Web of Fire Bind-up Read online

  Contents

  The Dreamwalker’s Child

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Acknowledgements

  Author Biography

  The Web of Fire

  Also by Steve Voake

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Acknowledgements

  THE DREAMWALKER’S CHILD

  THE DREAMWALKER’S CHILD

  STEVE VOAKE

  For Tory, Tim and Daisy

  ‘When the Dreamwalker’s Child walks in Aurobon, then shall the East be in the ascendant; a plague shall descend from the sky and the Earth will fall into shadow… but the Dreamwalker’s Child shall rise up against the Darkness.’

  Book of Incantations

  THE DREAMWALKER’S CHILD

  One

  When they are first born, most people find the world a fascinating, magical place. It is a place full of colours and sounds and wonderful things that they have never seen before. There are metal boxes that move up and down the street, bags of sweet powder that fill your mouth with explosions of delight, soft barky things that jump up and lick your hand, tall giants with rustling leaves and little feathery objects that fly around in them singing songs.

  Everything is new and exciting.

  But as time passes, people come to believe that these extraordinary magical things are not really magic at all, but just ordinary things with ordinary, dull names like car, sherbet, dog, tree and bird.

  So after a while, they stop noticing them.

  They forget how to look.

  Which is why the grey speck on the corner of Sam Palmer’s bedpost would have gone unnoticed by most people. Most people would be too busy looking at televisions, magazines or each other.

  They would never notice something so small and colourless.

  Sam, however, was an exception. He had never grown out of his fascination with the world, and what interested him most were the small things that most people never see.

  Ever since learning to crawl, Sam had followed woodlice to the cracks in the skirting board, knelt by ants as they cleaned up spilt sugar and watched bumblebees bouncing from foxglove to forget-me-not. Where most children ran away from wasps, Sam ran after them, watching them hunt among the long grass and listening to the faint scrape and scratch of their jaws on the wooden window-frame as they chewed it into a pulp for their papery nests.

  But just recently, he had noticed something else.

  At first he had thought that it was just his imagination. But the more he looked around him, the more he began to believe that it was true.

  The insects were starting to follow him.

  It seemed that wherever he went, the wasps went too. Not great swarms of them – just one or two, following him everywhere. Yesterday, walking up the lane on his way home from school, he had seen several of them hovering above his head like small helicopters. It was getting more noticeable, and since moving out here into the country, he had found himself becoming obsessed with insects.

  He glanced up at his bedroom walls, covered with the pictures of flies he had carefully copied from illustrations and photographs. Strewn across the floor were the books about insects that he had borrowed from the library and on his desk was an unfinished diagram that he was sketching, showing the mouthparts of a mosquito. He stared at the pictures with a mixture of fascination and disgust.

  What was happening to him?

  The sun edged its way up over the horizon and in the early morning light Sam sensed the silence and stillness of the air that hangs over fields and woods before an unusually hot summer’s day. In the distance, a wood pigeon called softly from the trees at the edge of the meadow that lay behind the house. A gentle breeze stirred the hedgerows and Sam briefly caught the scent of wild honeysuckle before the air was still once more.

  He stared out of the window at the dry, parched lawn and thought of the Saturdays he used to have before they moved: riding his bike into town, buying drinks and gum from the shop and then cycling off to meet his friends by the bandstand in the park. They used to play Russian roulette together – shaking up a can of fizzy drink, mixing it up with all the other cans and then taking it in turns to open one up next to their heads. He remembered how Chrissy Johnson had been practically blown off the bandstand and Bobby’s sister Kayleigh had laughed so much that she’d had to run home to change.

  Good times.

  But now they were gone.

  Sam sighed and turned back towards his bedside table, where The Field Guide to European Insects & Spiders lay open at the ‘Bees, Ants & Wasps’ section.

  He reached out his hand to pick up the book, and at that moment his eyes fell upon the small grey shape on his bedpost. Moving slowly and carefully, he crouched down to take a closer look.

  It was a grey, thuggish-looking fly about the size of his thumbnail, with a slight speckling of the abdomen. Its wings were smoky brown and on either side of its broad head were slightly bulging, brightly coloured eyes. Protruding from the front of its head were sharp, blade-like mouthparts shaped like a V.

  Sam recognized it immediately as a horsefly.

  Keeping a watchful eye on it, he picked up the insect book and flipped through the pages until he found the section entitled ‘Horseflies (Family Tabanidae)’.

  Beneath a small illustration he read: ‘Female horseflies need a meal of blood for their eggs to develop. Their bite is painful, and they readily attack people in the absence of livestock. Their preferred habitat is near woodland, streams and marshes.’

  ‘You’re in the wrong place,’ said Sam.

  Picking up an empty tumbler from his desk, he put it over the horsefly, slid a postcard underneath and held the glass up to the window.

  He peered at the glittering eyes, watching him through the glass.

  ‘You’re a biter all right,’ he said, studying the spiky, beak-like mouthparts and the blunt, stubby head, ‘but not a very smart one. I’d better let you get back to where you belong.’

  He shook the tumbler and the horsefly disappeared off at speed over the hedge at the end of the garden.

  Sam watched it fly away into the distance. ‘Don’t make any more wrong turns!’ he said, and closed the wi
ndow.

  But the fly had not taken any wrong turns.

  On the contrary, it was a good deal more intelligent than Sam realised.

  Two

  Somewhere in Aurobon, deep beneath the city of Vermia, General Hekken stood in the middle of a white, brightly lit laboratory and looked at the clear liquid that filled the glass tank in front of him. His long, black leather overcoat and peaked cap contrasted sharply with the sterile glare of his surroundings and his boots creaked as he leant forward to get a better view. Suspended inside the tank was a translucent bag filled with a dark liquid. Within the bag he could make out the movements of many small, yellow objects.

  Hekken grimaced. Watching deadly viruses swim around inside the detached stomach of a mosquito was not his idea of a good time. But, he supposed, these things had to be done.

  The thin man in the white coat next to him tapped his watch and nodded at the contents of the tank. ‘That’s the longest they’ve survived so far,’ he said, with a definite hint of pride in his voice. ‘Nearly an hour.’

  Hekken watched as the strange, yellow organisms floated slowly past on the other side of the glass. Each consisted of a spongy, bulbous growth which tapered down into five thin tentacles waving behind like the fronds of a sea anemone.

  ‘An hour,’ repeated Hekken. ‘Am I supposed to be impressed by this?’

  A worried expression appeared on the face of the other man. ‘An hour represents good progress,’ he said nervously. ‘Survival rates were virtually nil when we first injected them.’

  As he spoke, the bag inside the tank ruptured and the darker fluid began to leak out into the surrounding liquid, forming black clouds that swirled and spiralled down towards the bottom of the tank. Hekken noticed that the viruses had stopped moving. He sighed heavily and took off his cap.

  ‘You know how important this is to the Emperor Odoursin?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said the man hurriedly. ‘We’re close to a breakthrough. We’re doing everything we can to make this work.’

  ‘Well,’ said Hekken, turning his gaze away from the now lifeless, floating organisms to look at him, ‘you’re just going to have to do a bit more.’

  He paused. ‘How is that lovely wife of yours by the way?’

  ‘She’s very well, thank you. I –’

  ‘And the children?’

  There was fear in the man’s eyes now. He nodded and looked away. ‘They’re – they’re fine.’

  ‘Good. That’s very good.’

  Hekken put his cap back on. ‘Well, you make sure you look after them. After all, it would be terrible if something happened to them. I’d never forgive myself.’

  The man tried to speak, but his voice was shaking and he could only stutter something unintelligible.

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Hekken. ‘You’re quite right. As long as we all try our hardest, then everything will be just fine. Hmm?’

  The man’s face was as white as his coat now. ‘Yes, General Hekken. We’ll have this fixed in no time. I promise.’

  Hekken patted his cheek indulgently with a black leather glove. ‘That’s the spirit,’ he said. ‘Keep up the good work.’

  Surrounded by the shiny green interior of the express lift, Hekken watched the red light flicker up through the floors and wondered what he was going to say to Odoursin.

  Things were not looking good. Only yesterday the western state of Vahlzi had accused Vermia of planning to infect humans with a deadly virus. They were right, of course, but the accusation had been strenuously denied by Vermian officials. They were well aware that if the truth came out, Vahlzi would have an excuse to launch an attack against them. And although Vermia’s military had been strengthened considerably since the last war, they weren’t ready for another one just yet.

  There was some good news, however. The Dreamwalker from the prophecy had been sighted again last night and for the first time they had succeeded in tracking her back to Earth. If they moved quickly, they might just be able to turn things to their advantage.

  But Hekken knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

  The lift whined softly to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal a huge, circular room with a large, round table in the centre. A clinical white light shone from a steel disc overhead, but otherwise the room was in shadow. Outside, dark storm clouds rumbled and a howling wind threw torrents of rain against the windows of the tower.

  Eleven members of the Council sat around the table, each staring intently at the tall, hooded figure in the centre. They turned at the sound of Hekken’s boots clacking across the hard stone floor and, as he approached, the figure slowly lifted its head. Cruel, red eyes stared out from a face that was hideously twisted, blanched and distorted like a piece of melted wax.

  Hekken stood to attention and forced himself to hold Odoursin’s steely gaze.

  ‘General Hekken,’ said Odoursin in a low, menacing voice, ‘do you bring us good news?’

  ‘Yes, Your Excellency,’ Hekken replied, clicking his heels together and bowing slightly. ‘I am pleased to report that, generally speaking, the programme is progressing well. We have finally succeeded in isolating a deadly virus from a rare pitcher plant that grows on Earth, in the heart of the Amazon rainforest. It is a virus of such potency that, once released, it cannot be stopped. The problem of its delivery, however, still remains.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Odoursin. ‘Please explain.’

  Hekken cleared his throat. Suddenly, all the hours he had spent listening to tedious explanations from dull scientists seemed worthwhile. He was glad he had done his homework.

  ‘Experiments have shown that the human blood system provides the virus with the perfect breeding environment. The virus invades human cells by injecting its own DNA through its tail into them and making copies of itself. By doing so it rapidly increases in number and quickly overwhelms even the strongest immune system. Death follows in a matter of days.’

  Odoursin’s eyes lit up. ‘Go on.’

  ‘But the problem has always been with its delivery. How are we to ensure maximum infection of humans in the most efficient manner?’

  ‘I hope you are going to enlighten us, General Hekken.’

  ‘The only viable way of spreading the virus quickly is by using mosquitoes,’ Hekken continued. ‘However, we discovered that when the virus is injected into the gut of a female mosquito, it releases an enzyme which dissolves the lining. The gut bursts, killing both the mosquito and the virus.’

  A rather podgy, overweight man with small, sunken eyes struggled to his feet. Hekken recognized him as Martock and his pulse quickened.

  ‘Forgive me, General Hekken, but if this is good news then I live in fear of the occasion when you bring bad news to the Council.’

  There were murmurs of agreement and Hekken held up his hands to ward off further criticism. He noticed that Martock was enjoying his discomfort and forced himself to remain calm.

  ‘Let me assure the Council that even as we speak there are teams of our best people working on the problem. They are carrying out trials using a new chemical that combines with the lining of the mosquito’s gut and protects it. If it works, it will enable the mosquito to carry the virus to humans on Earth.’

  There was a pause as everyone worked through the implications of Hekken’s words. Odoursin’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. ‘If it works, you say?’

  ‘It will work,’ Hekken reassured him. He thought of the nervous man in the white coat and his little family. ‘They’re very keen to make it work down there,’ he added. ‘Very keen indeed. It’s simply a matter of time.’

  Odoursin nodded, then turned to Martock.

  ‘I think there is something else you should know, Your Excellency.’

  Odoursin blinked, moistened his dry, papery lips and stared at Martock.

  Martock glanced briefly across at Hekken before continuing. ‘Last night,’ he announced, ‘we tracked down the Dreamwalker.’

  Odoursin’s voice quivered with barely suppr
essed rage. He turned to Hekken. ‘Were you aware of this, General?’

  Hekken gave Martock a look which indicated his anger at being upstaged. That was his piece of news. Martock smiled back: a smug, self-satisfied smile.

  ‘I was about to inform the Council when I was interrupted.’

  Odoursin glared furiously at Hekken. ‘Why was I not told of this earlier? I made it clear that I wanted to be informed immediately she was located.’

  ‘Her appearances were only intermittent at first,’ Hekken explained hurriedly, trying to ignore the sweat that was now running down his back. ‘It’s been very difficult to pinpoint her exact position. But yesterday we successfully followed her back to Earth. And we made a discovery which I know will be of great interest to Your Excellency.’

  ‘What did you discover?’ asked Odoursin, his voice a chilling whisper.

  ‘She has a son,’ replied Hekken.

  There was silence in the room as the implications of this news began to dawn on each and every member of the Council. One by one they turned to look at Odoursin, uncertain of how he would react. But his expression gave nothing away. He simply nodded slowly, as if this was something he had been expecting for a long, long time.

  ‘Well then,’ he said at last, ‘you had better bring him to me.’

  Three

  As he replaced a book on the shelf, Sam noticed the little pink teddy bear he had won for his mum at the arcade last summer. He’d wanted to cheer her up. He had been looking forward to seeing her smile when he gave it to her, but when she returned from her walk she had seemed so distant and sad that he’d just pushed it quietly into her beach bag. He had hoped that she would find it and that it would make her happy again. But the next morning she had put it on his shelf, thinking it belonged to him. And although he wanted to tell her, No, I won it for you, he never found a way.

  So there it sat, a small monument to things left unsaid.

  He was worried about her. She always seemed tired these days. Since becoming pregnant she’d suffered from bad dreams and Sam often heard her crying out in the middle of the night. He would lie awake in the dark and hear his father’s low, muted voice trying to comfort her. They were so busy setting up the gardening business, doing up the house and preparing for the arrival of the new baby that Sam sometimes felt as though he was in the way.