by Paul Stewart
‘No,’ said Bungus urgently. ‘You must finish your story, Linius, for I fear time is running short.’
Linius nodded and cleared his throat. ‘From that moment on, I knew that the tables had been turned,’ he said unhappily. ‘I was the one now being watched. I was the one being experimented on.’ He mopped his brow, which had broken out in countless beads of glistening sweat. ‘I should have cut my losses and abandoned the experiment,’ he went on. ‘Yet I felt too responsible for the life I'd created. I'd gone wrong somewhere – with its education or its upbringing. Now I wanted to put matters right.
‘I visited the Great Library increasingly often. If I could just find out exactly what type of creature it was, I thought I could do something to make amends.’ He paused. ‘Then I had my fall. It was stupid of me. I must have stepped out of the hanging-baskets onto the trunk-platforms a thousand times before – but on that particular occasion, I slipped and fell.’
Maris gasped. ‘So that was how you injured your leg. You told me…’
‘I know what I told you,’ Linius interrupted. ‘I didn't want you involved. That's why I sent for Wind Jackal's son. I needed someone I could trust to help me with those tasks I could no longer manage on my own. I sent him to the library…’
‘You almost sent him to his death,’ said Bungus accusingly. ‘A mere novice, unversed in the use of the ropeways and hanging-baskets. Why, if I hadn't rescued him, he would have perished there and then.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Linius hurriedly, ‘but I was in a panic, Bungus. I'd witnessed something in the laboratory. Something bizarre. Something monstrous…’
Bungus fell still. Maris sat forwards. ‘What was it, Father?’ she said.
Linius shivered, and mopped his dripping brow once more. ‘For several days after my attack on the creature, it refused to emerge from its corner. It built itself a kind of nest there, from an old cloak of mine, the lectern stool and numerous scraps of parchment which it gathered together around it. Half the time, I wouldn't have known it was there at all if it hadn't been for its voice…’
‘It talked to you?’ said Maris.
‘If you could call it that,’ said Linius with a shiver. ‘It repeated everything I said in its small, whispering voice. I tell you, it sent shivers down my spine. So I stopped talking to myself – an irritating habit at the best of times, but now, when repeated back to me, positively alarming. But that didn't stop the creature. It simply began to recite everything I'd ever said in its presence, over and over again.’ He shuddered. ‘And that wasn't the worst part, oh, no…’
‘What, Father?’ said Maris anxiously.
‘It was beginning to mimic my voice, practising over and over until it sounded exactly like me. I was getting frightened now. Just what had I created? So far as I was concerned, it hadn't come out of its lair in the shadows for days. But what did it get up to when I wasn't there? Was it safe to leave it unattended in the Ancient Laboratory any longer? Perhaps I should chain it up, or even – I shuddered at the thought – destroy it.’ He paused. ‘I decided to spy on it before I made up my mind what to do.
‘So one evening, I pretended to leave as I usually did, inserting the seal in the door and waiting for it to slide open. Only this time, instead of walking out, I stepped to one side and crouched down behind a cluster of hanging-pipes as the door eased back shut, then waited. The creature in its lair seemed also to be waiting, listening for any sign that I was still there. Then a low cackle erupted from the corner. It made my blood run cold.
‘ “Linius, Linius, you old fool,” came my voice. “What are you thinking of? By Sky, you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on.”
‘I put my eye to a gap in the tangle of pipes and tubes and peered into the shadows in the far corner of the laboratory. What I saw made my heart lurch into my throat. The creature emerged from its lair and moved towards the centre of the laboratory. It was wearing that old cloak of mine, the hood masking its features, and it had grown almost to my size. But that wasn't the most remarkable thing. It was something else which made me gasp and bite down hard on my lip.’ He shook his head as he relived the terrible sight which met his eyes. ‘The creature was hovering at least three feet off the ground. Then it threw back the hood of its cloak and, as I watched – open-mouthed, scarcely daring to breathe – the creature's wide eyes narrowed, its brow furrowed, its ears shortened, until…’
Linius's voice cracked with emotion.
‘It's all right, Father,’ said Maris, tears in her eyes. ‘It's all right.‘
‘But it's not all right, Maris, my darling daughter. You see, the creature had changed itself into me!’
‘A shape-shifter!’Bungus exclaimed. ‘Oh, Linius, this is worse than I feared.’
‘I hid for hours watching the creature hovering round the laboratory, changing into the various creatures it had seen in the scrolls it had read – but always returning to the shape it liked best. Me!
‘Finally, it seemed to tire and crept back to its bed in the shadows. And I crept out.
‘Immediately I raced back to Sanctaphrax. I summoned my young apprentice. I knew precisely the scroll I needed him to fetch from the Great Library. It was filed far up in the high twigs of Aerial Creatures where Celestial crosses…’
‘Legendary,’ Bungus finished for him. ‘You had created … a gloamglozer!’
Linius nodded. He looked crushed.
‘I read the scroll Quint brought me,’ he went on softly. ‘It chilled my blood. Written in the ancient script I was now fluent in, it was full of folklore and superstition as one would expect and yet, the more I read, the more convinced I became that this was the creature I had created.
‘The Gloamglozer – or Ancient Wanderer – is said to have been created aeons ago at Riverrise. It was an evil time, before the Mother Storm seeded the Edgelands with life as we know it. The gloamglozer was one of the ancient ones that dwelt in the air: one of the ghouls and demons that fought and fed off each other in the Age of Darkness. It lived on, long after the other nameless ones disappeared, because it was a shape-shifter, a beguiler, a seeker after lost souls. It was only with the Age of Light and the coming of Kobold the Wise that the terrible creature finally faded into the mists of the Edgelands – and into myth and folklore: a fireside fable to frighten children with.’
Tears ran down the High Academe's cheeks. ‘And then, after countless centuries, I, Linius Pallitax, decided to play the great creator. I have brought life into being, far from the waters of Riverrise, in the arid centre of the Sanctaphrax rock. Is it any wonder I brought forth a demon from the very beginning of time?’ He sniffed miserably. ‘But at least now I knew what I must do. I had to return the abomination to the oblivion from whence it had come. And there was only one way to do that.’
‘Chine,’ said Bungus. ‘From the banks of Riverrise.’
‘Yes, my old friend,’ said Linius. ‘I gathered the last ampoule of chine confiscated from the exiled earth-scholars, and, for the first time, Quint took me down in the sky cage.’
‘What went wrong?’ said Maris. ‘Did that evil thing do this to you?’ She brushed a hand lightly over her father's bandages.
Linius shook his head. ‘No, my child. This I did to myself. You see, unlike a flat-head goblin or a bander-bear, the gloamglozer has no physical strength to speak of. It is a creature of the air, a demon. It feeds on fear and despair, pain and death. It is a schemer and a trickster.’ He took a sharp intake of breath. ‘That is what makes it so deadly.’
‘So what happened? Tell me, Father,’ pleaded Maris.
‘For his own safety, I left Quint behind in the sky cage and proceeded along the tunnel. Then, trembling with anticipation, I entered the laboratory. What appearance had my creation taken on this time? I wondered. I looked round, and there it was – crouched down in the corner.
‘I shut the door and turned to face my tormentor. I was trying not to let the fear that had gripped me show in my voice, but the creature was not t
ricked even for a moment. I could hear its tongue flicking the air – in, out, in, out – tasting it, relishing it.
‘It skulked in its lair as if sensing I meant it harm. I gripped the chine, easing the lid off the ampoule with my thumb whilst in my other hand I brandished the scroll Quint had fetched. “Look what I've brought you,” I said. “Wouldn't you like to see? Don't you want to know what you are? Your true identity?”
‘I heard a rustle from the shadows, and shook the scroll. “Here,” I said. “It's all here. Come out and read it for yourself.”
‘ “Give it to me,” came the creature's voice. A hand reached out from the shadows.
‘ “Come closer,” I coaxed. “Read it here by the light.”
‘The creature emerged and floated towards me. It resembled a gabtroll. It grasped at the parchment and I let it take it. It scanned the contents of the scroll, cackling and crooning as it did so. Then it paused. I watched as a finger traced the primitive outlandish drawing decorating the margin. It was a folk-drawing of the imagined true shape of a gloamglozer: horns, matted hair, long claws…
‘All at once the creature began to change into the exact likeness of this evil beast. Moments later, hovering in front of me, there was the gloamglozer. Overcoming my horror, I swung my arm in a great arc. The chine rained down on the abomination.
‘With a horrible scream it fled into the shadows. The terrible smell of burning flesh filled the air. I sat and waited. No sounds came from the lair. I prodded the shapeless bundle. It gave no sign of life. I sat there all night, despondent and brooding, going over and over what had happened. Finally, I left.
‘Back in my bed-chamber, I awoke from dreams filled with monsters and demons. What if the gloamglozer wasn't dead? How could I be certain? I decided I would never have any peace until I returned to the laboratory to make sure. So Quint took me down a second time.
‘The moment I entered the great underground chamber, I sensed that something was wrong. The huddled body beneath the cloak was gone, though the terrible smell of burnt flesh still lingered in the air. Then I heard it – a soft sobbing whimper coming from the far corner of the laboratory. But I wasn't fooled. I knew the creature was simply playing one more of its devious games. I shouted at it to be still. It responded by letting out a loud, defiant wail and demanded that I set it free.
‘Suddenly, a cold shiver of fear pierced my spine and I looked up. There, above me, hovered the horribly disfigured gloamglozer. It screamed in a voice I recognized as my own. “By Gloamglozer! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!”
‘I stumbled back and tripped over a thin wire stretched between two glass pillars at ankle height. A razor-sharp shard of glass flew down, gashing my scalp and almost severing my ear. Blood blinded me, but I managed to stumble to my feet. I brandished the empty ampoule at the hovering creature. Hissing with suppressed fury, it retreated – and I took my chance.
‘I dashed for the door, pressed the Seal into place and leapt through the gap. As the door slammed behind me, I heard the gloamglozer's muffled screams of rage. It thrashed about inside the laboratory. It pounded at the door. It threatened and pleaded – but I was deaf to its entreaties.
‘The gloamglozer had been imprisoned. I could only hope that, in time, its stone jail would become its coffin, and that the threat from the terrible monster would disappear for ever. I, for one, would never return to the Ancient Laboratory, and – by destroying all those clues which had led me to it – I intended to make sure that no-one else could either …’ He clutched at Maris's hand. ‘I didn't think that anyone would ever set foot in there again!’
‘Please, please,’ the creature said softly. ‘Open the door and let me out of this … this torture chamber. Hurry, before he returns.’
‘I'm trying,’ said Quint, as he fumbled with the Great Seal. He was finding it difficult to hold it in the stone indentation and turn at the same time. ‘Can you give me a hand?’ he suggested.
The creature made no reply. Quint turned, and gasped as he found himself looking into his own eyes. ‘What the… ?’
As the door slid open he stepped back nervously.
‘By Gloamglozer!’ the other Quint smiled. ‘I'll kill you! I'll kill you!’
A glass pillar snapped above his head and crashed down. A scaly hand reached out for the Great Seal as it slipped from Quint's grasp. And everything went black.
· CHAPTER SEVENTEEN ·
REVENGE
Linius sat up in bed, and hugged his knees to his chest. Having completed his story, he looked drained and haggard. The tears of remorse he'd shed had stopped, leaving his eyes red and his bony cheeks stained with glistening streaks.
‘Oh, Father,’ said Maris softly, and she leant forwards to comfort him.
But Linius pulled away. ‘I don't deserve your sympathy after everything I've done,’ he said. His eyes darted round feverishly. ‘After what I have unleashed on the world…’
‘This is no time for self-pity, old friend,’ said Bungus. ‘You have been reckless and foolhardy, that is true – but if we hurry, we can still avert a catastrophe. It is up to us to ensure that the gloamglozer remains contained in the Ancient Laboratory.’
‘But what if Quint has already released it?’ Linius moaned. ‘Oh, I could never forgive myself if anything has happened to the lad. And neither could Wind Jackal,’ he added softly. ‘He entrusted the youth to my care.’
‘Try to remain calm, Linius,’ said Bungus. ‘There is no point speculating about what might have happened.’ He stood up from the bed. ‘I shall return to the stonecomb at once.’
Linius looked up at the old librarian. ‘You would do that for me?’ he said.
‘Of course, Linius,’ said Bungus kindly. ‘For you, and for Sanctaphrax.’
Linius nodded slowly. ‘You should have been Most High Academe,’ he said, ‘rather than me.’ Suddenly, he threw back the bedclothes and swung his legs down onto the floor. ‘But I can't allow you to go alone, Bungus. I must come with you.’ He stood up. ‘We …’
‘Father!’ Maris cried out, as Linius stumbled forwards and collapsed to the floor in a heap. She ran round the bed and crouched down beside him. ‘You're still too weak,’ she said.
‘Yes, child,’ he groaned pitifully. ‘I am useless. Hopeless…’
‘Shush,’ she said gently. ‘We'll have none of that. You've been through a lot …’ She turned to Bungus. ‘Can you give me a hand?’
Taking an arm each, the pair of them helped Linius up from the floor and placed him gently on the bed. He flopped back heavily against the pillows. His eyes closed.
Bungus leant over the High Academe and spoke softly but urgently. ‘Linius? Can you hear me? Time is short.’
Linius's eyelids flickered.
‘Linius, I need to know how to get to the Ancient Laboratory. The Librarians' Passage leads down from the Great Library into the heartrock, but…’
Linius opened his eyes and frowned. ‘Librarians' Passage?’ he said. ‘What is that?’
‘A vertical tunnel, old and secret,’ said Bungus, ‘constructed by earth-scholars many centuries ago.’
‘I had no idea,’ said Linius and shook his head. ‘If I had, I would never have had to go down in that appalling sky cage.’ He paused. ‘This passageway – does it emerge in a broad horizontal tunnel?’
‘Yes,’ said Bungus eagerly. ‘Yes it does.’
Linius nodded weakly. ‘This is the Great West Tunnel,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper. ‘You must follow the direction where the air glows deepest red.’ He paused a moment. ‘As you continue, you will find that movements in the rock have caused the tunnel to split into various minor passageways at several points. At every junction, you must take the left-hand tunnel.’
‘Always the left-hand tunnel,’ said Bungus, nodding.
‘At the final junction, the correct path looks like a dead-end,’ Linius continued. ‘But it isn't. You'll be able to squeeze through the fallen rocks. The laboratory door lies on the ot
her side.’ He opened his eyes and stared into the distance. ‘Oh, I'm so weary. How I wish to sleep,’ he moaned. ‘Yet when I do, what dreams I am haunted by! Oh, Bungus, you can't imagine…’
Bungus said nothing. He reached into the leather satchel and removed a small phial of purple liquid. He unscrewed the top and handed it to Linius.
‘Drink this,’ he said softly. ‘It will help you sleep.’
‘But the dreams …’ said Linius.
‘It'll take care of the dreams too, old friend,’ said Bungus. ‘You have my word.’
‘Drink it, Father,’ said Maris. ‘Everything will seem different when you wake up.’
Linius reached forwards. He wrapped his fingers round the glass phial, raised it to his lips and swallowed it in one gulp.
‘It tastes good,’ he said, and turned to the old librarian. ‘Now, go, Bungus, as quickly as you can. Sky willing, you are not already too late.’
‘Sky willing, Linius,’ said Bungus. ‘And Earth willing, too.’ He turned away and strode towards the door.
Linius lay back against the pillows. His eyelids grew heavy. ‘Oh, and Bungus,’ he said drowsily. ‘Promise me … you'll … take … care …’ His voice faded away. Moments later, the room echoed with soft, rhythmic breathing.
Bungus smiled. ‘Pleasant dreams, Linius,’ he whispered. Then he turned to Maris. ‘It has been an honour meeting you, Maris, daughter of Linius Pallitax,’ he said. ‘Maybe one day our paths will cross again. Fare you well.’ He turned and opened the door.
‘What?’ Maris exclaimed. Her father sighed in his sleep and rolled over – but did not wake up. Maris leapt from the bed and ran after Bungus. ‘I'm coming with you,’ she said.
‘No, Maris, you must not,’ said Bungus sternly. ‘Have you heard nothing your father has just told us? Don't you realize the danger? And you are still weakened yourself…’
‘I don't care!’ Maris shouted. ‘It was only because of me that Quint went down there in the first place. I can't just abandon him!’