Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 99

                One second I’m looking at the fireplace. Elle, Yates and Graham are shouting something behind me. They sound scared but I can’t make out their words.

                Another second passes and their voices are fading, fading, fading into nothing and I know I’m in the Edge, but whose, I don’t know. It’s definitely not mine. The blue fire surrounds me. Whoever owns this place is made of the echoes and I realise it’s Teague.

                I can’t see a memory because what echo has a memory?

                I’m pulled forward with a jerk and the Edge screams past me. Do I catch glimpses of a lost life? Or is it just a trick of the flames.

                The world snaps back to reality and I can open my eyes. I see the hand gripping my wrist and the moleskin sleeve that owns it.

                We’re on a hill, with a tree at the top and the sun is just rising over a faraway peak. I don’t know where we are but the valley before me stops the breath in my chest.

                Far below a river runs freely alongside grassy banks. The morning sun makes a mirror of it, showing the white and pink in the sky, I imagine the sky is smiling. I’d feel serene, at peace, but the strong hand around my wrist saps that from me.

                ‘Who are you?’ I ask.

                ‘Teague,’ he replies. ‘I told you that.’

                ‘But why did you bring me here?’

                ‘Because you and I are connected. Twice now, you’ve found me.’

                ‘What about the time you found me?’ I ask. ‘Forgetting that one?’ I look down at my wrist, still in his painful grasp. ‘Let go of my arm,’ I say. ‘You shouldn’t even be able to do that.’

                ‘I’m not like normal men,’ he says. ‘This way.’

                He starts up the hillside towards the tree. There’s a heavy looking rucksack slung across his shoulders and I can only imagine that The Alchemist sits inside.

                ‘Why did you take all my friend’s papers?’

                ‘He was meddling in things he didn’t understand.’

                ‘They weren’t yours to take.’

                ‘And the book wasn’t yours,’ he snaps.

                ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ I say. I grow in confidence. He can’t hurt me, I’m dead. ‘One minute you’re pleading with us to save your life, and now you’ve taken me prisoner.’

                ‘Young people are very easy to manipulate,’ he says without looking back. ‘The right intonation on my voice, delivered at the right time. I can get anything I want.’