Vega Jane and the Maze of Monsters Page 10
Before I could ask another question, she walked over to a large blank wall, and Harry Two and I scurried after her.
She raised her hand and an astonishingly bright light blasted from it and hit the wall a direct blow. I immediately squatted down and shielded my eyes from what I thought would be a terrific blast emanating from the collision of wall and light. But there was no explosion. I opened my eyes and stood.
And gasped.
The entire wall had come to life. If the little table in the other room was impressive in what it had shown me, this spectacle was like a mountain versus a knoll by comparison. Every inch of the great wall, which must have measured fully fifty feet in length, was now ablaze with images, moving images.
Astrea turned to me and said simply, ‘The Quag. In all its glory. And all its depravity, which runs deep. Very deep indeed.’
When I had first seen the extent of the Quag from the top of the plateau where Delph, Harry Two and I were being chased by the garms and amarocs, I had been gobsmacked by its breadth and dark, sinister beauty. I had thought I was seeing to the very horizon of the Quag, but I had apparently been wrong about that.
As I watched, spellbound, I could see herds of unknown creatures bounding across open plains and up rugged ridges. Flying creatures, some I knew, most of which I didn’t, soared in a sky that was black as a lump of coal. Trees trembled and creatures crept and I could hear sounds, some gentle that tickled my ears, and others fiercely foreboding that gnarled my nerves and chilled my courage. I saw the majestic peak of the Blue Mountain. And there was the dark river that snaked across the face of the Quag to places unknown and probably hostile. With a thrill that reached all the way to my toes, I thought I saw a small boat with something or someone inside it, slowly making its way across the water’s vast, blackened width. That image vanished and was replaced with a frek devouring what looked to be a goat. And then a creature stepped from the trees into the clearing and came into full view.
It was tall and powerfully built, and though it stood on two legs like I did, it had fangs and claws and long, straight hair over its body.
I glanced quickly at Astrea. ‘What is that ghastly thing?’
‘’Tis a lycan,’ she said.
‘I don’t know what that is.’
‘Its bite makes you become like . . . it.’
We watched as the lycan, with a tremendous leap that covered yards of dirt, attacked the frek. There was a furious battle, for they seemed fairly equally matched. Yet finally the lycan won out and its fangs bit deeply into the frek’s neck. The latter howled in pain and fury and then, bloody and beaten, it broke free and fled into the trees.
The lycan stood there, dripping blood from wounds inflicted by the frek, and then it reached its clawed hands to the darkened sky and roared in triumph. It was a terrifying spectacle to witness and yet I found I could not look away.
‘The frek’s bite drives one mad,’ I said in a hollow tone.
‘The lycan is already mad, Vega. A frek’s bite will not make a spot of difference to its tortured mind.’
A long sliver of silence passed. ‘What is beyond the Quag?’ I asked.
‘Why did you enter the Quag?’ she asked me once again.
‘I don’t see why that matters,’ I said stubbornly.
She looked back at me impassively. ‘The difference between what you and I think matters could likely fill a bookcase.’
‘Do you know what’s beyond the Quag?’ I persisted.
I glanced at her in time to see her face seize up like she was in pain. But before I could say anything, she replied, ‘It’s late and I’m very tired.’
‘Well, I’m not tired,’ I said in a strident tone.
‘I will show you your digs and then you can stay up or sleep, as you like.’
‘And I can go where I want? I mean, inside the cottage?’
‘You can go into any room that will let you. Mind you, not all of them will.’
I looked at her like she’d gone completely mental. ‘The room mightn’t let me?’ I said slowly.
‘Rooms have opinions,’ she said. ‘And feelings too.’
‘Feelings!’ I exclaimed.
‘Feelings I said and feelings I meant,’ she reiterated forcefully, and then turned and strode away.
I hurried after her, wondering what madness awaited me in this place.
15
A QUESTION OF DOORS
My digs turned out to be a large, round room with not a stick of furniture in it. I turned to Astrea and said, ‘It’s all right. I have no problem sleeping on the floor.’
‘Now, why would you do that, I wonder?’ she asked.
I gazed around the room to make sure I had not somehow missed a hulking bedstead lurking in a corner. ‘Well, I’d need a bed to—’
Harry Two and I jumped back to avoid being crushed by a mammoth four-poster that seemed to drop from the ceiling.
I cried out, my chest heaving and my limbs quivering. Harry Two started barking madly until I held up one hand and he instantly quieted.
‘One must be careful what one asks for, at least in my cottage,’ said Astrea casually, as she fluffed up the pillows. She turned to me. ‘Or at least move quickly on one’s feet, as you did, my dear,’ she added benignly.
‘B-but where did that bed come from?’
‘It comes from wherever such things exist before they’re needed. And it saves no end of cleaning time to have the things go away while they’re unnecessary.’
‘So,’ I said, ‘you simply ask for something and it appears?’
‘I told you, did I not, that rooms have opinions? Does it not logically follow that they can hear what you say?’
‘Well, a stout wardrobe would not be unwelcome for my things.’
I was ready this time. I had already jumped out of the way when an oak wardrobe with two big doors and a drawer underneath landed with a thud against a wall across from the bed. As I stared at it, the doors opened, and inside were nice cubbies and metal hooks for hanging clothes.
Astrea gave me an appraising look. ‘I see you’re getting the gist of things.’
‘Should I wish for a table and chairs?’ I said, ready to jump.
However, they simply appeared in the corner of the room with a lighted candle in the centre, burning brightly. I looked at her enquiringly.
‘There’s no rule that all things must drop from the ceiling,’ she said. ‘Now, are you hungry? I daresay things can be scrounged up in the kitchen. It does an excellent trifle, in fact, if you fancy such.’
I shook my head, though I could have used something in my belly. ‘I’m full up. You can head off to bed while I put my few things away.’
She looked at me curiously but also intently. A bit too intently, I thought.
‘Well . . . if you’re . . . sure?’ she said in a drawn-out way.
‘Quite sure,’ I replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. ‘And we’ll go for Delph at first light?’
She said, ‘Yes.’
After she left my digs I turned out my tuck. The cavernous wardrobe swallowed my meagre possessions with plenty of room left over.
I jumped up on the bed, which I found quite comfy. Harry Two hopped up next to me and I scratched his ears. He rewarded me with a soft whimper of pleasure. I looked at the door, which had closed when Astrea departed. I jumped down, strode over to it and tried to tug it open. It wouldn’t budge.
I looked in disbelief at Harry Two.
‘She’s locked us in. Well, how do you like that?’
I stepped away from the door and sized it up. Then I backed up to get a running start. I glanced at Harry Two. ‘Don’t worry, I want out of here and we will be in a mo’.’
I started to charge forward and then stopped dead. The door had swung silently open.
I want out of here. That’s what I’d said. And the door had just opened.
I cautiously peered around the corner into
the darkened corridor. There was no sign of Astrea. I stepped out of the room, Harry Two right with me. I looked down at him. I guess he could tell I was anxious because he gave my hip a nudge with his snout as though to say, Let’s budge along, shall we?
I looked to the right. I had been down that way. Thus, I turned left.
A door stood on the right side of the passage. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I stepped back, drew up my courage and said in the most polite voice I could muster, ‘Might I come in, please?’
The door swung open, revealing nothing but darkness.
I looked at Harry Two, who stared back up at me. Now he looked anxious.
‘OK, right,’ I said confidently, though I was feeling not a jot of it actually. I stepped through the doorway. Harry Two followed. As soon as we did, the door shut behind us, and the room brightened.
There was only one object in the room. It was an enormous clock that rested on one huge wall. Attached to it underneath were twin chains with large metal balls affixed to them. The chains disappeared through holes cut in the floor. I crept forward and stared at the clock face. It was unlike any I had seen before. Wug timepieces were divided into the different sections of light and night. There were numbers and words on this one. I drew even closer.
‘Century,’ I read off. That word was under each number etched on the clock face at regular intervals. There was only one hand on the clock. It was now pointed at eight centuries. I had no idea what any of this meant. I stared down at the holes in the floor, into which the chains disappeared. I had no idea where they went. Well, I could learn nothing more here, it seemed.
The next door we reached was about ten feet down the hall.
I stepped in front of it and said, ‘Might we come in, please?’
‘GO AWAY!’ The scream was nearly ear-shattering.
I jumped back so far I hit the opposite wall and slumped down, dazed, before staggering up and hurrying along to the next door.
It opened at my request. We walked inside and I looked around as the room was illuminated by a source of light that remained invisible to me.
There was a small cradle in one corner. I rushed over to it, but it was empty. It was also covered with cobwebs. So was the entire room, which was filled with old, mouldy furniture. While I stood there, I was slowly filled with deep despair, as though only sadness reigned in my heart. Then my despair grew fathoms deeper and I felt tears creep to my eyes. I looked down at Harry Two and I could tell he was having similar emotions. He had lain on the floor and covered his snout with his paws.
When I could stand it no more, I rushed from the room, with Harry Two closely following. When the door closed behind us, the awful feelings instantly vanished. I drew a small knife from my cloak pocket and cut a tiny notch in the wood directly above the door handle. I rushed back and marked in the same way the door that had screamed at me. Now I would know which to leave alone.
The next room shouted at me to GO AWAY! I marked it as well.
The door after that didn’t budge at first and I thought the room was going to scream at me. But no sound came. Except finally a tiny click as the door swung open.
I crept inside and looked around as the darkness was dispelled by a wash of light, again from an unknown source. On every single wall were hundreds of paintings. I moved forward so I could see them more clearly.
Groups of females were depicted wearing long gowns. Their hair was beautifully styled and piled on top of their heads. The males wore dark cloaks with embroidered stitching. One male clutched a long leather lead attached to a canine that looked like a far larger version of Harry Two. The thing looked proud and noble staring off into the distance as it sat obediently beside its master. I looked down at Harry Two and found him staring at his counterpart cast in oils on canvas. He seemed awestruck.
My gaze kept roaming until it finally stopped and held on one female. She was taller than the others, her flamingred hair pooled luxuriously around her broad, muscled shoulders. I instantly recognized her. She was the one I met on my trip through the fiery portals into the past. This female had saved my life and given me the Elemental before dying on the battlefield. Curious though I was about her, my gaze again began roaming to the other paintings, which held landscapes of broad, lovely countryside, towns with towering stone buildings and smoothly laid cobblestone streets. Sleps and carriages were pictured on the cobblestones and there was an air of prosperity and, well, peace.
As I moved around the room, though, the air of hope and prosperity faded. The paintings turned far darker with scenes of battlefields and smouldering ruins. Everyone looked frightened and confused. In one small painting, there was a young female alone on a street, her face uplifted to the dark sky and her mouth open apparently in a scream as tears fell down her dirty cheeks. The sense of loss was awful.
We left this room and reached the next one. The door opened at my asking. Darkness again. I expected the lights to come on, but they didn’t. I did hear something though. Something breathing.
The breaths were uneven, harsh, and sounded painful. I felt my own chest tighten as I listened to them. I looked wildly around for the source of the noise.
There was a large four-poster bed set in the deepest corner of the room. As I drew closer, the room lightened a bit, allowing me to see more clearly. My jaw dropped when I saw him.
He was the oldest male I had ever laid eyes on, even older than ancient Dis Fidus back in Wormwood. He had not a hair on his head. His beard was snow white and curled down his chest and then past it by a good two feet. His eyes were sunken, hollow and brushed liberally with red. His nose was long and horribly misshapen. His cheeks were flat. When he rose up a bit on his pillow, I could see his hands. They were wrinkled claws with large brown spots across them.
He said in a gasping whisper, ‘Who . . . are . . . you?’
‘I’m . . . I’m . . .’ I frantically realized I’d forgotten my own name. Think, think! ‘Vega. I’m Vega J-Jane,’ I said in a rush.
‘J-James?’ said the creature, now trying to prop himself up higher.
I hurried to aid him. When I gripped his shoulder through the nightshirt, I could feel it was not much more than bone. I easily lifted him because he weighed almost nothing, and then I stepped back. ‘Jane,’ I said more loudly. ‘Vega Jane.’
He looked up at me out of those cavernous eye sockets. ‘How came you to be here?’ he said croakily, though he seemed to be breathing a bit easier.
‘A hob named Seamus told me of the place. So, I came.’
‘But why?’
‘Because I heard that Astrea Prine would help me.’
He gave a shuddering breath and said, ‘Help you with what, my dear?’
I sprang back as a hand passed by me.
Astrea laid her youthful palm on the aged creature’s chest and he instantly calmed, his breathing becoming regular. He thanked her with a smile.
Astrea turned to me and said, ‘I see that you’ve met my son, Vega.’
16
THE KEEPER
I stared from Astrea to . . . her son?
‘You mean he’s younger than you are?’ I exclaimed. ‘But—’
She cut me off. ‘Things are not always what they seem, Vega.’
‘I thought you were tired?’ I asked.
She turned to her son. ‘There, there, Archie. Try and get some sleep now, love, OK?’ She kissed him on his withered forehead before turning to me. ‘Come, Vega.’
Harry Two and I followed her out and down the passageway. We returned to the place with the old desk and fireplace that one reached through the secret doorway in the library. She sat down behind the desk and motioned for me to sit across from her.
‘If Archie is your son, why is he so old and you’re so young?’
In answer she pulled out a small glass flask. ‘Because of this.’
‘Is it medicine of some sort?’
‘It is an elixir so potent that it keeps one young for as long as one takes it. It i
s devilishly tricky to make. It requires the blood of a garm and the venom of a jabbit, among other special ingredients.’
‘How do you get blood and venom from those vile creatures?’
‘I keep one of each in cages here at my cottage.’
I cried out, ‘A garm and a jabbit in your cottage!’
‘If you tried to enter the rooms where they are kept, they would have told you to “Go away!”’
I shivered after discovering how close I had been to another wretched jabbit.
‘Archie is dying because he chose not to take the youth elixir.’
‘Why?’
‘He no longer sees a point to it.’
‘Then he’ll die?’ I asked.
‘And soon,’ she said coldly.
Well, I thought, she was rather heartless. ‘How old are you?’
‘Did you find the room with the clock on the wall and the chains going through the floor holes?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did it read?’
‘Eight centuries, whatever that means. But what is that clock keeping track of?’
‘My time here. A century is a hundred of your sessions.’
My jaw dropped. ‘You mean you’re eight hundred sessions old?’ I could barely process what she was saying.
‘A bit older actually. I came here when I was already fully grown.’
‘I also saw a room with many paintings.’
‘You were no doubt told about the Battle of the Beasts back in Wormwood?’
‘All Wugs were told about it. The beasts attacked Wormwood long ago but were beaten back and thereafter remained in the Quag.’
She said emphatically, ‘Well, that was a lie. There was no such thing.’
‘But I’ve seen the paintings at the Council building—’
She shook her head impatiently. ‘There was a war that took place over a great many sessions. However, it was not with the beasts.’ She paused.
I was now squeezing both my legs so hard they felt quite numb. ‘Who was it with, then?’
She gazed at me so strangely I felt myself involuntarily shaking.
‘It does not matter. Not now.’