by Clive Mullis
Within a few short seconds, he couldn’t see a bloody thing as after a few turns, the light decided to go on strike. He stubbed his toes and then smacked his head on the low roof, eventually having to crawl to a stop, listening for any clue to where Clarence had gone; if he carried on, he would end up knocking himself out. He could hear the faintest noise of the reception back in the chamber, but nothing else, so he continued hesitantly down the tunnel, feeling his way as he didn’t have so much as a match about his person.
Now he felt a bit of a fool, feeling his way tentatively down the tunnel, hands touching the stone-cold rock, hoping that he would come across one of the locals. It was a hopeless situation and one that only an amateur would make. Frankie sighed, then grumbled and then swore, a lot, into the black depths ahead of him.
Unfortunately, nobody swore back.
He gave up and reluctantly turned around and very slowly, hand over hand, made his way back, muttering obscenities all the while until he spied a chink of light in the distance; thankful that now he had something to aim for.
Breaking out of the tunnel, he gazed about, amazed to see utter chaos around the chamber. People were running around with no sense of why they were running around: it was posh peoples’ panic.
He caught a glimpse of Cornwallis with Rose, in the company of Jethro, the earl and Maud, together with a few dwarfs and another man whom he did not recognise, but from Cornwallis’ description, could only be the Bagman. They were standing there all gazing in the same direction: a little oasis in the whirlpool of humanity.
Frankie forced his way through the milling crowd and came up to Cornwallis’ shoulder. ‘Bastard got away, that Clarence, he went down one of the tunnels. What’s going on here?’
‘Got away?’ asked Cornwallis, still gazing forward. ‘You need to find him.’
‘I know; just need a lantern and a dwarf: too many passages down there. What are you looking at?’
‘Up there, by the steps. Brooksturner has got hold of the Warden. We were just organising an orderly exodus when Brooksturner went into a panic. Now everybody’s at it.’
‘Not us,’ said a dwarf.
‘No, not you,’ replied Cornwallis. ‘Can one of you help Frankie?’
‘What, and miss all the fun?’
‘I’m pretty certain you’ll have all the fun you want with Frankie.’
‘You sure?’
Cornwallis nodded. ‘Pretty sure.’
The dwarf sighed. ‘All right, just hope I don’t miss much.’
Frankie grinned. ‘I’ll tell you what: you can have first swing at the bastard.’
As Frankie and the dwarf left, Cornwallis turned his attention back to Brooksturner and the Warden. The initial panic had now subsided and the two seemed to be arguing which turned into a bit of a tussle and then Brooksturner lobbed a right-hander which caught the Warden squarely on the chin, knocking him down the steps to land sprawling at the bottom.
Behind Brooksturner, a few figures emerged from the avenue of torches, including the little scrote Phimp, just as the Warden completed tumbling down the steps. The crowd that had hushed at the punch now began to voice their opinion on what had just transpired and Brooksturner was certainly not the object of adulation.
‘Seems that a bit more than a political argument has occurred,’ remarked Cornwallis.
The Bagman grinned wryly. ‘A defining moment certainly: not only has he nailed the Warden, but also, I believe, he just nailed his colours to the wall.’
‘Who are those behind Brooksturner?’ asked Rose.
‘The cabal, Miss Morant,’ replied the Bagman. ‘Finally, the scum has risen to the surface.’
Brooksturner grabbed hold of Phimp and spoke urgently in his ear. Phimp shook his head vehemently and held up his hands in protest, but Brooksturner just pointed down the steps and then pushed Phimp hard so he had to take a few steps down before turning and looking back. Brooksturner shook his head and pointed again and then Phimp gave a last murderous glance in his direction before turning and running down the steps and back into the chamber.
People and dwarfs watched with interest as no one really had a clue as to what was happening, except that Brooksturner had landed one on the Warden.
‘I suggest,’ said the Bagman. ‘That Phimp is yours, Mr Cornwallis, and you can leave me and your father to deal with Brooksturner and his associates.’
Cornwallis glanced quickly at Rose who nodded, just as Phimp reached the tunnel that led to Goodhalgan’s chamber.
‘Let’s hurry,’ said Cornwallis urgently. ‘Before we lose the bastard.’
Phimp grabbed a torch from the wall before sprinting off, down the tunnel to only the gods knew where.
Cornwallis grabbed the nearest dwarf. ‘You’re coming with us,’ he ordered as he set off in pursuit.
‘Am I?’ replied the dwarf.
‘Yes,’ said Rose. ‘They’re your bloody tunnels.’
Seeing that she had a point and it wouldn’t do for some long-legs to go rampaging through miles of what he termed home, he set off with the two detectives.
Cornwallis grabbed another torch and with the flaming brand held high, they entered the mouth of the tunnel.
Up ahead, Phimp’s torch cast a strange silhouette as Cornwallis, Rose and the dwarf charged after. He appeared to grow huge like an avenging angel as his shadow fell on the walls and roof as he ran forward.
Suddenly a “Whumpth” noise intruded and the ground shook making Rose and Cornwallis stumble. The noise came from both behind and in front as though filtered through the passageways of the tunnel.
‘What was that?’ asked Rose with a high degree of concern.
‘Tunnel collapsing,’ replied Bracic the dwarf, knowledgeably, as though it was something that happened every day.
And then a sort while later, another came, but this time louder and closer and it came from directly behind them, from the chamber they had recently left.
‘And there goes another,’ said Bracic, but this time he wasn’t quite as nonchalant, as his worried frown indicated.
Ahead of them, Phimp disappeared around a corner and the silhouette vanished, leaving just a dull orange light flickering off the wall.
‘He’s turned off,’ observed Rose. ‘How the hell does he know where to go?’ she added, confused.
‘Beats me,’ replied Cornwallis. ‘We’ve both been down here loads of times, and neither of us know our way around, apart from the few tunnels we use regularly.’
They ran on and then turned the corner that Phimp had taken and saw the torch once more, this time a little closer; it seemed to lower for a few seconds before rising up again. A spark, then a small flame appeared from lower down near the floor.
‘Come on, we can catch up with him,’ said Cornwallis, putting on a spurt.
Suddenly Phimp’s torch disappeared; it sort of winked out leaving no ambient light to indicate that he had taken a turn. It had just vanished as if snuffed out.
‘Where’s he gone?’ asked Rose, hot on Cornwallis’ heels.
They slowed down to where they thought they had last seen the torch but the tunnel was devoid of life.
‘He must have gone somewhere,’ said Cornwallis turning to Bracic. ‘Any ideas?’
Bracic put his finger to his cheek and tapped it in thought. ‘There’s a cut-through back there a bit—’
‘Hang on,’ interrupted Cornwallis, noticing something.
He bent down towards a gap in the rock and peered closer. He studied in silence for a couple of seconds and then…‘Shit!’ he yelled. ‘Run! Quick! Gonepowder!’
‘Wha…?’ exclaimed Rose.
‘Gonepowder,’ repeated Cornwallis, pushing her back.
‘Shit!’ said Bracic.
They turned and ran and a moment later, it happened: all hell on twearth erupted from behind them; a deafening crack, a whoosh of air and a cascade of tumbling rocks came crashing down to cover the floor of the tunnel.
Chapter 41
/> MacGillicudy poked his head out of the trap-door, crept into the office, moved to the door and peered around. There were only a few crates scattered about, the odd box and a couple of sacks littering the warehouse floor, so he scrambled back and beckoned those below to join him.
Dewdrop still tried to convince himself that they had heard correctly and that they had come to the right conclusion. If they were wrong, then this little foray to the ship would not only be a waste of time, but it would take them away from where they were most needed. The fact that the commander agreed with the assessment wasn’t helping very much, he thought that it would be his fault if they were wrong, even though the girls had heard it too. Felicity and Tiffany weren’t concerned at all, they were certain; he just wished he felt as confident as they did.
Once through the side-door to the warehouse they walked quickly onto the wharf, Zepi, the dwarf, returned to the tunnels, eager to see what was happening below.
‘There’s the ship,’ said Tiffany, pointing.
MacGillicudy nodded. ‘That’s the one. Now, all we have to do is get to it,’ he said, taking a quick step back as a heavily laden barrow, pushed by a demented looking dock worker with his cap on backwards, rushed by, weaving through the packed throng. ‘That is, if we stay alive long enough to reach it.’
Their timing could have been better. The docks swarmed with workers as cargo spewed from the holds of the ships lying alongside. Dockers rolled barrels, dragged carts and pushed barrows; cranes pecked out nets crammed with goods and swung them over to land at the feet of the workers. A tumult of noise assaulted their ears as the feelers dodged all this as they threaded their way through to the water’s edge.
There wasn’t a wherry, a rowboat or any form of small river transportation in sight.
‘Now we’re stuffed,’ observed Dewdrop disconsolately.
‘Not necessarily,’ replied Tiffany. ‘Look over there,’ she said, pointing. ‘A sight-seeing boat is pulling in.’
‘Oh yes,’ said MacGillicudy, craning his neck. ‘That’ll do.’
It was a mystery as to why people would spend their hard-earned cash to travel on the Sterkle, up the sludgy river to view the countryside, which could easily have been seen from the back of a horse or to go downriver to see the tanneries, the smelters, the alchemists’ village; the paddles of the craft churning the river like a farmer churns the soil with fertiliser, the river swallowing up all the stuff that had washed down from the streets giving off the tell-tale whiff of a city with a serious bowel problem. But they did, presumably because people were interested to see where their bowel movements ended up.
The two-bear paddle boat hooked up to the jetty and the people on board began to pour off, hoping to get a whiff of cleaner air, as MacGillicudy strolled up.
‘Police,’ stated the commander as he dodged around the last passenger to disembark then thrusting his warrant card under the nose of the crewman.
‘Where?’ came the urgent response, the crewman looking around warily.
‘Here,’ replied MacGillicudy. ‘I mean me.’
‘Oh,’ said the crewman. ‘We ain’t dun nuffink,’ he added, the response automatic, indicating that despite what he may claim, there was certainly something.
MacGillicudy ignored the implication but stored it away in his mind for future reference. ‘I’m not worried about that at the moment. I’m commandeering this boat and its crew for city security.’
‘You what?’
‘Take me to your captain.’
‘Er…’
‘Your captain, the man who, er, captains the boat.’
‘You mean Nosher. ‘E’s gone fer a wazz.’
‘A what?’
‘A wazz, a piss. ‘E were first off, a bit desperate. ‘E’ll be back before we gets going again. ‘Bout half an ‘our.’
‘Bit of a long piss, that.’
‘Yeah.’
The crewman didn’t elaborate.
‘Never mind, you’ll do instead. Get this thing going. You’re taking us over to that ship out there.’ He pointed to where they wanted to go.
‘Can’t do that,’ said the crewman, looking at where MacGillicudy pointed. ‘Gotta ‘ave Nosher on board. ‘E’s the only one ‘oo can drive.’
‘The only one…?’ MacGillicudy was incredulous.
‘Commander,’ said Tiffany. ‘If it’s any help, my father has a boat and I used to take control of it. I know what to do.’
‘You did? Then the boats yours, Captain Tiffany.’
‘You can’t do that,’ said the crewman.
‘We just have,’ replied MacGillicudy. ‘Get the bears to start paddling.’
‘Can’t do that neither. Tea break.’
‘Can’t…? Toopins; down below and get those bears moving. Felicity, you help Tiffany and you,’ he said waggling his finger at the crewman, ‘can unmoor this thing.’
‘But Nosher…’
‘We are going, Nosher or no Nosher.’
Gigali the dwarf ran ahead of Frankie down into the vastness of the dwarfs’ domain. It was a city beneath a city with another city beneath that and another city beneath even that. It went down several levels and the only maps were inside the dwarfs’ heads. Frankie felt lost within a few minutes of entering the mouth and now all he could do was to follow and hope that Gigali had some idea of where this Clarence had gone.
‘What’s this man meant to be up to?’ asked Gigali as they ran.
‘Dunno,’ said Frankie. ‘But we think he’s part of the plan to flood this place.’
‘Flood? That’s going to be difficult.’
‘Not when yer’ve got a bloody great river above you.’
‘Ah,’ said the dwarf. ‘That could make it easier. How they planning on doing it?’
Frankie gave a quick explanation of what they had surmised.
‘They’ll have to block off a few places to do that. Water tends to go down and there’s a lot of down in here.’
‘Then maybe that’s what he’s going to do. He seems to know this place a bit; how, I don’t know? But he must know enough. How would you do it, what tunnels would you block?’
Gigali slowed to a stop and then began to look around in thought.
Frankie caught his breath as the dwarf pondered the situation.
‘You reckon they’re after flooding and drowning everyone back there?’
Frankie nodded. ‘Reckon so.’
‘In that case, I would block two places which would funnel the water this way. It wouldn’t touch The Pipe up there though, it’s too high up.’
‘I don’t think they’re worried about that, they just want to kill everyone below that.’
‘Nice people.’
‘Very.’
‘Then we need to go back a bit, take one of the side-tunnels.’
‘Oh, and if you see a ginger cat, he’s on our side.’
‘A cat?’
‘Yeah, he’s a mean bastard; went after this Clarence. Ain’t seen him since.’
Gigali led again with Frankie now bent double to avoid smacking his head on the rocks above, now that they were out of the main tunnel. Frankie struggled as his knees kept coming precariously close to his chin and the faster they went the more likely he would knock himself out. They came out of the side-tunnel and entered another main one. Gigali turned a right and they hurried on.
‘Just up here is where I’d put a blockage.’
The “Whumpth” and a flash of searing light came hurtling down towards them at the same time as a force ten gale assailed them; both were plucked off their feet and thrown backwards as the force blew past and went on its merry way to peter out far into the depths beyond.
Frankie sat there bemused as dust settled around him. Gigali lay flat on his back just staring straight up at the roof. Both had trouble with their ears, insomuch as, a band of percussionists were playing a symphony.
When the floor finally stopped moving and shaking, Frankie turned onto his knees and crawled over to the
dwarf; the lantern miraculously still alight.
‘You alive?’ asked Frankie, nudging him with his hand.
Gigali saw the lips move but couldn’t hear the words. He shook his head, banged his ears with the palms of his hands and then looked at Frankie again.
‘I said, are you…? Oh, never mind.’
‘Wha…?’ asked Gigali.
‘Er?’ replied Frankie. ‘Can’t hear you,’ he said, waggling his fingers in the general direction of his ears.
Gigali caught on and indicated the same. They stayed where they were for a few moments and then slowly climbed to their feet. Someone had now turned the volume down on the percussionists and other noises were starting to intrude, like the sound of rocks coming to a rest.
‘You hear now?’ enquired Frankie.
Gigali nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘In that case, what happened?’
‘Gonepowder, I reckon. You know about that stuff?’
Frankie sighed. ‘I do, one match and it’s gone. Yeah, I know it.’
‘Well, that’s what happened.’
They walked tentatively forward to the junction and looked around the corner. The roof had collapsed, filling the tunnel with rocks and mud. There were little squeaks and squeals and one or two squelches as the rocks and mud oozed to a stop with tapping noises as the rocks cooled from the initial blast.
As things began to settle, Frankie scratched his head. ‘So, you would have put the blockage about here, then?’
‘Gigali nodded. ‘Yup; the good news is it won’t take long to clear.’
‘The bad?’
‘We ain’t gonna do it in time.’
‘Oh, shit!’
Footstep noises came from behind and then a halo of light bobbed up and down along the walls and roof, and then the light emerged from around a corner in the tunnel. It stopped and then held steady, a small light, as if from a pocket oil lamp, then suddenly it vanished.