The Resuurection Fields (6 page)

“The door into where?”

“The door into the sumaire’s world, of course,” Osman replied.

With the memory of that creature, covered in slime and stinking like death itself, still fresh in his mind, every instinct in Nyro’s body told him that he ought to get up and walk out of the old man’s house this very instant.

Instead he asked, “Why should I want to enter the sumaire’s world?”

“Because that is where you will find your friend Luther,” Osman replied. “Of course, it will be dangerous and difficult and frightening. But worth doing, all the same. Don’t you think?”

Nyro hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Splendid!” Osman said, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. “That’s all settled, then. I’ll see you here tomorrow night. In the meantime, you mustn’t eat anything. Nothing at all, you understand?”

Nyro nodded.

“Oh yes, and wear a black coat. That’s very important.”

“Will it be cold?”

Osman smiled. “On the contrary. I think you’ll find it rather hot.”

“Then why do I need a coat?”

“Let’s just call it a little insurance policy,” Osman said. “Now off you go. I’ve got a great deal of reading to do before tomorrow. And make sure you get plenty of sleep. You’re going to need all your strength for what you will face tomorrow.”

Bea sat on the bed in her tiny room in the Museum of the Leader and looked around her, bewildered. She could not understand what she was doing here. Surely all this was in the past? Surely she had escaped from this dreadful place, along with Seersha? They had hijacked a truck and driven across country to Moiteera, where they had met up with Albigen and rejoined the Púca. She could remember it all quite clearly. But if that was true, then what was she doing back in the museum?

She glanced around the room, and her eye fell on the carved wooden bird that stood on a shelf in the alcove opposite the bed. It had been a birthday present from Dante. She took it down from the shelf and held it between her hands. The feel of the wood was somehow comforting, as if she were drawing warmth from it.

What had happened to Dante? She remembered him coming to the museum and trying to talk to her, but she had refused to listen and instead had set off the alarm. Was that the last she had seen of him? No! He had appeared on the cliff top near Eden Park during the night of the storm. But her memory of that night was confused. There had been another youth who had looked just like Dante and wanted to kill her. Then Dante himself had appeared. At first she thought he had come to save her, but then he, too, had tried to kill her. She shuddered as she recalled this. Dante was her enemy now. Yes, that was right. He had taken the name of Sigmundus the Second. All right, then. But still …why was she back in her room in the Museum of the Leader?

Bea gazed again at the carved wooden bird. “What am I doing here?” she asked.

To her amazement the bird spoke in reply. “You are dreaming, Bea,” it told her. And now it was a real live bird, and Bea had the distinct impression she had seen it before.

“You
have
seen me before,” it told her. “It was I who rescued you on the cliff top.”

Bea nodded.

“It wasn’t Dante who tried to kill you,” the bird continued. “It was his body, that is all. The real Dante separated from his body in order to survive.”

“So where is the real Dante now?” Bea asked.

“The real Dante is inside of me.”

Bea felt a surge of joy. Of course! She should have known! She opened her mouth to speak, but everything around her became blurred and confused. A moment later she was awake and lying in her sleeping bag on the ground inside one of the beehive huts. She struggled to remember what she had been dreaming, certain that it had been tremendously important. But it was like clutching at mist. The more she tried to remember, the more the details eluded her, until in the end there was nothing left at all.

After breakfast the Púca gathered in the meetinghouse. By now they had all heard about the television broadcast, and an air of profound gloom hung over them. But at a very deep level, Bea felt an odd sense of hope that was connected in some way with the dream she still could not remember. She listened with growing impatience as the discussion focused on the possibility of escaping
across the border into Tavor. Some people said it could not be done; others insisted that it was their only option.

Finally, Bea could stand it no longer. “We can’t just run away!” she said.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“Well, what do
you
suggest?” Albigen asked.

“We…we have to make a gesture of some kind,” she told him.

“Such as?”

“How about an attack on the funeral?” Bea had no idea where this idea had come from. Nor did she have any real idea how to carry it out. But it seemed to her that she saw a tiny flame of belief flicker in the eyes that looked back at her from all around the room. So she plunged on, making up tactics as she spoke. “We know how to make smoke bombs, don’t we?”

Heads nodded in agreement.

“So that’s what we do. We fit them with timers. Then two or three of us go into Podmyn tomorrow. Each one carries a bomb. We get on one of the special buses and travel to Ellison, where we split up and place our bombs somewhere central. Afterwards we come back again on the bus.”

“But what’s the point?” asked Dobry, a tall, thin, dark-haired young man from the north of Gehenna. He was one of the patrol leaders, and many of the Púca took their cue from him.

“The point is that the whole country will be watching,” Malachy said. He was new to the Púca and had been less affected by the death of their leader, Ezekiel. It was only a week since he and Dante had hijacked an airplane and flown to Eden Valley, where Malachy had been reunited with Seersha, his long-lost wife.

“Exactly!” Bea agreed. “They’ll see that things aren’t quite as cozy as they appear on the television broadcast.”

“And what happens after that?” Dobry asked.

“I don’t know,” Bea admitted. “Maybe we just have to take it one step at a time.”

“But can we really fight Dante? Albigen saw him stop time itself.”

“That isn’t Dante,” Bea replied. Dobry frowned. “What do you mean?”

Bea hesitated. She had no real idea what she meant. She had just found herself saying it because somewhere, deep within her, she felt that it was true. There was an expectant silence as they all waited for her to explain herself.

“It’s because of Dante that I’m here. When I was locked away in the Museum of the Leader, he came and found me. Whoever it is that is now calling himself Sigmundus the Second, I refuse to accept that it’s the real Dante. And you shouldn’t, either.”

Faces stared back at her in bewilderment.

“It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not,” she continued. “Dante taught me one thing: you have to have the courage to live up to your dreams. And I’m going to keep on doing that, whatever else happens. So I’m going to Ellison by bus tomorrow, and I’m going to cause some trouble. Anyone else who wants to join me is welcome.”

A lot of people shook their heads at this. They had wanted to hope, but Bea’s vision and opinions were difficult for most of them to accept. In the end only Albigen and Maeve volunteered to go, and she suspected that they did so more because they did not want to see her acting on her own than because they were fully convinced by what she had said.

So the following morning the three of them drove into Podmyn. This time the town was full of people milling around and talking excitedly about the bewildering events that had overtaken their country. Many were dressed in their best clothes and sported
black armbands. In the town square half a dozen rather ancient buses stood waiting to take them to Ellison to witness the funeral of their former leader and the swearing-in ceremony of his young successor.

Bea, Albigen and Maeve joined the line and boarded the last bus, which was already nearly full. Bea found herself sitting next to a plump middle-aged woman who immediately began talking as if they had known each other all their lives. She told Bea that she was a baker. She lived above her shop in the market square and had never been out of Podmyn before. She was very excited about the trip but also confused. “We’ve never heard anything about this new leader before,” she said. “And he’s so young. I do hope he’ll be up to the job. They say that Dr. Sigmundus himself chose him, so I suppose he must be the right person. Dr. Sigmundus wouldn’t make a mistake about something like that.” She sighed. “I still can’t believe he’s dead, can you?”

Bea shook her head. “Not really,” she admitted.

“I mean, obviously he had to die sometime,” the woman continued, “but it’s such a terrible shock after he’s done so much for us all and we’ve come to depend on him. I’m not ashamed to say I wept bitterly when I heard the news.”

Fortunately, the woman did not seem to need any response. She chattered on as the bus left Podmyn and headed north for Ellison, even mentioning that she was worried about her dog. Apparently she had left him in the yard and put food out for him.

“But the neighbors don’t like him,” she confided. “They say he barks too much.” She glanced over her shoulder in case any of her neighbors might be listening. Bea nodded sympathetically. At least this nonstop stream of talk meant that she didn’t have to answer any questions about her own life.

The nearer they got to Ellison, the denser the traffic became. It seemed as though all of Gehenna was descending on the capital.
Flustered-looking security guards struggled to prevent the roads from becoming completely gridlocked.

Eventually their driver found a place to park, the passengers disembarked and Bea, Albigen and Maeve went off in different directions.

Leader’s Square was thronged with people of all kinds, many of them wearing the tall black hats that were used by the higher echelons of society for ceremonial occasions. A stage had been erected at one end, and musicians were playing solemnly next to giant television screens that had been set up to relay the ceremony to the crowds.

At the moment the screens were showing a coffin standing on a plinth in the middle of an empty room. On the floor of the room a six-pointed star had been painted. This was the infamous Star Chamber, from which Dr. Sigmundus had ruled Gehenna. Now, as Bea watched, a procession advanced towards the coffin. At its head, dressed in a long black robe and wearing a circle of gold upon his head, was Dante.

Bea watched as he and three other anonymous officials lifted the coffin onto their shoulders and began to carry it out of the room. As they did so, the name for the circle of gold on his head came to her. It was a crown: a word from her history books. Dante, or Sigmundus the Second as he preferred to call himself, was not just the ruler of Gehenna. He had made himself a king. Bea shook her head sadly. Although it seemed impossible to believe that these were the actions of her friend, she couldn’t deny that the young man on the screens looked like Dante. How could she have insisted otherwise to her fellow Púca? What had she been thinking of?

Bea turned and made her way through the crowd towards the fenced-off area in front of the stage, where the musicians had deposited their instrument cases. Reaching inside the bag she
carried, she pressed the timer switch that activated her smoke bomb. Then, as casually as she could, she dropped the bag over the guardrail, among all the equipment. She waited for a moment in case anyone had noticed, then began walking rapidly away. Suddenly, to her dismay, she heard her name being called. But her alarm gave way to confusion. She knew that voice!

Bea turned to see her father striding through the crowd towards her, his face lit up with a huge smile. As she recovered from her initial shock, she found that she felt quite suddenly like a little girl once again.

“Bea, how wonderful to see you!” her father exclaimed, putting his arms around her and hugging her tightly. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Bea could only shake her head. She knew that if she spoke, she would burst into tears.

Her father lowered his voice. “We thought you were in prison. We were told never to mention your name again. But I never gave up hope.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” It was all Bea could manage. Suddenly an idea seemed to occur to him. “Is it because of the new Leader?” he asked. “Is that why you’re here?”

Bea nodded.

Her father looked even more delighted. “I knew it!” he said. “So many things are going to be different now. I’ve just got a promotion,” he added. “I won’t be based in Tarnagar anymore. I’m moving up north.” He sounded almost like a little boy who has been praised by his teacher. Then he added something in a lower voice that she could not quite make out. Something like, “I’ll be in charge of the Faithful.”

“How’s Mum?” Bea asked.

Her father’s smile faded and enthusiasm drained from his face. “Of course. You weren’t informed. Your mother and I separated
after you were taken away.” He sighed. “She felt I was to blame for what happened.”

“Oh, Dad!” Bea said, feeling a stab of guilt. It was not her father’s fault that her parents’ marriage had broken up, whatever her mother might think. It was her own refusal to accept the world in which she had been raised. She had given them something to argue about.

“Never mind,” her father said. “I think your mother’s probably happier without me, anyway. Still, we did have some good times as a family, didn’t we? Do you remember how we used to watch the stars together when you were young?”

When Bea was little, her father had ordered a telescope from the mainland and mounted it on the roof of their house. Night after night they had studied the skies together, and he had taught her the names of the constellations. It was something Bea had not thought about for a long time.

The memory of that innocent time was so poignant it was painful to even think about. Bea wanted to tell her father how much that experience had meant to her, but before she could say another word, shouting came from the direction of the stage, where clouds of smoke had begun billowing upwards. Moments later, two more columns of smoke rose in the air. A wave of panic surged through the crowd, and people began pushing backwards, separating Bea from her father. Soon she lost sight of him. Then a big man in an engineer’s uniform shoved her roughly to one side so that she stumbled and fell to the ground. Within seconds people were trampling over her.