then started away.

“But…what…no!”

There was no
way
I would lie with the king’s shrivelled, walnut-faced sister or the cook, Violet, who was double my age and like a mother to me. The very idea made me want to vomit.

“But I’m strong, you know that!” I raced after him after I’d finally found my voice. “Your Majesty, think about it. You’ve been sending out old, weak men this whole time.”

One of the guards turned to shoot me an evil glare. I glared back. “I have read every book in the library about the journey, about the giver of life, Leirza, about the strange half-human-half-beasts, about the River of Truth and the River of Lies. I know the landscape is ever changing. Never the same. But I am mentally and physically prepared for it. I’d be the best one. I’ve been training for this ever since—”

The king finally stopped to stare at me. “Ever since your brother died. I understand. I understand loss more than anybody in this kingdom.” He put a hand on my shoulder and his eyes grew misty. “But I need you here. My son…” He glanced down and sighed heavily. “My own son is a poor excuse for a prince.” His watery eyes found mine again but I looked away, conscious of the tightness in my throat.
Must. Not. Let. King. See. Weakness.
“You have become like my son and as such you are too valuable.” He turned away and cleared his throat before adding, “I want to keep you alive.”

“But I could bring your beloved Queen Telitha back. You know I could.”

The old king kept walking, leading me and the old retired guards through the castle, out into the back courtyard, and along a pebbled path leading us to the creature enclosures.

I could hear the snort of the dragon as it slept, the hiss of the python, the growl of the gryphon, the stomp of the unicorn, the rumble of the Minotaur, and the various grunts and snorts from the other animals all at once. The smell of dung was thick in the damp humidity of the jungle air.

“See to it they are well fed, groomed, and in full health for the Choosing Ceremony.”

I stood, snorting deep breaths in through my nostrils like the Minotaur.

The king paused mid-step without turning around. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of leaves across the king’s path and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was. That a
Change
was coming. Sudden gusts of wind usually signalled a
Change
within twenty-four hours. I wondered, with rage and envy in my heart, what the challengers were in for on their journey. What kind of heavens would they face?

“Did you hear me?”

I blinked my thoughts away.

“Ah, yes, Your Majesty. My apologies.” Stupidly I still clung to the hope that if I was submissive and followed rules he’d somehow find it in his heart to relent and allow me to be a challenger. And maybe, just maybe, one of the supposed challengers wouldn’t survive the landing. It has happened before. Hell, it has happened throughout history. My grandfather told me many stories about aeroplanes from the Unveiled World crashing into our world with dead passengers and crew members still strapped in their seats. I shook my head. I was going mad. Wanting people to die so that I could revive my dead brother’s soul wasn’t right.

I entered the dragon’s lair first, hating to see her shackled, with her head facing the back wall which was black with soot. But the shackles also prevented her from roasting me in my boots.

“Hi, beautiful.”

She tensed up at the sound of my voice, shackles jangling, and blew a ball of fire against the wall, her beautiful blue-green scales rippling in the light of the flames.

With carefully placed steps, I inched closer, keeping my back to the wall, careful not to get my leg crushed by a slight swing of her tail. I extended my hand and ran it along her hind leg, my palm sliding across its large, smooth scales.

“It’s okay,” I said as soothingly as I could. “It’s okay, girl. I’m not here to hurt you.”

She stopped thrashing her body and instead tried to twist her head so that she could see me. After several failed attempts, she blasted the wall with more flames.

It hurt to see her shackled like this. I’d tried many times to free her, using swords and axes, but to no avail. Only the king and his guards held the rusted keys to the locks on her shackles.

Edging against the wall, I shifted closer to her neck, sweat dripping down my temples. Her now extinguished flames had certainly warmed my bones after a night in the freezing cold dungeon.

“It’s okay, girl,” I whispered, stroking her side. A low, deep sound rumbled in her long, scaly neck. It was an appreciative sound.

Ever so carefully, I spread my arms wide against her neck and side and rested my cheek against her cool body. I could hear her heart throb and the swish of cold blood racing through her veins. Dragon’s blood. My mother used to say that I was born on the dragon’s moon, the red moon. Born under the spirit of the dragon.

I’d spent most of my life since my brother died imagining myself at a Choosing Ceremony where all nine challengers are matched with their dodaem animal, their guardian spirit. And I always pictured the dragon choosing me. Her own kind.

“Help me,” I whispered to her, and a low, sad sounding moan erupted from her throat and vibrated her scales against my skin. “Help me get my brother back and I will free you, sweet beast. I will free you.”

The dragon responded by belting flames against the wall, but seemed to stop suddenly—and thankfully, because I wondered if my face would melt off after anymore heat—and cocked her head to the side.

A dull roar filled my ears. Not the dragon and certainly not any of the other animals. This roar was coming from outside, from the sky.

The ground shook beneath me. Tiny stones and dust dropped from the ceiling of the enclosure onto my head and shoulders. The dragon threw her head back and, as a result, cast me off her neck.

My back hit the stone wall and I flopped to the floor like one of Ollie’s sock puppets, which he secretly slept with at night
still
.

Dazed and aching all over, I crawled out of the lair on my knees and elbows, hands over my ears to drown out the ear-splitting roar, only just managing to bypass the dragon without getting crushed.

Just as I glimpsed the pale blue sky, it rapidly changed to a fiery red and orange, the colour of the dragon’s flames.

Other staff members were either on their knees clutching their ears or shrieking and running for shelter. I knew my mother would be shaking her head at them and completely calm, going about her business. Because that was how she was. I wondered about the king. Was he watching this from his quarters? From the balcony? Toasting the arrival of the challengers with a glass of wine?

My stomach swirled with excitement. I’d witnessed this before. I knew what was coming but I still shouted a curse when I saw the tiny silver and red aircraft slice through the blazing sky before disappearing behind the trees that flanked the kingdom’s boundaries. I knew that a special area had been cleared so that the aeroplane could land safely. It was the same aircraft from last year. The one that belonged to the strange, lone widower who had eagerly promised the king to return with others so that he too could get his dead wife back.

“He has returned!” I heard King Cyril bellow from the northern side of the castle. “He has returned!”