by Robin Jarvis
‘Prepare yourself Master Pink Eyes,’ cried Orfeo, ‘your lofty journey is at an end.’ With their wings outstretched they glided onto the balcony and dropped the mouse gently down.
The guard gave Oswald a black look and with hunched wings marched over to a fissure in the stonework. He grunted and motioned for the mouse to crawl through. Eldritch, however, stepped in and said softly, ‘Do not fear White One, I shall pass through first and my brother after you. We are safe now.’ He disappeared into the gap and Oswald followed him.
Through a narrow space they squeezed and Oswald heard Orfeo say something to the guard before he joined them. The way was difficult, and once or twice the mouse thought he had got stuck, but the thought of staying in that dark place forever forced him on grimly.
Eventually the passage gave way to the inside of the dome. It was the most magnificent sight Oswald had ever witnessed; the place was cavernous. Below the gallery on which he stood were eight immense arches richly decorated with mosaics of angels, bordered with blazing gold. In the niches between the high windows there were enormous sculptures of saints with their fingers raised in blessing and overhead were rich paintings. Yet all around, clinging to the gilded carvings, huddled in the shadows of the great, hanging from the rails and sitting beneath the statues were thousands upon thousands of bats. They were everywhere: the beautiful walls were absolutely covered in furry bodies, and hushed whispers echoed round like an angry sea crashing against cliffs, rising and falling like the sound of the tide.
Oswald was amazed. The bats filled the building, clustered on every available foothold and ledge. Orfeo raised his voice and called solemnly, ‘He is here, the pale one has arrived.’
The clamour rose immediately as the assembled bats all squeaked shrilly. Oswald had to put his fingers in his ears because the noise threatened to pierce the drums. Some of the bats began to cry out in the common tongue, ‘He is here, he is here,’ and others cried, ‘Show him to us, where is he?’
‘Master Pink Eyes,’ said Eldritch, ‘we must show you to our brethren. All wish to see you, come.’ The bat flew up and Oswald reached for his feet once more. Slowly they ascended and Eldritch circled inside the dome so that everyone could get a good look at the mouse. Keen, curious eyes gleamed steadily at Oswald, who did his share of staring. Sombre voices whispered and proud heads nodded as the mouse flew by.
Eldritch flew higher and he bowed his head reverently. Before him was a line of four ancient, white haired bats. Their wings were tattered with age and their tall ears drooped, their brows were crossed by a hundred wrinkles yet their eyes were as sharp and as disconcertingly bright as ever they had been.
Eldritch hovered in front of them and greeted each one, ‘Hail to thee Ohthere, Lord of the Twilight; hail Heardred, Keeper of the Hidden Ways; hail Ingeld, Consort of the Lady; and hail Ashmere, Wisest of all Counsellors.’
The venerable bats welcomed him, ‘Salutations Eldritch,’ said the one called Heardred, ‘you have done well.’ His voice was like the rustle of leaves and he extended a flimsy, papery wing to Oswald. ‘So this is the pink-eyed one whose coming was foreseen long ago.’
Another of the old bats coughed and peered at the albino with a sneer on his face. ‘He is too sickly a specimen,’ said Ohthere, ‘he will never do – I agree with Ingeld and fear Ashmere is mistaken in this.’
Oswald scowled – he did not like to be called sickly. He decided it was time to say something. ‘Excuse me,’ he piped up, but the ancient bats ignored this and continued discussing him as if he were not there.
‘I say he will not succeed,’ remarked the one called Ingeld, ‘we cannot rely on those outside our brotherhood. Folly I have called it and folly it remains.’
‘Peace,’ said Heardred, ‘the runt has been chosen – there is nothing we can do.’ Oswald scowled again and this time positively shouted, ‘Excuse me!’
The row of bats looked up in surprise and all around thousands of voices were raised in scorn, ‘Did he say that?’ they asked, scandalized. ‘The cheeky whelp!’ They beat their wings together demonstratively, ‘Be still peasant,’ they booed.
Ashmere, the only councillor who had not yet spoken, studied the mouse carefully and the shadow of a smile crept over his bearded face. ‘Master White Skin,’ he said gently, ‘forgive my brothers. It is their way to talk thus and no ill was intended. You must remember, it is a long time since we have spoken to an outsider.’ He opened his wings and made a space beside him. ‘Come,’ he said, ‘sit here and listen to our council – for you are important in our designs.’ Eldritch heaved a sigh of relief as he deposited Oswald next to Ashmere, but before he flew back to Orfeo he gave the mouse a reassuring wink.
Oswald was terribly nervous. Here he was at the most important meeting ever held, to discuss the worst foe the world had ever known, with the greatest number of bats anyone had ever seen. He felt extremely small and alone. What use would he be? He looked at the four proud elders and his heart quailed. What an experience this was! If only Arthur were here or his friend Piccadilly – they wouldn’t be afraid like he was.
‘Master runt,’ said Ingeld abruptly and Oswald quickly gathered his wits, ‘you know the reason for this meeting?’
‘I think so,’ the mouse replied shyly, ‘it’s because of him isn’t it? You’re going to think of a way to get rid of him.’
The elders chuckled to each other and shook their heads. ‘Get rid you say,’ began Heardred amused, ‘if that were only possible – but you of all creatures should know that that is impossible. Were you not present at Jupiter’s death? Did you not think then that he was gone forever? His spirit is far too great for us in this age to deal with. Long ago our ancestors had the cunning but we do not. Many skills have been forgotten and neglected and the crafts we practised in the dark years have no place in the world of today.’ He hung his grizzled head sadly.
‘Yet Jupiter was a creature of the old times,’ said Ashmere. ‘He lengthened his life through secret arts and endured long centuries hidden in the blackness under Deptford. Only by the old ways can his spirit be quashed and banished forever to the furthest reaches of the Pit.’
‘That is only your belief,’ interrupted Ingeld, ‘we cannot be certain. Heardred has said that the Hidden Ways are closed to us, we cannot know how this unholy spirit may be despatched.’
Ashmere turned to Oswald and explained, ‘The dilemma is this, White One: we have tried to glimpse the future to see what will befall us, yet we cannot.’
‘That is why we summoned all our kin to this council,’ said Ohthere. ‘For two nights we have joined our powers and attempted to project our souls beyond these desperate hours but it has proved futile.’
‘But why can’t you see what will happen?’ asked Oswald.
‘Because there is no future to see,’ replied Heardred darkly. ‘Jupiter is trapping the world in an eternal winter. There will be no more seasons, no spring or summer to count the days by and break down the years; he is freezing everything and locking us into eternal blackness. There will be no future for anything: fish, flesh, feathers or fur – all will end.’
‘And soon,’ nodded Ohthere, ‘for the tally of remaining days is short – we have foreseen that much.’
‘But this is dreadful,’ cried Oswald miserably, ‘if this is the end of everything I want to be with my friends and family – why have you brought me here?’
‘Because of the hope of Ashmere,’ answered Ingeld, stretching himself and sniffing affectedly. ‘Personally I wish it to be known that I do not agree with his theory.’
‘We are all aware of that,’ said Heardred reproachfully, and a strange look passed between them as though this was a sore subject that had been fiercely debated.
Ashmere put his wing around Oswald and scratched his beard thoughtfully. ‘It is difficult to describe to the uninitiated, but I shall try to explain.’ He cleared his throat and began, ‘When I was young a vision came unbidden to me. It is usual amongst our kind to send our
spirits forward through time to see the future, but this did not happen then. I was flying through the velvet night and the song was sad and mournful, when I saw before me a snow-covered land and heard the Lady’s voice tell me that a mouse with pink eyes would save all. It was the only time I have heard her and never have I forgotten it. Then news came of Jupiter’s downfall and we saw him rise again and grow mighty. I think you are the one who can stop him.’
Oswald felt faint. He did not like the direction things were taking. ‘But I’m not brave,’ he protested. ‘I can’t fight or anything like that.’
‘It will not be anything like that,’ assured Ingeld sourly.
Heardred shuffled forward rubbing his wings together. ‘Whatever happens,’ he said, ‘it must be soon – there is little time left to us. It will not be long before Jupiter tries to use the squirrel queen’s Starglass and comes into his full power. Our blow must be before then.’
‘But what am I to do?’ asked Oswald. He was terrified at the thought of confronting Jupiter. ‘Let Ashmere tell him,’ sniped Ingeld, ‘it is his foolish hope.’
Ashmere lowered his voice and spoke kindly to Oswald. ‘I have said that the old ways are needed to deal with the foul spirit, and that none here have the skill or learning to exorcise him. Listen White One. Beneath this building there is a chamber where our forefathers kept their ancient writings in a book of lore. There you will find spells and prophecies from long ago; bring it to us and . . .’
‘Just a minute,’ broke in Oswald, ‘what do you mean I will find?’
‘Simple runt!’ cried Ingeld impatiently. ‘Your first task is to venture down through the narrow, blackened ways; we are not made for such crawling and groping – that is the rodent’s lot.’
‘Please,’ implored Ashmere, ‘we cannot make you, but for the sake of all creation you must find the spells that will banish Jupiter forever.’
Oswald looked into Ashmere’s eyes. They were anxious and pleading and he took courage from the confidence this ancient bat had in him: ‘Very well,’ he said meekly, ‘I shall go and find your book.’
Ashmere turned to the thousands of other bats and called out, ‘He will go! The pink-eyed one has accepted.’ Their cheers were tumultuous and roared round the dome. Oswald blushed and looked at his feet with embarrassment.
‘’It will fail,’ muttered Ingeld, shaking his head bitterly, ‘the Consort of the Lady knows this folly will end in disaster – we cannot escape our doom.’
But no-one heard him and he pulled his head into his wings.
‘Go now,’ said Ashmere quickly, ‘for all time is precious – we dare not waste any more.’ He turned to face the gallery and gave three sharp whistling squeaks. ‘The ones who brought you hither shall take you down into the crypt of this place but you must find the Book of Hrethel on your own. Take care, and may the grace of the Lady go with you.’
Two figures rose from the dark mass of bats and fluttered over to them. It was Orfeo and Eldritch. They approached the ledge of the elders and flew above the mouse.
‘Take him below and show him the entrance to the chamber,’ Heardred instructed them. ‘Come, Master Pink Eyes,’ laughed Orfeo, ‘fly with us once more.’
Oswald took hold of their feet and they lifted him from the ledge. The elders grimly watched them flit round the dome and descend to the floor hundreds of metres below.
Down they went, past the gilded keystones of the arches and the carved wooden cherubs frolicking around the splendid organ case. Oswald felt he could spend a whole week there admiring everything, but they swooped between two mighty columns and landed on the cold marble floor.
‘This way,’ said Eldritch hopping over to a great wooden door and popping inside. Beyond was a steep stairway, leading down into complete darkness. The two bats waited for Oswald and said to: him, ‘In yonder crypt there is no light, you will stumble and fall there.’
‘Master Pink Eyes,’ said Orfeo seriously, ‘my brother and I have decided to bestow upon you the gift of bat sight – for seven hours only you will see all as we do. You shall have the power to see “in the dark” as your folk would put it – yet that will not be the limit of the gift, for if you accept the vision of we moon riders then you must prepare yourself for anything that comes unbidden to you.’
‘Not lightly is this granted,’ Eldritch added, ‘for rarely do we allow the outsider into our secret, shaded world, and you have seen so much already, White One.’
‘Yet the actions we take this night will shape the lives of everyone,’ said Orfeo. ‘Let us begin if the mouse is willing – I shall be the lender.’
Oswald wondered excitedly what it would be like to be able to see as a bat. The night would no longer hold any fear for him, he would be able to pierce the shadows and lift the veil of darkness. ‘Yes, I’ll accept,’ he said breathlessly.
‘So be it,’ they replied.
The bats circled round him and raised their wings. Orfeo lifted his head and began to chant strange words and a crown of moonlight seemed to settle on his brow. At first Oswald thought it was a trick of the light falling through the great doorway but then a golden gleam formed in the bat’s eyes. It grew larger and brighter until they blazed and illuminated the entire stairway with their brilliance.
‘Oh my!’ exclaimed Oswald wondrously. He was delighted to see bat magic. Master Oldnose had often told old tales in which the bats were far more magical than they are now.
‘Take the gift,’ Eldritch’s voice whispered in his ear.
The mouse put out a trembling paw and touched Orfeo’s glowing face. The light that poured from his eyes was suddenly sucked along Oswald’s arm, bristling his fur as it went, then up into his head. For a second his ears were ringed with fire and sparks crackled beneath his eyebrows, then it was over and all light was extinguished as if nothing had happened.
‘What do you see?’ asked Eldritch softly.
Oswald blinked, his eyes watered and he rubbed them. Slowly he looked around. What a difference there was: the world was now a silvery grey, yet he could see everything quite clearly. There was Eldritch smiling at him and there was Orfeo. He appeared tired and worn; the granting of the gift had obviously taken a lot out of him. As Oswald peered round he discovered that nothing could escape his sight. He saw spiders spinning silken webs high above, teasing the sticky strands out of their bodies with their hairy legs. That was not all. To his amazement he found that if he concentrated hard enough the walls seemed to melt away and he could see into the next room, even outside. The mouse stared up and the rafters, joists, stones, plaster and lead dissolved and he saw the bat guards patrolling the sky. Oswald gazed to the south and the rooftops zoomed by. Over the river, through the houses, out to Deptford he bent his thoughts and the old empty house swelled up before him. Then down into the Skirtings where the Starwife was talking to Audrey and his mother was scolding his father and then out again, over the tower blocks, passing through the church until the power station loomed ahead cloaked in mist and two enormous, evil eyes stared straight at him . . .
‘Enough!’ cried Orfeo gasping. ‘I shall perish.’ He had slumped to the floor exhausted.
‘What have I done?’ asked Oswald, snapping his mind back beside the two bats.
Eldritch answered for his ailing brother. ‘You go too fast,’ he said. ‘The gift has been borrowed only. Orfeo has lent his sight to you and much of his strength also – you must be careful not to spend it wantonly and without purpose. Discipline the vision and use it like your own. Do not let it consume and rule you, keep it under control or it will run away with you and my brother will die.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Oswald hurriedly, ‘I never realized, I thought it was magic and could do anything.’
‘This is . . . but . . . an exchange,’ Orfeo wheezed painfully, ‘a talent we . . . possess. The true magic lies in the old chamber of Hrethel beneath the stones of this . . . building.’
‘Orfeo is right,’ Eldritch said briskly, ‘we waste time
! My brother shall remain here – he will be no use to us down there. He will be as blind as a mouse. Come.’
Oswald said farewell to Orfeo and thanked him for the gift, then he began the long climb down the steps. He tried very hard to keep his mind on the task set for him and he had to use all his willpower to clamber down. How tempting it was to use his new, marvellous sight. He had only to think about it and he could see anything and look anywhere he desired. No secret would be hidden from him – ‘Oswald the sharp-sighted’ everyone would call him; they would gasp and say ‘However did you know that?’ It would be so easy to surrender and let his mind flit from here to there – he could even see his cousin Twit all the way in Fennywolde if he wished, nothing was too remote now. It was too much for him to bear, to be given this astounding vision and not be allowed to use it fully. Suddenly he remembered the drawn, haggard look on Orfeo’s face and all thoughts of wasting the sight trickled away – he did not want to make the bat suffer on his behalf. Oswald put his head down and got on with the job of getting down the stairs.
At the bottom Eldritch was waiting for him.
‘Hurry,’ he whispered, ‘this way,’ and half jumping, half flying, the bat raced off.
The crypt was a gloomy place, even though Oswald could see. The ceiling was vaulted and frayed banners hung like chained ghosts. Before him Oswald saw huge figures couched on marble slabs frozen in attitudes of peaceful sleep. For a moment he thought they were alive but soon realized that they, too were made of stone. There were many of these frightening effigies and the mouse began to wonder if he would be better off without Orfeo’s gift. The still, silent statues were creepy and he did not like turning his back on them just in case they came to life and sneaked up behind him.