by Robin Jarvis
And then the cavern shook suddenly and the livid green slit of the pupil swivelled round at the bottom of the pool. Morgawrus was awake, the sleep of aeons was past.
Revelling in the aufwader's blood, the fish demon looked up, startled at the quaking world. The lid of the eye snapped shut once more and sank into a black void, leaving an empty well in the ground. The nightmare serpent was moving.
At once the rocks shuddered with cataclysmic violence. A massive part of the floor ruptured and cracked asunder as Morgawrus seethed below. Yelping in fear, the Mallykin scurried to its feet as the unsupported ground crumbled and fell completely away, crashing down into a gaping abyss.
"Get out of there!" commanded the voice of Nathaniel in its head. "Return to me!"
Shrieking, the fish demon bounded from the cavern as the ornately decorated roof buckled and quivered ominously. Then, with a horrendous shattering of shale and rock, the entire structure collapsed. Thousands of tons of rubble came crushing down and the broken body of Esau was buried beneath the full weight of the cliff.
Out through the Triad chamber the Mallykin fled and the three thrones topped in ruins at its heels. The silver lamp was smashed and the crystal waves it rode upon shivered into flittering dust.
To the fish demon it seemed that the whole world was ending and it tore out of the hallowed hall bleating shrilly. Behind it the stalactites splintered and broke from the ceiling, thrusting into the ground like stone spears—stabbing at the very heart of the aufwader realm. And as the serpent rumbled and snaked in the depths, the sacred springs of the blessed shrine boiled away to nothing.
Still the Mallykin hurtled on, leaping over the fissures that yawned suddenly beneath it and veering between towering columns of rock that burst from the floor and drove ever upwards, smashing into the high galleries. Finally the Gibbering Road reared up before the squealing creature. The slender bridge stretched out before it and the fish demon threw itself on to the treacherously narrow way and began pattering hastily across.
In the black gorge far below, Morgawrus slithered. At last its loathsome head was free and a tremendous roar blasted up from the invisible deeps. The dreadful noise reverberated underground, booming throughout the earth and shaking its molten heart.
Upon the bridge the fish demon screamed, for the voice of the serpent shook the stone and to its shrieking horror it saw jagged cracks suddenly appear. The Gibbering Road flew apart and the fragments plummeted down into the chasm.
Emitting a terrified squeal, the last of the Mallykins toppled, and as it went spinning through the darkness to its death, the creature felt Nathaniel wrench himself from its mind.
A monstrous black fin stretched up from the abyss as Morgawrus started to uncoil and the sides of the precipice were demolished as it thrashed and writhed. In claps of deafening thunder the sheer walls were destroyed and amid clouds of engulfing dust they slid into the evil darkness. The end had indeed come.
14 - Shadow Over Whitby
A grotesque, unnatural night covered Whitby, and the folds of its vast, black shroud pressed heavily down. In the harbour, the water boiled and steam mingled with the dark, forming putrid clouds that rolled over the quayside and poured sluggishly into the town. Down the narrow streets the terrible shadows flowed, filling the doorways and stealing into the cosy homes beyond. It was a blinding, impenetrable gloom that entered the hearts of the inhabitants, instilling each one with dread and despair.
On the West Cliff, a gas main had fractured and the inhabitants of the nearby houses were hurriedly evacuated. On the East side, the power cables were down and all the windows looked blank and dark. The telephone lines were also severed and the panic of the people rose to fever pitch. Cars careered into one another, skidding into shops and spinning off the quay. Chaos reigned everywhere and harsh sirens blared across the seething harbour.
Upon the shore, Ben watched as the two halves of Whitby were gradually eclipsed by the creeping shade. Behind him, the sea was still, broken only by occasional jets of white smoke. The tide had ceased, no waves came lapping up the beach and the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
"Jen," the boy murmured as the dense black fog swallowed Church Street and the red roofs were lost from sight. He knew he had to get back, he should be with his sister.
Quickly, Ben began to run over the sand, the clinging darkness swirling about his knees—but then he froze.
Frightened voices were on the air. Terrified gabbles and dismal wailings were issuing from the cliff side. Out of the many secret entrances, poured the surviving members of the aufwader tribe. Into the choking gloom they staggered, relieved to escape the ferocity of the fish demon's attack, yet dismayed at the bewildering midnight world that greeted them.
Ben hurried over to the cliff face and shouted to them. "What's happened?" he called. "Where's Tarr? Is Nelda safe?"
A bedraggled company stumbled out on to the rocks. Three of their number were horribly wounded—slashed and gored by the Mallykin's claws—and they leaned heavily on their comrades. Only one of them turned to look at the boy and he glared down, consumed with hatred.
"The tribe is finished," he spat. "This is the fault of your kind!"
Even as he spoke, a distraught clamour rose amongst the others—one of the wounded they had carried from the tunnels was dead and, wailing, they gathered around him.
"I'm sorry," Ben spluttered.
"Get gone, landbreed!" an aufwader screeched, stooping to pick up a large stone.
The boy hastened away, leaving them to mourn in private. They would not have much time to grieve, he told himself—something was waking.
***
In the main entrance chamber, Nelda stood alone. Everything she had known was destroyed. The great stone doors lay sprawled over the rocks below and the black mist flowed keenly in, engulfing the broken fishing boats, creeping between the tangled nets and strangling the flame of the single lamp which had miraculously remained lit.
Nelda stepped carefully over the snaking chains and shattered timbers. Then, directly above, the rusted mechanism gave a juddering creak and the girl fled from the cavern as immense cogs and pulleys fell, crushing the wreckage behind her.
Out into the cloying dark she ran, climbing swiftly down the slippery wall of rock and landing soundlessly in the rippling mist.
Pausing only to look back and pray that her grandfather was safe, she splashed through the sea and made for the shore behind the pier bridge.
The rest of the tribe were still there. None of them knew what to do; they had nowhere to go—the caves had been their home for so long that nobody wanted to leave them, yet it was too dangerous to stay.
Nelda saw them huddled in forlorn groups, shaking their heads and muttering grievously to themselves. They had endured much that day and she knew what intense emotions were wringing their hearts—yet she had suffered the deepest hurt. Pushing such thoughts to the back of her mind, the girl forced herself onward, there was still much to do.
"Ben!" she shouted. "Wait!"
The boy was walking over the sands, trudging wretchedly home. Quickly, he glanced round and saw the aufwader girl tearing towards him.
"I have it!" she cried, brandishing the last guardian over her head for him to see.
"How... how did you find it?" he asked when she pressed it into his hands.
Nelda shivered and said quickly, "What matters now is we make certain the guardian is safe."
Slipping the carving into his coat pocket, the boy glanced back at the darkened town where shrieks of panic came echoing from the fog. "I wish Aunt Alice was here," he said anxiously. "She'd know what to do next. And what about Jen and Miss Wethers? What if something's happened to them?"
"Then that shall be our first action," the aufwader told him. "Let us be certain they are safe, but we must make haste."
The two of them hared over the shore and plunged into the blanketing murk that smothered Whitby.
High upon the cliff top, amid the tombstone
s and towering over the shore, a solitary figure stood, his coal-black eyes penetrating the mounting gloom.
"So," Nathaniel softly uttered, "the cave maiden stole it, did she?" And a cruel smile flickered over his bearded face. "Then all is not lost, there may still be a chance for glory. The force that is stirring may yet be mine. But this time, I leave nothing to chance. If I have to risk the fury of the Deep Ones then so be it—the boy must die. I'll snap his neck myself." Hurrying through the graveyard, he leapt down the steps.
***
"Jen! Jen!" Ben called, hammering on the front door. "Let me in!"
"Hurry," Nelda said beside him. She pulled the neck of her gansey over her chin and shivered. The yard was almost pitch black, completely drowned by the eerie mist which, even as they waited, grew steadily thicker.
"Jen!" the boy shouted again.
The door rattled and was swiftly yanked open. "Benjamin!" cried the voice of Miss Wethers. "Where have you been? I'm at my wits' end!" The spinster's hand reached out and, catching hold of his coat, she hauled him inside.
With a lurch, Ben tumbled into the cottage and Nelda nipped in behind—just as the postmistress slammed the door again. Miss Wethers fell to her knees where she proceeded to block up the gaps with a draught-excluder and a heap of cushions and pillows.
"We've got to keep it out," she squeaked, "whatever it is! Goodness me, Benjamin, have you been wandering in these fumes all this time? What have you done to your lungs, child? As soon as this filth blows over we must rush you to the hospital." She stuffed the last of the pillows in place and flapped to her feet, eyeing the barricade doubtfully.
"I've been going out of my mind with worry," she scolded him. "You should have come back as soon as the tanker exploded."
"What tanker?" Ben asked.
Miss Wethers fluttered her hands in consternation and her voice rose hysterically. "Well something exploded!" she declared, seeking a rational explanation for the chaos that had engulfed the town. "The whole house shook—I suppose this nasty smoke is the oil burning. Oh dear, it must be a gargantuan spillage, and there'll be all those poor birds clogged with oil."
"It isn't anything like that!" the boy tried to tell her. "This is Nathaniel's doing! He's destroyed two of the..."
But the postmistress was not listening to him. "Come into the parlour, Benjamin," she said. "The windows are all intact there, thank heavens—you should see the kitchen and the front room! We must wait until the fire brigade come to rescue us, I've heard the sirens. Oh if only we were at my house—there's a gas mask in one of Mother's cupboards."
She fluttered into the parlour and Ben threw Nelda an exasperated glance. "We must not tarry here," she told him, "the guardian must be taken to a place of safety."
He nodded grimly and ran after Miss Wethers.
In the parlour the curtains had been drawn and several candles burned brightly. On the armchair sat Jennet; the girl's face was sullen and she looked up briefly when her brother entered.
"I heard what you said," she muttered coldly. "Haven't you stopped playing your childish games yet? Leave Nathaniel alone—he's out there too."
"Oh Jennet," tutted Edith distractedly, "do stop thinking on it. Really, Ben, your sister's done nothing but talk about that Mr Crozier—she even wanted to go out and find him but I wouldn't let her."
"Good," Ben cried, "he's evil, Miss Wethers."
Edith lit another candle and bemoaned the lack of electricity. "Cut off when the tanker exploded," she told herself for the umpteenth time, "although I can't see how. I wonder if we should drink lots of milk—would it line our stomachs and protect us from the noxious stuff? Maybe we should sit under the stairs..."
"Why won't she listen?" Ben hissed to Nelda.
"Because she's frightened," the aufwader replied. "Deep down she knows there is more to this than she pretends, but she cannot face the horror. Perhaps if they could see me I could make them understand."
"Jennet," Ben said, "Nelda's here, the tribe's been driven from the caves and most of the tunnels have collapsed."
"Benjamin!" squeaked Miss Wethers in alarm as she taped the edges of the curtains to the wall just to make certain the room was securely sealed. "What are you talking about?"
"The fisherfolk!" he told her, running out of patience and wanting to scream in frustration. "They live under the cliffs—or they used to, but I'm the only one who can see them. There's one here now."
Edith stared at him, "Oh dear," she whined, "it's the pollution, it's affected his brain. Lie on the couch and be a good boy—the authorities will be coming soon, I'm sure they will." But the wailing engines were in the far distance and she gripped the chair arm distractedly.
"We waste our time," Nelda said. "We must leave this place—show her the guardian, she will have to believe you then."
"Look!" Ben cried desperately, taking the carving from his pocket. "This is the last protector of Whitby, made by one of the fisherfolk thousands of years ago."
Edith gazed at the jet serpent and fiddled with her collar uncomfortably. Even Jennet leaned forward and she gave her brother a curious glance.
"My," muttered Miss Wethers fearfully, "wherever did you find such a gruesome object?"
"I didn't," he told her, looking across at Jennet. "Nelda did."
Edith covered her eyes, confused and bewildered by his insane ramblings.
"Crozier wants it," Ben continued. "He's already destroyed the other two. That's why all this is happening, don't you see? Something is waking and it's all that man's fault—it'll destroy everything if it gets free. Crozier is totally insane!"
That was too much for Jennet. She let out an outraged howl and pounced at her brother, knocking the guardian from his hand and shoving him to the floor.
"How dare you!" she screeched, her face contorting into a ghastly mask. "Shut your stupid mouth! Nathaniel wouldn't hurt a fly—he's mine—I love him—he loves me!"
"JENNET!" shouted Miss Wethers in horror. "What are you saying? Leave Benjamin alone at once. Just listen to you, child, what has that man been telling you?"
The girl tossed her head and laughed. "You're only jealous," she barked, "jealous because he loves me and not a wrinkled old prune like you! Did you honestly think he would fancy a dried-up spinster who spends her days licking stamps and sorting postcards? Why should he even look at you when nobody else ever did?"
Ben recoiled from his sister; that was not her voice speaking—it was more like Rowena Cooper's, even her face had changed and her mouth was drawn wide and ugly.
Miss Wethers strode forward to give the girl a sharp slap, but her hand quivered impotently and she ran sobbing to her chair. "How could you?" she wept. "How could you say such foul and hurtful things?"
Nelda stared at Jennet with understanding and took a deep breath. "She cannot help it," she told Ben gravely. "Your sister is consumed by a powerful enchantment. The Crozier man controls her now—she is his creature."
"No," the boy whimpered, "she can't be."
Nelda hurried to the door. "Now we must truly leave," she urged, "this place is not safe for your sister will betray us to him. She has no will of her own."
Ben squirmed away from Jennet, then seized hold of the jet carving and hurried from the parlour.
"Benjamin!" Edith called. "Where are you going? Come back."
Jennet snarled and leapt after him, dragging the boy back by the hair.
"Oh no, little brother!" she yelled. "You're not going anywhere with that. If my Nathaniel wants your piece of junk then I'll see he gets it."
"Jen!" he shrieked as the girl pushed him into the wall and snatched the guardian from his grasp.
At this, Nelda let out an angry shout and flew at her. With a surprised wail, Jennet felt an invisible fist punch her stomach and she doubled over—winded and shocked.
Miss Wethers screamed in fright when the jet serpent seemed to fly from the girl's hands of its own accord as the aufwader wrenched it away.
"EEEKK!" she
squawked. "The girl's possessed! Benjamin, run for the vicar!"
The boy was more frightened for his sister's safety than anything else. "Are you hurt, Jen?' he asked.
The girl only growled at him.
"We must go!" Nelda pleaded. "We must..."
Her voice faltered as her keen ears heard something. Then they all heard it. Outside, ringing over the concrete of the yard, came the sound of quick footsteps.
"We're too late," breathed Nelda.
"It's him!" Ben cried. "He's come for the final guardian—he'll destroy everything!"
The postmistress gave a small, terrified whimper and rose from her chair.
Only Jennet was pleased; she laughed and fires danced brightly in her eyes. Running into the hall, she rushed at the front door and started to drag away the pillows and cushions.
"No!" Ben yelled, as he and Nelda darted after her. "You mustn't let him in! He'll kill us all!"
"Nathaniel!" Jennet called excitedly as she fought with the latch. "Nathaniel, they won't let me come to you. I'm in here!"
"Miss Wethers!" Ben shouted. "We can't hold her."
Dithering in the parlour, Edith threw up her hands and scurried to help them.
"Let me go!" the girl screamed. "I must see him, I must hold him!"
"No, Jen!" her brother bawled. "He's bad! Come away from the door. Miss Wethers—do something!"
Edith grabbed the girl's waist and together the three of them dragged Jennet out of the hall.
"You'll be sorry!" she snapped. "He'll hurt you for this!"
Nelda picked up a cushion and threw it at the girl's head. "Tell her to pipe down," she said to Ben. "Sshh! The footsteps have stopped—he's right outside."
"Is the door locked?" Ben whispered to Miss Wethers.
The postmistress nodded hurriedly.
"That signifies nothing," Nelda told him, searching the room for a weapon. "Once a man of power has been invited over a threshold there is no lock that can bar his entry, the way is always open thereafter. Crozier will come—he will reach us."
"Then what can we do?" Ben cried. "We're done for!"