The Final Reckoning

by Robin Jarvis

  Soon the whole thing was ablaze. The fire ravaged through the structure with amazing swiftness. The snow in the yard melted as the heat hammered out from it and the mice thawed themselves. Audrey opened the Starwife’s bag. There were only a few dried leaves and herbs left in it but she emptied them out onto her palm and cast them into the flames. ‘Speed to the Green!’ she commanded.

  The fire spluttered and for a moment tiny stars of emerald spat and fizzled in its heart. Almost immediately the blackened branches crumbled and collapsed. The flames dwindled and the snow that had melted iced over as the temperature plummeted once again.

  ‘It is done,’ said Audrey. ‘It would be better if we went inside now.’ Everyone looked at her curiously, not least Thomas who wondered how she had known the correct words when she had never heard them before. But they admitted it was too cold to remain outside any longer and hurried indoors to escape the wind.

  The Hall was not much warmer. Even when they plugged up the hole in the kitchen the extreme chill of winter lingered. Arthur looked at the dying embers on the slate and knew it would not be long before they too froze to death.

  Children wailed and turned pinched, hungry; faces to their mothers but there was nothing for them to eat. ‘What are we to do?’ beseeched the distraught parents, ‘my baby needs food.’ The Raddle sisters fanned their paws before each other’s faces frantically trying not to faint.

  ‘Oh Oswald,’ blubbered Mrs Chitter, ‘I shan’t ever see you again.’

  Thomas looked on this desperate scene and wished he could do something. ‘Oh Gwennie,’ he sighed to Mrs Brown, ‘what now?’

  ‘Trust in the Green, Thomas,’ she replied ‘that is all any of us can do.’

  ‘Aye,’ he muttered doubtfully, ‘but when will . . .’

  ‘Hush!’ Gwen interrupted him. ‘Listen, can you hear?’ The midshipmouse wrinkled his brow at her: in surprise but he tilted his head and cocked an ear. There, faint at first, was a curious scraping noise.

  ‘What is it?’ Gwen asked. ‘Where is it coming from?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ whispered Thomas. He called out for quiet and everyone listened to the sound. It became louder, like sharp nails dragging down a blackboard. The Raddle sisters shuddered and yelped.

  ‘It’s coming from out there,’ cried Arthur running to the great, boarded up front door. The noise continued to screech and then suddenly . . .

  BANG!

  ‘What was that?’ boomed Thomas in alarm as the door buckled and sent Arthur reeling backwards.

  BANG!

  There it was again and the mice squeaked with fright.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Whatever was out there was trying to break in. The door quivered as the pounding blows became a battering frenzy. Mrs Chitter screamed and fled into the Skirtings. The air trembled at the ferocity of the attack and the walls vibrated ominously.

  ‘It’s mighty powerful whatever it is,’ breathed Thomas.

  Audrey felt the back of her neck tingle and a feeling of overwhelming dread rushed down her spine as she sensed waves of pure evil ricochet into the Hall.

  ‘Go away!’ Master Oldnose shouted at the unknown thing behind the door, but his voice was thin and fearful. The savage onslaught went on regardless.

  ‘Get out of the way there!’ bellowed Thomas herding the stricken onlookers from the front of the Hall.

  ‘Oh Thomas,’ said Gwen, ‘who is it? What does it want?’

  But he did not answer for at that moment the door cracked and splinters sharp as needles flew out. The mice shrieked and cowered as far back as they could.

  A chink of light appeared in the towering expanse of fracturing wood and sawing and cutting through as though it were paper, a vicious point of ice jabbed its way in. Another glaring hole was punched out and a second stabbing icicle forced the splitting wood inwards. ‘Ice spears,’ gasped Arthur trembling in fear. ‘He’s sent his army to get us.’

  More of the evil spears smashed into the door and to everyone’s horror phantom claws reached through the jagged holes they had made, groping and searching for prey.

  It was a dreadful sight to watch, as the ghostly legion tore at their only defence with claw and ice. Everyone was too afraid to move and stared at the nightmare dumbly. The heap of splinters and shavings grew thick on the floor as the holes widened and arms thrashed in, reaching greedily out for the unwary.

  Thomas shook himself out of his terror. ‘They’ll be through soon,’ he shouted, ‘quick, everyone, into the cellar.’

  They looked at him in panic. ‘We’re not going down there!’ they cried.

  ‘Then where will you go?’ roared Thomas. ‘If you run back to your homes, they will find and kill you and if you run outside the winter will get you.’

  ‘But down there,’ they spluttered, ‘we’ll be running into worse danger.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ thundered the midshipmouse. ‘Jupiter’s not in the sewers anymore! We must get away while there’s still time.’

  ‘But where will you take them Thomas?’ Gwen asked. ‘Won’t those foul things follow us?’

  ‘Mebbe,’ he replied. ‘but what else can we do? There’s no use tryin’ to fight that motley crew – I’ve’ tried. We can only run now a’ that means Greenwich! To my ship we’ll go, an’ then who knows?’

  ‘Aaaaiiieee!’ screamed Algy pointing at a large hole. There, rising above the floating haze of sawdust came a hideous, spectral head, the blank, hollow eye sockets peered in and turned malignantly towards the frightened gathering. The black mouth fell open to utter a bloodcurdling moan that was filled with malice and hatred of the living. Shrieking for their lives the mice surged through the cellar door and poured down the stone steps.

  Jacob Chitter ran into the Skirtings and carried out his wailing wife who protested all the way. ‘Put me down,’ she whined, ‘I’m not going in there.’

  Audrey was swept along by the panicking crowd. She felt like an autumn leaf plucked up by the ravaging wind and having no control over where it was taken. Her feet hardly touched the ground as the jostling, rushing mice swarmed thickly into the darkness of the cellar.

  ‘Through the Grille quickly,’ Arthur called, ‘or we’ll be trapped.’

  Some of the mice held back. It was, after all, the symbol of the Underworld and had been a place to dread and shun all their lives.

  Thomas barked his instructions; ‘Ladies and children first, Arthur you go and lead them in.’

  Nervously they began to scramble through the rusted gap in the ornate ironwork, whilst from up above there came a sickening crash as the door finally gave way to the phantom horde. At this everyone squealed and pushed harder to escape from those terrible spears. ‘Careful!’ roared Thomas, ‘You’ll crush the little ’uns.’

  Audrey was shoved and squashed till the breath was squeezed from her body. A hefty mouse from the Landings trod clumsily on her tail but in the clamour and confusion he did not hear her cry out. Muttering angrily she wrenched it free but the silver bell on her tail shot off and rolled tinkling out of reach as the crowd moved forward once more, dragging her with it.

  ‘My bell!’ she cried unhappily but it was lost under the heavy tramp of frightened feet.

  A rough paw seized her and she was pulled through the throng by Mr Cockle who had seen her in difficulties. ‘There you go young Audrey,’ he said when she staggered out of the congestion.

  ‘Hey, it’s me next,’ spat a Landings lady barging forward. She thrust Audrey out of her way but Thomas stepped in and gripped the graceless mouse’s arm. He brushed her to one side and smiled charmingly, ‘Manners please Madam,’ he told her. ‘Your turn Mrs Scuttle,’ he said, holding the mass and the fuming snob back for Audrey.

  Thomas allowed Mrs Brown in next to teach the selfish creature a lesson. ‘Hurry,’ cried Gwen as she followed her daughter and passed through the rusted iron entrance.

  ‘In you go Arabel, don’t fret now,’ said Mr Chitter as he stuffed his wife into the Gri
lle. ‘There’s nothing at all to be scared of down there.’ But he kissed his mousebrass nervously before following her.

  There were only a dozen or so left to pass through and Thomas glanced warily up the steps. He could hear the horrible moans of the wraiths dragging their ice spears over the wreckage. ‘Come on,’ Thomas whispered urgently to himself as Mr Cockle, the last of the mice, disappeared into the gloom beyond the metal leaves.

  The midshipmouse fell to his knees and scrabbled through. Just as he whipped his tail in an ice spear crashed onto the floor behind.

  The sewers rang with small gasps that echoed round the arched tunnels. Only four of them had ever ventured down here and the other hundred or so gazed fearfully round at the dripping walls and slimy ledges. The water below was thick with islands of dirty, black ice which sluggishly swirled past. It was certainly living up to all their expectations, they could not imagine a worse place and bleated pathetically.

  They had squeezed themselves onto the narrow ledge and a long, miserable line of them stretched far into the evil-smelling distance. Thomas came limping up at the rear and shouted to the front where he presumed Arthur was.

  ‘You there matey?’ he yelled. The sewers snatched up his voice and it boomed through them like a gong.

  ‘I’m here Mr Triton,’ answered a smaller echo.

  ‘Do you remember the way to Greenwich lad?’ Thomas called.

  ‘I think so,’ came the reply.

  ‘Then lead on matey!’

  Slowly the great queue shuffled along and with a last, worried glance backwards, Thomas followed.

  Audrey was sandwiched between her mother and Mrs Chitter who complained incessantly, whinging at the state of her muddy toes and constantly blaming her husband for bringing her down here. Audrey would have turned round and told the stupid old biddy to shut up if she hadn’t been forced to keep an eye on the treacherous ledge herself. The way was icy and perilous, and more than once somebody cried out as they fell over and everyone behind had to stop and wait till they picked themselves up again before they could continue.

  Through the dank, darkness they filed, round sharp bends and corners, over fallen brickwork and through narrow arches. As she was gingerly stepping over a pool of frozen slime Audrey recognized the spot where she had first met Madame Akkikuyu. She smiled as she remembered the poor unloved fortune-teller – and then it happened again.

  The sewers and the sound of Mrs Chitter’s mewling faded far away and she felt herself drift blissfully from them. ‘Go back,’ said a soft voice in her head, ‘return to the garden, go back, go back.’

  ‘Hurry along there child,’ gabbled Mrs Chitter crossly, ‘stop gawping and get out from under my feet, you’re slowing everyone down.’

  Audrey was jolted back to the grim world and stared in confusion at the ranting fusspot. ‘I can’t go with you,’ she mouthed distractedly. ‘I must go back.’

  ‘Oh my!’ exclaimed a surprised Mrs Chitter as the girl pushed past her. ‘Audrey!’ called Gwen turning round. ‘Where are you going? Stop her someone.’

  ‘I say,’ declared Master Oldnose when she approached him, ‘just you hang on a minute young lady. Ooof!’ Audrey had dug him in the ribs and nipped smartly by.

  Fighting her way through the astonished line of mice she bustled and squirmed. A fierce determination had seized her and the urge to return home was overwhelming. She shrugged off the paws that tried to catch her and kicked those who stood stubbornly in her way.

  ‘Now then lass,’ barked a stern voice and two strong paws gripped her shoulders, ‘what’s this in aid of?’ Thomas asked impatiently.

  ‘Out of my way Triton!’ snapped Audrey furiously. ‘I have to get back at once.’ She glared into his eyes and her temper flared. ‘Crawl back into your bottle and let me go!’ she demanded haughtily.

  Thomas flinched as though he had been hit and released her. She sounded exactly like the Starwife! He tugged his hat in respect and stepped aside, ‘Sorry Ma’am,’ he said automatically.

  Audrey dashed past him and now that she was free of all those hindering ditherers she hastened through the tunnels, retracing her footsteps. Thomas watched her go with a scared look on his face. The girl was undoubtedly running to her doom. He hobbled after but with his wounded leg it was useless and he shook his head. ‘Green save you,’ he muttered.

  The narrow passage that led to the Grille was now lined with frost and gleaming icicles dripped from the ironwork. Cautiously Audrey crawled between the wintry stalactites and looked out of the grating to the cellar beyond. It was dark but she could see no sign of the fierce spectres. Only a fine layer of twinkling rime covering everything told her that they had been there at all.

  Audrey squeezed through the gap, made smaller by the choking ice, and listened carefully. Not a sound came to her. The house had never been so silent. Where had Jupiter’s army got to? As she made her way over the frozen cellar floor something caught her eye: it was her silver bell. The tail ornament was glued to the ground by the ice and she had to pull with all her strength to free it. With a sad smile Audrey examined her treasure. The little loop was broken, making it impossible to wear. She closed her fingers round it and looked up at the stone stairway. If only she could manage to get to the garden.

  Audrey closed her eyes and readied herself for whatever might happen. Behind the cellar door the entire horde of Jupiter’s phantom warriors could be waiting with their spears raised in readiness. She swallowed hard and began to climb. Up she went and all the while ghastly imaginings filled her mind. Maybe they wouldn’t kill her straight away! What if they took her directly to Jupiter himself? Audrey’s heart was in her mouth and her head was spinning with apprehension and fear as she stood on the topmost stair and put her paw to the door. She gave it a push and it creaked ominously open.

  The Hall appeared to be empty, save for the devastation left by the ghosts. A great, gaping, ragged hole glared where the massive front door had stood and tatters of wood were strewn all over the floor. A biting gale blasted through the house and snow gusted in. The fire was quenched and its embers had frozen over. The Unbeest’s winter had entered the building and nothing could live there now,’ The cruel cold had cracked the walls from floor to ceiling. The staircase had shrunk away from the bannister which hung precariously from the landing, groaning and threatening to crash down at any moment. The Skirtings had been ripped apart by mindless claws and the contents of humble homes were scattered heedlessly about. It must have been a crazed, brutal attack to have done so much damage in so little time.

  It was a shocking sight but Audrey was unmoved. Her sole objective was to get to the yard and nothing, even this, would stop her. She hesitated for a second to be certain that she was indeed alone, but not a thing stirred and only the biting wind filled her ears. It whistled forlornly through the rails of the ruined stair rods and swirled the thick snowflakes into a mad ballet about her. Audrey walked slowly down the Hall but her pace quickened. The noise of the creaking bannister sounded eerily like footsteps prowling behind her. She ran into the kitchen and tore the stuffing from the hole that led outside and emerged into the freezing, white world.

  The full force of the cold hit her and Audrey lost all sensation in her toes. She had no idea why she had been compelled to come. There was nothing out of the ordinary, it was exactly the same as ever before. She shook herself and the desperate instinct to return melted away – what was she doing here? Audrey was suddenly appalled at her stupidity. She thought of the risks she had taken to get here and could not believe her rash actions. She had cut herself off from family and friends and did not even know why. Her mind was in chaos as she tried to remember what had made her return. Perhaps she was going insane: Audrey put a paw to her forehead to steady herself.

  In the centre of the yard were the remains of the Starwife’s pyre. Nothing was left but a circle of soft, grey ash. Audrey stared fixedly at it and her eyes grew wide and round. Poking up out of the cinders was a small, green shoo
t.

  She hurried over, amazed that anything could grow so quickly in this severe cold. Bewildered at this miracle Audrey stretched out her paw, but as she touched it the bulb came away in her fingers and she lifted it gently from the ashes.

  The girl marvelled at the tiny green blade in her palm. It gave her hope. It seemed to show that Jupiter had not destroyed everything. Somehow nature would always fight through. She tucked the delicate plant into the waistband of her dress and decided it was time to leave.

  The dismal afternoon light grew even dimmer as the snow fell more heavily. Audrey hurried to the hole in the wall and ran into the kitchen once more. Now her only thought was to get back to her family. She could not understand what had possessed her to run off like that and could not remember where the crazy idea had originated from. She walked hastily through the Hall, shuddering at the creepy noises the bannister made, and only relaxed when the cellar door was behind her. Gleefully Audrey leapt down the steps, anxious to catch up with the others. She wondered what Thomas’s ship was like inside and recalled Twit saying something about lots of figureheads. Past the piles of boxes and bric-a-brac she hastened to the Grille.

  A misty shape moved in the forbidding darkness beyond but she did not see it and approached with no thought of danger. Her mind was too full of questions that she could not answer. The figure moved further into the shadows, allowing the unwary mouse to get within reach. Audrey knelt down before the entrance and above her head a fine tendril of fog curled as a flicker of starfire shone between the grating.

  With a rasping hiss a ghostly claw flashed out and swiped the air. Audrey screamed as more arms flailed out of the Grille and the chilling wails of the spectral army filled the cellar. Evil talons tore at her. One of them snatched her ribbon and shredded it in her hair, another sliced a vicious cut across her arm. Spears glinted beyond the ironwork and grisly cackles issued from dead throats. A face pressed against one of the holes and leered blindly at her.