Night Fall

by Simon R. Green

  “You have some other course of action in mind?” said the Sarjeant.

  “Charles and Emily believe they can arrange a meeting with the surviving members of the Authorities,” the Matriarch said steadily. “Brilliant Chang, Annie Abattoir, and Julien Advent. So we can work together on how to put the Nightside boundaries back where they belong.”

  The Sarjeant stopped her with an impatient gesture. “I know Jessica Sorrow is dead. I was there when she overreached herself. What happened to Hadleigh Oblivion?”

  “All three Oblivion Brothers invaded Drood Hall in our absence,” said the Matriarch. “None of them survived. Apparently the Librarian killed Hadleigh personally.”

  The Sarjeant smiled for the first time. “I always knew Uncle William still had it in him.”

  “The important thing is to put an end to the fighting and concentrate on what really matters,” said the Matriarch.

  The Sarjeant looked around him, at all the things he’d done, and smiled again. “This is what really matters.”

  “We have to make a deal, Sarjeant! We’re not winning this war!”

  The Sarjeant leaned forward suddenly, thrusting his injured face right into hers. “No deals! The Bride of Frankenstein ripped my face apart. One of our own allies. This is what being in the Nightside does to people. We can’t trust anyone. How can you talk about stopping the fighting when so many of the family are dead or injured? We paid a high price for the ground we’ve taken, and I will not allow it to be for nothing.”

  The Matriarch met his gaze with cold authority. “And what have we gained that was worth all this blood and suffering, Sarjeant?”

  “I always knew you were too weak to lead the Droods into battle,” said the Sarjeant. He didn’t sound pleased to have his suspicions confirmed, only terribly tired. “I knew you didn’t have the guts to do what needed doing. And I always knew it would come to this. So I will take charge of the family now.”

  He gestured to half-a-dozen of his people, and they quickly moved forward, as though they’d only been waiting for orders. They armoured up and surrounded the Matriarch. They made no move against her, but from the way they looked to the Sarjeant, it was clear they were ready to do anything he wanted. The Matriarch stood very still.

  “Don’t put on your armour, Maggie,” said the Sarjeant, quite calmly. “Or I will have them subdue you. By any means necessary. I can’t afford another traitor with a knife at my back. Surrender, and you’ll live to go back to your precious gardens when all of this is over.”

  The Matriarch looked to her messenger, Ruan. He was looking at the Sarjeant with something very like hero-worship, and she knew she’d lost him. She was on her own. The Matriarch nodded stiffly to the Sarjeant, not so much surrendering to him as to the inevitable. The family had decided it belonged to the Sarjeant, body and soul. All she could do was bide her time and wait for a chance.

  “Find somewhere secure and lock her up,” said the Sarjeant. “Don’t hurt her unless you have to. When the war is over, we’ll find someone more suited to be Matriarch.”

  One of the armoured Droods surrounding the Matriarch gestured at a nearby building, and they all moved forward at once, herding her in that direction. She kept her face cool and calm as she went, though inside she was ice-cold with fury. She’d never wanted to be Matriarch; she was perfectly happy as head gardener, but they told her she had to do it, so she’d done everything in her power to be the Matriarch the family needed. And now they’d turned on her. She smiled sourly. She should have seen this coming. Ever since they entered the long night, the Sarjeant hadn’t been the same. Maybe he was right; maybe just being here did things to people.

  They’d almost reached the scorched and scarred building when Emily and Charles suddenly stepped out of the shadows to block their way. Charles held up a small green plastic clicker in the shape of a frog, and all the Droods surrounding the Matriarch cried out in shock and horror as their armour was forced back into their torcs. Emily took the Matriarch by the arm, and the three of them disappeared into the shadows.

  * * *

  • • •

  The unarmoured Droods ran back to tell the Sarjeant what had happened. They stood stiffly before him, ready to accept whatever punishment he deemed necessary, but he just nodded, as though he should have expected it. This was the Nightside, after all. And then everyone looked around sharply as a very familiar figure came striding down the street toward them, the steady clacking of her heels disturbingly loud on the hush. It was Martha Drood, the previous Matriarch. Martha, who’d been murdered inside Drood Hall.

  Tall and elegant and more regal-looking than the Queen, Martha strode right through the ranks of the shocked and startled Droods. A grey-haired woman in her seventies, dressed like country-side aristocracy in tweeds, twin-set, and pearls. She had been a famous beauty in her day, and her strong bone structure meant she was still striking. The Droods fell back to give her plenty of room as she passed, murmuring agitatedly among themselves. Because this was the Nightside. Everyone knew the dead walked here, sometimes. Martha finally came to a halt, directly before the Sarjeant, who looked steadily back at her.

  “You’re not her,” he said flatly. “Not Martha. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you now, for such effrontery.”

  “Because I’m here to give you what you need, to win this war,” said Martha.

  And just like that she was gone. In her place stood Puck, the only elf who was not perfect. With the glamour dismissed, he was a short and compact figure, his body smooth and supple as a dancer’s. But the hump on his back pushed one shoulder forward and down, and the hand on that arm had withered into a claw. His hair was grey, and his skin was the colour of yellowed bone. Two raised nubs on his forehead might have been horns. He wore a pelt of animal fur, which blended seamlessly into his own hairy lower body. His legs ended in cloven hooves.

  Puck: trickster, spy, and joyful killer. Who hated humans almost as much as he hated his own kind.

  “Well?” he said, smiling an unpleasantly knowing smile. “Aren’t you pleased to see me, Cedric?”

  “Is anyone ever pleased to see you?” said the Sarjeant. “How were you able to duplicate Martha? You never even met her.”

  “You’d be surprised who I’ve met,” Puck said easily. “Martha had contacts with all kinds of surprising people. That’s what made her such a successful Matriarch. She always was a very pragmatic person. You’d be surprised at some of the people who wanted to meet me when it suited them.”

  “I might if I cared,” said the Sarjeant.

  “Then let us talk of something you will care about,” said Puck. “I am here to supply you with the troops you need, to make up for the Droods you’ve lost. I have an army waiting in the wings, enough trained fighters for you to put down any resistance the Nightside can set against you. More than enough to bring this war to a satisfying conclusion.”

  “Where could you find such an army?” said the Sarjeant.

  “I offer you elves,” said Puck. “Fighters who will sink themselves in slaughter for the sheer delight it brings. Elves with enchanted armour and cruel weapons, who are not scared of anything in the long night because they’re always going to be the scariest things in it. Not all of us left this world, to go to Shadows Fall and the Sundered Lands. I offer you an army that will fight under your orders in return for a fair share of the loot to be found in a conquered Nightside.”

  The Sarjeant frowned. “You’d fight for money?”

  “Not for gold, Sarjeant,” said Puck. “For ancient weapons and Objects of Power, for lost secrets and forbidden knowledge. The Nightside has those in abundance.”

  “And why should we give up any of those things to you?” said the Sarjeant.

  “Because your family already has more of that than you know what to do with,” said Puck.

  “True,” said the Sarjeant. “Y
ou have your deal. Bring me your army, and we’ll raze the Nightside to the ground.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Molly, Isabella, and Louisa were talking together outside St Jude’s. Because they disturbed the hell out of the people inside the church. They were busy playing catch-up, when they weren’t arguing over who’d done most against the Droods. Eddie stood back and let them get on with it. He was worried about the Matriarch. She should have made contact with the Sarjeant and come back to tell him about it long ago. He’d sent Charles and Emily travelling through the shadows to check for him, and they hadn’t come back either. He was just getting ready to interrupt the Metcalf sisters, by force if necessary, when Molly turned suddenly to face him.

  “Stop worrying about the Matriarch. You must have known making a deal with the Sarjeant was going to take time.”

  “I should never have let her go,” said Eddie. “The Sarjeant has the taste of blood in his mouth now, and I think he likes it. But she was so sure she could convince him . . .”

  “You always were an optimist,” said Molly. “Which is frankly odd for someone who grew up with your family.”

  “I’m fed up just standing around!” Isabella said loudly. “I came to the Nightside for a little action.”

  Louisa laughed and clapped her hands together delightedly. “Oh, me too! Do let’s go! I want to break some more hearts and listen to people scream. I want to tear the spirit out of people and dance with the dead!”

  Molly looked at Isabella. “You know . . . sometimes she even scares me.”

  “That’s why I keep her close, as much as I can,” said Isabella. “I keep hoping some of my sanity will rub off on her.”

  “I think I see a flaw in your scheme . . .” said Eddie.

  Molly looked at him, and he stopped talking. And that was when Emily, Charles, and the Matriarch burst out of the shadows at the side of the church. Eddie’s first thought was relief, until he saw the look on the Matriarch’s face. It took awhile to get the whole story out of them, including some things they’d observed while hiding in the shadows; and then everyone stood around and thought about it.

  “Puck?” Molly said finally. “What the hell is that twisted little trouble-maker doing in the Nightside?”

  “Taking advantage of the situation,” said Eddie. “So he can play his games and stamp on human faces. But what’s he doing here on his own? Usually, he only follows along behind Oberon and Titania.”

  “It sounded like he’s struck out on his own,” said the Matriarch. “He has his own army now.”

  “I can’t believe the Sarjeant would put us in league with elves,” said Eddie.

  “I can,” said Molly. “He’s desperate, ready to grab at any chance that will let him win. And the Droods have taken so many losses, you can bet the rank and file won’t have any problems going along with it. Your family isn’t used to losing; they don’t like the taste.”

  “They’ll do it,” the Matriarch said grimly. “Even my most trusted messenger threw in with the Sarjeant. The Droods have always admired fighters more than leaders. Which means . . . if I want to take back control of the family, I need something to make me stronger than the Sarjeant. I have to get back to Drood Hall, Eddie; talk to the Armourer and hope they can provide me with something powerful enough to overthrow the Sarjeant and an army of elves.”

  “Molly and I will go with you,” said Eddie. “Isabella, you and Louisa stay here, with my mother and father. Protect St Jude’s.”

  “But I want to go with you!” said Louisa, pouting.

  “Yeah,” said Isabella. “Why don’t we get to go to Drood Hall?”

  “Because St Jude’s is important,” said Eddie. “It matters.”

  The others nodded. They couldn’t argue with that.

  “I don’t want to risk using the Merlin Glass,” said Eddie. “The Sarjeant will have set some of his people to watch for its distinctive energies.”

  He looked at Molly, but she shook her head firmly.

  “No, I can’t just teleport us there. I’ve used up most of my magics, and the few I’ve got left I’m hanging on to for when I need them.”

  “Then use this,” said the Matriarch. And she showed them the Merlin Glass from the future.

  It took her awhile to explain what it was and when it had come from, but in the end Eddie just shrugged.

  “It’s the Nightside . . .”

  * * *

  • • •

  The future Merlin Glass took Eddie, Molly, and the Matriarch straight to Blaiston Street, outside Drood Hall. The moment they stepped through the Glass, they were struck by how much conditions had deteriorated since they’d left. Half the buildings had collapsed, the brick and stone just crumbled away, as though centuries had passed. Eddie remembered a story he’d once been told, of a future Nightside where everything was ruins, and everyone was dead but the insects. The Matriarch reached out to the Merlin Glass, and it shrank down and shot through the air to nestle into her hand. The Matriarch looked at the Glass, then at the street.

  “Has something gone wrong? Has the future Glass brought us to Blaiston Street’s future?”

  “No,” Molly said immediately. “We’re exactly where and when we’re supposed to be.”

  “She knows about these things,” said Eddie.

  The Matriarch gave them both a hard look but went along. She put the hand-mirror away, while Molly scowled around the deserted street.

  “This street is centuries older than it should be. The changed boundary must be stretching the fabric of the Nightside dangerously thin, maybe to breaking-point. So . . . if the long night keeps expanding into the outside world, the whole fabric of reality could be dangerously weakened.”

  “This war is just a distraction,” said Eddie. “To keep us from noticing the real problem. I think someone deliberately arranged all of this.”

  “You mean we’ve been played?” The Matriarch glared around her, outraged. “Someone set the Droods and the Nightside at each other’s throats, so they could put the whole world at risk? Who would do that?”

  “When we find out who, that should give us the why,” said Eddie. “For now, we need to concentrate on doing whatever it takes to stop the war. So we can get to the real problem.”

  “We need the Armourer,” said the Matriarch.

  She started toward the Hall, then stopped, as she took in the remains of the Droods’ scarecrows, lying scattered across the road. Eddie recognised them immediately. He’d fought the scarecrows before. He knelt to study some of the pieces and frowned. They were desiccated, almost mummified, centuries old. Like the street.

  “Something killed all the scarecrows?” said Molly, peering over Eddie’s shoulder. “What kind of power could do that?”

  “The Oblivion Brothers,” said the Matriarch, as Eddie got to his feet again. “They came here to invade our home. Oh, don’t worry; they’re all dead. But we need to get inside the Hall and see what’s happened in our absence.”

  She broke off as two figures emerged from the shadows to block the way. Dash Oblivion and Shirley den Adel, who long ago had been the Continental Op and the Lady Phantasm. They both looked their age now, tired and worn-down, faces drawn and haggard from tears and loss. But the old hands pointing guns at Eddie and Molly and the Matriarch were still perfectly steady. Eddie stood very still, wondering how Dash and Shirley could have got their hands on weapons specially designed for Drood field agents.

  “Careful,” he said quietly to Molly and the Matriarch. “Those are Colt Repeaters. They can call on whatever kind of ammunition they need to get the job done.”

  “Including strange-matter bullets?” asked the Matriarch, just as quietly.

  “Theoretically, yes,” said Eddie.

  “Terrific . . .” said Molly.

  “Our sons went into your Hall,” Dash said loud
ly. “Hadleigh and Larry and Tommy. And none of them came out again. The Dark Academie says they’re all dead.”

  “Your family murdered them!” said Shirley.

  The Matriarch stepped forward to talk to them, and they opened fire. Eddie and the Matriarch armoured up, their golden armour closing over them before the bullets could get anywhere near them. Molly was already standing behind Eddie, using him as a shield. But the guns were only knock-offs, firing regular ammunition, and the golden armour just soaked that up. Eddie and the Matriarch stood their ground and let the old people shoot at them until finally Dash and Shirley accepted their guns were no good against Drood armour. They slowly lowered their weapons, and Eddie lowered his armour, to show them the sympathy on his face.

  “I’m sorry about your sons,” he said. “We’ve all lost people in this stupid war. We’re trying to put an end to it.”

  “Why did you have to come here?” said Dash.

  “You even killed my adopted daughter,” said Shirley. “Ms Fate is dead.”

  “Oh no . . .” said Molly.

  Dash and Shirley turned and walked away, leaning on each other. Two broken old heroes who had outlived their children.

  “They’re right,” said the Matriarch, armouring down. “I should never have brought the family here. This isn’t what Droods are supposed to do. If someone did trick us into this, for their own purposes, I will have their heart’s blood.”

  She headed for the Hall, and Eddie and Molly hurried after her.

  “How did you know the Oblivion Brothers were dead?” said Eddie.

  “William got word to me after they’d been dealt with,” said the Matriarch, not looking around. “He killed one of them himself.”

  Eddie wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It sounded like the Librarian had saved the day, as well as the family, but it didn’t sound like the William he thought he knew.

  “How was he able to contact you?” he said, as much to distract himself as anything. “When we’ve been having such trouble with communications?”