by Simon Kewin
“You will have to search. It moves around,” said the archaeon.
“OK, so what does it look like?” asked her mum.
“The book said you have to find a blind minstrel that sings of death and reward his work with gold.”
“And that means what?” asked Danny.
“It means you must find a blind minstrel that sings of death and reward his work with gold,” said the archaeon.
“OK, so, a singer,” said Johnny. “Plenty of those in Dublin.”
“They will be on the streets,” said the archaeon. “In a doorway of some sort. That is the portal. Hear the song, pay the gold and you will be allowed passage.”
“But how can the book know this singer would be here tonight?” said Danny.
“The minstrel is always here. They are a part of this place, much older than the city, in fact.”
They'd reached the entrance to the park: a grand, wrought iron gateway that led onto a busy road. Across the road was a pedestrianised shopping area, bright lights shining through the gloom.
They crossed. There were one or two buskers about, generally ignored by the crowds. An artist painted head-to-toe in silver, pretending to be a statue. A string quartet and a man playing the bagpipes. No one who could be considered a blind minstrel.
They stopped outside a bookshop, its window filled with a display of colourful fantasy books. Cait wished for a moment she was a character in one of them. In real life such adventures were much too painful and distressing.
“We need supplies,” said her mum. “Food, waterproofs, backpacks, everything like that. Johnny, can you use your card again and stock up for us? Take Danny. I think the rest of us should separate. Try and find this minstrel. Let's all meet back here in half an hour.”
“They'll see the transaction,” said Johnny. “They'll find us again.”
“I know. I'm hoping we can be away from here by then. It might throw them off our scent for a bit.”
Johnny shrugged. “OK. I'll do my best.”
He and Danny headed up the street toward a large department store. Fer found a space on a bench and sat down, her shoulders sagging. Cait's mum glanced at Ran and indicated Fer with her head. The dragonrider nodded his head and stepped to the side of the street to watch over Fer.
Her mum and her gran set off in opposite directions and Cait, after a moment, followed, heading for a side street that seemed less crowded. She came across a few buskers, but none that were blind or singing about death. She felt more and more uncomfortable, more and more alone. Everyone seemed to be watching her. She probably did look quite a state by now. She stopped to study her reflection in the window of a pizzeria and saw the dim image of a wild-haired girl superimposed onto the seated diners. Her clothes were badly stained from crawling through the cave. Quickly, she hurried on.
She returned after twenty-five minutes having found no sign of the minstrel. Fer was still there, looking a little better. She smiled as Cait approached. Ran, unmoving, continued his vigil.
Her mum strode up a few moments later, a look of anxiety on her face. “No sign. When Johnny gets back let's interrogate that bookwyrm a little more.”
Right on cue, Johnny and Danny raced toward them, barging through the crowds. They were laden with bulky carrier-bags, making it awkward for them to run.
Johnny shouted something. “Come on! We've been spotted. Security fascists in one of the stores!”
“Maybe they thought you were robbing the place?” asked Cait.
“It was after I used the card.”
In the distance, a siren wailed. Perhaps it was coincidence.
“We'd better go,” said her mum.
“You found the minstrel, yeah?” asked Danny.
“No,” said her mum. “We didn't. But it's too dangerous to wait.”
“Where's Gran?” asked Cait.
There was no sign of her in the crowds. Danny dropped his bags and stepped onto the bench were Fer sat, looking out across the sea of people.
“I see her,” he said after a few moments. “She's coming this way. Quite slowly.”
“Let's go.”
Cait helped Fer up and Ran joined them. They pushed their way through the crowds to meet her gran.
“I found him!” she said as they drew near, a wide grin on her face. “Not far, down this way.”
“We think we're being followed,” said her mum. “Best hurry.”
“I am hurrying!”
She led them down a quiet side-street, no shop windows, just brick walls, the sides and backs of shops, then onto another large road. They threaded their way through the traffic as it waited for the lights, hurrying down a street lined with bars and pubs. A burst of noise and warm, beery air came from each as they passed. Cait glanced backward, watching for pursuit. Ran did the same. She wondered what he made of this strange world. She felt out of place herself.
They heard the minstrel before they saw him. The tune was eerie, winding its way up the street, sounding both mournful and exuberant at the same time. His voice flowed from one syllable to another as if he was simply making sound. It took Cait a few moments to grasp he was singing in English. Something about loss and longing.
He sat on a tattered rug in the doorway of a crumbling office building. Dark, square windows filled its stone façade. The minstrel plucked at a small guitar-like instrument through fingerless gloves, singing apparently to himself. His milky eyes stared into the distance. He had a grin on his face, as if whatever he saw amused him, and he wore a grey greatcoat, stained and frayed, that could have been made at any time in the previous hundred years.
“Let's pay him then,” said Cait.
“No. We have to let him sing his song first,” said her mum.
“But there isn't time!”
“It's what we have to do. Reward him for his work. We can't give him payment if he hasn't earned it. That's the way it works.”
They stood in a circle around the man for anxious minutes, listening to the music. Cait glanced up and down the street, expecting to see people running after them. The man, meanwhile, seemed oblivious. He knew they were there but paid them no attention. His song continued, sometimes striking off into new melodies, sometimes returning to familiar themes. Cait couldn't decide if he sang a single melody or several, or whether he improvised music without end. His words were still hard to understand, but the theme was clear. They were all lost upon that distant shore and you walk upon the land no more.
At long last there was silence. The minstrel stared into nowhere, unmoving, like a machine that had run down.
“Fantastic,” said Johnny, with clear delight.
Her mum twisted the ring off her finger and kneeled to place it on the man's rug.
“But mum, that's your wedding ring!” said Cait.
Her mum shrugged. “It's the only gold I have. Plastic won't do here. And it's just a piece of shiny metal, love. It's not important really.”
“But you and Dad … what would he say?”
“Oh, I think he'd understand.”
The only indication from the man that he'd noticed was the slightest nod. He shuffled to one side to let them pass, indicating the shadowy archway behind him with a tilt of his head.
The sound of more sirens came to them, nearby but hard to locate, their calls echoing off the buildings. There were shouts from somewhere, the words impossible to discern.
Johnny picked up the carrier bags and walked into the dark archway. He disappeared.
“Quick now,” said her mum. “Best we're not seen.”
Fer went next, then Danny and her gran. Cait thought she'd smack into a stone wall when she followed, but instead she found herself stepping into a large, low-ceilinged space. She turned to see her mum and then Ran pass through a solid metal door with the words Authorized Personnel Only stencilled in red letters. She wondered if all the doors she'd ever seen with that were really portals.
“Hey, I know this place,” said Danny. “This is the car park under
the G-Mex centre. We're back in Manchester.”
Cait looked around. He was right. Gleaming rows of expensive cars stretched into the distance, parked between the massive pillars that supported the building. No doubt about it. Which meant they weren't far from Central Library, back where everything had started. The thought didn't do anything to calm the fizzing in her stomach.
“Manchester is a nexus,” said her gran. “Many portals lead to and from here.”
“So, which way to the last jump?” asked Danny.
“No signal down here,” said Johnny. “Let's go up to ground-level.”
“Wait,” said her mum, a note of concern in her voice.
“What is it?” asked Cait.
“There are undain here. Many, many of them. Hundreds. On the streets, all around us. Manchester is full of them.”
“Must have come through from Angere,” said her gran. “Sent to look for us.”
“But I can't see them!” said Cait. In truth, she felt too panicky to focus her mind's eye properly.
“Look for the gaps, the spaces that move. The deeper chill in the night.”
“So,” said Johnny. “I'm thinking if you can see them, chances are they can see us, right?”
“Probably,” said her mum.
“Then let's not get trapped down here,” said Johnny. “Let's get outside at least, yeah? If the archaeon can tell us where to go, maybe we can get there before they jump us.”
“We can try,” said her mum. “Stick together everyone, OK?”
They went up a short flight of concrete steps to emerge by the side of the great barrow-bulk of the G-Mex centre. It was fully dark now. Rain teemed down, as the archaeon had predicted. It looked like it had been raining for hours judging by the puddles. Cait was soaked instantly.
Several people walked by, but she couldn't pick out any undain. She had the idea of using the seeing stone. With it in front of her left eye, Manchester became an indistinct green haze, the buildings ethereal, shifting around. She could see the sparks that represented people, but she couldn't identify any of the gaps where there should be light.
Open both eyes said the hushed voice of the witch-girl inside her. Look with both eyes. Cait reopened her right eye. Now she had both views of the city. A woman drove past, the flickering yellow light of her aura visible at the same time. It was awkward, but it worked.
Now she could see, by concentrating on first one view and then the other, which people were normal and which weren't. Her mum was right. The undain were everywhere. A bus thundered by that was nearly full of them. They looked like normal people but they were dead and empty where they should have glowed with life. Was it always like this? Had she walked among them, oblivious, all her life? It made sense they were in Manchester, so near the library, but how many were there everywhere else? Back in the forest, in Dublin, in the other places they might have gone? Nox must be directing thousands of them, the world over. What chance did they have against such an enemy?
She looked into the sky. On the top of the hotel opposite, a large CCTV camera perched like a cyborg bird-of-prey. It pointed directly at them. Was Nox watching through that, thinking he'd won? A gull fell from the darkness to land next to the camera. It, too, was one of them.
“Do you see them?” asked her mum.
Cait nodded. “We have to get going. I don't think we have long.”
She turned to Johnny. “Have you got the archaeon? Does it say where we need to go?”
“It hasn't shown up yet,” he said. “I've got a signal now, but no sign of the wyrm.”
All her fears thudded through her. Had the archaeon betrayed them? Had it simply led them into this trap? The thought filled her with anger. She stepped up to Johnny and shouted into the mobile.
“Are you there, bookwyrm?”
After a moment, the archaeon's voice came through. “Yes, yes, I am here little witch. At your beck and call.”
“The last portal, where is it? There are undain everywhere.”
“Interesting. Well, let me see. The entry is cryptic but I believe I have deciphered it correctly. Where Oxford road meets St. Peter's Square, a puddle will have formed, wide enough to cover half the road. Leap into the middle and you will be carried away.”
They half-walked, half-ran up Mosley Street. They'd be at St. Peter's Square in a minute or two, assuming they weren't intercepted. Did the undain know where they were going? Did they know about this portal?
“What's to stop them following us through?” asked Cait.
“Ah, did you think I wouldn't have considered that?” asked the archaeon. “This water portal behaves like the fire portal in Iceland. It ebbs and flows. In this case, it will only work once, each time the heavy rains come and the puddle forms. If you leap in together, you will be safe.”
“But someone else may already have …”
“Yes, yes. But that's unlikely in my judgement. You have to leap right into the centre.”
“Well, it's us that's in danger here, not you. Perhaps you should tell us next time you make these judgements,” said Cait, still cross.
“Wait a minute,” said Johnny. “What about me and the others? We're supposed to fetch my guitar. Not whizzing off to Iceland.”
“We've no choice,” said her mum. “You'll have to come with us. It's not safe here. The archaeon said the lava pit becomes a Lesser Portal when it doesn't lead to Angere. You'll have to take your chances with it once we've gone through.”
“One other thing,” said the bookwyrm. “There will be no signal when you get to Iceland. You will be on your own.”
“Well,” said her gran. “We'll just have to try and manage, won't we?”
“Then I shall wish you luck,” said the archaeon. “Thank you for a most interesting time. I suppose it is possible I will talk to some of you again, some day.”
“Perhaps you will,” said her mum.
“He's gone,” said Johnny, pressing buttons on his phone. “Screen's blank.”
“Then let's find this puddle,” said her mum.
St. Peter's Square was in sight, traffic-lights pinning the waiting cars, a tram trundling by. More and more people thronged the pavements. Three young men with long, lank hair and lurid heavy-metal tee-shirts strode toward them. Cait lifted the stone to her eye. They were undain, all three of them, no doubt about it. She caught a glimpse of a different body, a different face. Their true selves. It was like looking at one of those paintings where you saw the same face from two different angles. There was the boyish grin and there, at the same time, the hungry snarl of the monster.
“Across the road!” shouted Cait, weaving between the stopped cars. The others followed. Ran, who seemed to be able to spot the creatures too, walked backward so he could keep a close eye on the three.
The undain followed them. Cait had the distinct impression of being herded. There was no urgency to the creatures' actions. Why didn't they attack?
They reached the corner of St. Peter's Square. There was Central Library. She'd come full circle. Strange how events had led her back here. The undain were everywhere, on the streets, on the roofs. She was seeing them clearly now, even without the stone. There was a sense of emptiness, of wrongness when you looked at them. Each turned to watch as Cait and the others arrived, like an audience when the actors appear on stage. One of them, standing like a statue on top of the war memorial, leaped. It didn't break stride as it landed across the road and marched toward them. It was in the shape of a woman about her mum's age, but Cait could see another form flickering in and out of existence. A misshapen, winged creature with an overlarge head full of clashing teeth.
No, said the voice of the witch-girl suddenly, sounding very faint. Not here again, please. Cait tried to speak to her, find out what she meant, but there was no response.
To their right, a short way away, was the huge puddle the archaeon had described. It had to be the one. It was so deep that cars crept around it rather than driving through. Pedestrians tip-toed on th
e pavement, hugging the walls of the buildings.
The urge to run rose within Cait. The water looked deep and dark, the orange lights of the city shimmering on its surface. What if someone had jumped in already? Someone messing around or drunk? She had a vision of the seven of them standing knee-deep in the puddle while a hundred Angere monsters surrounded them. They'd have no chance and, what's more, they'd look pretty stupid. Or what if they had walked into a trap, if the archaeon really was their enemy? It was quite clear: if this large, unlikely-looking puddle wasn't a doorway out of Manchester, they were doomed.
One of the monsters landed from the skies in front of them. A man in his forties wearing a smart business-suit. He carried a leather brief-case, but it was a clawed talon rather than fingers that curled around the handle. He must have leaped off the high building to their right. With a snarl, he charged, suddenly all mouth and teeth. For the briefest moment she heard a chorus of terrible screams and wails coming from the monster, as if a thousand lost souls were imprisoned within it. She found herself wondering how many people had died to fuel its unnatural life. Had they been killed recently? Were they people she'd actually met? Or were these ancient crimes, hundreds of years old?
Danny jumped between them, colliding with the undain. The creature roared and whipped around, lashing out at Danny, knocking him to the wet ground.
“Run!” shouted her mum. They were only a few paces from the edge of the puddle. A car drove past, sending a fan of water over it.
“Danny!” shouted Cait. “We have to help him! Mum, Gran, do something!”
She stopped. There were so many undain crowding them she lost sight of Danny. The monsters were within touching distance. Some didn't bother to maintain their human aspects any more. They merged into one laughing, snarling mass. An acrid smell of burning metal and decay filled the air, making her feel sick and weak.
Distantly she heard Danny's muffled shouts. “Get away! Get away!”
“No!” she shouted, pushing toward him and the undain. Ran stood next to her, fighting to protect her.
Her mum seized hold of her arm. “We must go! It's us they want, not him.”
At the same moment, something grabbed Cait's ankle. A pale claw reached out of a drainage grid, fingers clamping tightly onto her. Revulsion at the creature's touch filled her. Instinctively she lashed out, sending a jolt of icy magic into the creature without even stopping to think what she was doing. The sharp pain hit her a moment later but she ignored it. The iron grasp on her ankle lessened and Cait kicked and kicked to shake herself free.