Bastion: Book 4 in the Kings Keep Series

By Graeme Butz

This is a series of seven fantasy adventure books written for middle school (c. 10-14 year old) children, although many older teens have been engrossed by the stories, and especially the brainfood they supply.

Kings Keep is a (fictional) private school set in bushland near the city ofSydney,Australia. The adventures and mysteries in the books relate to the many former uses of the school site as well as its unusual teaching staff and teaching methods, all of which keep the new students (and the reader) guessing throughout the series. The castle references in each book title are at first cryptic and unexplained to further tantalize the reader.

The action centres around the main character, twelve-year-old Alec, a farm boy from far westernNew South Waleswho is very much a fish out of water in the city. He is struggling to come to terms with a family tragedy that has left him angry and vulnerable.

Alecs adventures and dilemmas raise important issues including friendship and trust, multiculturalism and aboriginal culture, altruism and self-preservation, uniqueness and destiny, time and space. Liberal sprinklings of Australian history, biography, art, foreign languages and sciences provide interesting and, at times, provocative topics for the reader to explore further.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Sep 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493101696

Graeme Butz

Graeme Butz is a former high school teacher and community worker who lives in the Blue Mountains near Sydney, Australia. He spends much of his time working on his bush garden, reading, listening to music, visiting Op Shops, writing the next book, and talking to his ‘visitors’ (parrots, wallabies, lizards and snakes). Occasionally, he spends time beachcombing on the New South Wales south coast and helping with reading support groups in local schools. Written while still a teacher, the Kings Keep series—its characters, events and narrative—were all extensively piloted on junior high school students (and underwent serious revision) to ensure language- and content-appropriate plot and text for the target age group.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

‘He’s been like this for a week now - ever since the camp - and he won’t talk about it.’ Three anxious faces stared at each other with mutual concern in an almost-empty dining room.

‘I reckon it’s the death threat at the lagoon,’ Rod suggested. ‘We never did find out who did it. And after the fire in the maintenance shed and what happened there, and the tent fire, you can’t blame him for being rattled.’

‘My money’s still on Alistair,’ Mitchell concluded. ‘He’s been after Alec since day one, tried to pick him several times, didn’t like playing second fiddle at the water challenge. And we all know he went for Alec with a knife. For some reason the guy’s back in school, and that’s got to keep Alec worried. Must be Alistair.’

‘Can’t agree,’ Rod contradicted. ‘Sure, they got under each other’s skin, and I’m not saying it’s all sweetness and light with them, but they both made a real effort to get on with each other at the end of camp. He was Alec’s first choice in the team challenge. No, it’s something else. What do you think, Bec?’

Rebecca was deep in thought, or perhaps just troubled for Alec’s sake. ‘I agree Alistair’s hard to work out. He clearly meant harm to Alec before, but Rod’s right, he’s tried to patch things up since. And remember, Mitch, he saved your life. If anything, that ought to lift Alec’s spirits, not weigh him down.’

‘Maybe he’s in love,’ Mitchell said flippantly, trying to justify himself when the other two gave disapproving looks. ‘Well, apparently Robyn’s got the hots for him - and for Rod as well - and maybe he doesn’t know how to deal with it. That’s enough to keep a guy distracted for a long time. Has he told you anything, Rod?’ A shake of the head suggested it was another dead end.

The musketeers had no way of knowing that something far more serious was troubling Alec deeply. He had told no-one of his shocking train ride with Mr Grey at the end of camp, nor of his realisation that he was locked, with Rod, against his will, in a life-and-death struggle with forces he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

For the second time in his life, Alec’s world had caved in. When his brother Martin had died two years earlier, Alec felt robbed. His loving, supportive, reliable big brother had promised to always be there for him, and the security of that promise had been suddenly shattered by a tragic accident. At ten, Alec learned that life offers no guarantees.

Now, his prospects of a bright future from a selective private school education had been replaced with a very real threat that his days were numbered, that he may not even see the sixteen years of Martin’s short life. Worse, any close involvement of his friends in his own secret dramas would likely endanger their lives too.

For that reason, Alec made no mention of the apparent time travel that was possible with the student ID pass and the starpack torch. He even tried to convince himself that the terrifying experience was the product of excessive fatigue from camp, or even a bad dream. But he knew otherwise. He also knew that, somehow, his former nemesis Alistair had made a similar trip to rescue Mitchell. What else did Alistair know, and was his sudden friendliness a set-up for a final showdown?

‘We can’t just watch him shut down like that and say nothing, do nothing,’ Rebecca insisted as the trio left the dining room. ‘Rod, you’re closest to him. You’re his room mate. Is he that sullen in his room? Are you seeing what we’re seeing?’

‘He’s gone quiet, that’s for sure,’ Rod agreed, ‘and that’s not him. He just lies on his bed for hours, doesn’t talk, won’t come to the games room or the farm. Maybe he just needs space, like I did. That’s why I can’t push it with him.’

‘Then it’s up to you, Mitch,’ Rebecca decided. ‘You told him he’s your best friend. Do something for him, whatever boys do to dig each other out of a hole - just do it.’

It was more an order than a plan, but Mitchell nodded his acceptance of the responsibility to rescue Alec from whatever was burdening him. What, how or when were details Mitchell hadn’t worked out yet. He just hoped that their early sharing of concerns would be enough to kick-start a dialogue with Alec that would bring him out of his shell.

Alec, however, had other plans. He had half made up his mind to avoid Mr Grey as much as possible, in the vain hope that somehow this would keep the mysteries and dangers at bay. But he also had to know how Alistair did whatever he did to return Mitchell to school. Alistair clearly had some insights into what Alec was going through, and that made him an unlikely, but necessary, confidant.

‘Got a minute?’ Alec asked as he tapped gently on Alistair’s open door. Alistair closed his book and sat up from his recumbent position. Alec stared at the empty second bed and realised he had no idea who Alistair’s room mate was.

‘You do home visits now?’ came the sarcastic defence from a boy who was obviously caught out of his comfort zone. ‘Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any. I already gave at the office.’ The bitter humour escaped Alec, whose confused look pleased Alistair. ‘Sit down, put a load on your brain,’ Alistair continued.

Alec sat on the spare bed, resisting the temptation to ask who the room mate was. He didn’t want any distractions, just answers.

‘You won’t tell me how you got Mitch back here so quickly,’ Alec began, ‘but I think I know. The train is a… sort of… time travel machine, isn’t it?’

Alistair threw back his head and laughed loudly. ‘Time travel! That’s a good one. Man, you’ve really lost it. What have you been reading - ‘The Time Machine’? ‘Dr Who?’ You’re a classic, you are. Time travel!’ The excessive laughing from someone who rarely laughed told Alec he was probably on the right track. Alistair was covering up.

‘Was it… really freaky for you, the first time? Did it scare you too?’ Alec’s question, and especially the last word, got under Alistair’s defences, and focused his attention on the sombre face and fearful eyes.

‘You’re serious, aren’t you? You’ve done it, haven’t you?’ Alistair probed, leaning closer to his nervous visitor.

‘How did you find out about it?’ Alec replied. ‘Mr Grey?’

‘Who’s Mr Grey? Oh, you mean the maintenance guy? What’s he got to do with it?’ Alistair asked with a quizzical look (‘He doesn’t know about Mr Grey. Shut up, Alec’). For a while, both boys sat there in silence, jockeying for position.

‘My mistake,’ Alec said at last. ‘We’re both asking questions, but no-one’s giving answers. Sorry to trouble you. Back to your book.’

He stood and left the room, stopping when Alistair called his name.

‘Alec… shut the door on the way out, would you?’ A frustrated Alec reached back and pulled the door shut forcefully. He leaned back against it and sighed at the dead end he’d come to. Where to now?

‘Oh, there you are,’ Mitchell called cheerily from Alec’s door. ‘I was looking for you. Want a bit of a chat.’

‘Not now,’ a strained Alec replied as he dawdled down the hallway towards his room and Mitchell. ‘Too much on my mind.’

It was the perfect opening for Mitchell.

‘That’s what I want to chat about,’ he rushed to say as Alec opened his door. Rod was in his familiar position on the floor, lying on one side with his large piece of cardboard, but this time he was painting rather than drawing. Small jars of colour were liberally spread about.

‘What’s this?’ asked Mitchell as they tried to walk around Rod and his scattered paint pots.

‘My major artwork, for Art elective,’ Rod replied without looking up. He was using the blunt wooden end of a thick handled brush to paint rows of small dots.

Mitchell frowned and shook his head. ‘What’s it meant to be?’ he had to ask, unaware of his insensitive choice of words.

‘Don’t know yet,’ came the honest reply,’ just that it’s an abstract.’

‘Hate to tell you this,’ Mitchell joked, ‘but your brush is upside down. You’re supposed to use the bristle end. Just a painting tip I picked up.’ Alec knew the deeper emotional meaning and reason for the painting, and moved to head off any more questions.

‘These artistic types,’ he joked as they sat on his bed, pulling their feet up out of Rod’s way. ‘They paint what they feel, capturing the emotion of the moment. ‘Surrealism – right, Rod?’ A quick nod told them that the artist was trying to concentrate, and didn’t want to be disturbed. Alec leaned down and almost whispered in Rod’s ear. ‘And all with your left hand, too.’ Rod looked up at Alec with a ‘do not disturb’ face that silenced him.

‘That’s the closest you’ve been to the ‘real Alec’ all week,’ Mitchell observed, pursuing an opening. ‘You hardly talk, you seem miles away. Bec’s worried, and so are we. What’s eating you?’ A part of Alec wanted to spill it all, but his concern for their safety made him err on the side of caution. He also recalled the guarantee he had given Mr Grey to keep it all a secret. It was killing him, but a promise was a promise.

‘Don’t get involved,’ he mumbled with warning in his voice. ‘You’ll only get hurt, or Rod or Bec will. It’s my problem. I’ll deal with it.’

‘I knew it!’ Mitchell shouted, throwing his arms into the air and almost tipping himself off the bed. ‘It’s Alistair, isn’t it? I saw you coming from his room just now. He’s making more trouble, isn’t he? Time someone put a stop to him. Look what it’s doing to you. If the school won’t deal with him, I will. Just say the word.’ Mitchell stood, his feet narrowly missing Rod’s painting and pots.

‘Hey, watch it!’ an alarmed Rod retaliated, pushing on Mitchell’s leg.

‘Wait, it’s not Alistair,’ Alec pleaded, as Mitchell took a giant stride over Rod and his colour pots towards the door.

‘Don’t protect him,’ Mitchell warned. ‘He’s obviously got you bullied into pretending to be friends, but you’re fooling no-one. Time to end it. You can’t let him control you like this.’

‘It’s not Alistair,’ Alec repeated despairingly. Mitchell turned from the doorway and put his hands on his hips.

‘Convince me,’ he challenged. Alec took a long look at Rod who painted on, oblivious to Alec’s anguish. ‘What I say could destroy you, and maybe all three of us,’ he thought as he struggled with his crucial decision.

‘I can only tell you,’ Alec announced, ‘if you can recall more details of your train trip back here from camp, and if Rod can remember about his first trip here from Central. Otherwise, it’s not meant for you.’

Mitchell pushed the door shut, climbed back over Rod and resumed his seat on the bed. ‘What’s the connection - apart from the train?’ he queried. ‘I told you before, I don’t remember anything about how I got here.’

‘I don’t remember coming here at all,’ Rod admitted casually, as he wiped his brush tip to change the colour of his dot dabbling.

‘In that case,’ Alec sighed, ‘I can’t tell you anything - until I speak to Mr Grey.’

CHAPTER 2

With a reluctant promise from Mitchell not to confront Alistair, and a bizarre warning from Rod to watch out for spiders, especially trapdoors, Alec went against his own previous decision and began a search for the maintenance man, his only other hope of understanding the haunting phenomenon of the train.

‘Alec,’ Mr Grey called out in a pleased voice as the troubled boy approached the site of the burnt-out maintenance shed. Large stacks of concrete building blocks were being unloaded nearby, and the ground had an area outlined in spray-paint ready for a concrete foundation.

‘I haven’t seen you for days. Thought you were trying to avoid me.’

‘I am… I was…’ Alec replied awkwardly. The two stepped away from the workers, and Alec let loose. ‘That train thing, it really freaked me out. I need to understand it. How does it work?’

‘It’s very complicated,’ Mr Grey replied. ‘You’ll get some idea this term in your Science studies on natural forces. But you don’t need to understand it in order to use it. Like a camera or TV or computer, you just follow instructions, and it does its job for you.’

‘Doesn’t help,’ Alec muttered. ‘I have to get my head around it, or I just freak out. A train’s not supposed to do that.’

‘All right, let’s see if I can make it reasonably simple,’ Mr Grey said. ‘You’re watching the news on TV at home. The sound and pictures come from a TV studio, which sends electrical signals into the air, from a transmitter tower, where they travel invisibly to a receiver inside your TV, in your lounge room. The sound and pictures can travel hundreds or thousands of kilometres, but you’re experiencing it at the same time it’s being sent.’

‘That’s radio waves, not people,’ Alec replied with some obvious dissatisfaction, ‘an image, not an object. We didn’t send a picture of us to the lagoon, we went there, physically, and came back, in an instant. What happened to the time? How does it affect time?’

‘Okay, let me explain it this way,’ Mr Grey resumed. ‘We’re standing in the present, right? All we can see around us is the present - not the past, not the future, it’s now. Agreed so far?’ Alec nodded. ‘Now if you take a photo of, say, this building site, the camera captures the instant in time. Any day in the future, you can look at the photo and see the past, or at least a split-second of it, frozen in time in your photo. Still with me?’