Ordinary Joe and the Mark of Four

When he woke Joe had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been minutes or hours or even days. For a while he lay still, letting the sleep fade. In the silence came the tick of the clock and he sat up to see the time. Four hands circled the clock’s face, pointing to strange shapes. Of course. Nothing in Antigol was normal. His breath caught in his throat.

All the dolls were looking at him.

He leapt from the bed in horror, spinning around, but they watched him from every corner of the room. Even the one he had stuffed in the vase now sat beside it, watching him blankly. It was impossible. Someone must have turned them around. They were only dolls. The dolls stared.

In the corner of his eye he caught a flicker of light. On the pillow where he had slept lay a bunch of keys, wrapped in a small piece of paper. Someone had been in the room! The idea of someone watching him sleep made him shudder. Why hadn’t they woken him, and why would anyone creep in and leave a bunch of keys? He jumped onto the bed and grabbed the keys, pulling free the piece of paper and unfolding it. There was only one word.

RUN.

Quickly he dropped to the floor and scrabbled under the bed for his clothes. He knew he had to get out of the palace and dressed quickly, keeping his eyes on the dolls. Were some of them closer than before? No, that was ridiculous, dolls couldn’t move by themselves. He pulled on his trainers and threw the white suit into the trunk. He wouldn’t need it again. As much as he wanted to believe the Queen would help him, he couldn’t trust her. Her smile never reached her eyes. He knew teachers like that at school, pretending to like you and saying all the right things. But he could always tell when they were faking it.

He grabbed the keys and hurried to the door. Behind him came a soft scraping noise and he jerked round with his eyes wide. The dolls were facing him, staring. One was in the middle of the floor. Had it been there a second ago? He decided he must have knocked it down when he hurried past. What other explanation was there? He turned back to the door and began frantically stabbing the keys into the lock. Too fat, too short.

Scrape.

He looked round again. The dolls watched him. He noticed a shelf at the far side of the room was empty. He was sure there had been a row of dolls up there and not nearly as many on the cabinet by the bed. He tried another key, then another. Finally, a long brown key turned in the lock.

Scrape. Scrape.

Without looking round, he tore open the door and sprang out of the room, pulling it shut behind him and quickly turning the key. The lock clicked home. It was crazy but he thought a swarm of dolls raced for the door when he closed it.

The hallway was empty. He set off stepping lightly to make as little noise as he could. He expected each door he passed to suddenly burst open, filled with dolls, eyes cold and snapping mouths filled with tiny sharp teeth. He hurried on.

Reaching the circular landing, he ducked and peered through the railings. The Pig-Guards had woken up. They were leaning against the pillars each side of the doorway, yawning and looking around. Joe sat back against the railings. Now what? He couldn’t get past them. They had swords and he guessed they’d like nothing better than to prod him with them. They were probably hungry again too. His gaze dropped to the keys in his hands. They were all ordinary looking, dull silver and bronze, except for a single gold one, larger than the others, and polished to a gleam. What was it for? Suddenly he jumped. The Queen’s private room!. Of course! Mudrot must have escaped! Who else would have left the keys for Joe to find? There must be a way out of the palace through her museum!

Keeping one eye on the guards, he crept along the landing, bent low behind the railings, and slipped down the hallway leading to large, white door. Glancing back to make sure he hadn’t been heard; he carefully slid the golden key into the lock and turned it.

Click.

The door opened silently. Joe took one last look behind him, relieved to see the hallway was empty, pulled the key free and stepped through the door. Inside was complete darkness. He closed the door, leaving a small fan of light from the hallway, too faint to light his way and he stumbled along until his eyes grew used to the dark.

A short tunnel led to a larger room. Against the wall stood a silent figure, hunched and unmoving, only a rough outline, but he recognised the shape.

“Mudrot!” he said, “I knew it was you.” Mudrot stood unmoving in his usual pose. Even as a shadow he looked miserable. Joe moved closer, the chill of the room popping goose bumps on his neck. He was a few feet away when a small light above the figure sparkled into life.

It wasn’t Mudrot at all. It was another ice statue, exactly like the nervous servant.

“Mudrot did not leave you the keys,” said a deep, sad voice from behind him, “I did.” The door was pushed open and in the light of the hallway stood the old servant. He shuffled into the room slowly and eased the door shut behind him. Joe tapped the statue,

“Where’s Mudrot?” he said, “Is he coming?” The Old servant shook his head and pointed at the statue, though he kept his gaze on the floor.

“He’s already here,” he said.

Joe looked puzzled and then gave a short disbelieving laugh.

“What do you mean?” He tapped the ice again, “It’s a statue!” The old servant came closer. In the light he looked terribly tired.

“The Queen collects things,” he said, “Mudrot was her latest addition.” Joe stepped away from the statue in horror,

“What? That’s really him? That’s really Mudrot?” The old servant nodded sadly.

“Is he…?”

“Dead? Yes. They’re all quite dead.” Then the wrinkled creature reached up to a switch hidden in the shadows and turned on the lights. The room was much bigger than Joe expected, like a warehouse, and every inch was filled with statues. They spread out as far as he could see, row upon row, some clustered together, others alone. Joe swallowed hard unable to take it all in,

“They’re all dead?”

“Yes,” the old servant said, “The Queen has been collecting for a long, long time. This is her Museum.” Joe followed him into the cavernous chamber, recoiling from the terrified expressions of the statues all around. “You are to be her prize exhibit,” the old servant went on in his slow, tired voice.

“Why would she want a statue of me?” The servant looked at him curiously,

“You have the mark of four,” he said. Joe looked at his hand. Why was everyone obsessed with his stupid birthmark? It was just a smudge.

“Is that why you’re helping me?” he said. The creature turned, a shine on its miserable eyes,

“I’ve been here too long,” the old servant said, “I wish…” he paused, thinking, “I wish I had tried to stop her.”

“Why didn’t you?” The old servant looked at him and almost smiled,

“Because I was afraid she would do it to me.” He turned and headed off along the rows. Joe followed, looking back to the doorway, sure the Queen would arrive any second. Where was the creature taking him? He grabbed the old servants shoulder and twisted him round,

“My friends,” he said, “The Queen said there was a disturbance. Was it them?” The creature nodded sadly. A wave of dizziness washed over Joe. His head pounded and he staggered. He was too late! Kinga and the others had found the Palace and the Queen had caught them, turned them into statues. The old servant reached out and shook him,

“Come. It is not too late.” Still reeling, Joe followed him through a maze of statues, hardly daring to look at their faces in case he found one of his friends staring back at him. Eventually they came to a large barred cage in a darker part of the chamber. It was too high for Joe to see inside, but he could make out a few shadowy shapes huddled on the floor. The old servant pointed up at a heavy lock on the door,

“Hurry. If she finds us we are finished.” Joe clambered up the cage, keys in hand, and flicked through them one by one, trying each in the lock, until he found one which turned. The old servant shuffled to the corner of the row and clambered up a pile of stacked blocks. He ran his gaze over the chamber, frowning.

There was a bright, searing flash of light.

Joe clung to the cage, with dots dancing before his eyes. The old servant turned, growing slower and slower, a wave of frost crackling up his body. White mist rolled around him. The ice crept higher, freezing his legs, his arms and up across his chest. Finally it spread into the folds of his neck, and, before it covered him completely, he managed to speak one final word,

“Run.”

Joe stared in shock. A horrible cackling laugh erupted around the room, bouncing from the walls.

“I can see you!” the Queen’s voice screeched. Suddenly a hand grabbed Joe’s. He screamed, falling from the cage, pulling the hand with him, but his scream was drowned by another hand quickly clamped over his mouth. Its owner untangled herself from him, with a curse, and pulled him to his feet.

“Kinga!” He had never been happier to see anyone in his life. Without thinking he hugged her. She pushed him off in annoyance. Already she was searching the rows of statues, trying to find the Queen, whose laughter came again and again from every direction. A head appeared from the cage.

“You going to help me with him or not,” said Reece. He was heaving Sam through the opening. Sam was trying to pull himself through, but was hampered by a tight bandage wrapped around his chest and arm.

“Joe safe! Joe safe!” he bellowed with a big toothy grin, “Not dead! Good! Happy ! Happy!” Joe jumped up and helped Reece to lower Sam to the floor. Even though he only met the strange man that morning, he was relieved to see him.

“Are you alright?” he said checking Sam’s bandages, but the man simply shrugged and grinned through his bushy beard,

“Scritch Scratch!” he said, “Not kill Sam! Sam tough!” Kinga snapped her face round angrily,

“I kill you if not quiet!” she hissed, and they fell behind her, crouching down. The Queen’s booming voice echoed through the chamber,

“Found your friends now little man!” she shrieked, “Too late! Too late!”

Kinga put her finger to her lips and pointed for the others to follow. She was unarmed, but Joe doubted it would help anyone who got in her way. Bent low she slipped silently through the maze of statues.

“What a pity it has to end like this,” The Queen’s voice boomed, “I wanted to pose you! Why couldn’t you just eat the food! Wouldn’t that have been easier than all this chasing around! A little poison, you go to sleep, and I can add the chosen one to my collection. Now you’ll look as ugly as that pathetic weakling Mudrot.”

Anger rose in Joe’s throat but Kinga snapped him a warning look and shook her head. She pressed her fingers to her lips. The Queen was quiet again, listening for a response, but they crept on without a sound.

“Do you remember his wife,” the Queen said, “They were so in love. Frankly I couldn’t bear to see it. It just didn’t seem right. Such filthy creatures being happy. How awful! Of course, he never smiled again after I’d killed her.” She laughed and Joe’s stomach lurched with anger. Blood surged through his veins.

“I put her on display so he could see her every day!” She burst into more laughter. Kinga lunged at Joe, realising what was happening, but she was too late. Joe jumped onto a stack of crates, face red with fury,

“Come on then you evil witch!” he screamed, fists clenched.

A whole row of statues exploded where they stood and above them, hovering on a shimmering layer of icy mist, appeared the Queen. Her face twisted into a broad grin and her eyes sparkled.

“There.. you…are….!” She said.

“Ewakuacji!” Kinga screamed, and turned back, but the way was blocked. Between the statues teemed small white shapes, scrabbling in the ice, climbing over each other, heading straight for them. Joe’s breath locked in his throat. It was the dolls.

Hundreds of them staggered forward on unsteady legs, arms stretched out and small fingers twitching.

“This is bad!” Reece said, “This is really, really bad!” Keeping her eye on the Queen, Kinga grabbed Joe and pulled him close. Her hands sparked with Majia but she was muttering under her breath, trying to keep it under control, pressing Joe against the statues, looking around desperately for any small chance of escape.

The statues behind Joe exploded. Before Kinga could move a hundred tiny arms pulled him into the dust. There were too many of them, clambering on his back, scuttling like fat white spiders. They dragged him down, pinning him to the ground and the Queen appeared in the air above him, grinning victoriously. Suddenly the pain returned in his chest. It burned stronger than ever, as if he was going to explode. The Queen raised her hand, icy power crackling across her skin like silver veins,

“Goodnight little Joe,” she said.

A searing bolt of white energy exploded from her hand, leaping across to where he lay, held fast by the dolls. Suddenly Sam leapt, flinging himself in front of Joe. The icy blast ripped into his body and he howled, crashing down and sending the dolls scattering. He tried to stand, one hand reaching out to help Joe from the ground, but he was slowing down, the horrible wave of icy frost washing over him in seconds, until he was frozen, his face shocked and his fingers stretching out.

Joe stared, unable to believe what he had seen. He flung off the few remaining dolls and leapt to his feet, lifting his hand to touch the cold, lifeless ice. Sam had never hurt anyone. All he had ever done was try to protect Joe. The Queen laughed,

“A frozen idiot for my collection!” She hovered above them, her hand drifting from Kinga to Reece and back again. “Which friend would you like to lose next?”

“Do something!” Reece shouted at Kinga. She glared at him, suddenly looking afraid and closed her eyes. The sudden silence was like the drawing back of a fist.

Energy exploded through the chamber. The Queen reeled in shock, long lances of white Majia streaking around her, missing by inches. With a howl she vanished, leaving a swirl of icy fog. Jagged arcs of light flew into the walls showering sparks and sent statues exploding across the room in chunks.

Joe flung himself to the ground, hands clamped over his head. Fat sparks stabbed into the ground around him. Reece screamed out but Joe saw nothing through the glare. If he screamed again it was lost in the roar of the exploding power.

Slowly the storm faded. A few small flashes of energy danced across Kinga’s fingers and she sank to the ground, clouds of dust settling around her. Joe pulled himself to his feet. The chamber was destroyed. A few stumps were all that remained of the Queen’s collection, the rest was dust. Amazingly the statue of Sam was untouched.

Joe rushed to Reece, lying face down in a pile of icy ash and rolled him over. He gasped. One side of his face was badly burnt and a long scar ran from his right eye, cutting a groove through his cheek and along his throat. The edges of the scar were thick with blood. Joe shook him desperately and he groaned but would not wake up.

“Missed me!” said the Queen. Joe turned, drained and numb, and she rose above the destruction in a swirl of mist. She glared around angrily, “Look at my collection! It’s ruined!” She drifted down and landed lightly before Kinga, huddled on the floor.

“Leave her alone,” Joe said. The Queen smiled cruelly,

“Since she destroyed my last collection she can help me make a new one. She can be my first addition!” She raised her hand and took aim but Joe stepped in front of his cousin. He could barely move his legs, drained of energy, but he forced himself to stay on his feet. Kinga tugged at Joe’s leg.

“Out of way!” she said, “I protect.” Her whole body was shaking and she could barely speak. The Queen laughed and aimed her sparkling fingers at Joe,

“So be it,” she said.

Her hand burst into flame.

The Queen screamed, reeling back and beating at the flames. No sooner had she put them out than new ones sprang up on her robes and in her hair. She beat at them all in a panic.

Joe looked round. At the end of the chamber a glowing Majia gate had appeared and a hand was pointing out of it, holding a small carved wand. It waved around a few times causing more fires to appear on the Queen, then drew back.

The gate shimmered for a second and a man fell out. He tumbled to the floor, arms and legs flailing and hit the ground with a crash, caught up in his long, black coat. He jumped to his feet immediately, untangling himself, and whirled around to get his bearings, still shaky on his feet. He turned to Joe and the others and grinned,

“Ah! There you are!” He strode over, rubbing his shoulder and muttering, and bent to stare at Kinga. She was covered in crushed ice, shaking, with her arms around her knees. The man reached out and turned her head to face him. At once her tremors died away. “Well, you’ve looked better!” the man said with a smile. Kinga, amazingly, smiled back,

“Maven,” she said weakly. The man helped her up, dusting ice dust from her clothes. Behind him the Queen beat out the final flames with a shriek and whirled around. Icy energy snarled in her fingers and screaming in rage, she threw out her arms sending a torrent of icy energy bursting towards them. Maven, shaking hands with Kinga, didn’t blink. He gave his wand a mild flick, so small it could barely be seen, and the blast of energy bounced back to the Queen, who wailed in shock. There was a flash and, apart from a slow crackling noise, she never made another sound.

“There,” said Maven, “Now, how are we all doing?” He bent to look at Reece who was mumbling but still unconscious. He examined the scar and rubbed his chin, “Well, that’s going to leave a mark. But he’ll be alright. What about you Joe?” He turned and smiled. The last of Joe’s strength bled away. He fell forward and Maven caught him,

“It’s alright my boy. I’ll get you out of here.” Joe blinked, feeling the world fading.

“Mr Zhang?” he said, and passed out.