Martyn Vaughan - The Cave of Shadows

‘I believe you’ve just been through the magic show.’

‘Magic show?’

‘Let me get straight to it, the longer this takes the more danger we’re in. Jarz took you to the council building where you were told that you’d been a naughty boy and that you’d better buck your ideas up.’

‘Something like that, yes.’

‘And then you heard a terrible voice saying that someone had been watching you… and so on.’

Jon leaned forward eagerly. ‘Yes! How do you know that?’

The other gave a world-weary smile. ‘Because we’ve all been through it. Tell me, were there two other men there who didn’t say anything and whose hands you never saw?’

Jon could not confirm the position of the hands but he could confirm the silence.

The other Jon nodded, with the expression of someone who had known all along that he was right but had just received indubitable confirmation.

‘Naturally. They were the ones running the show.’

‘The show – what show?’

‘The voice, man! It’s all an illusion, you didn’t actually fall for it did you? It’s just a normal voice somehow amplified – that means “made louder” – to scare you into submission. That’s what they want – submission.’

Jon’s face must have indicated incomprehension because Jon11 threw his hands up in disgust.

‘The Council, man! They’re running this place and they want us all to be good boys and do as we’re told.’

‘But we don’t do anything here, except eat and sleep,’ Jon observed, somewhat timidly.

‘At the moment. But more of us are arriving every day. I know there’s talk that when we reach a certain number something big is going to happen. You know about the Lords of the Sands?’

Jon started but simply replied ‘Yes.’

‘My bet is that we’re going to go down and take their lands off them.’

‘You’ve had dealings with them?’

‘Not quite. They tried to capture me but I was too quick for them.’

Jon nodded. This sounded plausible but it didn’t seem to account for all he had seen.

‘What about the Gate of Light? Where does that come in?’

Jon11 snorted. ‘The Gate of Light! That’s another of their tricks! Does it look like a gate? And if you went through it you’d just be on the other side of the hill!’

‘It doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before,’ Jon observed mildly.

‘You’ve seen everything there is, have you? It’s just a natural thing, is all. Why is the sky red?’

‘I don’t know,’ Jon admitted, ‘But what about the Lord Korok?’

Jon11 burst into spluttering laughter. ‘Man, they picked an easy target with you, didn’t they? Korok – where is he? Have you seen him walking around, scratching his bum? Don’t you get it – he’s the biggest trick of all. A bogeyman to frighten us all so we do what we’re told.

‘There is no Lord Korok!’

The excited voice trilled through the morning air.

‘Today is the day! Today! The time of the hunt!’

Jon ignored the voice. He did not know what it meant and at that exact moment he did not care. He strode back and forth, clenching and unclenching his great hands.

How could he have been so stupid! It was now obvious that the whole meeting at the Council had been a sham, a simple box of tricks designed to fool the unsophisticated newcomer. And he had fallen for it!

The question was – what to do now? Should he simply ignore the whole thing and settle down to enjoy this simple life? After all, had he not deserved an easy time, with food and drink not merely on demand but suddenly appearing on his table before he had fully realised that he wanted them?

He continued his pacing, unable to resolve the issue. He disliked being made a fool of but what was the alternative – should he storm the Council building and attack the members with his bare hands?

Obvious nonsense.

He sat down and rested his chin on a fist. No answers came to him.

It was then that he became aware that it was becoming very noisy outside, with an excited babble getting louder and louder until it was unquestionably obtrusive. Feeling distinctly annoyed he rose and looked out of his door.

There was a throng of people stretching in all directions along the terrace. Some were looking very excited and were engaged in feverish conversations with their fellows; others were solitary, or at best in small groups, and looking very worried and dejected.

Jon stared up and down the crowd, trying to make sense of what was happening. Finally, he stopped a man who was rushing past his door and demanded: ‘What’s going on?’

The other made to pull himself out of Jon’s grasp but it was too strong.

‘It’s the hunt, you yokel. Now let me go!’

Jon continued to hold the struggling man.

‘Who is hunting who?’ he demanded.

The man stopped his flailing and looked Jon full in the face.

‘Why a Degenerate of course. Who else? Now let me go before I call a Councilman!’

Jon complied, not because of the threat but because of that word.

Degenerate .

Certain words and phrases kept recurring. They seemed to hold some great meaning, perhaps some dread meaning. But he did not know what that meaning was.

He watched the man hurry off without emotion or interest. He had no desire to get involved in whatever this foolish ceremony was. He was tired of this whole way of life; this repetition of meaningless trivia; of periods of light which were utterly indistinguishable from each other. The purgatory of the quiet life.

He realised then that he had in fact made his decision: coming here had been a mistake. He had condemned himself to a meaningless life where people in power obviously took him to be an ignorant dupe. Well no more!

He strode angrily back into his house. And then he stopped, rigid with astounded shock.

His sword was there, exactly where he had left it, all those periods of light ago.

He picked it up, turning it over and over, trying to make sure that it was indeed his sword, the one given to him by the Lords of the Sands. It was; he saw all the small nicks and blemishes in the unknown black material (had they said: “Midnight Steel”?) from which the Lords fashioned their weapons. It was his sword.

Jarz had said that he might get it back but had implied that there might be some unpleasantness involved in its return. No matter. Jon grasped the sword and waved it back and forth, feeling a welcome optimism flowing back into him.

He no longer felt naked and vulnerable. Let dangers come! He would face them now!

Now it was time to discover what was happening that had got the populace into such a turmoil.

Stepping outside, he saw that the crowd had got even larger and, if possible, even more agitated.

He hailed another passer-by, this time not so aggressively.

‘This hunt – where is the Degenerate?’

The other had time to grin before rushing on.

‘We’ll find out soon. You’d better hope it’s not you!’

A strange answer, Jon thought, surely either you were or were not a Degenerate – whatever that unfortunate state was. He decided to follow the retreating individual to see if he could discover more about this unknown ceremony.

The people seemed to be thinning out in one particular area and Jon shouldered his way through to see if anything special was visible. Nothing unexpected was, just more people, some looking around with what even at this distance was clearly terror.

Jon had just decided that he was wasting his time and, now that he had his sword, that it was time to begin his journey back to the forest when a shrill cry rang out: ‘There it is! Here it comes!’

Jon spun around and saw a small ball of bright blue light soaring through the air towards him, moving as it were completely weightless. It passed close to the top of his head without giving any sensation of its passage. Jon spun around to follow its movements and saw it hover over one man directly in front of him. The man stared up at him, his features having gained a weird bluish tinge from its radiance.