Cornelius came across to Jonathon and stood before. "I have nothing to lose in my actions, if you had released the child you would have condemned yourself to inaction, your conscience would have been distorted. You would never have been able to carry out your tasks." Cornelius smiled and attempted to touch his Grandson, but his spirit hands slipped through his Jonathon's outstretched palms.
“Forget the tortured souls here, they are beyond redemption, they built their own hell and forget me. There is no way you can help me here; and there is
much work I can do." Jonathon's Grandfather sighed and moved away, slowly walking back, to the spirit world of Dubh where
he would be imprisoned forever, if Jonathon succeeded in his plans.
Cornelius did not look back. Jonathon watched him go, transfixed as Cornelius merged with the darkness and then a voice echoed from the void.
“Do as you must and do not falter, you must brush these evil beings aside. They are lost and irretrievable, destroying them is not an act of evil. "
The voice faded and Jonathon's mind blackened. He became aware of a vigorous shaking, fear washed over him in great waves, but it was not his own. Someone was shouting frantically and from the distance, a terrible, soul tearing howling, invaded his consciousness.
When he opened his eyes, it was Rislo who was shaking him, his eyes staring wide at him in fear. Jonathon awoke fully and heard the terrifying, soul chilling, banshee howl which reverberated in distant passageways.
“What is it Rislo?" He stammered.
“The Tallmen are coming." he blubbered in acute fear. “And they bring, they bring their Turkanschoner."
Chapter Ten
Rislo only half right with his statement concerning the presence of the Tallmen and the Turkanschoner. In fact only the beast he feared so much had now stalked him in the maze of tunnels beneath the Hall of Machines.
When the Captain of Rislo's watch had realised that the misfit in his platoon had deserted his post, he had considered pursuing him himself, but he had other ways with which to spend his time. Tonight, the human traders known as the High Hat's were due to arrive with a fresh consignment of human females for their pleasure and the deserter Rislo would not prevent him from having the choice of the finest wench. No, the Turkanschoner would do the job efficiently enough alone he thought. No-one would mourn the death of the miserable misfit Rislo, so why waste time himself being dragged through cold, damp, underworld by a beast half crazed with hunger?
The Captain had therefore led the huge misshapen, half-human creature on its chain to the entrance to the Tombs and released it to do its job alone in the darkness. He slammed down the stone trapdoor and had forgotten Rislo and the Turkanschoner before he was half way back to the Towers, pre- occupied with the prospect of tonight's entertainment and confidant in the abilities of the predator that meant certain death to its deserter prey, once it had acquired his scent.
The Turkanschoner crouched in the darkness alone with the scent of its future victim on a piece of clothing attached to its collar. The beast did not fear the darkness for it could see nothing. It did not hear the echoes of its talons scratching neurotically at the stone floor for it could hear little, except its own muffled howls which were transmitted through the bones of jaw and skull to its inner ear. All its sensory consciousness was concentrated into one capacity; its incredible sense of smell. The Tallmen had conditioned it to hunt by this sense alone, its reward was food, the living flesh of the victim whose scent it was locked on to and pursued.
It crouched low in a paved passageway, its permanently arched back bringing its elongated snout close to the ground. The beast's spinal column arched in a series of sharply defined and protruding metal vertebrae, clearly visible due to the emaciation of its lean and jaundiced flesh.
Its yellow skin was stretched dry and taut over efficient, lean muscles and protruding bones and joints. If it could have stood upright it would have stood the height of a tall human being, once it may have been able to do so, but now it stooped low in a deceptive gesture of servitude, bowing to the cruelty of the Tallmen and the steel rod which had been surgically implanted in its back to permanently bend the beast to its tasks.
Long arms terminated in huge hands with slender, yet powerful fingers that concluded in savage, almost surgical talons. Its feet where large, its toes splayed unnaturally outwards and equipped in a similar way to its hands.
The creature's neck was long, thin and incredibly supple, capable of turning through almost three hundred and sixty degrees and supported a large, intelligent looking head. From the beast's head, fine wisps of grey hair exploded in long tufts from a heavily scarred scalp, hair that flowed down over sunken eye sockets, which continually oozed thick, white mucus onto a powerful muzzle and jaw, supporting two pairs of wickedly sharpened and huge incisors.
A long tongue, which assisted its sense of smell, now lolled out between its teeth as it sought to establish the location of its prey. The beast's nostrils flared, the scent was strong and fresh and the presence of another scent did nothing to confuse it. The Turkanschoner moved forward, adopting a scuttling gait, almost treading directly in Rislo's footprints as it ventured into darkness that exploded with a panorama of scent and purpose.
The Turkanschoner thought nothing of the fearful atrocity it would perform when it caught up with its prey. It had no conception of failure, since it had never failed But it felt uneasy today, uneasy with the freedom it had. mThe usual choking and restrictive chain was absent, as was the scent of a handler close by, but the presence of another scent, along with that of its prey, reassured it of some normality. It began to reason to quell a rising inner fear. The other scent, the one not its prey, it decided, would command it to kill today. The scent was ahead not with it here, but this did not matter, the other scent must be the master There was always master to command it to kill or reward the Turkanschoner when it had captured its prey... wasn't there? Today, it decided, would be the same as previous hunts, the `other' would command. Its reasoning satisfied the conditions of the hunt that were etched into his mind. Things were different today, but it could still pursue its tasks to a satisfactory conclusion. All the right elements where here, it was just that they were not in the right places it deduced; but soon they would be.
Assuring itself of an adjusted normality, the Turkanschoner howled excitedly and sped in pursuit of the two people ahead of it, the discomfort concerning its freedom and the different circumstances of today's hunt rationally dispelled. Soon it would eat and all would be well.
Chapter Eleven
Jonathon heard Rislo's anguished words as he was literally shaken back to the edge of reality, but it took him several moments before he orientated himself completely. By this time the Tallman was frantically packing possessions into his large pack, visibly shaking and sweating, beside himself with fear. He noticed Rislo's uncontrollable trembling as the giant hastily lifted a heavy steel beam onto its wooden stays to bar the door. He muttered unintelligible obscenities as he struggled until, at last, the beam dropped noisily into place.
Rislo leaned back against the door, his eyes closed, terror etched across his forehead, temporarily relieved.
“That ought to hold them for a while at least." he squeaked, his voice breaking with fear. As he picked up his now bulging pack, he grabbed the groggy Jonathon by the elbow and dragged him roughly across the room, kicking aside a pile of boxes to reveal a natural fissure in the rock wide enough for them to slip through.
Rislo fumbled nervously with his light orb and eventually fixed it to a clasp on the end of the black rod attached to the chain on his belt.
“Come on my little friend, we have scarce time, the door will not hold the beast for long."
He dragged Jonathon down the uneven and steep rock crevice until they emerged into a larger fissure that levelled out before them. Jonathon, the exertion bringing him back to full consciousness, now felt the fear, which oozed from the Tallman. Feeling stronger and more alert
he detached himself from Rislo's arm and trotted
behind the long striding giant. He could now hear the echoing screams of anger and frustration as the Turkanschoner met with the door Rislo had secured. The beast's howls seemed to be all around them, coming from ahead and behind as the devilish echoes found their way around the labyrinth of tunnels, caves and fissures they had travelled to their ears.
Rislo's anxious face was covered in beads of perspiration, partly from exertion, partly from fear. He turned and indicated to Jonathon urging him to move more quickly.
“Come friend, move faster, we must find a way out of here quickly it will soon be upon us" he panted.
“But where do we go, we can't run forever! Why not fight them, take them by surprise." Jonathon replied. The gasping giant stopped to catch his breath.
“The thing that pursues us, me in particular, is both faster and stronger than both of us. Hiding is impossible. It has only one intention - which is to tear me limb from limb and feed upon my flesh. That is how it is trained to deal with deserters like me. If we get to the surface we may have a chance. I do not think its handler will risk pursuit in the human city." Rislo wheezed heavily. “This Tower of Lepers, your home, where is it? Perhaps we can seek refuge there? I will be safe from both the Tallmen and the humans.”
Jonathon nodded in agreement, they would be safe there and he himself, confidant on his own territory.
"It’s close to the bridge that leads across the river to the Upper City, at the top of the rise on a street which leads from the bridge. But how do we get there from here? I've no idea of where we are! "
Rislo rummaged in his pack and pulled out a crumpled parchment covered in clear plastic.
“I have a map, a map of all these underworld ways and the gates and tunnels which lead to the surface." he pushed it toward Jonathon. “The surface streets are superimposed in red, the ways we now walk in blue.
These black dots are old water wells, empty now, perhaps we may find one that leads to the surface near your Castle of Lepers." he looked hopefully at Jonathon.
Jonathon took the map and peered at it carefully, taking note of the distinctive landmarks. He found the bridge and traced the red lines of the street with his fingers until he came to a large block, isolated on all sides by wide streets that stood apart from the rest of the city buildings. A black dot appeared within its walls.
It made sense Jonathon thought. The lepers rarely ventured into the city and the well was obviously not dry - it was their water source.
He looked up to the giant who was peering nervously back along the tunnel they had travelled and from where the sound of splintering and crashing of wood now echoed." Rislo, where are we now? “he asked.
The giant turned and, after a moment of deliberation, pointed to a blue line which snaked roughly towards the well that led up to the Castle of Lepers.
They were less than two hundred paces from it, moments from sanctuary. Rislo's eyes widened.
"We are close then! We have a chance! “he cried, after Jonathon had explained their location relative to the Castle of Lepers. Jonathon nodded and smiled weakly. Rislo's face brightened with hope. He clasped his hands together and looked upwards. “Then let us thank God! " he proclaimed.
Jonathon raised his eyebrows. His Grandfather had spoken of God. Memories of Cornelius's thick, black leather bound book filtered back. The memories dissolved quickly as Rislo grabbed him again and dragged rapidly him along the rock strewn fissure in the direction of the well shaft.
After a short while, Rislo stopped dead and looked anxiously around him.
"It should be here, but it should be here!" he shouted disappointedly, fear returning to his voice as the Turkanschoner's excited howls echoed around the tunnels, seeming to get closer every time they heard them. Jonathon also expected the well shaft to be blatantly obvious, situated on the map halfway across the tunnel they now stood in, but there was little to indicate the presence of a well shaft here. Frantically Rislo began to examine the walls and floor around the spot they had stopped. The light from his orb showed nothing that was different from normal.
Now the giant began to scratch and scrape furiously at the crumbling walls. At one point the wall bulged slightly outwards. Running his fingers in the compacted dust that had accumulated over the years, he found what he was looking for - stone mortared blocks, hidden beneath the dust that curved slightly outwards from the rock wall.
“Here!” he shouted, laughing excitedly. "It is here!" and began to tear at the blocks with his bare hands attempting to find a loose one and gain access to the well shaft. But the blocks were secure.
Rislo pushed Jonathon aside and lifted the black rod that hung on the chain from his belt. He twisted the rod and the orb's light changed from its currently soft, yellow illumination to an angry, burning red.
“Stand back Jonathon" he warned, retreating several yards from the position of the well shaft and then crouching low. Jonathon joined him.
Pressing an unseen trigger on the black rod caused a bolt of blood red energy to leap from the orb to the brickwork of the well shaft. A loud explosion hurled brick and mortar fragments along the tunnel covering Rislo and Jonathon in dust from head to toe.
The roar of the explosion reverberated along the tunnels of the underworld and could still be heard after the debris from the blast had finally come to rest. A wall of thick dust obscured Rislo's handiwork and caused the pair to cough harshly. But the dust did not settle on the ground, it was moving horizontally into the dark hole left by the explosion. There it streamed up the shaft rapidly on a current of moving air, drawn upwards, soon clearing the dust particles from the confines of the tunnel.
Now the dust had cleared, but the air was still being sucked strongly into the well shaft. Rislo and Jonathon moved cautiously towards the hole where the force of the moving air tugged at their clothes and hair.
The Tallman returned his orb to normal usage and pushed it into the shaft, leaning in himself to peer upwards, his long, red hair streaming vertically with the strong air flow. His eyes widened as he looked upwards, a look of dismay fell upon his face.
“There is a terrible fire burning up there. I can see its glow. The fire sucks in the air, it must be very intense to create
such a draught." Rislo shouted over the roar of the air into the shaft.
Jonathon felt cold. If the Castle of Lepers burned, what of Milly and the others? He remembered his vision, the High Hats faces reflecting fire. Flax!
“We must go up Jonathon!" The Tallman implored as he looked back along the tunnel as the latest scream of the Turkanschoner hardly echoed at all, it was that close now. “We have a choice, burn or be torn apart, but there is a third choice." He said as he leapt into the shaft and wedging his long arms and legs against its sides and moved upwards, his pack dangling below him.
His rate of ascent was quick for one with such an ungainly physique, adrenaline giving him the strength he need. Jonathon followed.
He was not big enough to brace himself the way Rislo had done, but he found easy hand and footholds amongst the coarse stonework. Craning his neck upwards he could see the small circle of bright orange light, which was the fire blazing around the wellhead, hundreds of feet above him.
The roar of shifting air in the tunnel made spoken communication between the two impossible, so Jonathon attempted to make a telepathic link with the Tallman above him. The climbing giant was concentrating intensely on his foot and handholds and this made Jonathon's probing difficult. He was also in a state of profound panic and fear, a barrier that anyone with less than Jonathon's telepathic skills would have found impossible to penetrate. Rislo refused to communicate, but Jonathon could read his thoughts and emotions, see the memory pictures that now flowed vividly into his mind.
Scenes of carnage filled Rislo's mind, the aftermath of the Turkanschoner's missions. Death was not clean with this predator, it tore and ripped into the flesh of its prey indiscriminately with no will to end l
ife quickly or indeed any knowledge, since it was not a natural killer.
All it desired was to feed and it was conditioned to the hunt and the feast at the end of it. Hence it did not kill as such, it fed on its still living victims until they died of shock or blood loss. Rislo felt that there was no hope, above was a furnace and below the pursuing tearing teeth and claws of the beast. He was desperate, he felt trapped. He had used the one emergency charge from his light orb and would probably have missed if he used it on the Turkanschoner.
But he did have his other option, a choice of how he died. He giggled mentally to himself. He would climb as far as he could up the well shaft and then throw himself down into the abyss. Who knows, he thought, he might even take the Turkanschoner and his Tallmen pursuers with him?
Rislo laughed outloud manically.
Jonathon was finding the climb easy, he had been trained well and was accustomed to such feats of exertion, so much so that he found the ascent almost effortless. But his mind raced to find a solution to their present dilemma. Rislo, he knew had accepted defeat, about to give up. The Tallman saw his situation as hopeless, but Jonathon thought differently. He would never give up hope. He considered his options. He could do nothing about the fire which raged above them, but he might be able to fight the beast which pursued them, not physically but he had other weapons. His trip into Rislo's memory had revealed its strength, speed and blind ferocity, but it had a brain, a mind, he could engage that.
He knew from Rislo's knowledge of the creature, that usually it needed to be commanded to attack by its handler who cast a file of liquid to the ground that stimulated its feeding frenzy. Above all he knew that the minds of the Tallmen pursuing Rislo were vulnerable to his powers, he might just be able to stop them. He would try them first.
Jonathon stopped climbing and sent out his mind probing, searching for the Turkanschoner's handler. He found no one except the beast. It was alone. How could it carry out its conditioned response without someone to initiate it? he puzzled. He swept into the beast's mind to find it filled with bloody intent, its primitive instincts driving it forward in its initial task of capturing the Tallman deserter.
The Chronicles of Jonathon Postlethwaite: The Seed of Corruption Page 10