Stephen Hayes

Hunt and Power


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total, impenetrable darkness, although I could hear scuffling sounds somewhere to my right. I opened my eyes to their fullest extent, trying to see what the temptation in here would be. The only time I had ever experienced darkness as solid as this was in the room that had contained the Sien-Leoard Crystal. Suddenly lights flickered on, so bright that I was forced to cover my eyes with my arm. Then I heard a familiar voice.

      “John! Thank God, I didn’t know what to do for the best.”

      I squinted towards the voice and spotted Marc, standing near a door that was clearly the exit. I blinked and realised that I was indeed back in the room that had contained the Sien-Leoard Crystal. The conveyer belt at the back of the room was up and turning slowly.

      “What are you talking—”

      “He’s got my Hero Crystal,” said Marc. “I can’t do anything.”

      “Ah, how much more perfect can this get?” asked another familiar voice, this time coming from the right, where I had heard the scuffling before.

      I looked around and saw Marc’s father, a Hammerson henchman, who had given us so much trouble over the last couple of weeks. The last time I had seen him was in this very room the previous week, and on that occasion he had cut off his hand in order to follow us. Now, however, both his hands were whole and undamaged, as they had been the first time I met him. As in our previous meeting, Moran was flanked by three ghosts: Hal and Pol Maivis, relatives of Harry and Simon’s who had been Hammerson supporters, and a young woman ghost who I didn’t know. Seeing her reminded me of how I had felt about her the first time – an odd kind of sadness. I remembered how she had seemed to recognise me, though now I came to think of it, that was probably just because I was the only one other than Fewul (the Beast of Magic) who could see her. Still, though, there was something odd about her, this time was no different.

      I panicked. Moran and his ghosts had magic, I was sure; how was I supposed to get past them? The door near Marc, which last week had required a special key to open, was now identical to every other door in the place. I made toward it.

      “Where do you think you’re going?” asked Moran, starting forward, and holding what I recognised immediately as an agonator out toward me. “I haven’t finished with you, Playman.”

      “Come on, John,” said Marc, grabbing my arm. “I can’t do this alone, but I reckon together we can get that crystal back off him.”

      I looked at the desperation in his eyes, and back at Moran and his gang of ghosts. This was just another temptation; the first was my feelings for Natalie, then my friends, and then—I supposed—my teenage lust. This was surely my need to do good and stand up to people like Moran, but that didn’t change the fact that it was just another temptation. Decided, I grabbed the door handle, but I didn’t have a chance to pull it open before I was lifted off my feet and slammed into the wall. I hadn’t felt anything touched me, so I could only assume it had been telekinesis performed by one of the ghosts—they had done that a bit on camp. I raised myself onto my elbows and looked up at Moran, who was standing over me, sneering.

      “I have plans for you two boys,” said Moran. “But first I should introduce you to my friends here. This is Hal, and Pol, and this young lady—”

      “We know who they are,” snapped Marc, but I felt annoyed as I staggered to my feet. Moran had been about to tell us who that woman was, and I desperately wanted to know.

      Moran opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted when the entrance door burst open and Lena bounded inside. My stomach sank; what on earth did I have to do to get rid of her?

      “You get away from him,” she snapped at Moran, taking him completely by surprise. “He’s mine.”

      “Lena?” asked Marc, goggling at her. “You’re not wearing anything.”

      I could tell that he was having as much trouble taking his eyes off her as I had. In truth, she wasn’t completely naked; she was still in her bikini, but I knew what Marc meant.

      “I’ve been swimming,” she said, placing her hands around Moran’s throat and proceeding to strangle him.

      He gagged, and the ghosts sprang into action. Lena was lifted into the air and slammed against the wall, and I could tell it was the woman ghost that had done it this time. The Hero Crystal, which in real life belonged to Marc, went rolling across the floor, now split into six smaller crystals, and Marc lunged at it but Hal and Pol headed him off.

      I took advantage of the distraction to get back to the exit door. I opened it, and a blinding white light filled the room. I covered my eyes and stepped forward, knowing that I had to get through this, but my feet had left the floor, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in Room 11 with a desk in front of me, and Hall still standing behind me. I was back! Back in the real world at last. It was the first time ever—and would no doubt be the only time—that I found myself happy to see Hall.

      I checked my watch, and noticed that it was still only just before half past 3… No time had passed at all.

      “Well done,” said Hall. “You managed to get through okay.”

      I could hear the disappointment in his voice; he had clearly hoped I would die in there.

      “What was it?” I asked. “Was it all in my head?”

      “In a sense,” he said. “It’s enchanted to extract as many thoughts, hopes and feelings from your mind that it can, and turn them against you.”

      “And that it did,” I said darkly.

      “I suggest you go away and think about what took place in there,” he went on bitterly. “It may prove useful. Seeing your own thoughts, hopes and feelings in front of you can make them easier to understand in the real world.”

      I thought about that and realised that he probably had a point, though I would have to go over it all in my head before I could understand anything.

      “Very well,” said Hall, snapping me out of my musings. “That’s enough of a task for today, and this is your last detention too. At least until you earn some more. I hope you don’t.”

      “So do I,” I said, but I wasn’t going to leave without one question answered first. “Where did that thing come from anyway? How did you get hold of it?”

      Hall looked surprised, and not altogether happy that I had asked. “It came from the Sorcerers, Playman, obviously. It was given to the school as a task for year-twelve students preparing for their exams to test their discipline. I was able to convince the principal to let me use it this afternoon. That is really all there is to it.”

      “Right, thanks,” I said, and left the room and walked away without looking back. That was not all there was to it, I knew, for two reasons. Firstly, Hall had neglected to mention which family of Sorcerers had provided that particular piece of magic; and secondly, he hadn’t quite been able to meet my eyes as he spoke of the year-twelve exam preparation crap. I supposed there was a chance he was telling the truth-the story sounded plausible enough—but I had my doubts.

      As I walked, I felt in my pocket, and my hand found the Light Crystal. My relief that Hall really hadn’t been trying to take it was enormous. Then I also noticed that all the aches and pains I’d had when I stepped into that white light were gone too. I assumed that meant that it had operated the same as the Transgators, in the sense that my actual body had never gone in there. That was a huge relief.

      Chapter 5: Knowledge Can’t Buy Me Balls

      My mind was working harder than it had all week as I walked home by myself. Memories of what I had experienced inside the magical box thing, whatever it was, were filling my mind, and I was trying to understand why the box had chosen to use those things against me.

      Hall had said that the box used magic to extract as much as possible from my mind and use it against me. This most likely meant two things: the box couldn’t present me with any factual