Part One is here

With a wordless cry she dropped to her knees beside him and tried to roll him over. He was heavy but she got her shoulder beneath his arm and heaved and finally he moved, his arm flying out to crack against the hard floor.

A knife was buried in his shoulder and his eyes were fluttering, half open. ‘Martin, can you hear me, Martin?’

He forced them open, blinking slowly. ‘Scarlet. Go home, go home now. You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t your fight, not anymore. Go home.’

‘But you’re dying.’ Her hands rested on his chest and she sobbed, the tears creeping up on her. His hand came up, surprisingly strong.

‘I’m not dying. But you can’t be here anymore. I should have sent you away after the first one. Go home.’

‘But—’

‘NOW.’

She stumbled to her feet shaking her head, heart hammering in her chest. His head rolled to one side, but his chest was still rising and falling. What was she supposed to do? His head rolled back, eyes open again, and he whispered now.

‘Joanna Slater, as your master, I command you to leave here now, and return to a place of safety.’

He had that official tone on that made her want to punch him, but she glanced at the body on the desk and thought for the first time that maybe he was right. She ran to the door, looking back at him. He nodded, slowly, and she could see his eyes were already wider, alert, and his mouth was moving, chanting.

With a whimper she opened the door and dashed out into the tunnel, slamming it behind her.

She didn’t remember the journey home, only sitting on the bus hugging her knees to her chest as she stared out at the dim light of the late afternoon, seeing again and again the bodies and the sightless eyes that followed her the entire way.

—-

She awoke to find her quilt on the floor and her body bathed in sweat. It didn’t help that she still had her clothes on. She peered out the window at the dull light creeping in. It was morning, earlier than she cared to see and, she realised, the first proper day of holiday.

Christmas was now only two days away, which meant two days until everything ended. The thought was laughable, and she desperately wanted to cry. She grabbed for her laptop, craving distraction, and flicked onto facebook.

No messages, nothing new there then. The few people she had as friends, normally school associates who were kind enough to respond to her friend requests, were up to their usual tricks. Jenny and Ashika got really pissed last night, and posted loads of random videos. Won’t be watching them, then.

James had a new high score on COD. Yay. The nice thing about James was he had almost as few friends as she did and most of them were twelve year old gamers from the states whom he took great pleasure in luring somewhere in the game, then turning on them, earning wails of distress down the headset.

He’d told her all this in great detail, which was about the most boring thing ever, but as he’d patiently listened to the entire plot of ‘The Half-blood Prince’, she couldn’t really argue.

A message! The little box sprung up from the bottom of the screen and she stared at it, waiting for it to go away or announce she was a competition winner courtesy of some completely inappropriate alcohol.

She maximised it and read it, then read it again. Then blinked and read it again.

‘Scarlet, my name is Lara. I know about the Undying and I want to help. Pls respond. Btw, your profile picture is hot! ;)’

Her profile picture was hot. Heh. She clicked through and was immediately annoyed that the line had already been taken. Lara was, like, the epitomy of hot. Possibly, assuming epitomy meant what she thought it did.

With an efficiency born of experience she trawled Lara’s profile, building up a pretty good picture of her in a few minutes. She liked the right sort of music, Green Day, Paramore; she loved Anime, Disney, and the works of Luc Besson, whoever that was. She read lots, all sorts of books, and loved cats. She was, basically, made to be her wife.

She had the most amazing eyes, green, almost grey, that seemed to jump out of the screen, but not in a crazy way. Her hair was shortish, back-combed, but not in a terrible eighties way, and she was sporting a pout that made parts of Scarlet sit up and take notice like they never had before.

Her hands were actually shaking slightly as she hit reply. ‘Hey Lara, thanks for the message. I’d love your help, and maybe your babies… delete, delete.

Hey Lara, thanks for your message. Yes please, I’d really love some help. Where are you?’

She stared at it for a few minutes, trying to work out how she could mention the whole really sexy thing, but failed and hit send before she could bottle out.

A few seconds later her computer pinged again and the message popped up. ‘Actually, sorry for the creep factor, but I’m at the bottom of your road.’

Next Installment Monday 12th February

Part One is here

Martin’s forehead creased, head shaking. He swore quietly as he laid the body against the wall. Scarlet stared at her hands, wondering why they were shaking so much. She looked down at the body and realised it wasn’t just her hands that were shaking. She stepped away, hands held out in defence, then turned and vomited against the far wall of the tunnel.

She turned and looked back at the body. She couldn’t imagine ever not seeing it. Every time she closed her eyes, she’d see it, see the eyes staring at her. He was dead, just like that.

Her master knelt before the body, hand slipping inside the bomber jacket, and emerging a few moments later with a wallet. He turned back to her. Their eyes met and he blinked, then stepped closer and opened his arms wide.

She buried her face in his chest and wept, hoping the tears would wash the vision away. They didn’t though and she pushed herself away from him, scrubbing her face with her sleeve, not wanting to look down the tunnel and see if anyone was still watching them.

She was supposed to be able to handle stuff now. Someone-possibly her computer-thought she could save the world, so she should be able to handle a dead body. She glanced over at it and the shaking began again, and she wondered for the life of her why anyone thought she could do anything dangerous, let alone save the world.

Martin was leafing through the wallet, then he tossed it onto the body with a hiss. ‘Nothing, not even a library card.’
‘Do bad guys normally read, then?’
He gave her a look, which softened as he took in her desperate grin. ‘Sorry, I deplore the violence, the whole thing, but we could have done with knowing something about him.’
‘How did he die?’
‘Poison. He had something, either in his mouth already, or close at hand.’
‘He killed himself?’ Her voice was a whisper as her head shook.
Martin nodded. ‘He had secrets we weren’t to know. He is linked to the Undying, of that there is no doubt. There aren’t many sects around who still practice this level of dedication, but they are out there, and one such could well be the group attempting to raise him.’
‘Sorry, sect?’
‘A religious group, often with a single purpose in mind.’
‘Like raising Jesus’s dead/not dead twin brother?’
‘Yes, exactly.’
They stood in silence for a moment, Scarlet wanting to look away from the body but not managing it. It was horribly compelling, like reality TV. It was wrong, and quite possibly evil, but strangely difficult to switch off. Martin nodded, once, then guided her gently round. ‘Come, let us find The Healer.’

They set off down the corridor, leaving behind them a dead boy not much older than she. When Scarlet glanced back, there were already two people gathered around the body. She bit back a whimper as one of them took his feet and dragged him away into the darkness.
She hurried after Martin, tugging at his sleeve. ‘So where did you learn to do all the, you know, sword fighting stuff?’
‘The Council.’
‘What did you do for them?’
There was a long pause, long enough for her to wonder if she’d asked the wrong question, then to decide she had, then to decide she didn’t care all that much, and that he needed to stop being so sensitive, and man up a little. Then he spoke.
‘I was a soldier.’
‘What, like uniform and a gun, that kinda thing?’
‘No. Their soldiers are individual, trained in magical warfare, sent to do very specific tasks.’
‘So, have you…’ She tailed off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to climb back up her throat. Did she want to know?
‘Killed someone? Yes.’ He looked down, stopping. ‘Yes, I did, and I can’t change it. Or take it back, however much I wish I could.’

She blinked, suddenly not wanting to look at him. Of course he had, how had she been naive enough to think otherwise? Actually, she hadn’t thought about it at all, not until now. It was possible, if she tried really hard, to stop thinking about it, maybe. She just needed something else to focus on.

‘So, who’s this Healer guy?’

Martin shifted his shoulders, and resumed walking. His voice was gruff and quiet when he replied. ‘He’s an old…friend of mine, from when I worked for The Council. Whether he remembers me, or the friendship, we’ll find out.’

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that and they walked on in silence until they reached a door, upon which Martin rapped loudly. A few moments later it swung in and they were faced with a man bearing a huge smile, his teeth white against his dark skin.
He stared at them for a second and the smile faded. ‘Martin. What are you doing here?’
That was great. She was guessing, and it was only a guess, that the friendship wasn’t perhaps as strong as Martin had made out. Her master stepped closer, voice soft. ‘The Undying is coming, Healer, we need some help.’

The man stepped back, folding his arms and staring down his nose at them both. ‘So, after three years, you need help and just turn up on my doorstep, as though we saw one another last week?’
Scarlet sighed and stepped forward. ‘Hi, my name’s Joanna. We’ve never actually met, so if you wanna be pissed at Martin, be my guest, I know it’s easy, but please don’t take it out on me.’
She stuck her hand out and the man, eyebrows raised, took it without apparently realising what he was doing. They shook and Scarlet gave him a big smile. ‘Can we come in please?’
The man, still looking slightly bemused, took a step back and Scarlet pushed her way past and into his home. Martin followed close behind and they were soon ensconced in a pair of high back chairs, facing a desk bearing precisely nothing.

The healer sat opposite them, opened a drawer, and took out a pad of paper and a pen, laying them just so on the dark wooden table. OCD much? It made a nice change from Martin’s chaos though. She didn’t have a desk. There wasn’t room in her bedroom, and besides, why use a desk when there was a perfectly good bed to sit on?

‘I normally charge for my time, but since you have arrived with this good-for-nothing, I will give you the first five minutes gratis. What can I do for you?’
‘The Undying guy, thing, whatever, is rising like, this Christmas, and we’d really like it if he didn’t. Do you know what the charms of Undoing are, please?’
He sat back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His lips were moving, a low fast chant flowing from him, without pause. It was like having the TV on in the background. It was also creepy as hell.

Finally he stopped, like someone had turned off the tap, and he sat forward, leaning his forearms on the desk and clearing his throat. ‘The charms of Undoing, when combined and potentised through the speaking of the correct words, will cause the spells used for the raising of the Undying, to cease in the correct function.’
‘Um, in English please?’
The Healer gave the slightest of smiles. ‘Find the charms, get to the grave, say the right thing, and the spell to raise the Undying will no longer work. Understand?’
She nodded. ‘Seems simple enough. Where can we find them?’
Hs leaned back again, repeating the scary mumbling thing. It was quicker this time. ‘The first of the charms is a living creature, and may be discovered—’
‘Hang on, sorry, give me a moment.’ She pulled her phone out and flicked on the voice recorder, holding it out toward him. He looked at it, eyebrows raised. ‘Sorry, if it isn’t really good poetry or song lyrics, I’m gonna forget it.’

He shook his head and went on. ‘The first of the charms is a living creature and may be discovered—
He stopped, mouth still open and she sat forward. ‘Yes, may be discovered?’
He fell forward, the hilt of the knife buried in his back now angled toward the ceiling. She screamed, shoving herself back in her chair, but it caught on the rug and toppled over backward. Her head slammed against the hard back, her teeth closing on her tongue, and she shouted in pain.

She flapped about in the chair as the sounds of fighting filled the room. She heard Martin grunt, followed by a loud thump, then a strange face appeared above hers, leering down.
‘Forget this. The Undying will rise and nothing you do will stop it. Forget this, or you will suffer the same fate as the Healer.’
The face vanished and she rolled out of the chair onto her side. Her mouth was filled with blood and she crawled to the desk then pulled herself up. Her eyes came in line with the body of the Healer and she jumped, moaning in the back of her throat.
Then she saw Martin lying face down, blood running from beneath him to pool on the hardwood floor.

Next Installment Friday 21st February

Part One is here

This was, in hindsight, entirely predictable. What was it about the magic fraternity, that despite all the wonderful stuff they could do, it still came down to threats of violence? What was wrong with asking nicely, or bargaining maybe?

She glanced around the room. There were seven of them, all as thin as the man who’d brought them here, all carrying long, curved swords with thin blades. They were, she was fairly certain, unlikely to respond well to her asking where the toilet was.

Scarlet swallowed, and shook her head. ‘What else do we get?’

‘Your life isn’t enough?’

‘It’s a start.’

Seeker sat back, eyebrows raised, and chuckled, talking now to Martin. ‘She has stones, this one, more perhaps than you. You chose well.’

Martin, in a dry tone she’d never heard from him before, replied. ‘I didn’t chose, not as such. But she asks you a reasonable question. Why should we tell you?’

‘Because you have as much concern about the world ending as I do. Do you need any other reason?’

Fair point. Surely there was something she could get from this? What was happening? When did she suddenly become like all the others, desperate to get something? Actually, she’d always been like that, only before, the quest had been for chocolate, or pizza, or maybe both.

The silence stretched out, and she was about to give up, when Seeker shrugged, and cracked his knuckles. ‘I can offer you information, in the future, should you need it.’

Her first thought was of Martin, and his wife, and she realised things had changed. She nodded. ‘That sounds reasonable. This is what we know.’

She told him about the poem, and the horse and book, but stayed quiet about the necklace. He didn’t have to know everything. When she’d finished, he was nodding. ‘These things, the horse and the book? What are they for?’

He was looking at Martin when he said that, and her master shook his head. ‘I don’t know, not yet, but we’ll work it out.’

Seeker stood, paced once across the room and back again, clapping his hands together. ‘Well enough, I suppose. Where are you bound now?’

Martin stood, clearing his throat. ‘We have others to visit here, before we leave. We shall see you again, I’m sure.’

He headed for the exit, and Scarlet realised time was up. She gave Seeker a wave, and headed after Martin. Only once they were back in the tunnel, beneath the yellow glow of the bulbs, did Martin speak.

‘That was well played, my apprentice, well played indeed. Information is never given cheap, not down here. You failed to mention the necklace, I noticed.’

‘Uh, yeah, must have slipped my mind. Look, Martin, I didn’t mention it before ‘cause we didn’t have time, but when I put it on, I hear voices.’

His head jerked up. ‘Do you recognise them?’

‘No, but they know about me. They said they were going to kill me.’

‘Did they say why?’

‘Something about charms of Undoing.’

Martin grabbed her hand, nodding at her with eyes wide. ‘Are you sure? That’s exactly what they said?’

‘Uh, yeah, something like, ‘we must find the Slater girl, before she finds the charms of Undoing.’

‘Did they really sound like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like a sort of bad James Earl Jones impression?’

She shrugged. ‘Well, maybe not quite so Darth Vader, but it was pretty deep.’

He nodded. ‘That’s terrific, really.’

‘What, that they’re going to kill me?’

‘Oh, no, well, that isn’t particularly good news, but the charms of Undoing may well be the only chance we’ve got. Now we need to figure out where they are.’

‘Yeah, and like, what they are, you know?’

(c) Kayleigh Fulbrook

He nodded, absently, then turned and strode away. ‘Come, we can visit The Healer before we have to get you home.’

‘Does no one around here have normal names?’

He chuckled. ‘Do you not find it useful? I’d have thought naming people by their skill set was a most logical way to behave.’

‘Well, yeah, but what about if you’re a street cleaner, or you do advertising or something? It’s like really bad superhero names.’

He gave her a look, and shook his head. ‘I don’t think you’ll find too many of either of those down here. Come.’

He set off at a march, first through the market, then down one of the many tunnels branching away from it. This one was better lit than the others, and there were doors at irregular intervals, bearing dull metal plaques. Peering at one on the way past, she spotted a ‘Mgc. Alewis Hardsteady, Curses pertaining to matters of the heart.’

‘What is this, some kind of health centre?’

Martin laughed. ‘This is the Underworld. If you can think of it, this is where you can get it.’

‘Ooh, OK, I’m thinking of Johnny Depp, with the Pirates of the Caribbean mustache, but, like, jeans and no top.’ She paused. ‘Right, where is he?’

Martin had stopped, and was staring at her, brows creased together. ‘Is nothing serious?’

She grinned sheepishly. ‘Um, should he have a top on? Is it the nudity bit?’

He sighed, long suffering, and she poked him in the chest. ‘Lighten up, fella, it’s not all doom and gloom.’

‘Actually, I think you might find it is.’

The voice that spoke was familiar, although she couldn’t place it, and when she turned around, she found she didn’t know the face at all. He was remarkably normal, with the worst sort of emo haircut that meant she couldn’t see his eyes, and a big puffer jacket.

He was wearing a smile that made him look about fifteen, but when he lifted his hand, the fire burning on his palm was very serious. ‘Is he from the Council?’ She spoke from the side of her mouth.

‘No, I’m not sure where he’s from.’ Martin raised his voice. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know you. What can we do for you?’

The manboy smiled, and shook his head. ‘Even in my wildest dreams I didn’t expect you to actually say that. What can you do for me? You can die.’

His hands shot forward, and the fire came hurtling toward them.

Next Installment Monday 17th February