Lanherne Chronicles (Prequel): To Escape the Dead (27 page)

‘Thank fuck,’ she sighed, using her confident handhold on the pipe to pull herself to the corner.

Using the brief respite against the wind, Liz lent her forehead against the cold pipe to steady her nerves; the chill of the metal helping her clam her rapid breathing one gulping breath at a time. Within moments she could already feel her heart rate beginning to dip below an adrenalin fuelled pounding and soon she was able to brave her grip on the pipework to lean away from the wall so she could look down at the slanted roof below her.

‘Window… I need an open window…’ she muttered to herself, the wind ruffling her short hair while eagerly snatching away her words the moment they left her lips.

With no light coming from any of the rooms and the heavy cloud-cover overhead blanketing the countryside in darkness, it was difficult for her to tell which if any of the windows below were open; but as her gaze moved from one pane of reflected blackness to the next she soon noticed an irregularity in the dark shadows cast by one of the windows some twenty metres away from her. It was a slim chance, but if her hunch was right the extra shadow being cast was due to the window being left slightly ajar.

‘Looks like you’re it,’ she muttered, as she began to climb down the sturdy drain pipe.

With the top of the tiled roof butting up against the building barely four meters below her, it only took her a few moments before her feet once again had something solid, if a little precarious, beneath them.

‘Christ,’ she whispered, when a particularly strong gust of wind suddenly swept past her, threatening to send her tumbling.

Latching her already tired fingers onto a window sill at the last moment, Liz only just managed to stop herself from falling and as she pulled herself closer to the wall a few loose tiles abruptly came free. Almost as if in slow motion she watched one and then another of the ancient tiles fall from place, clattering noisily as they made their merry way with increasing speed to the edge of the roof.

‘Shit!’ she spat, watching the first of the tiles disappearing from sight only to followed moments later by the sound of it shattering on the ground below her.

Instinctively she hugged her body as close to the window as she could, hoping the darker shadows there would hide her should anyone in the grounds hear the falling tiles. But it appeared the residents of Saint Xavier’s were used to the sound of masonry coming loose during windy weather, for as the second tile noisily added itself to the pile of broken terracotta below her, she thankfully heard no shouts of alarm or calls to arms. Then again, it wouldn’t surprise her if Zak and his cronies were so confident that they thought they didn’t need to have anyone on watch at night at all; after all with those at Saint Xavier’s so clearly under the thumb of the black banded guards, who would dare to be wandering about at night unaccounted for? It was only as she let out a sigh of relief that she suddenly realised her stupid mistake; she should have checked just what was on the other side of the window before pressing herself up against it. With images of one of guards inside the room casually watching her escape flashing through her mind, she slowly turned to look behind her. Using a hand to reduce the black mirror-like reflection of the slightly warped glass, Liz pressed her face close against the window pane. Luckily the only thing beyond the glass was a dark empty corridor bathed in shadows; her error had thankfully gone un-witnessed. Tilting her head to the side, she could see that the hallway ran almost to where the open window would be but just before that point, the corridor turned left to continue deeper into the building.

‘Damn!’ she muttered now realising she would be entering a room rather than the deserted corridor.

Liz knew the Academy had far more rooms than inhabitants, so the odds were at least in her favour that the room would be unoccupied but even so it was a risk she wasn’t looking forward to taking.   

Using the stone windo- sills to steady herself, Liz began to move once again. Edging herself slowly from one window to the next she took extra care to place her weight on the lead flashing between the tiles and the brickwork whenever she could. She knew she had been lucky before; the last thing she needed was more of the roof to come crashing down, for there was only so much noise that would be ignored by those inside. Even with her slow cautious progress she soon made it to the window that offered her a way back into Saint Xavier’s and as she pressed her back against the stone window surround she strained to hear any of the tell-tale sounds that could possibly indicate someone was in the room. Hearing nothing but the distant screeching of a fox and the rushing of the wind through the trees at the back of the Academy, Liz decided to take a chance and ducking under the window sill, gingerly began to pull the window open. For a moment the hinges squealed in protest, the sound appearing unnaturally loud amid the blustery darkness causing Liz to freeze mid movement. But again there was no call of alarm and once she was secure in the knowledge that her clandestine re-entry was still being unobserved she pulled the window fully open and climbed through.

Pushing her way through a pair of thick velvet curtains Liz found herself behind an overly large wooden desk that appeared to be taking up much of the space in the small room. From what she could make out in the shadows, the room looked to have been at one point some sort of study or office for one of the teachers. Along one wall, opposite a small fireplace, high bookshelves now stood empty and bare, their precious cargo of knowledge stolen away by unknown assailants. While on the other side of the desk two old battered but comfortable looking leather armchairs seemed to be huddled together as if discussing the unfortunate loss the shelves had endured. Despite the thick layer of dust coating every surface and the definite tang of damp in the air, Liz could still smell the deeply ingrained beeswax polish that must have been used for generations on the wooden furniture within the room. Knowing that if she let both of the curtains fall back into place she would be swallowed by an inky blackness, Liz  hooked one of them as best as she could over the high back of the chair behind the desk.

‘Stay…’ she whispered, as the part of the weighty curtain protested against the repositioning and began to slip back into place.

Before more of the velvet curtain could fall from the chair, Liz focused on the dark shape at the other end of the room that she knew to be the closed door. Fixing the position of the various chairs in her mind, she darted out from behind the wide desk and weaved her way to the door. Just as she reached it the heavy curtain at the window finally got its own way and fell back into place with a dull ‘thump’, plunging her in darkness.

‘Great,’ she muttered, her hand blindly reaching out as she tried to make contact with the panelled door.

With her finger tips first brushing against the cold metal of the fingerplate, she lowered her arm until her fist finally hit and then closed about the heavy circular door knob. It was only at that point that it struck her that the door may in fact be locked and as she took a deep breath hoping for the best, she slowly turned the handle. With a soft ‘click’ she felt the latch slip free of its housing in the door frame and with relief she cautiously pulled the door towards her. For an old door of such weight it moved on its hinges with surprising smoothness and as she stepped aside so she could check the hallway before stepping out, she paused. The corridor beyond was considerably lighter than she had expected, in fact she could even make out the details of the carved panelling opposite her thrown into dark relief by the soft glow of candle light coming from somewhere further down the hall. It was then that she heard someone talking.

‘But what if they come back?’ came a male voice that she thought may have been Zak’s.

‘Do I have to think of every fucking detail, Zak!’ snapped a second voice she instantly recognised as Kyle, confirming her initial suspicion.

‘I’m sure even you can arrange a simple ambush,’ he continued after a pause, his tone barely restrained, ‘get a few of the Dead at the gates, they’ll have to clear them before we let them in…  and then as soon as they’re out of their cart, your archers take them out… simple as that.’

‘Kyle… I… I don’t like this… what if the others don’t go for it?’ she heard Zak mutter.

‘I don’t give a damn what you like,’ replied Kyle, ‘You do or say whatever you have to get them on side…  those men are not coming back in…understand!’

‘Yes, Kyle,’ said Zak.

‘Just remind them that with four more women here there’ll be more…’ Kyle paused, searching for an appropriate word that the black banded guards would use, ‘pussy,’ he continued almost triumphantly as the word suddenly came to him, ‘Yes… more pussy to go round... that should help them get over any qualms about slaughtering the men of this… this group…’

Hearing Zak and his brother so casually discussing the killing of her friends, Liz could feel her rage begin to bubble and churn within her. Whatever they thought they were going to do, she was about to put a sharp spoke in their plans and even as the two men continued talking she silently reached behind her to free her sword from its sheath.

‘But…’ said Zak, his voice taking on a pleading tone causing Liz to pause.

‘But what?’ replied Kyle, the exasperation creeping into his words. ‘Xavier’s gets more women… yes, they may need to be broken… but I’m sure your boys will help there… after all, they always did like team sports… and more importantly we get their two horses. Do you know what that would mean to Saint Xavier’s if we could get our hands on those animals? There’d be no stopping us…’

‘Us?’ said Zak, choking back a sad laugh.

Confused by Zak’s statement, Liz quietly inched the door open just wide enough for her to see Kyle and Zak further down the hallway. Even from this distance she could see the candle light flickering across the stony expression on Kyle’s face.

‘Don’t push me Zak,’ he replied, slowly removing his glasses.

‘I… I’m sorry, Kyle,’ said Zak running his hand nervously through his dark unkempt locks. ‘Please… I’ll… I’ll get them to do what you say, I promise… OK? Please, Kyle… Please… you… you promised it would be today… you promised I could have it today… I… I need it, Kyle…’

‘It?’ Kyle interrupted, raising an eyebrow as if prompting for a correct response.

‘You,’ muttered Zak, looking down at the floor, ‘I need you…’

‘And don’t you forget it, Golden boy,’ sneered Kyle, slipping his glasses back on before reaching over to roughly take Zak by the chin to force him to look him in the eye.

‘Please, Kyle,’ Zak begged, his sorrowful eyes tinged with shame partly hidden by his curtain like fringe of raven curls.

‘My, how the mighty have fallen,’ sighed Kyle, tilting his head back and forth as if examining some strange unknown object rather than his own brother. ‘What would our parents think of you now if they could see what you’ve become?’

‘Kyle,’ said Zak, almost on the point of tears.

‘Oh, alright,’ snapped Kyle, releasing his brother’s chin with a sneer. ‘There’s no need to get even more pathetic than you already are.’

Making a show of searching through his pockets, Kyle watched his brother’s anxious concern with barely hidden cruel amusement.

‘Now, where can it be…’ said Kyle, smirking to himself. ‘Ah, here we go…’

Liz couldn’t see clearly just what Kyle pulled from his jacket pocket but as Zak clutched it to his chest she was sure she caught a glimpse of some sort of stoppered test tube.

‘And make it last this time,’ Kyle continued, wagging his finger at his brother as if he was scolding a child. ‘There’s only so much I can so with what’s left in the Chemistry lab and it’s not as if I can just lay my hands on more of ingredients.’

‘Yes, Kyle… thank… thank you, Kyle,’ he replied, already trying to back into the room with his precious gift.

‘Just remember what I said,’ added Kyle, clearly enjoying prolonging Zak’s torture. ‘Those men cannot be allowed to get back in here… Oh, and get rid of the deaf kid, his brother and the other two sometime tomorrow afternoon… no sense knocking them off before we get another full day’s work out of them…’

‘Yes, Kyle... I mean, no, Kyle,’ nodded Zak, taking another step backwards. ‘I’ll see to everything…’

‘Yes, you do that,’ Kyle finally said, deciding he had delayed his brother’s departure long enough.

‘Anyway, I’m going to check on our other… guests… make sure those two moronic muscle heads of yours haven’t riled them up too much and got themselves into trouble…,’ continued Kyle, turning away from Zak.

No sooner had Kyle broken eye contact with his brother than Zak abruptly closed his door with a soft click.

‘Pleasant dreams,’ chuckled Kyle to himself as he began to walk along the corridor carrying the pool of warm comforting candle light with him.

Liz waited for Kyle to reach the end of the hallway, his flickering candle sending ghostly shadows dancing across the panelled walls and once she was sure he was far enough ahead so not to notice her, she stepped silently through the door to follow.

It was painfully obvious to her now that Zak was an addict of some kind and his own brother was clearly all too willing to feed this habit to meet his own agenda. He strictly controlled the supply and manufacture of this drug, whatever it was, and by controlling the supply he controlled the man; and so in turn it was he who really controlled Saint Xavier’s. Just how many of those who lived at the Academy really knew Zak was but a puppet for Kyle to pull and twist at his whim, she had no idea but the fact that Zak was still accepted as their leader led her to doubt many, if any, did.