The Infernal Aether

by Oxley, Peter

  “Let’s not fool ourselves,” I said. “Andras has no difficulty in recruiting humans to assist its aims. Remember Richard, for example.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Kate. “The mad scientist. Could he work your portal thingy?”

  “He probably could,” said Maxwell. “And I have been painfully aware of the possibility these past weeks. I suspect that if we find him then we will also find Andras. And vice versa.”

  “Doesn’t help us much,” Kate said. “He’s as disappeared as the demon.”

  I sighed and glanced down at the copy of The Times which I had absently picked up on my way home, and then let out a strangulated yelp.

  “What is it?” asked Maxwell.

  I pointed to a block of text toward the bottom of the page, a small article which read as follows:

  STRANGE HAPPENINGS AT WINDSOR

  ~~~

  TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES

  Sir,—On Monday last I was stopping at a hotel in the centre of Windsor. My bedroom was small, the bed being situated immediately below the window such that I was immediately aware of the dawn light as soon as it emerged. I was awakened at about 2 a.m. by a strange light which ebbed and flowed across the sky, such that at first I believed that I was witnessing some form of impromptu display of fireworks, possibly in honour of some dignitaries visiting Windsor Castle. This conjecture was swiftly disproved when I noted not only that the customary sounds which accompany such displays were lacking but also that the light being emitted was more stable than the usual intermittent flashes that one would expect. I could hear movement in the corridor and so threw off the bedclothes and made for the outside. There I was joined by my fellow guests and the landlady, all of whom were in some state of confusion as to exactly what the nature of the lights were, as they seemed to be suspended at a height of around twenty feet, but no dirigible or tower was visible to explain the lights’ presence. After the passage of around half an hour the lights were extinguished as rapidly as they had commenced but not before we noted two items which caused considerable consternation to all in that town. Firstly a deepening mist which seemed to spring from nowhere, and secondly a series of ghastly noises which emanated from the phenomenon. Upon returning to our rooms we spent the night still hearing strange howling and wailing around the town, which the local policemen dismissed as wild dogs which had been whipped into a frenzy by the unexpected illumination. I have much experience of animal husbandry and assured them that these were no animals I had ever heard of, but my concerns were dismissed. I left Windsor the next day but remain in a state of consternation by what I saw and heard that night and hope that the residents of that town have not witnessed any further phenomena of that type.

  Your obedient servant,

  SCOTT F. SURTEES

  Rectory, Spotburgh, September 15

  I looked up at the others. “It would appear that Andras is still alive and well, not to mention merrily experimenting,” I said. “Shall we pay a visit to Windsor?”

  *

  As we travelled, we picked up every newspaper we could find; whilst this was not a line of inquiry which we had neglected until that point, it had hitherto been totally fruitless. Now, though, we attacked this source with renewed vigour, hoping that our adversary had finally shown its hand.

  Upon our arrival in Windsor, we had no difficulty in finding people who were willing to talk about the strange phenomena which was reported in The Times. The landlord of the coaching inn at which we disembarked was more than happy to regale us with tales of all that had happened that night, and since.

  “The worst has just kept on coming,” he said to us as we ate the hearty meal which his wife had brought us. “Mark my words, you do not want to be walking the streets out there once night comes.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Kate.

  “I mean,” he said. “That there are creatures which come out which would terrify even the bravest of souls. They’re all trying to keep it quiet, the police, saying there’s nothing to worry about and it’s all just wild dogs, but I’ve never known dogs cause as much panic as these things. It’s going to be the ruin of me; my trade’s dropped precipitously.”

  “Do you have any idea where the original lights emanated from? Where the centre of this disturbance was?” asked Maxwell.

  “Was up in the sky, but as for what it was over, I couldn’t rightly tell. Probably just over the park to the north of the town. There’s nothing there though, at least not in daytime, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  I looked at the others. “I think we should stay the night and experience these phenomena for ourselves. Would you agree?”

  They nodded. If nothing else, this was a fresh line of investigation and, in any case, it was better than moping around my lodgings or walking the same old streets. I turned back to the landlord. “Do you have any rooms for the night?”

  “Do I ever,” he said with a smile. “But wouldn’t you rather get back to safety?”

  “I rather suspect that such a place will not exist very soon,” said Maxwell, ever the reassuring voice of optimism. I shot him a glare and he responded with a confused shrug.

  The landlord gathered us some keys, then looked up and waved at a policeman who had just entered the inn. “Ho! Fred! Why don’t you tell these folk how there’s nothing to worry about? How we just have a bit of a problem with wild dogs?”

  The policeman walked over to us and regarded us sternly. “That’s right,” he said. “And you’ll do well to not question that. Who are you all? Passing through?”

  “We thought we would stay the night,” I said. “Take in the Berkshire air.”

  He stared at me and then grunted. “Well, you’re welcome as long as you keep out of trouble. Afternoon all.” He touched his hat and, after one last disbelieving glance at us, went back outside.

  *

  We sat at a table by the door as the evening wore on, clutching our weapons as much for comfort as for protection. The few other customers and staff in the room gave us a wide berth, not quite sure what to make of these strangers who seemed determined to court trouble.

  As soon as dusk fell it was as though a blanket had been thrown over the town, shutting off not just all light—for it seemed that even the lamplighters dared not venture out of doors to fulfil their duties—but also sound, as though every inhabitant held their breath while secreted away behind their doors. Then came the noises which we had been warned about, a scratching and scuffling which I realised with a dreadful certainty I had heard before.

  We had earlier toured the town and its attendant park, Maxwell scrutinising his Aetheric Sensor whilst Kate and I scoured the streets for any physical signs of demonic activity. All seemed normal enough, the streets full of costermongers shouting their wares, hassled housewives keen to make their last purchases before heading home, and occasional knots of drunken men spending their wages in the only ways they knew how. Whilst busy, the general level of activity was nowhere near the intense chaos which we were accustomed to in London, and I confess to being charmed by the relative peace of those not unfamiliar surroundings. There was a certain sense of unease about the town though, as though each and every person passing through the streets were afraid to linger lest some unspeakable horror befall them.

  It was this threat of danger which became more evident as we quizzed the residents and costermongers, all of whom were content to confide in us their concerns and stories. These varied in content but were uniform in the level of unease they left us with. One man spoke of strange creatures, almost lupine in nature but much larger than should be feasible, which stalked the town at night and were the end of any poor souls brave or foolhardy enough to venture out of doors. Taking our questioning as signs of scepticism, he showed us a wall which appeared to have borne the brunt of a collision from a wagon at high speed; upon closer inspection, the marks which we had taken for ruts appeared to have more in common with the imprints left behind by some huge claw.

  A woman who was ma
nning a stall not far from the castle gates told us of her missing husband and son disappearing on consecutive nights, after having been distracted by some sight from out of the window. In each case they had stood, transfixed, for some minutes before leaving the house without a word, never to be seen again. The woman had seen no sign of their fate, in spite of having immediately rushed to the window herself, although she spoke of “a strange tune, like a lonely flute hidden in all that mist.” Her face had taken on a wistful quality as she spoke of that haunting sound, and I rather feared that, in spite of our warnings to stay safely away from her window again, she would soon be sharing the same mysterious fate as the male members of her family.

  Notwithstanding all of this intelligence, we were no closer to uncovering the source of all of this madness, and we hesitantly reached the conclusion that it would only be after dark that such fiend or phenomenon would reveal itself.

  “We sure that’s a good idea?” asked Kate.

  “No,” said Maxwell. “But I am picking up little but trace emanations on my Aetheric Sensor. There does, though, appear to be some correlation between the strength of the readings and the time of day. We should definitely see some form of manifestation once night falls.”

  “I am not convinced that that is a good thing,” I said. “But on reflection I am not sure what other options we have.” Maxwell nodded his assent—as did Kate, after a pause.

  We agreed that we would return to the inn to gather up our weaponry as well as additional clothing; as I pointed out, it was getting rather peaky out of doors as the sun neared the horizon.

  And so it was that, after a rest to get ourselves clothed and armed appropriately, we met in the front bar of the inn and ate what passed for dinner in that sort of establishment. The clock struck nine as we made our way to the door, nodding to the landlord as we strode past him. “You sure you want to do this?” he called out to us.

  “We will not be long,” I said. “But we need to see this for ourselves. Do not worry about us, for we are prepared.” I held up my sword and smiled grimly.

  We gathered round the door, each of us examining the other and searching in their eyes for the confidence that we would survive this ordeal, not to mention the reassurance that we were doing the right thing. During our stay in the Aether we had not ventured out of our safe haven to face the hideous and hungry denizens which had lurked without, and with good reason. This time we were willingly stepping into the unknown, and the thought of what we were about to do petrified me. Particularly given the absence of N’yotsu, probably the one person on Earth who could feasibly do battle with whatever manner of creature stalked the streets outside. I took a deep breath; I knew that the others were looking to me to play the part of the strong leader and protector.

  Not for the first time, I allowed my body to overrule my conscience. Ignoring the screams of protest which filled my head, I put my hand on the doorknob and turned it, smiling at Kate and Maxwell. “Ready?” I asked.

  They did not answer, their faces betraying the same paralysing fear that I felt. With a deep breath I determined that I should assume the role of the army officer who, pour encourager les autres, strode forwards with his head held high, straight into the face of the enemy guns.

  With my sword in hand I opened the door a crack and peered out into a street which was, as far as I could tell, quiet and empty in the moon’s half-light. I stepped out into the eerie stillness and glanced around with wary eyes, every muscle tensed as I anticipated an attack at any moment.

  None came. The others joined me and we jumped slightly as the door behind us was slammed shut and bolted hastily from the inside. I raised my eyebrows and pointed north, toward the park; the others nodded and we started on our way.

  During the daytime there had been little out of the ordinary about this perfectly formed town, save for the grandeur which inevitably accompanies centuries of Royal patronage. The Norman castle loomed large over all the other buildings, a constant reminder of the Queen’s brooding presence. Some of those we had spoken to had blamed the various phenomena on the Queen, some even daring to wonder if they were the side-effects of the so-called Widow of Windsor’s attempts to bring back her beloved late Prince Albert from beyond the grave.

  Regardless, I had found something rather comforting in the serene industry of that picturesque town and its close links to the monarch, the way that every street and hill seemed to point directly up to the Royal residence.

  The picture we were confronted with in the moonlight was a completely different one; the castle a huge beast which loomed over us all, obscuring what precious light there was and leaving us with the indelible impression of constantly being observed. The streets were almost completely silent, and as such my heartbeat and footsteps felt like thunderclaps which would betray our progress at any moment. I looked down to check my footing and my heart skipped a beat, for the street was carpeted by a thin veneer of mist. Maxwell bent down to examine it and then grunted. “Aetheric mist,” he confirmed, his voice echoing loudly in the emptiness.

  “I don’t like it,” muttered Kate. “There were constant noises before, when we were inside. Now: nothing. Where’ve all the monsters gone?”

  “You are complaining because we are not being attacked?” I asked, trying to inject some jollity into my tone. “You really need to think about your sense of preferences!”

  She smiled thinly. “I’d just prefer to see them. This waiting’s almost worse.”

  Neither of us would argue as we progressed toward the park and the supposed source of the strange happenings which had afflicted the town. We did not really expect to see Andras himself in residence, but we at least hoped to encounter some clue as to where he might be, for there had been precious little indications when we had examined the place in daylight. We knew that we were taking a risk—potentially a fatal one if the local residents were to be believed—but we were desperate people with scarce alternatives.

  I stole a glance at the Royal residence as we skirted the side of the castle grounds, the words of the more superstitious locals returning to my mind. “Do you think that there could actually be a connection with the Royals?” I whispered. “This is rather an odd place to conduct an experiment. I would personally go for somewhere more secluded.”

  “Yes,” said Maxwell. “But then, you are thinking like a human rather than a demon. To him, the concept of a monarch may well be completely irrelevant; or maybe Andras derives some perverse pleasure in ‘cocking a snook’ at her.”

  “Or she’s in on it as well,” muttered Kate.

  “Unlike others, I choose to believe in the inviolability of the monarch,” said Maxwell stiffly.

  Kate glanced at me. “He does not believe so,” I translated, and she nodded her thanks.

  We fell silent as we reached the park, the darkness of the open space seeming even more oppressive than the narrow, winding streets. As we picked our way across the grass, I was struck by the parallels between what we were currently experiencing and our first encounter with N’yotsu and Andras, all those months ago. Would that this adventure ended as successfully I thought, and gripped my sword tighter.

  In the dark stillness I found that all of my senses were heightened as I examined all around us for anything out of the ordinary. A shuffling sound from ahead made me pause and I held up a hand for the others to stop. We stood there, listening and holding our breaths, every inch of our bodies in a state of anticipatory tension.

  I heard it again, the sound of something slinking through the grass toward us from just ahead, and the padding of feline feet upon the soft ground. A shape emerged out of the gloom, a low and lean form with eyes which flashed as red as fire and teeth which shone a sickly yellow in the moonlight. It growled, a low, deep rumbling noise which echoed around us, taken up by three others which materialised from the shadows next to their fellow, regarding us with seething intent, four coiled springs waiting to pounce and devour us. Instinctively we huddled together back-to-back, each o
f us forming the side of a triangle.

  I looked around slowly with sword raised, both hands gripping the hilt tightly. I blinked and remembered Freddie’s words from those painful fencing lessons aboard The Old Lady. “Don’t grip it, just hold it,” his voice echoed back to me from across the years. “Hold it gently, like it were fine china. The reason I was able to best you so easily was because you had a grip like a vice. Hold the sword loosely and you will be able to move your wrist and arm more flexibly—all the better for striking and dodging and striking again. That which is rigid can be thrust aside or broken. Keep your grip loose, and your fighting will be all the better for it.”

  Heeding those old words I relaxed my grip and wrist and swung my sword loosely from side to side, feeling it become an extension of my arm rather than a mere weapon. Taking a deep breath, I felt the old exultation return and grinned. “Are your pistols loaded?”

  “Yep,” said Kate, breathing quick and fast as she stood stock-still at my side. “What now?”

  “Pick your targets well and fire on my count. Use the smooth-bore first—it will cause the most damage and your first shot is likely to be your most accurate.” I heard them pull back the hammers by two clicks, priming the central barrels of their weapons. “Whatever happens, we stay together—do not run or they will cut you down.” I turned my head slightly to my left. “Max, how are you?”

  “Never better,” he said in a tremulous voice.

  “We are going to survive this,” I said, with an air of certainty which almost convinced myself. “One... two...”

  I bellowed the word: “Three!” and simultaneously stamped my right foot on the ground, hoping that this would either worry or confuse the beasts; they instead reacted by snarling and then leaping at us, those terrifying teeth and eyes flashing brightly in the moonlight. I lunged with my sword at the body of the nearest creature and was rewarded with the slightest glimmer of resistance followed by a yelp as it wheeled away, trailing a trickle of dark blood in its wake.