Xinder Rises Read online

  Guda reached into his infiniti with one hand, and weighed up his last dream-powders from the planet Genartus. Forty dreams, he estimated; more if he thinned them out. Did he really want to dilute such a precious dust?

  Guda remembered how the powder had once lain in huge conical mounds, brought up to the huge chamber by every pair of animal or beast or Genartan tree that was leaving for Earth.

  Knowing that this could be the last time he used the wonderful dream powders of Genartus, Guda inverted through his infiniti to seek out his dreamers.

  Danny

  Danny sprinted along the towpath, over the bridge, and across the playing fields. As he neared the chapel steps, he wiped his brow with his cuff and brushed himself down as he caught his breath.

  ‘God! You stink,’ Olivia said, intercepting him and forcing him to the side. ‘You can’t go in there.’

  Danny shook his head. ‘Wasn’t my fault. I fell over a couple of times. Might have landed in something.’

  ‘Dan, go home and change. You’re so embarrassing.’

  Danny recoiled. ‘No way. I want to know if Ani’s in the team. It’s unmissable.’ He pulled up a sock for Olivia’s benefit and, glancing at the tower clock, took off, slipping in moments before the oak door boomed shut.

  He ran, head down, almost bent double, over the large flagstones until he found his row, squeezed in to his class position and sat down. Further along, he noticed Anika chatting to her friends, some turning off their phones. He caught her eye.

  She frowned back, and mouthed something at him.

  Was it about the team?

  She jabbed a finger.

  Or about him?

  He smiled back, weakly.

  For a brief moment, he experienced the intrusion of being watched, similar to the sensation he’d felt the previous night. His instinct was right. On the platform at the far end of the hall stood Mr Wynn-Garry, the headmaster, whose eyes were boring into him like lasers.

  Danny’s heart sank. Those who had even the tiniest scuffs, or tears, or buttons missing, were being entered into his dreaded green book. Maybe Olivia wasn’t being petty, after all.

  He gave himself a quick once-over. Appalling. He had about three seconds to get up, run, and sneak through the side entrance.

  Instead, he grappled with his tie, drew up his socks, and dragged a hand roughly through his hair, removing the tendrils of a creeper, several strands of grass and a piece of bark. Before he could tidy himself further, a familiar voice boomed through the hall.

  ‘Good morning, school,’ it said. ‘Please rise.’

  As the pupils had done for twenty-five years, everyone stood up.

  Wynn-Garry

  Mr Wynn-Garry patted the breast pocket of his coarse tweed suit and raised his thick eyebrows. Twenty-five years he’d been at the school, almost to the day. Twenty years as headmaster, and his performance every morning was almost the same now as it was then.

  ‘Quiet ... please,’ he said. Isn’t it strange, he thought, how noise levels always seem to rise as conversations rush to a conclusion?

  He removed his glasses from his round, ruddy nose and inspected his pupils.

  ‘Thank you. Sit down.’

  Two hundred and seventy-two pupils parked on the hard wooden benches lined up row upon row, the noise whispering into the safety of the huge, vaulted ceiling above. From weighty cross-beams, large chandelier lights dangled from thick, black metal chains, illuminating those below with a dim, almost church-like glow.

  From their tall portraits on the sides, former headmasters eyed this generation of children sternly. While etched onto dark wooden panels running around the perimeter of the hall, the names of former scholars, captains, and musicians reminded the children of past glories.

  Wynn-Garry stared out over the throng and cleared his throat.

  ‘School dress!’

  Danny felt a strong urge to disappear.

  ‘I see some of you shaking,’ Wynn-Garry said, smiling and staring around the room. ‘And rightly so,’ he continued. ‘There has been a marked deterioration since the beginning of the term. After leave, those who fail to comply with every part of the school uniform code will discover detention. Now, to show you what I’m talking about, no one is shaking more this morning than Sutton goalkeeper, Danny Delaux.’

  A cheer went up. ‘Delaux, please stand.’

  Danny sat stone-still in disbelief.

  Not again.

  He felt a jab in his back and then another from the side.

  ‘Come on, Danny. Up you get,’ the headmaster prompted.

  Danny regarded his worn shoes, and, taking a deep breath, rose from behind the frame of his friend Ryan Williams. Every single pair of eyes stared at him. Danny could hear girls giggling nearby. His face reddened, the heat of his blush growing by the second. He didn’t dare look up.

  ‘Danny, I hate to make an example of you,’ Wynn-Garry continued, ‘but this morning you have beaten your spectacular record of being a complete and utter shambles.’

  Cautious laughter flittered around the hall.

  ‘In all of my time here at this school, your attire, Danny, is appalling. It is almost as if you fail to realise that a dress-code actually exists. In fact, you are almost the perfect example of how not to come to school.’ He addressed the throng. ‘Let us take a closer look at our specimen. Your shoes are filthy; you have no belt and, as a result, we can see rather colourful underwear. Your socks are around your ankles because there are no elastic garters to hold them up and, of course, these are torn to bits. Like everything else.’

  Wynn-Garry paused as laughter pealed into the ceiling. ‘Your shirt has lost buttons, your tie is halfway across your chest and, I’m not sure how this happened, but you happen to be wearing the wrong coloured jersey! Please turn around, Delaux.’ Danny shifted.

  ‘Yes, just as I suspected,’ Wynn-Garry continued. ‘Blazer ripped and, of course, your hair is not only too long, but a decent imitation of a mop head.’

  Danny feigned a smile while others pointed and grinned.

  On Wynn-Garry’s instruction, while hopelessly attempting to pull his attire together, he sat down and glanced up towards his sister, Olivia, as her hard, cold, reptilian stare drilled into him. He spotted her grinding her jaw. Never a good sign.

  Wynn-Garry’s tone softened as he smiled, showing his small, tea-stained teeth.

  ‘Let this be a lesson to you all, but especially to you, Danny. Today, and today only, because you’re part of our famous football team, you are excused. And this, of course, leads me on to the other, main item on this morning’s agenda.’

  With these words, the mood in the hall lightened, and the noise level increased. Along the row, nibbling her nails, Anika stared at the floor. The headmaster raised an arm for quiet.

  ‘Most of you are aware of the situation. As a small school, our selection for teams is limited and I regrettably endorsed that a girl could play in the boys’ team. As you know, this team has gone on to great things, to the tremendous credit of our school. However, I ... we were found out.’

  The headmaster pulled a letter from his breast pocket and waved it in the air.

  ‘Let me interpret the relevant parts of this communication I received yesterday from the president of our Football Association.’ He nudged his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and thumbed his way down the page.

  ‘What they are saying, is this: if Anika Delaux has played in ten matches in a row this season, they are willing to be lenient. Well, anyone, has she?’

  He spied a hand from the back.

  ‘Yes. Sas Smith. Do you have the answer?’

  ‘Ani’s played in twelve, sir. Thirteen if you add the German touring team.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Smith.’

  A buzz passed around the room.

  ‘It is our opinion,’ he read, ‘that Sutton School has severely abused the goodwill of this league. However, not one opposition team member reported or noticed Miss Delaux’s disgu
ise until we received an anonymous letter.’

  A hissing noise developed and several heads turned to the right.

  Mr Wynn-Garry continued, this time up a gear.

  ‘As this happened before the Under 14 Cup Final, and Miss Delaux has played in every round, we have decided to impart the following. Should Sutton School win, then with the full backing of the Football Association, Miss Delaux will be allowed to continue playing for Sutton School and the rules changed with immediate effect—’

  Cheers filled the air.

  ‘However,’ Mr Wynn-Garry said, and he raised his hand for quiet, ‘should Sutton lose,’ and here, his voice went so quiet that you could almost hear his forehead crease, ‘then it will be Miss Delaux’s last game for Sutton school.’

  Silence spread over the pupils as they listened to the headmaster.

  Wynn-Garry picked Anika out of the assembly and spoke directly to her.

  ‘So there we have it, Ani. I have spoken with the authorities to make sure we are clear. You will play in tomorrow’s final against Newton, but with no disguise. Do you understand?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Regardless of the outcome, this doesn’t mean your sporting career is over,’ he said. ‘No, no, no. Not by any means. It would appear that your exploits on the field have been, "talent-spotted". After half term,’ and here he slowed, a smile spreading over his face, ‘you have been invited to join the national team’s training squad.’

  Gasps shot out of the assembly like mini fireworks.

  ‘Yes, indeed. It is a great honour that you’ve been picked to train with your country, the youngest player ever to be invited. Anika, we are extremely proud of you.’

  Applause rallied and Wynn-Garry let it continue for its deserved time.

  ‘So, there we have it, Ani. There is plenty for you to look forward to after half term even if it means you don’t play for Sutton School.’ He dramatically thumped the lectern, making the juniors in front of him jump. ‘But let’s make sure that we jolly well do win and we change these silly rules!’

  Guda

  Guda flashed out of his infiniti, landing in a huge cavern. He hovered in mid-air, extended his arms wide and switched, by thought alone, out of his invisible mode.

  Suddenly, a flurry of activity appeared, like magic, in front of him. Animais were dashing here and there across the sky, blue flashes denoting the arrival of some and the departure of others.

  He turned his wiry neck upward towards the roof of the cave, and found it packed with yellowy-brown cocoons. They sat in layer upon layer like the neat chambers of a beehive.

  Walking through the air, he passed younger Animais, who turned or bowed their heads. Good to see the old signs of respect for the Animais Elders, he thought.

  He noted a flash, and Guda realised an Animais had joined him.

  ‘Juno,’ Guda said, her fingers vibrating together so fast as to form words. ‘I see you.’

  ‘And I you, Guda,’ she replied, her vibrations softer. ‘You have come to see the birthing of the young Animais?’

  ‘Indeed. By the look of their movement, their time is close,’ he said, indicating lines of Animais perched in the air. ‘See how many others crowd the chamber?’

  ‘It has always been so,’ Juno replied. ‘They are our future. And what kind of future do we leave them?’ her vibrations dimmed. ‘Do you know who the Sacrum are?’ she said.

  ‘I am aware,’ he responded, ‘that they are young. But, of course, it is nature’s will—’

  ‘There!’ cried a voice. ‘Look! Their sun moves in line with the entrance, it is starting.’

  A sudden flurry of activity began, with blue lights flashing everywhere. Guda and Juno were almost blinded as thousands of Animais flashed into the chamber, unfurling from their infinitis and changing into their visible forms as they did so.

  The entire cavern buzzed with vibrations, like a vast wasp nest.

  From the cocoons high above, one chamber wriggled and shook more violently than before. Then another, and, before long, multiple cocoons along the length of the huge ceiling rattled, cracked, and split exposing tiny Animais.

  Then, the entire ceiling seemed to open up like popcorn and before long, the tiny, stick-like creatures flapped about like new-born chicks, clawing at the air as if swimming in a soup.

  The onlookers, Animais of all shapes and sizes, vibrated words of love and encouragement.

  ‘Fall! Jump into the light!’ said a youthful, black Animais nearby.

  More and more Animais appeared in the chamber. Vibrations increased.

  Thousands of shells cracked apart, sections of their nests floating to the ground like loose strands of straw.

  To the mock-horror of the crowd of Animais gathered around, the tiny creatures began to fall, plummeting head over heels towards the rocky ground beneath them. A collective gasp shot out from the watching mass of Animais.

  Guda noticed how Juno covered her black eyes.

  As they fell from the dark roof into the bright sunlight, a sudden bolt of yellow light flashed in, enveloping the first newly hatched Animais in circles of iridescent light. The newly hatched Animais seemed to float in the air, stopping exactly where they were.

  Then, as if a firework display had gone into extreme overload, each and every one of the thousands of new Animais tumbled through the air and into the light. As the energy bathed them in a suspended position, like fish in water, these fledglings had become Animais. Borne of light and energy. Ready for a life of making dreams.

  Guda too, vibrated his feelings, giving vibrations towards the newcomers and wishing them strength, love, and a long life.

  The energy of the creation of life, he mused. Such a beautiful thing.

  He was about to flip into his infiniti when an idea of immense magnitude slipped neatly into his mind. Picking his way across the sky, he leaned into the jagged rock-edges of the huge cavern, out of sight.

  This last Earth night, he’d taken Xinder, the Frozen Lord, to see the boy. Every time he thought of it, his legs rattled. Initially, he’d gone to ask the spirit what he thought about having children as Sacrum. After all, he thought, if anyone could remember and comprehend the tasks ahead, it was, he suspected, Xinder.

  Guda recalled how he had flipped out of his infiniti onto the balcony of the ballroom of the old palace. He’d looked over the once bustling rock city of Halar, capital of Halaria, and its renowned stone formations. Even for an Animais, the dramatic cityscape, with its huge craggy buttes that soared into the air like icebergs, and the deep canyon that circumnavigated it, filled him with wonder. He remembered the cacophony of noise rising up from the narrow streets. How the rock faces above were perforated with neat, square holes of ancient dwellings. And further on he noted the fertile lands that bordered the wide, twisting river that snaked towards distant forests and the sea beyond.

  Now, the only sounds were the echoes of the squawks of large birds, redundant from their past lives of flying people from one great rock to the next.

  These birds inhabited roof tops and old cliff houses, their wide, messy nests formed from debris and branches plucked from the river.

  Many of the city’s house-caves were overrun with creepers. The diamond, ruby and emerald stones found naturally in the rock that once sparkled like a million candles in the moonlight, was dim and cracked. Forgotten and unloved.

  And then there was the sprawling palace that stretched above the face of the canyon. The way it overlooked the ruddy, sandy-coloured rocks reminded him of a beast who had sucked the life out of the city below.

  Although his flesh had long been destroyed, Xinder’s spirit loomed large because he could never truly die. When Guda arrived in Halar, he had quickly picked out Xinder’s low vibrations.

  He stood next to him, invisible, and was surprised by Xinder’s brusque, hostile, and bitter manner. And his endless questions.

  Later, in return for information on the trials of the Sacrum, he’d shown
Xinder the Animais’ secret of their infiniti.

  When Xinder realised what it meant, the former Founder’s mood lifted. And when Guda had told Xinder about the three children who were Sacrum, the ghost had thundered that it was impossible.

  To test the Animais, Xinder had demanded to go to the Sacrum to see the boy for himself. Not long after this, Xinder, the blind spirit had faced the Sacrum the humans called Danny.

  Guda needed to think. Turning invisible, he flashed his head through his infiniti, sending him in an instant to his favourite place several miles above the Earth.

  As he hovered, he remembered how he’d watched the ghost, Xinder, with the boy in the night. Watched the ghost produce a knife and flick his chin. Watched how the ghost had marvelled at the spot of blood.

  And all the while, the boy’s eyes bulged. Disbelieving.

  Xinder, he thought, had a kind strength ordinary ghosts did not possess. The way he could carry objects for a certain length of time, pull things, lacerate with his small knife.

  But a thought had nestled into his mind and refused to budge. And now, as he floated alone above the blue and white orb below him, he thought about it deeply.

  What if one of the Sacrum might somehow ally with Xinder?

  Perhaps with this boy they called Danny?

  Why did this idea sound so right and yet feel so horribly wrong? The more he thought it through, the more excited and more fearful he became until he realised he knew what he had to do.

  Guda felt his infiniti expanding as the enormity of his mission dawned upon him.

  After eons, the Animais, the most lasting species created at the dawn of time, would no longer be neutral in the ways of the universes.

  But it must be done, he thought, for the benefit of all.

  2

  Fitzpatrick, Wednesday

  Fitzpatrick watched Anika heading down the assembly row. As she neared he thrust out a leg, stopping her in her tracks. Shrugging, Anika promptly kicked his shin hard enough to hear a whimper.