The Dragon in the Theatre Ch 1

1

Beyond the forest.



Elliott Hunter and his friend Lucien Torvus stepped with trepidation down the path from the school grounds to the quarry. They navigated their way through the tangled mess of vines and slate they encountered using the moonlight to guide their way. They walked cautiously, fearful of both being discovered and of falling down and being injured. Discovery though was the greater risk, and their most immediate fear. They knew roughly where the boys they were following were, but they did not want to catch up with them accidentally and they did not want to be caught. Some things were secret, and the last thing they wanted was for their presence to be known. They had come to learn a secret themselves, where the other boys went at night, not to have their own escapade uncovered.

‘Why have we come here Elliott?’ The smaller boy asked. His close-cropped hair had started to accumulate tree debris from overhanging branches. The taller boy was leading the pair and he turned and looked at his friend.

‘Not far to go now. I think they have stopped in the quarry and that’s up ahead. Just a little bit further.’ He spoke from under a blond fringe that covered one eye, almost as though he was wearing a mask.

‘Don’t worry Lucien, we wont get caught.’

They both had the same fear, that they would be discovered, but not by their teachers or their parents. Their fear was their classmates; the ones who made them feel worthless at any opportunity. Lucien was taunted for being small and Elliott because he was different.  Those were reasons enough for their classmates to ridicule them. The Forest itself scared most of the children at the academy, but not Elliott.

Elliott had heard the stories long before he started at the Academy. On their first day every child was told once they had walked through the metal gates the very same thing; that they must never step foot in the forest.

‘The grounds are large enough for you all. There’s no need for any of you to go past the tree line. No need for any adventure,’ The Tutor told the children on their first day. Of course they all suspected this was a lie, and that there were secrets in the forests that nobody wanted them to know about.

‘Test these boundaries if you wish, but it will be at your own risk,’ was the final warning they were left with. The tutor who said these words did so with a particular look in their eyes, safe in the knowledge that as soon as one of them tried, one of the older children would pull them back. No more had ever been said about why they should not step into the forest past the border of the grounds so naturally the children made up stories of their own.

Nothing worked better than scary stories told late at night. These stories had been passed down from one year to the next and every year they were repeated until the stories became slightly more terrifying. Some spoke of a giant wolf that roamed the woods looking for anything made of flesh to consume. Others described a bat that lived in a cave at the base of the mountain on the far side of the forest and had eyes as red as one of the children’s own blood. But the one story the children all feared was the tale of the one boy from school who had dared to stray into the forest. He had died there and his tortured essence now roamed the forest looking for a child who could help him find his way back to school. It was said that if you listened closely at night you could hear him calling. This meant that any child who wished to prove their bravery now camped at the edge of the forest trying to lure the poor desperate boy out of his prison of trees. They would gather in the quarry at the very edge of the entrance to the forest, and wait for him to come to them. This was of course forbidden, which made it all the more tempting.

The boys were both wearing their night garb, which consisted of school regulation grey pyjamas, buttoned up to the top button. The collar had to be stiff or the prefects would make you wash and iron your shirt again. Elliott did not mind that part of school life but Lucien hated it. They wore their school shoes and crimson blazer over the top, Elliott’s jacket being at least a size too big. He was glad of that right now as it was keeping some heat inside, but he could feel the temperature falling rapidly, and knew they could not stay out long. This needed to be over quickly. Elliott carried a small knapsack with him, stuffed with essentials he always packed, but Lucien had left his behind. 

They reached the farthest edge of the Forest, where the trees stopped and rocks began and the mines that supported their town became visible in the mountainside. They found themselves at the top of a quarry. Elliott put his arm out to prevent Lucien from walking any further. The darkness would be happy to let them fall here, probably to their doom. It was quiet all save for the occasional flap of a bats wing out for its nightly hunt. Then they heard voices echoing off the rocks below them. Elliott could make out at least two different boys, and he knew at least one of them. Elliott motioned to Lucien to crouch down. There from the dust and dirt they peered over the top of the cliff face, hidden behind bushes and outcrops of muddy stone. Elliott spotted the boys they were following first. His eyesight had always been good, unlike poor Lucien who wore spectacles. There was a small group gathered together in the quarry, each one bigger than either of the boys watching them. The group stood in a tight circle, but even from their vantage point Lucien and Elliott could see that at the centre of the circle there was a small boy who appeared to be only half the height of the boys surrounding him.

They were pushing the child around within their circle, shoving him like he was nothing.  Elliott could hear them talking. He heard the largest boy tell another that he was going to ‘feed the little-un to the Ghost’.

Elliott could feel his anger building, his ears and cheeks burning, and a strange tingle in his hands. He could remember how the same thing had happened to him when he was the same age, and how it felt, and how he had hurt for days, his skin tender and blue from bruises. And he knew the boys had not even started yet.

‘How did you know they were here?’ Lucien asked. He was scared, his heart beating harder than it ever had before. But he would follow Elliott anywhere.

Elliott turned to his best friend, pushing his long fringe away from his eyes. ‘You are going to go and get one of the Instructors, Someone who will help us. We have to tell everyone what these boys are doing. Can you do that?’ Elliott had tries to sound confident; he knew Lucien needed to believe in him.

Lucien was nervous, sweating and afraid, but he nodded that he could.

‘Go then, and don’t worry about me. I’m going to try and stop them.’

Lucien looked at his best friend briefly, with a mixture of wonder and terror. He had no idea how his best friend would stop five boys larger than he was, but something told him he would. ‘I’ll be quick, as quick as I can. I promise.’

‘I know. Go on get out of here.’

Lucien turned and ran as fast as he could, which was not fast, but he was good and honest and that’s why Elliott liked and trusted him. It made him feel good to know that his friend was safe. He wanted to deal with the bullies himself, because there would be trouble, and he did not want Lucien to be on report because of him. Lucien had not even wanted to come here, but he always did what his friend asked. His only friend. Elliott could feel the tingle in his hand and he knew what was going to happen. It would be just like the last time, only this time he would put it to some good. He wanted it to be just the way it was in his dreams.

He stood up at the quarry rim and looked down at the group of bullies, who were now shoving the smaller boy from one to another very roughly. He shouted down at them, with all the force his voice could muster. He clenched his fists, which were almost painful now with the energy building up inside them.

‘Come on pick on someone your own size.’

The five looked up at him and pushed their victim to the floor. The boy landed hard, but made the most of being free. He scrambled away as quickly as he could in the sandy floor. The largest of the boys looked up at Elliott, clearly recognising him.

‘Forget this shrimp,’ he said to the others, ‘Hunter here has just volunteered for a beating.’

They broke their circle and walked away from the boy they had been assaulting. Elliott gave him a hand signal that pointed out of the quarry and mouthed the word ‘go’ to him. The boy picked himself up from the dusty quarry floor and ran, not looking back at the scene behind him.

Elliott walked down a path into the quarry, carefully holding his fists as tightly as he could . The group followed him with their eyes. They all stood waiting for him, still but with the anticipation of an easy fight. They knew who and what he was and  he gave them no concerns. The largest of the boys stepped forward, pushing his fist into his cupped hand with a twisted excitement at the prospect of a fight. Elliott gave no indication of his fear, but he could feel his leg trembling.

There was no chance he was letting the bully see it though, he said to himself.

‘You really are quite stupid aren’t you?’ the largest of the boys asked. Elliott knew him. His name was Pollux, named after one of the star clusters. Elliott knew all of their names, every star. The boys’ eyes were narrow like slits cut into his face. Pollux stared at Elliott; unaware of anything that was going to stop him giving this impudent whelp a beating.

‘You shouldn’t be doing this. The new kids don’t deserve what you do to them. They should not be afraid of you. You know how scared they are of this place, they still believe the stories.’ Elliott’s voice carried no fear, even if he felt it.

They all laughed at him. They could not believe that Elliott Hunter, one of the weakest boys in school, was telling them what to do. Elliott was still trembling but their laughter made him angry. He wished to himself that he could teach them a lesson. He felt his eyes burning at the thought of them.

‘I mean it. Someone has to stop you.’ He told them, his voice betraying his anger.

Then he realised that the boys were no longer laughing.

They had stopped and something about them had changed. The group were looking at him differently now. They looked nervous as if something was bothering them, as if they were afraid. The anger was growing inside and they started to take small steps backwards. Why didn’t they just attack him Elliott wondered? He became more and more frustrated. Why were they backing away? He almost wanted to fight them. The more he thought, the more he looked at them the more he recognised the look in their eyes.

It was terror.

Pollux fell to the ground in front of Elliott, tripping over a rock as he stepped backwards. He looked up at Elliott, his face contorted with fear.

‘What is wrong with you Hunter? Your Eyes!’ he screamed.

One of the other boys turned and ran. Elliott could not contain the energy any longer. He knew it had been building all this time, but had not prepared himself for quite how it would feel.

He felt a fire explode from his eyes and the whole quarry became so bright he could no longer see anything but white. Pain filled his head as everything turned bright and what felt like a hot blade seared his eyeballs. The pain stabbed at him and he could not control it any longer. He succumbed and everything became black. In that instant they all fell to the ground.

Elliott was the first to open his eyes. They felt heavy as if he was still drifting in the place between asleep and awake. He quickly remembered what had happened and forced his eyes open, pushing his eyelids apart, rubbing them with his clenched fists. They were stinging, like he had rubbed salt in them. He forced himself to his knees, he knew he could not give up now.

The others had begun to stir also, but Elliott was up on his feet first. He looked around and saw that the boys had not been hurt, at least not anything that he could see. But the looks in their eyes as they saw him told him what he already knew: something terrifying had happened. Pollux looked at him with a mixture of disgust and fear.

‘What did you do you freak,’ the boy yelled at him.

Pollux started to run before he had even stood up. He tripped and fell, desperate to escape. The others followed him as quickly as they could whilst Elliott stood there watching, confused and uncertain as to what had just happened.  It had not been the way it was in his dreams, the pain, and the fear, none of that had been in his dreams. The reality was more terrifying than anything he had ever experienced.

He could think of only one thing, one thought that kept repeating inside his mind; what have I done? He needed to feel safe, and there was only one place he had ever truly felt safe: His Grandfathers theatre. Not his home, somehow he knew that his answers lay elsewhere, and it was the Theatre that he could feel calling him, just as it had so many years ago.

Elliott’s grandfather had opened the Theatre long before Elliott was born. His Grandfather had been a famous Actor and he had performed in the Theatre many times. Elliott could only remember a few of the stories his Grandfather had told him, of how they had arrived in the town of Prosperity when Elliott was only a baby. Only a few thousand inhabitants lived in and around Prosperity, but it sat on the coast and there were always visitors from other parts of our world and with a fair trade in materials from the mining operation based in the mountains behind the town. Elliott lived with his father on the other side of town from the Theatre whilst Grandfather lived by himself. At seven years old Elliott had started attending the Academy. Before then he had spent every day at the Theatre whilst his father was at work. The Theatre had been closed by then, and there were no distractions from the outside world to disturb the boy and his Grandfather. Elliott would run around the main stage whilst Grandfather told him stories of life in the Theatre. By the time he was seven Elliott knew every inch of the building, every hiding place and secret corner. Grandfather always made sure days in the Theatre were spent learning about the many stories of the worlds he had visited in his career. Elliott was never sure whether to believe him or not. He had never heard of travel to other worlds, even though he knew of the stars and space. Even then the theatre was the one place in the town Elliott felt safe. He would walk in though the Lobby’s double doors escaping from the noise of the town and felt immediately protected as if the building had wrapped itself around him like a shield. His every sense would become calm compared to the hustle and bustle of the outside world. Outside was a world of noise and emotion, street vendors hawking their wares and vehicles passing one another in the street, honking their horns at one another in protest at trivial matters.

Elliott would come through the doors and take off his shoes so that he could feel the warmth of the carpet in the lobby. It always told him that he was welcome. The air in the lobby was always slightly musty and damp, not enough to be unpleasant, but a reminder that the doors were not open that often and nobody went around cleaning up anymore. The Theatre had been closed for most of his life and as far as he knew only he and his Grandfather ever wandered its halls. It was simply the most reassuring and comforting place in his world. It was not just a building; it was home, more so than the room Elliott shared with his father. As soon as he stood in the lobby he could feel Grandfather looking after him. Then one day when he was seven everything changed. Elliott began to attend the Prosperity Academy for the young, and stopped visiting Grandfather. He never asked his father why and his father never shared his reasons. He simply stopped visiting. He felt as though he had lost his home. He longed for those feelings again, anything to replace the fear that had begun to consume him this night.

Elliott ran towards the theatre as fast as he possible could. He did not know if his Grandfather was even alive, but he had to find out. It was a long way to the theatre from the quarry’s edge, but there was a narrow track that led from the edge of the forest to the bottom end of town. He ran as fast as he could and minutes passed into an hour before he had realised as he ran through the forest and past the academy and down the road into town. Elliott passed taverns and stores that were closed and appeared deserted. There was an occasional reveller still roaming the streets but most had returned to their homes. He just kept going, unsure where he was finding the energy pulled by the knowledge that the Theatre was waiting for him, even if he had no idea what he would find there. He slowed down as he reached the main street in town, so as not to attract too much attention to himself. It was the early hours of the morning and a young boy of his age would be conspicuous unless he made an effort not to be seen. He crept along the edge of the buildings carefully, trying to move quickly but away from any other late night travellers who might ask him too many questions. 

He saw an agent of the Warrant pushing a man along the street, and he ducked down to ensure the agent did not see him. An occasional piece of litter caught his eye, blowing across the pavement. He was not far away now, the Theatre being at the end of the main street. The roads were deserted so he started to run again. He ran and ran until his chest hurt. He could see the Theatre at the very end of town and this made him find the extra energy he needed under the moonlight. At last he arrived at the Theatre. He stood in front of the double doors that led to the lobby out of breath, a mixture of excitement and exhaustion. Grandfather had once promised he would always leave a key under the doormat, a secret between the two of them. Elliott lifted the mat and found that his grandfather had indeed kept his promise. Elliott picked up the key, covered in grime, and felt immediately reassured and overwhelmed at the same time. He had waited and anticipated this moment for such a long time, and now it was here at last.

He put the key in the lock and turned. The locking mechanism turned and the door was open. Elliott felt home. At the same time he was afraid.

He could feel his Grandfather in the building, even though he had no idea if he still lived here, or even if he was still alive. It was brick and mortar but something about this place just felt like home. Of course Elliott knew it could be just memories playing tricks on him, but he felt him in every corner of the building. He turned the handle and closed the door, careful not to make too much noise or draw attention to myself. He locked the door, conscious that the streets of Prosperity were not always as safe as Mr Poyle’s proclamations would have us believe. Elliott knew there were thieves at work in the town, even if no one acknowledged it. Somebody had tried, unsuccessfully, to break into the Theatre when he was a child, and Elliott was sure that there would have been others in the years since. Of course Elliott knew he was technically breaking in, although he also felt that he had an open invitation because of the key. He looked back through the windows to make sure no one had seen him. He saw his own reflection in the glass, blond hair hanging down over his eyes. He brushed it away and looked at his face, then turned away quickly. He put the door key back in his satchel bag and walked to the centre of the lobby.

Elliott had not stepped foot in this building for over six years, yet everything was familiar to him. The smell at first was unpleasant but now it reminded him of so many things he had forgotten. Elliott looked at the concession stand off to his right and remembered when he and his grandfather had pretended that the Theatre was full of people here to see Grandfathers latest show. Elliott would serve drinks and fruit ice to all the customers whilst Grandfather greeted everyone and took them to their seats. Of course it was just the two of them, and all the guests were imaginary for Elliott, and memories for Grandfather, but Elliott knew that it felt good for Grandfather to think of the theatre as being alive once more. He had always loved the colours of the lobby. Mahogany wood with golden trim, and magenta carpets and curtains. None of the lights were turned on in the lobby so only the light from the front doors lit his way. Elliott could tell that no one had looked after the lobby and that it had lain untouched for many years. At once he felt sad, and feared this meant his Grandfather was probably not here anymore. He thought about leaving then and there, but had so many unanswered questions and quickly realised that this was the only place he could get answers. If he left now he may never get another chance. He walked up the steps in the lobby to the doors that opened up into the auditorium itself. On either side there were stairs that took you to the upper seating circle, but Elliott wanted to see the stage first.

He walked through the doors and continued down the aisle to the main stage. It was dark inside, with only a single beam of light from the skylight shining down on the stage, but he could still see the crimson seat coverings that he remembered so vividly. The light made the dust floating in the air visible and it almost sung to him. Elliott remembered how much he loved this room, the vast space that would be filled with joy and sorrow dependant on the play being performed. Elliott had only ever seen Grandfather and his one-man show, performed exclusively for him in this room. He had never seen a public performance for the Theatre had closed to the public when he was just a baby.  He patted the chairs as he passed them creating small clouds of dust from every one. As Elliott walked closer to the stage his feet started to feel energised and he started to run. He looked down at his feet and whilst he knew he was running, his feet had disappeared and he could see though the floorboards beneath him. He stood beneath the proscenium arch and paused for just a moment.

Then Elliott started to run again. The stage was large and wide enough that he could run in a circle round and round quite easily. As he started to run faster and faster he could see everything around him changing. His eyes were taking what he was seeing and changing it, warping it, making different shapes.  Elliott could see through the seats in the front row as he passed them and through the curtains at the back of the stage. It was as if he was running on open air beneath his feet. And everything was silent. There was no noise to speak of. The theatre was always quiet he realised, that was why he loved it here so much, but this was different. The boy was in his own space as if running was creating a space that he alone occupied on the stage.

Elliott came to a sudden halt and took a sharp intake of breath, air slamming into his chest with force. He could not comprehend what was happening. Was he imagining it? He was out of breath. His throat was dry. Elliott felt around in his satchel for some water from his flask. And then slowly the white noise of the real world started to come back as he realised the only sound he had been hearing was his own heart beating and the blood flowing through his body. And everything was silent. There was no noise to speak of. He felt alive. There was a small trickle of something in his nostril. Elliott reached up and touched his nose, then held the finger up before his eye. A small amount of blood was on his fingertip. He quickly wiped his finger on his sleeve as he felt a sudden shiver down his spine. His own blood was not what he had expected and it shocked him.

Elliott felt the blast above him before he was even aware that he was not alone in the theatre. Standing at the doorway was a black suited man, whom Elliott immediately recognised to be in the uniform of an Agent of the Warrant, the long black trenchcoat and pointed hat known to the whole town as the mark of the Warrant. They supported the Police force, but everyone whispered that in reality they performed tasks for Mr Poyle, the Mayor. Elliott cursed himself. He had obviously been seen by the agent Elliott had passed on the street and been followed. Elliott dived under the curtain at the rear of the stage and saw a staircase that led up above the stage to the lighting rigs. He ran up the stairs pausing only to see the black suited man walking down the aisle with a confident swagger. The man’s gaze never flinched from the main stage as if he could see through the curtains. He walked round the stage and up a set of steps onto the stage area where Elliott had been just moments before. He stood there scanning the area. He had seen Elliott go through the curtain and yet he was pausing, as if he wanted to give the prey a chance to run. Was this what he wanted? Had Elliott given him the opportunity to say that the boy had resisted arrest so he had been forced to eliminate him? His eyes looked around like an owl surveying the forest floor for mice. Elliott waited until the man’s gaze was faced in the other direction, and then crawled across the scaffolding to the right hand of the stage. The pipes of the scaffolding joined one side of the auditorium to the other, and the Dress circle box was only a few feet away from where the scaffolding was attached to the wall. Elliott could see the Box seats up to the right, and felt confident that he could make the jump to the lower circle. Elliott was sure that it was his best chance to escape.

He crawled as quietly as he could across the scaffolding, looking down to see where the agent had gone. He lowered himself down over the front row of box seats. When he was sure he was safe he let go and leapt into the box area. Elliott hit the ground and rolled behind a row of seats, landing heavily on his arm. He could no longer see the Agent of the Warrant, so tried listening for him. He did not dare move in case he revealed his location. Elliott was sure he had not been seen and was certain the Agent would have fired another shot in his direction if he had. He crouched low making sure he was below the brass bar that ran along the balcony edge. Elliott had disturbed many years worth of dust that had accumulated since the Theatre had been closed and he felt the dust as he breathed it in, and felt a tingling burn in his nostrils. He could not contain it the sensation and let out a sneeze.

‘So, you are up there,’ the voice of the Warrant agent bellowed and Elliott knew he had been discovered, ‘Let’s see if this flushes you out.’

A second later Elliott felt the blast of a lightcrack just over his head. The man had hurled it from the main stage below. The Theatre briefly lit up in the glorious colours of the spectrum, reflecting off the ceiling gild and the silken sheen of the curtains. The light moved over the complete surface of the cavernous room. More dust was shaken loose and drifted down as another lightcrack exploded in the air and the dust lit up in different colours as it weaved its way through the air.

‘Do I need another one boy, or are you ready to come out yet? A common Thief must be dealt with. I have no problem taking you in dead.’

Elliott peered over the balcony.

The man was still standing in the middle of the stage.

Elliott knew from his grandfather that the stage was a thrust stage and that the area around it sunk below the seating area was the orchestra pit, where the musicians played their instruments. But no instruments had been played in this theatre for years. Elliott could not see the Agents face, but he could tell that the agent was not looking in his direction. The shape of his hat was pointed and the point was directed to the other wall of the theatre.

Elliott lay down quickly to ensure he wasn’t seen and crawled slowly and silently towards the staircase at the back of the balcony.

He crawled lizard like down the stairs as they curved round to the floor below. As he came round the corner he saw that the Warrant Agent was walking over to the other side of the theatre. He crawled out into the open floor then bolted towards an open door recessed in the back wall.

The door led to a small room containing nothing but dust and neglect and another two doors; one to the left and one to the right. Elliott realised he had no idea this room was here, and yet he had often played on this level of the Theatre. He supposed it must be a storage cupboard.

Elliott had a choice.

The right hand door was already slightly ajar whilst the left was completely closed. Which could he open silently? As the right hand side was already was already open he surmised there was less chance of disturbing anything. There was no light coming through the crack of the open door as he peered through. There was nothing but darkness. He carefully stretched his body between the frame and the open door and to his surprise found that most of his body fitted through. Elliott used his chest to push the door slightly, careful not to touch the handles on either side of the door. If any part of the door were to be worn or rusty it would be those. As the door was pushed open the carpet resisted making the task harder, but he only needed to open it a few inches.  Elliott squeezed it open just enough to get his body through and then disappeared into the darkness.