Maximilian stirred restlessly once more, and Garth thought he might attempt to pull his ankle away. He glanced at him anxiously, but even though the prince was clearly upset, he kept his ankle still.
Joseph struck again, harder this time, and the point of the pick slipped almost completely through the link. One more time, and it would snap.
Garth blinked, thinking for a moment that his vision was blurring, then realised that the small chamber in which they crouched had almost filled with sea mist.
Ravenna.
He looked at the hanging wall briefly, and smiled. Without her Maximilian would not have a chance. None of them would.
Joseph struck again, and the chain fell apart.
Maximilian whimpered, his eyes wide and frightened as they looked between Garth and Joseph. “Please, don’t leave me alone. Not in the darkness.”
“We’re going to get you out, Maximilian.” Vorstus had reappeared. “He’s free? Good. Maximilian, come, lean on me.”
“Out?” Maximilian mumbled, letting Vorstus pull him to his feet. “Out where?”
Garth laughed with sheer relief and exuberance. “Beyond the hanging wall, Maximilian!”
“No,” Maximilian shook his head, his face weary and sad once more. “No, there is nothing beyond the hanging wall. No. Please don’t leave me alone in the dark…please!”
“We’ve no time for this, boy,” Vorstus grunted as the prince leaned his weight on his shoulder. “Do you remember the plan?”
Garth nodded. “Yes. We’ll follow you to the chamber by the shaft with Jack and the two guards who came down with us. There, you—with Morton and Gustus—will take Maximilian to the surface and to the hiding place you’ve arranged. My father and I will stay down here.”
Joseph narrowed his eyes. When he had Garth alone the boy would surely have a lot of explaining to do.
“After two or three hours the effects of the dream fog will lift,” Garth continued. “Jack—as everyone else affected by it—will wake. He will think that we have only just descended the shaft and will lead us down to Section 205 to treat the prisoners for fungus…and while we are still only partly down the tunnel I have no doubt that we’ll meet one of the two guards assigned to this gang rushing to raise the alarm that one of the prisoners has escaped.”
“Good. Join us when you can—but be careful! I don’t want suspicion falling either on you or on your father. No-one will remember a few guards who were here one day, gone the next.”
“How long have you been planning this?” Joseph said as they made their way back down the tunnel, Gustus and Morton prodding the virtually sleepwalking Jack and his two companion guards behind them. Ahead of them Vorstus half supported, half carried Maximilian; the prince seemed dazed and confused without the eight other men chained to his left ankle.
“Long enough,” Garth said. “Look, father, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this before…but while we wait for the guards to wake after Vorstus has taken Maximilian above I will tell you everything. I promise.”
Joseph shook his head, trying to be cross with his son, but like his son he was too excited to feel anything but exultation at finding Maximilian. And the Order of Persimius were involved, too! That reassured Joseph. If Garth had come up with this plan all by himself then Joseph would have wondered at its sanity.
His eyes slipped to the mist that drifted through the tunnel. It was surely an enchanted thing, and Joseph stared at Vorstus’ back with vastly increased respect. He did not know much about the Order of Persimius only that they were devoted to the royal family and that they commanded subtle arts—but they must be infinitely more powerful than he had supposed if they could wield such power as this.
When they reached the shaft—the cage still waiting there—Garth was relieved to see the sentry crumpled in sleep at his post. Surely the entire Veins were asleep by this stage!
Garth grinned to himself as they waited for the others to catch up. Well, the prisoners deserved a good sleep for a time. He would have liked to have been able to free all of the men, but realised that not all of them were as innocent as Maximilian (although some surely were; how many other men had been conveniently “lost” down the Veins?) and, in any case, a mass escape was out of the question.
Not when the priority of all concerned was to get Maximilian as far away from the Veins as fast as they could.
Now Morton and Gustus had caught them up. The guards they had gently herded along the tunnel slipped gently to the floor to dream undisturbed among the gloam dust.
Vorstus caught Garth’s eyes again. “You know where to find us?”
Garth nodded.
“Good.” He adjusted Maximilian’s weight a little as Morton opened the doors of the cage. “Join us when you can.”
Then he dragged an unresisting Maximilian into the cage, Morton and Gustus stepping in after him. The cage door slammed, and the next instant chains rattled and cogs whirred as the cage began its crazy ascent to the world beyond the hanging wall.
The last thing Garth heard was Maximilian’s frightened cry as the cage began to move.
He stared at the blackness of the shaft for a moment, then felt his father’s firm hand on his shoulder.
“Garth. I think you have some explaining to do.” Ravenna paced back and forth, back and forth, her cloak now clutched tightly about her in whiteknuckled hands, her teeth anxiously nibbling her lip. Below her she could hear the cage rushing its way to the surface.
She felt almost nauseous with worry. Had all gone well? The brief touch of Vorstus’ mind indicated that all was well, but so much could still go wrong.
Was Maximilian well? Would they be caught? Would they manage to finally escape this cursed place?
“Skip, trip, my pretty man,” she murmured, her eyes darkening now back to their original grey, and the cage rattled its way into the overhead framework.
Almost before it had stopped Morton had the cage door open and was helping Vorstus with Maximilian. Ravenna stepped forward, one hand to her mouth, one stretched towards Maximilian, trembling with her emotion.
“Is he…?”
“He’ll be fine, Ravenna,” Vorstus said, his mouth open to say yet more, when Maximilian raised his head.
His eyes widened in complete shock and his entire body spasmed in horror.
What was this netherworld that he had been dragged into?
Most of the fog had dissipated by now, and Maximilian could not comprehend the open spaces and the feel of the air moving against his body; he had completely forgotten the touch, let alone the name, of wind. As Maximilian looked wildly about, the clouds cleared momentarily and he caught a glimpse of the open sky.
The unending vastness was too much—where was the security of the hanging wall?
“Noooo!” he screamed, and tried to twist free from Vorstus’ grip.
“Morton! Gustus! Help me!” Vorstus cried, grunting with the effort of keeping Maximilian locked in his arms.
It took the three of them to subdue the man, Ravenna looking on helplessly, crying as she finally perceived the depth of the prince’s pain.
“Come,” Vorstus said eventually, once Maximilian had quietened down. “I had not thought he would react this badly. We’ll have to move fast. Ravenna, is the way clear?”
She nodded, took a deep breath then turned on her heel and led them away from the poppet head.
They walked as fast yet as silently as they could, knowing that time was passing, yet not knowing how much had been lost. When would the complex wake about them? Both fog and clouds had entirely gone, although the fog’s effects would linger for some time, and the sun shone clear and bright above them. If the complex woke from its magical sleep while they were still outside they would be caught within minutes.
Ravenna led them down a long, disused track. The monks of the Order of Persimius had kept watch on the Veins for almost two years now, and they had established several hiding places on the outskirts of the complex. Now Ravenna led them towards the most secret of them.
She glanced anxiously over her shoulder as they walked. Was that a faint noise in the distance? Voices? The cage in the main shaft rattling? The fall of pursuing feet? She locked eyes with Vorstus for a moment.
“Courage, girl,” he grunted, and she turned back to the path ahead.
Finally they reached a small hillock and Ravenna’s shoulders slumped in relief. They were beyond the perimeter of the Veins, but even here the ground was lightly dusted with gloam dust, and Ravenna, and those who followed behind her, were careful where they trod lest they leave footprints. Morton, who came last, carefully erased the slightest suggestion of any footprints with a loosely held sack.