by Oxley, Peter
A bespectacled man in the corner nodded rapidly. “That is indeed the case,” he said. “I have seen an exponential increase in the size and duration of the—as you call them—portals.” He bustled over to Maxwell’s side and showed him a piece of paper, which was festooned with a mess of numbers and symbols.
“Fascinating,” said Maxwell. “If these records are correct, then it would appear that the latest test was almost up to full strength.”
“Almost?” said another officer from the side of the table. “What manner of Hell would it unleash were it to be at full strength?”
“That,” said Maxwell grimly, “is something I pray we are never forced to witness.”
*
Maxwell was soon pressed into service as a part of the team of scientists which had been assembled to try and make sense of—not to mention halt—what was fast becoming known as simply the Apocalypse. His new partner in this endeavour was Dr. Bartholomew Forsyth, the bespectacled lead scientist on the project. They had swiftly taken themselves away to a series of rooms which had been converted into makeshift laboratories, a veritable cornucopia of delights for one such as my brother.
As for Kate and I, we found ourselves surplus to requirements; we were of no use to the scientific effort and had provided the government with all of the information that they needed. However, they were also loath to release us for fear that we would fuel the various rumours which were spreading across the land, in spite of the government’s best efforts to quell them with a series of believable—but in practice largely ignored—counter-rumours.
As a result, I found myself spending my time almost exclusively in Kate’s company, which turned out to be not as trying as I might otherwise have thought. Whilst her manners and bearing could be considered by some to be somewhat coarse, there was a certain charm about her directness and I found that the hours and days passed in a congenial blur of idle chatter, meandering walks and our mutual love of alcohol. I confess to being pleasantly surprised by how easy I found her company, without the distractions of other people or activities, although Maxwell would have doubtless pointed out that my affections had seldom been respecters of class or status.
Regardless, it was only a few days before the pair of us began to feel rather restless at our forced inactivity, which in turn drove us to seeking entertainment through drink and general low-level mischief. It was after one such episode—where we had tried, unsuccessfully, to sneak into the Queen’s private apartments—that the Army officers relented and decided to take us along on one of their patrols, if only to keep us out of trouble.
As far as we were aware, Andras had not conducted any further tests of his portal-creating device in the intervening days, a fact which both relieved and concerned us in equal measure. However, as we made our way through the streets, it was clear that the entire populace were terribly aware of the nameless threats which loomed over us all.
“It has been like this for a few days now, at least,” said a voice to my right. I turned to see Lieutenant Pearce, the man who had escorted us up to the castle all those nights ago. “It’s clear to everyone that something’s not right, especially when they cannot go out at night for fear of being torn to bloody shreds.”
I grunted. Ever since our near miss in the Windsor park, we had been forced to remain indoors after dark for our own protection, nervously talking and drinking in the hope of drowning out the noises from outside and the images they evoked in our minds. The soldiers patrolled the streets only in force, and usually returned lighter in number than when they had left. “So there is no sign of any slackening in their activities?” I asked.
One theory of the scientists’ had been that there was a limit to the time that the creatures from the Aether could remain in our realm before being sucked back, a theory which Maxwell pointed out was clutching at straws; Andras’s continued presence in our world would need careful explanation if the theory were to have any merit at all.
“Afraid not,” said Lieutenant Pearce. “If anything, their numbers seem to be increasing. It is almost as though they are breeding.”
“That don’t bear thinking about,” said Kate with a shudder.
“Indeed,” said the lieutenant in a distracted tone of voice. I followed his gaze and glimpsed, through a side street, a crowd of people flowing along with hard-eyed intent. “I wonder what they’re up to,” he said, and then turned to me. “Fancy joining me in a bit of reconnaissance?” He dismounted from his horse, handed his hat to another soldier and buttoned up his greatcoat, hiding his uniform from sight.
I slid down from my horse and Kate joined us. “Lead on, mate,” she said.
Lieutenant Pearce looked at me questioningly and I grinned. “I have yet to win an argument with her,” I said. “But you are certainly welcome to try.”
He shrugged and then gestured for her to follow as well; the soldiers were all becoming accustomed to Kate’s somewhat unconventional manners.
The three of us headed down the side street on foot and joined the throng of people. “Shouldn’t we bring the others with us?” asked Kate, looking back. “You know, the ones with the horses and guns?”
“I am intrigued to see what is sparking this activity before we intervene,” replied Lieutenant Pearce. “In my experience, a company of armed soldiers tends to dampen criminal activities somewhat. They will stay close at hand, and I have a whistle to call them to us, should we require them.”
I studied the lieutenant’s face. “There is something more at play here, is there not?”
“I am afraid so,” he said. “There have been increasing incidents of rioting across the country. Some of it understandably relates to frustrations arising from... what has been happening. However, we have also had reports of disturbances which have seemingly erupted for no reason. Thus far, we have only been able to witness the aftermath of these disturbances; this may be our best chance to witness one first-hand.”
The sound of shouting from ahead made us look up and I was suddenly aware that we were now very much in the midst of a mob, streaming toward a common goal with us at its heart. I felt us being picked up and pulled along by the swell of bodies and I grabbed Kate’s hand, as much for my protection as hers. “This does not look good,” she said, face twitching with panic. “We should go.”
“Go where?” I asked. “We are hemmed in here. Let us stick together and ride it out; I am sure an opportunity to step away will present itself at some point.”
“Hear, hear,” said Lieutenant Pearce from my other side.
“But what if Andras is here?” asked Kate.
“Then at least we’ll know where the damned creature is,” I said with a forced smile.
After about ten minutes or so we came to a halt of sorts; whilst we were still being jostled from side to side and backwards and forwards, the impetus and momentum had abated. We were now in the midst of a crowd looking up at a handful of men standing on a makeshift podium. We were too far away, and the background noise around us too great, for us to make out much of what was being said, but there was enough of a running commentary from our neighbours for us to be able to discern the general mood and thrust.
“Wait here,” said Kate. “I’ll try and find out what’s going on.” I nodded reluctantly; knowing that there was little profit in contesting with her, I watched as she moved off, slipping between the bodies of the Great Unwashed.
“Bleedin’ toffs,” said a man to our right. “Takin’ everythin’ and leavin’ us wi’ nothin’.”
“That’s the problem with the country folk,” muttered another, behind us and to our left. “Damned labourers and workers, floodin’ into the town, crowdin’ us all out.”
Another voice, practically breathing down my neck, chimed in to his neighbour: “Politicians and Royalty—they’re all the same. Runnin’ the country for themselves. And the shopkeepers’re the same. The lot of ’em.”
“Can you hear this?” I asked Lieutenant Pearce.
“Yes,” he said.
“I am struggling to understand exactly what they are protesting about.”
Kate elbowed her way back to us. “No one seems to know why we’re here, but they’re all really angry. Them blokes at the front aren’t helping—they’re just saying odd things which could mean anything. Them and their mates.”
“Mates?” I asked.
“Yeah—there’s blokes dotted round the crowd saying stuff just to wind people up.”
“Agents provocateurs,” said Lieutenant Pearce.
“No, they don’t look French,” said Kate. “Look, there’s one there.”
“He didn’t mean that they were French,” I said, peering over the crowd at the person she had indicated. He wore a long dark coat and his face was shadowed by a wide brimmed hat, a uniform which was matched by the men on the platform in the distance. “The phrase just means someone who incites people to violence. I think we should have a word with this fellow.” I made my way through the crowd until I was in front of the man.
He turned his head toward me, his face still obscured by his hat. “Terrible stuff, eh?” he said. “We all labour day and night while they just leech off us.”
“Who are ‘they’?” I asked.
“Oh, you know,” he said. “They’re everywhere, taking and taking all day long; never contributing.” The words were vague nonsense, but I found myself tensing up as he spoke, an irrational hatred growing within me.
Lieutenant Pearce had made his way behind the man and stood with a frown on his face, before bobbing his head down. The man carried on talking but I was no longer focusing on his words. I frowned, thinking of my brother and his ridiculous, self-serving pity. We had all been affected by Andras and his words. It had been my parents too who had been killed, but I was just incidental to him, an afterthought. Maxwell was the one with the intelligence, the skill. And I had been the one whose soul had been almost sucked away; if anyone had the right to mope around and feel sorry for himself, it should have been me.
A sharp pain in my ribs brought me out of my musings. I glared at Kate, looking at me with raised eyes, her elbow poised to prod me again. “Pay attention,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“Listen carefully,” said Lieutenant Pearce.
I shook my head. “To what?”
Lieutenant Pearce pointed at the man, who was standing motionless before us. “He is making a very distinct ticking noise.”
“What? I don’t—”
Kate pulled the hat off the man’s head to reveal a wax-like cadaver of a face, frozen into a rictus grin. “He’s one of them clockwork men,” she said.
The sight of that face pulled me out of my reverie and I peered at it with interest. “And much more advanced than the ones we encountered in Yorkshire,” I said. “I do not remember them being able to talk and string an argument together. Richard really has been busy, has he not? So the question is, where is he, and where is Andras?”
The clockwork man turned its head slowly to look at us. “We wondered whether you’d make your way back. It is so boring when mortal enemies fall at the first hurdle. Of course, all you have done is buy yourselves an even more painful demise.”
“Andras,” I said. “You are being controlled by Andras. The demon is speaking to us through you.”
The head ticked round to look at me. “The very same. How lovely to see you too. Where’s my brother?”
“You are using some sort of powers to stir up unrest, are you not,” I said. “I was nearly sucked in myself.”
“What, you, with your legendary iron will?” The clockwork man spoke Andras’s words with a certain glee.
I ignored the taunt. “What are you plotting here?”
“My, my,” said the creature. “The child has grown up. Not such a snivelling wreck any more, eh?”
“Our encounters with you have hardened me somewhat,” I said. “You almost stole my soul—there is not much worse you can do to me.”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you,” said the automaton. “Then again...” It raised its voice and waved its arms in the air. “Traitors,” it shouted. “Traitors in our midst!” A hundred heads turned toward us, a hundred faces twisted in pure, violent hatred.
*
I kicked the automaton in the chest, sending it flying back against a group of men and providing us with some much-needed space. Lieutenant Pearce, Kate and I turned slowly in a circle, warily eyeing the crowd around us. I tensed my muscles and raised my fists, wondering how many I would be able to beat back before they overwhelmed us. I glanced at Kate; whilst I had no doubt that she was capable of looking after herself, I did not relish the thought of her falling under the boots of this enraged mob.
I heard the familiar click of a firearm being cocked and turned to see Lieutenant Pearce point his pistol at the sky, his whistle clenched between his teeth. He nodded at me and then blew the whistle, a hard and shrill sound which was followed by the report of his gun.
The crowd paused, startled by the sudden noise and recoiling as one like a huge beast. I held my breath and regarded them warily, my whole body tensing against the prospect of the anger which was sure to follow their brief confusion. In that short moment, I could pick out the features of each of our assailants in stark clarity: a scrawny beard, wild staring eyes, the seams on a badly-stitched coat. They paused and then, like a ripple spreading across a pond, their awareness and anger reasserted itself. A cry arose from within their ranks, a yell growing into a roar which blasted at my stomach and left me breathless.
I yelled back, a guttural and desperate noise which was intended more to give my body something to do rather than to intimidate or threaten. The crowd appeared thinner directly ahead and it was in that direction that I focused my attention. “Get this over with,” I shouted, throwing myself at the nearest man, a thickset creature in ill-fitting clothes.
My fist connected painfully with his jaw but I carried on through, noting with satisfaction the way that he fell before my advance. I shifted my focus to the next man and swung my arms quickly and efficiently, scything through the people around me. Lost in that maelstrom of bodies and noise, I was incapable of anything other than blind action and reaction, my world condensed to a tunnel of chaotic violence and the shouts of strangers.
My elbow swung into space and I blinked, suddenly realising that the crowd around me had retreated. Just as I was about to congratulate myself on the effectiveness of my brawling technique, I looked up to see a line of redcoated soldiers pushing their way through to us with bayonets raised.
“Sergeant!” yelled Lieutenant Pearce. “Well met!”
“Sir,” said the sergeant, a stocky man with a drooping moustache. He pulled us toward the sanctuary of the line of soldiers whilst keeping an eye on the mob, which was starting to regroup. “Should we open fire, sir?”
“God, no,” said the Lieutenant. “The last thing we need is another Peterloo. Fall back in an orderly fashion—with me!”
The soldiers ushered us away, pausing briefly to fire over the crowd’s heads and thereby causing enough of a distraction to enable us to beat a hasty retreat. We formed up a few streets away and caught our breaths whilst our horses were brought to us. More soldiers arrived and they marched in the direction of the mob, led by a pair of officers who clearly intended to read the Riot Act at them.
Lieutenant Pearce walked back to us from where he had been in huddled conversation with another officer. “We will leave them to pacify the crowd,” he said. “We have a mission of our own, which I think you’ll enjoy.” He turned to his men. “Sergeant, form up the men. We are marching east, to Greenwich.”
“Greenwich?” I said. “To what end?”
He just smiled. “You’ll see.”
*
We were met with a pleasant surprise as we stepped down from Tower Bridge onto the Thames’ southern bank: a group of soldiers with none other than my brother standing in their ranks, accompanied by the scientists who had so monopolised his time back in Windsor.
“Max,” I grinned, dropping down from my horse. I rushed over and embraced him heartily; whilst I had often seen him for days on end in the past, our current predicament—not to mention the unnerving absence of N’yotsu—had heightened the sense of loss I had felt in his absence. He cleared his throat pointedly and I chuckled; he had never been comfortable with such displays.
“Good to see you, Gus,” he said stiffly, but with the hint of a smile. “And Kate. What are you doing here?”
“We got bored,” said Kate. “So these nice soldier people took us out for some exercise. Turns out we’re coming to escort you boys. So, what are you up to? Finished doing your science?”
“Not quite,” said Maxwell. He peered at our companions. “It is wonderful to see you both, but the additional military escort seems a bit... excessive?”
“I agree,” said Dr. Forsyth, the ever-present lead scientist, who turned to Lieutenant Pearce. “I thank you for your offer, Lieutenant, but we already have sufficient support.” He gestured to the other soldiers arranged behind them.
“I am afraid I have my orders, sir,” replied the lieutenant. “And in any case, there is increasing unrest on the streets. You would do well to accept any assistance which is offered you.”
“That is true,” I said. “We have just escaped from one rather unruly mob, which was agitated by none other than our old friend Andras.”
“Really?” said Maxwell. “You saw the demon? Where?”
“Well, not actually him. It was more of those infernal clockwork men, although these could talk and influence people.” I briefly recounted our exchange with the creature.
“Fascinating,” said Maxwell. “It would appear that the demon is stepping up its efforts, and has managed to refine the tools at its disposal, aided, no doubt, by Richard Fitzsimmons.”
“Our thoughts exactly,” I said.