The Circle Line by Ben Yallop Page A

there carefully. They were written in a language she did not understand. The letters were familiar but the words meant nothing. The first word on the spine of the first book was ' Philosophiæ '. Kya puzzled over the last letter. She had never seen that before. She looked to the next book ' Harmonice Mundi '. Something about harmony perhaps? The green man's voice was startlingly loud in the quiet echoing room.
    'A great store of knowledge.' he said. 'But there is something else here besides old books. That which you seek. A Great Line to the other world. Come.'
    He led Kya along the centre of the room, down a wide aisle between two enormous racks of books, all the while Kya staring in wonder at the room around her. Eventually they reached a round space from which the rows of books led away like the spokes of a cartwheel.
    'Here, the line.' said the man.
    Kya could hear it, sense it, humming. The sound seemed to reach her mind without travelling through her ears. She looked around at the books again. How she would have loved to have stayed and searched for secrets amongst them. But time was not her ally. She sent her presence into the line and pulled it open.
    She turned then to the green man 'Thank you.' she said.
    'You are welcome.' he said 'I hope in happier times you will be able to return from the other world and visit us again.'
    Kya smiled and took one last look at the books. 'I hope so too.'
    Then she stepped into the Great Line and vanished.
     
    She appeared at the crest of a hill, underneath a cloudy sky and a monument of some kind. A square pillar made from a pale grey stone stretched high above her. Looking at its very top she could see a blue-green dome which sat at the summit like a crown. Around her, in a circle, was a stone wall. She left the circle through a black iron gate and found herself on a grassy plain, not dissimilar to that across which she had so recently been pursued, albeit this seemed to be smaller. Ahead of her, down a steep bank lay a large town. Rows of box-shaped houses ran in long lines in various directions. The Great Line did not seem to have brought her somewhere particularly great, but there was no doubt that she was in the new world. She had been told to find Fort Amhurst, a small castle of some sort which lay nearby. Choosing a direction almost at random she set off.
     
    Aleksy felt a veil lift from his mind like mists evaporating from a pond. It was like waking up slowly, as though his head was being turned on by a dimmer switch, but he hadn't been asleep. He blinked a few times, and tried to think about where he was but he felt extraordinarily tired and it was hard to hold a coherent thought.
    He was still in his cell but a vague memory told him that he hadn't been in here recently. As his tired brain began to function more normally dull aches and pains began to filter through and memories of, he concentrated, memories of working with a pickaxe, hacking at rock, each blow sending a painful vibration though his hands and along his body. He looked down at his torso. He was naked to the waist; a sheen of sweat covered a muscular chest underneath patches of dirt and grime. He looked at his body more closely. It was thin but his muscles were bunched under the skin in a way they had not been before. What was going on? How long had he been insensible in this hell that his body should be so changed? He moved a hand to poke at his stomach muscles but as he moved his arm he felt a sting and tightness across his back. Cautiously reaching a hand behind him he gingerly touched his lower back. He could feel rough cuts there and he winced as his fingers explored what he couldn't see. When he brought his hand back before him he could see blood on his fingertips, dark against his pale hand in the dim light. His hands hurt too. Blisters dotted his palms and the soft area at the base of his thumbs was raw and weeping.
    With another grimace Aleksy forced himself to his feet. His body felt as though it