Ordinary Joe and the Mark of Four
Chapter Twenty Four

Joe stood at the centre of the bridge and saw his father die. It happened in slow motion; the woman stepping back and drawing her knife, the King smiling and then suddenly falling forward, blood trailing behind.

Suddenly the last scraps of energy left his body, and he fell, sagging in hands desperate to hold him up, until he was on his knees, their faces closing in; mouths yelling at him in panic. He couldn’t hear their words and through the chamber colour bled from the rocks until all was dark and grey. Even the Majia, dancing brightly in its crystal prisons, flared and died. All he could see was the woman, standing with the dagger, and there the colour was vivid red. His own blood froze in his veins and all he could hear was his heart beating, slower and slower.

From the silence, the woman’s voice reached him.

“It’s over boy.” Each word echoed inside his head. She reached inside her coat and drew out a small glittering ball of light. Around him the others stopped, trapped between the horde and the villainous woman ahead. She threw the spark into the air. It spun and shattered, scattering more beads of light, each spinning and dripping sparks, growing larger and larger, creating dark holes edged with Majia.

Kinga pushed past the others and dropped to Joe. She shook him, her eyes glistening, but he couldn’t hear. Petraya, bow drawn, stared at the growing Majia gates and for the first time there was fear on her face. Behind them the stranger stepped to the edge of the bridge, Maven and Reece hauled behind him, his friend calling out but as silent as the rest. Maven would not raise his head.

The gates were dazzling, dozens of them hanging in the air, and Kinga shuddered watching each open, spilling dark, emerald dragons into the mines. The beasts roared and circled high overhead, spitting fire against the rocks.

In the centre of the cavern, the first gate continued to grow,until three times the size of any other. From its depths a shadow grew, thick wings beating, and a colossal dragon appeared. Its roar shook the chamber and Kinga gripped Joe tightly, no longer trying to make him move. A man rode the beast, hunched and deathly, smiling despite his grotesque appearance, and savage delight played in his eyes. Joe knew immediately who he was. Finally, his brother, Avarat.

The dragon hovered before them, immense wings beating the air, scattering the mists below and Avarat raised his hand, staring at Joe.

“My brother, at last.” Joe shuddered. The voice was cold and loveless; mocking him. “Our father is dead, a necessity I regret.” Joe looked to the fallen King. The woman drew a final bead of light from her coat, tossing it into the air and another gate grew before her. She bowed to Avarat, though she did not smile.

“You have the boy,” she said, “As agreed.” Avarat nodded, smiling a cold, dry smile.

“Thank you my friend,” he said, “Return to Hatriila. I will join you there shortly. We will discuss your payment.” She kept her eyes on him, showing no emotion.

“Our contract is fulfilled,” she said, “The job is done. I will wait for payment at the palace as you request. There will be no discussion.” Joe thought Avarat’s smile wavered, but the woman did not seem to care and bowed to him once more. She glanced at Joe, her eyes flat and cold, and stepped into the gate. Then she was gone.

“Tell me,” Avarat said, turning his attention back to Joe, “What have they told you of me? That I am cruel? Mad even!” He gave a short laugh, casting his gaze to where Kozane held Maven captive. The Warlock was watching Avarat closely, but his face was blank and he said nothing. “I never tried to harm you Johlen. It was our father who sent you to that wretched world, against my wishes I would add. All I ever wanted was to bring you home.” Home. The word played around Joe’s head. Was there a single person who understood Antigol would never be his home?

“Our father was weak,” Avarat said, “Like others before him. They did not have the strength to unite Antigol, and so men warred. Despite what you have heard, I swear to you brother, I am sick of all this death.”

“Don’t listen Joe!” Maven’s voice rang out loudly through the cavern, and beside him the stranger flinched, turning angrily and striking him hard across the face,

“Quiet!” he hissed. Avarat nodded to the man,

“Thank you Kozane.” He turned his gaze back to Joe, “You see? None of them care about you at all. You are just a part of their ridiculous prophecy. It doesn’t matter to them what you want, as long as you follow its words.” He leaned forward, his smile becoming sympathetic, “I can take away your pain. You can feel it inside can’t you, hiding away, poisoning your flesh. Why doesn’t it save you now? Why didn’t it save your father?” Joe dropped his gaze and his anger rose. Avarat was right. The Majiak had done nothing but hurt him and for all their talk of its power, it had let his father die. “Let me help,” Avarat said, “Give it to me.”

Give it to him, or he’ll hurt you.

Joe jumped. The voice had been silent for so long he had forgotten about it. Suddenly he thought of Grafton, back in Cardenfield, the first time he heard the voice. It seemed centuries ago. He looked up at Avarat and for a second Cardenfield’s bully leered at him. His face was smiling but there was a vicious sparkle in his eyes.

“You can live here, or go home, the choice is yours brother,” Avarat said, “Enough blood has been spilled. Give me the Majiak and I will spare the world of the shades.”

GIVE HIM WHAT HE WANTS.

What would happen then? How could he go home knowing he left Antigol at his brother’s mercy? How long would it be, despite his promises, before he brought his armies to Earth.

“Of course, you are welcome to stay in Antigol. Our mother waits for you in Hatriila,” Avarat said, “She understands what needs to be done.” He heard the words, but they were quieter now and he ignored them. His father was dead; Avarat was the only one who could take the Majiak now. What other choice did he have?

NO CHOICE.

Joe drifted away, no longer hearing Avarat’s voice. His vision blurred, darkening at the edges and a cold shadow swept through his body. Suddenly none of it mattered any more, and he was falling backwards…… backwards……

… he sees his father rise from the ground, unharmed with a smile across his face…

… Petraya and Kinga are dragging him from the cave mouth and into the safety of the Wastelands where they replace Reece and Maven, and together they set out to…

… the blissful heat of Petraya’s home, where she says her goodbyes over supper and waves them on…

… through the deserted village of the Scavenger King, out into the wide, grey fields where Joe can walk again, and further into the colourful warm shelter of the forests of Junn…

… into the Ice Queen’s palace, where Maven bids them farewell, and they replace Sam; silly, wonderful Sam, Joe feeling better than he has for days…

…through the Majia gate and back to Cardenfield where Reece and Kinga hurry home, and Sam pedals Joe’s bike through the snow, until finally he is alone outside the blue front door of 62 South Street and can hear his Uncle Marty and Aunt Tina in the front room, but he is tired and wants his bed…

…into his room, under the covers… so tired…. so sleepy…

Far away he can hear a voice, as if from a dream.

GIVE IT TO HIM it whispers.

He smiles and curls into his blankets, the light fading to a tiny point.

“No,” he says and dies.