Web of Fire Bind-up (8 page)

‘Oh, really?' said Odoursin. Sam suddenly felt cold fingers in his hair and the next moment his head was yanked backwards so that he was staring straight up at the soldier.

‘Is
this
who you are talking about?'

The soldier looked at Sam. ‘No,' he said. ‘No, that's definitely not him. We've rounded up about twenty suspects from the marshlands who fit the boy's description. We're just processing them now and I'm expecting a positive ID within hours.'

Odoursin let go of Sam's hair and his head fell forward again.

‘I must apologise, Your Excellency,' said Hekken hurriedly. ‘I think perhaps the fact that this boy was caught wearing the suspect's clothes has led to something of an overreaction by our security forces. I will make sure that they are severely reprimanded.'

Odoursin glared at Hekken and he fell silent.

‘Tell me,' said Odoursin, turning back to the soldier with slow menace, ‘what happens if you don't get a
positive ID?'

The young soldier was obviously flustered now. Success was rapidly turning into failure right in front of him.

‘I remain confident that we will find the boy, Your Excellency. We definitely pulled him through a fabric gap and he arrived somewhere out on the marshes during the night,' he said. ‘If our soldiers haven't found him already then it's only a matter of time before they do. There are marsh dogs all over the area. He can't escape.'

‘But if what you say about his Earth body is true, then there's still a chance he may find his way back,' said Odoursin, a cold fury in his voice.

The others remained silent.

‘You know the prophecy. We
have
to find him and keep him in Aurobon. And we have to find him before they do.'

There was a moment's pause while everyone looked at each other as if unsure what to do next.

It was Hekken who broke the silence. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?' he shouted at the groups of uniformed guards around the room. ‘Get on to it now!' And suddenly the place burst into life as men began running towards the lift.

‘What shall I do with this one?' asked Hekken, gesturing at Sam with a gloved finger. ‘It's obviously not him. Do you want me to kill him?'

‘Not yet,' replied Odoursin, who seemed suddenly to have lost all interest in Sam. ‘Put him on the work programme with the others for now. And if the tests
show up negative,' he added, ‘let the dogs have him.'

Hekken was unusually thoughtful as he rode the express elevator down to the ground floor.

He knew that, according to the prophecy, bringing the Dreamwalker's Child to Aurobon would tip the balance of power in favour of the East. He had no argument with that. Vahlzi's western forces were powerful and Vermia needed all the help it could get.

But he also knew that ifVermia was to be successful in its plans for Earth, then the Dreamwalker's Child would have to be killed once it arrived in Aurobon. It was a bit like using a maggot to clean the infection from a wound: when the job was done, you got rid of it.

Unfortunately, however, Odoursin didn't see it like that. He failed to see that if you allowed a maggot to turn into a fly, it would spread infection everywhere.

Odoursin wanted to keep the Dreamwalker's Child alive in Aurobon. He believed that the Dreamwalker's Child would increase his power and enable him to rid Earth of its human plague.

The Dreamwalker's Child shall
rise up against the Darkness.

Odoursin thought that the people of Earth were the Darkness. It allowed him to believe that all his terrible deeds were somehow justified by the words of the prophecy.

But Hekken was under no such illusion. He was well
aware of the shadowy paths that they had all chosen in their quest for ultimate power. He knew that the darkness in the prophecy referred not to humans but to Vermia itself.

And therein lay the problem. The prophecy was working against them and time was running out. He would have to find a way of making Odoursin see the truth.

If they were to win, then the Dreamwalker's Child would have to die.

High in the mountains above the city of Vahlzi, the Olumnus people – or what was left of them – still lived quietly in their mountain caves. They followed the ancient teachings of Salus, who they believed – even now – walked between the worlds of Aurobon and Earth, guiding those who sought to restore them to their proper state of harmony.

While the Mazrian tribes worked the land, the Arbous people colonised the forests and the Nomads roamed the great deserts of the north, the Olumnus alone had worked secretly to fulfil their ancient purpose of maintaining the balance of life on Earth.

Moving unseen through gaps in the fabric between the worlds, they repaired damaged crops, guided underground springs to the surface of lands ravaged by drought, fought clandestine battles to keep pests in check and helped even the tiniest of creatures adapt to a changing world. The Olumnus so loved the Earth that they devoted their lives to it.

But then Earth's people became industrialised. As their
cities grew, the Olumnus had found it increasingly difficult to keep pace with the huge changes that followed. The battle to preserve the balance of nature became much harder.

It was at this point that a group of younger Olumnus began to copy the technology that they saw on Earth, rapidly developing their own in an effort to keep up with the changes.

The Olumnus Elders became afraid for the future stability of their own world. They worried that Earth's mistakes would be repeated, bringing greed, pollution and war to Aurobon. They accused the younger ones of going against the teachings of Salus and ordered that all new technology should be destroyed.

But the young Olumnus refused and were banished from the mountains for ever.

And so they had come as settlers to the western plains and built the great city of Vahlzi.

Vahlzi took its name from the desert flower which – for a few brief hours after the rains came – covered the surrounding plains in a riotous explosion of blooms, ranging in hue from the deepest red to the palest of yellows.

The name was appropriate, for over the years the city had grown into a huge and delicious confusion of sound and colour; its narrow cobbled back streets twisting erratically beneath the feet of traders as they piled their stalls high with dried fruit, spices, salted fish and wine-skins filled with dark, sweet-smelling liquids.

In contrast, the streets widened towards the city centre, sweeping past modern, white-walled courtyards towards the main street, where bridges of intricately carved stone arched their way across the River Naiad. Along the banks of the river, pebbled walkways meandered past neatly kept flowerbeds and sprinklers hissed and shimmered over bright emerald lawns.

It was here, on the main road that led back towards the old part of town, that Commander Firebrand paid the cab driver and stepped quickly out onto the warm pavement. Night was falling and already the streets were alive with people in search of a good time. A young couple barged past him, arguing loudly above the music blaring from a nearby club, while further down the street a group of men staggered drunkenly into the path of a hooting taxi, hammering their fists onto its bonnet as they passed. A thin, bony-faced woman in her early twenties called out to him from a shop doorway where she crouched next to a mangy, undernourished dog.

‘Hey, mister. Spare us enough for a hot meal?'

Throwing a handful of loose change into the woman's hat, Firebrand waved away her thanks and turned a corner into an adjoining street. From here he negotiated a series of narrow, dimly lit alleys, walking quickly past steaming kitchens and fire escapes hung with washing until he emerged at last on the edge of a small square. In the middle of the square was an overgrown park with a few trees and a little pond surrounded by iron railings and a gate.

Pushing the gate open, Firebrand heard the hinges creak and felt the rust flake beneath his fingers. Moving through the dark-green shadows, he listened to the sounds of the city floating through the night air and noticed that they were fainter now, like a radio playing softly in another room. He kept on walking until he stood before a large block of stone that marked the centre of the park.

The stone was black, cube-shaped and twice Firebrand's height. Ancient signs and letters covered its surface, embedded with the tiniest fragments of crystal that glittered with light despite the relative darkness of their surroundings.

The Foundation Stone
, he thought.

Firebrand stared at the strange letters carved into the stone so many years before, stared at the dead language that was forgotten by all but a few, and began to read what his father had once taught him to know from memory:

Herein lies the first stone of the new age. Our city shall rise from the dust and the true of heart shall forever preserve the purpose of the Olumnus. But all must know this: that knowledge is power, but power without wisdom is the path of destruction; and the greatest of all wisdom is love.

Firebrand remembered his father telling him of the legend that somewhere at the Foundation Stone's core lay the Earthstone, a magical stone of great beauty and power. It was said to be a gift from Salus himself, a reminder to the Vahlzian people that the fortunes of Earth were forever linked with their own.

‘Your faith must be like the Foundation Stone,' Firebrand's father had said. ‘Strong enough to shield your heart from the many storms that will try to destroy it. If your faith should crumble, then your heart will be lost.'

Despite his ancestors' split with the Olumnus over the use of technology, Firebrand still believed in the old ways, still tried to follow the teachings of the Olumnus.
Like them, he wanted to restore order, balance and harmony in both worlds.

It was the proper way of things.

He stood up, walked across to the stone and placed his hands upon it. It was cold and solid beneath his touch and he felt a keen sense of its permanence; of the days and the years whirling past its calm and silent centre. He thought of his ancestors bringing the stone to this place all those years ago. They had believed in a better future back then. What would they think now?

Before the war, Firebrand and Odoursin had been friends. Using their knowledge of new technology, they had successfully developed the Insect Programme and led many joint missions to Earth. But after the death of his brother in the air crash, Odoursin had lost all faith in the old ways. He quickly lost interest in protecting the Earth and became determined to overthrow the Vahlzian government and seize power for himself. His army of followers had struck without warning one night, and although the Vahlzian army had succeeded in driving them out, the battle had left thousands dead.

Now, while the people of Vahlzi tried to maintain the old values, Odoursin continued to build up his forces in Vermia. Firebrand had always known that Odoursin was ambitious and hungry for power. But he had still believed that Odoursin was on the side of good, right up until that terrible night when he had betrayed them all, tipped over the brink into madness by the loss of his brother.

Intelligence sources showed he was now developing a new and deadly weapon that he wouldn't hesitate to use against the people of Earth. And that, of course, would only be the beginning.

Power without wisdom is the path of destruction…

Firebrand stared at the Foundation Stone, illuminated by the coloured light from the three moons that hung above the treetops. He had come here this evening with a mind full of doubts, his faith shaken by setbacks and betrayal. But as he touched the ancient stone and remembered his father's words, he felt his faith returning. Whatever happened, he had to believe that the origins of the prophecy lay rooted in the goodness of the past; that these difficult times were simply stepping stones out of the darkness.

Removing his hands from the stone, Firebrand thrust them into the pockets of his overcoat and looked up into the night sky. There had been no word for three days. The signs were not good. But then of course, he reminded himself, Skipper was highly trained in covert operations of this nature and no one had expected a quick result. He had to push his concerns to one side and believe that she could get the boy out. Failure in this particular mission was not something he would allow himself to think about.

This time the stakes were too high.

Sam awoke to the sound of shouts, keys rattling in locks and the metal clang of cell doors being flung open. It was still dark and he guessed it must be early morning. Rubbing his eyes, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He could only have been asleep for a few hours and his right side ached from lying on the cold stone.

A key turned in the lock and his cell door swung open. A guard stood silhouetted in the doorway with a long black baton in one hand. He pointed it at Sam.

‘Get up!' he shouted.

Sam put a hand on the wall and levered himself to his feet. ‘Where am I going?' he asked.

‘Just move out, prisoner,' barked the guard, in a tone that suggested it would be unwise to ask any further questions.

As Sam stepped out of the cell, the guard turned him roughly so that he was facing down the corridor. A line of prisoners stood motionless outside their cells,
all dressed in the same grey material and staring straight ahead.

From behind him came the sound of a little cough, the kind that someone makes when they want to be noticed.

Sam turned and saw another line of prisoners stretching the other way. But his eyes were drawn to the small figure standing in front of the cell next to his own.

It was a girl with short, tousled blonde hair the colour of dirty straw. Although only a few inches smaller than Sam, she looked tiny compared to the other prisoners, an impression that was heightened by the fact that her prison uniform was at least three sizes too big. Despite having managed to roll up the legs and sleeves, she still looked as if she was trying to fight her way out of a large tent.