by Oxley, Peter
“Uh-oh,” said N’yotsu.
“Yes,” I said. “The portal looks bigger, or is that just because we’re closer?”
“I was thinking more about that.” He nodded at the water in front of us, where a strange eddy appeared to be flowing right toward us, as though water were being pumped in our direction. As it drew nearer I realised that there was actually something in the water—something quite large and very determined. A mouth opened, showing rows of teeth as large as gravestones.
“Can you swim?” I shouted.
“I have a pathological fear of water,” shouted N’yotsu. “What do you think?” He thrashed at the water with his oar in spectacularly ineffective desperation.
The creature roared toward us and at the last minute veered to the side, drenching us with spray and nearly tipping us into the river. I shouted, my voice feeling empty in the rushing air caused by the creature’s passage. We gripped the sides of the decrepit boat as it rocked from side-to-side.
“What’s it doing?” shouted Maxwell as the creature circled round in front of us.
“Toying with us,” I called back. “Your pistol—is it to hand?” I had one hand on my sword but it was next to useless unless the creature drew close enough. In any case, if we were close enough to the creature to allow me to wield the sword we would likely already be dead.
Maxwell passed the pistol back to me and I hastily checked that it was loaded before arming the secondary Aetheric barrel. I followed the creature’s progress with the sight, waiting until it was almost upon us and I was confident that I could not miss, before squeezing the trigger. The creature wheeled away with a satisfying screech and I made sure of its retreat by firing the rest of the bullets into its wake.
“More bullets?” I shouted. Maxwell looked at me blankly before nodding and tossing me a small brown bag. I looked inside at only a dozen bullets and cursed; I could already see the creature readying itself for another attack, wounded but by no means discouraged. We need another plan, I thought, as I reloaded the pistol.
“N’yotsu, is there anything you can do? Any incantations or magic stuff?” I looked at our friend, who was rigid in his seat. “N’yotsu?”
He turned his head and stared at me, eyes wide and teeth bared in sheer panic. My heart sank to see him in such an uncharacteristic state. I looked away, searching for anything which could prove to be of assistance. My eyes rested on a shadowy form just a short distance away: a long, low barge.
“Max!” I pointed at the barge. “Row that way!” I emptied the chambers of the pistol at the creature and, as it spun away screaming with rage once more, we both ploughed at the water, desperately hoping that we could move fast enough to be safe before the creature recovered itself. The time for attacking was over; this was now a straight race for survival. N’yotsu sat unmoving between us, gripping his oar with hard, white knuckles.
The barge was tantalisingly close when the creature slammed into us, punching me from my seat and into the air, my oar swinging uselessly. The river hit me like a brick wall and, for a moment, I feared that the skin had been torn from my face and arms by the sheer force of the impact. Water filled my eyes, nose, ears and mouth as I plunged into the cold darkness, before I managed to claw myself back up into the sweet, cool air.
The world I re-entered was a confusion of waves and noise, my ability to discern direction completely compromised by the manner in which I had been tossed into the river. I thrashed around until I recognised a low, dark shape above the water and swam toward it with the desperation of the condemned man clutching at an improbable reprieve, hoping that my target was the barge, rather than the murderous creature.
After a few interminable moments my hand hit a solid wall and I scrabbled for a purchase, eventually finding one about midway up. I pulled and kicked my way up and over, the fear of attack at any moment lending me extra strength and impetus. I rolled onto the deck and gagged; once the immediate exertions of my desperate swim to safety had passed, I had no more distractions from the pungent, frigid river water which now permeated my whole being.
I finished retching and hoisted myself to my knees. Squinting through burning eyes into the murky depths, I pulled my sword from its bindings on my back and held it in readiness to fend off a final attack. A shadow flitted past and I jerked away from the edge with my sword raised, recognising the prowling form of the creature. I cast around, looking for any sign of my brother and N’yotsu, but all was in vain; aside from the scattered wreckage of our boat and the menace of the creature, the river was empty. In another time the sight of the river so calm would have been a welcome miracle, if not an impossibility when the city was fully populated; in the circumstances, though, it made me want to howl in frustration.
I caught sight of something which was neither wood nor oversized beast, floating within arm’s reach and reached down quickly to pull it up, praying that it was a human form. It transpired to be a bundle of wet material, enclosing something firm and heavy: Maxwell’s new weapon, the one which had the potential to destroy all in its path. I set it down on the deck with a thunk and gazed at it, noting with satisfaction that the waterproof wrapping had held firm. For a moment, I considered using the weapon to destroy the creature in the river below, thereby enabling me to search for my companions unhindered, but I remembered that it contained enough power for just one shot. With a sinking heart, I realised that I had to save the weapon for the greater threat: Andras and the machine creating the portal to the Aether. But then again, what chance did I have without Maxwell and N’yotsu?
At one time, I would have thrown myself into the challenge with reckless abandon, welcoming the opportunity to pit my wits against a much more powerful foe and emerge victorious. However, my recent trials had served to unman me somewhat, and even the sword in my hand betrayed me; whilst at one time it had been a constant source of energy and reassurance, now it felt heavy and unwieldy as it dangled at my side. I took deep breaths as I fought to regain control of my body and nerves, desperately willing myself to stop shaking.
I stood there for some minutes before I finally made up my mind. There was no point in agonising any further: I was not going to see my companions in the water. There was every chance that they had managed to escape the beast just as I had, but then pulled themselves out of the water further downriver. Regardless, I had the weapon and it was incumbent on me to get to the Observatory; even if Maxwell and N’yotsu were not there, I might find a way to thwart Andras. If all else failed, I could kill the demon. Our world might go to Hell, but there would be some satisfaction in knowing that at least Andras would not reap the rewards.
I stood and swung the sack containing the weapon over my shoulder, casting one last futile glance at the river. The barge upon which I stood was moored to a jetty by a series of stout ropes, leading on to dry land. I made my way carefully along, keeping one eye on the water lest our tormentor attempt to lunge at me once more. I breathed a sigh of relief when both feet were safely back on terra firma.
I scanned the riverbank on either side, hoping for a glimpse of my companions, but was once again frustrated. With the reassuring weight of Maxwell’s weapon fixed tight to my back, I oriented myself and started walking toward the observatory and the source of that vivid pillar of misery. In the distance I could hear gunfire and realised that at least that element of our plan was proceeding apace; I owed it to Captain Pearce and his men to uphold our side of the bargain.
I considered taking a roundabout route, avoiding buildings and the risk of confrontation, but then resolved that speed was of the essence. As a result, I took the most direct passage, through the grounds of the Greenwich Palaces. I walked in between the King Charles Block and the Queen Anne Block, the perfectly clean architecture and well-manicured lawns a reminder of more peaceful times, which served to merely enhance the feelings of intense dislocation which permeated my entire being. Everywhere was deserted, all residents having either fled the grounds or been forcibly ejected by Andras and its
agents. Whilst I was able to make quick progress, I also grew increasingly unnerved at the emptiness I encountered and allowed myself a smile. “You are complaining because you are not being overwhelmed by demons? You have a strange sense of priorities, Gus,” I muttered to myself with a mirthless chuckle.
I looked up at the portal to the Aether, a black monstrosity which was now almost directly overhead. In spite of its size and the violence with which it was wrenching aside the veil of our reality, it was entirely without sound, causing me to wonder once more whether I was actually trapped in some form of a dream of the worst order. From this distance I could make out figures flying from the portal and casting away in all directions in search of richer pickings further afield, knowing that the immediate locality had long been abandoned by their prey. Thankfully, none of them showed any indication of having spotted me, or if they did they considered me too inconsequential to merit an attack. I hoped that that fortunate state would persist as I continued on my way, fighting the instinct to dart for cover. I looked back to earth and focused on my target: the great hill which housed the Royal Observatory.
I still consider it a wonder that, given all I had been through, I was able to make it up that hill, overcoming not only my own fatigue but also the sheer terror of what I would confront when I made it to the top. But make it I did, and finally I stood before the door to the observatory, panting hard but still in the fight.
From that vantage point I could discern, in the streets and gardens below me, the battle which was raging between the forces of Andras and those soldiers who remained loyal to humanity. Clearly this was the reason for my unhindered passage, and for that I was extremely grateful. Whilst the combatants below appeared to be fairly evenly matched, I was appalled to note that larger, darker forms were joining the battle. No doubt demons of varying breeds, they were making short work of the soldiers they encountered. If there had been any doubt as to what I should do, this sight extinguished it completely; I would not let them die in vain and I would do everything in my power to stop this madness before too many more lives were lost. I just hoped that I had the courage to follow through with this resolve.
I swung the wet bag from my shoulder and removed the weapon, admiring its brutal mass. I found the disc to activate it and clicked it in place, allowing myself a short sigh of relief when the whole thing began to vibrate gently in my hands. I pointed it at the entrance, making sure that my finger was near but not touching the trigger, and then pushed open the door to the Royal Observatory, the weapon in one hand and my sword in the other.
I held my breath as I stepped inside, noting with apprehensive surprise how empty the building felt. I allowed myself a frisson of hope; maybe everyone—and everything—had truly been distracted by the attack in the town below, allowing me to proceed with my mission unimpeded.
I passed through the entrance corridor and the North-East Room and from there made my way, slowly and stealthily, up the stairs to the grand Octagon Room which sat directly beneath the great dome. Ordinarily this would have looked up to the heavens in all their glory but it now had a much more sinister purpose: as the conduit through which the beam of light projected, ripping apart the boundary between our world and the Hell of the Aether.
In the centre of the room sat the source of all this misery, the device which Maxwell had unwittingly created. The plain ugliness of its construction leant it a sinister character, as though it were a silent beast watching me and picking its moment to attack.
I noticed a figure sitting next to it and tensed up, raising the weapon and touching my finger to the trigger. I relaxed slightly when I noticed that it was unmoving, eyes staring sightlessly at some invisible horror, and with a sinking heart recognised the corpse of our once-friend, Richard Fitzsimmons. “So you carried on helping Andras right to the end,” I said quietly, kneeling next to his body. His face was twisted in a rictus of terror and I gently ran my fingers over his face, closing his eyelids. “Rest in peace, old friend,” I muttered.
“You will not win, you know,” said a voice which rang out loud in that big space. I turned to see the scrawny, bespectacled figure of Dr. Forsyth stepping out of the shadows, a pistol held in his hands. He pointed it at me with shaking hands and everything about his demeanour indicated that—even if this was not the first time he had held a gun—it was not an experience to which he was accustomed.
I sneered and stepped toward him. After my many brushes with the supernatural, facing this insect was a blessed relief, even if he did have a pistol aimed intermittently at my head. He looked more and more petrified with every step I took, such that I almost pitied him. I put my sword and musket down and straightened up slowly. “What are you going to do, traitor?” I asked. “Go on, shoot me.” Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I stared at the barrel of his gun, grinning like the Devil Himself. Even if the fool could muster the courage to shoot at me, I was confident that there was a significantly less than even chance that he would be able to hit me, even at that close range.
He swallowed and blinked and I took advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration to charge forwards, felling him with one mighty punch. I pulled him up by the lapels and slammed him against the wall, regarding this all-mighty scientist and finding him wanting. The blood ran hot through my head as I butted him hard and let him slide limply to the ground. “Should have left Richard alive to protect your precious machine,” I said as I retrieved my weapons. “At least he would have had the guts to pull the trigger.”
I looked at the device and then down at the weapon in my hand, stepping backwards and aiming it at the heart of the machine. In the absence of any other adversaries, I could at least close the portal. My finger closed around the trigger.
“Stop!” shouted a voice from behind me, and I swung round to see the sodden form of N’yotsu stepping into the room.
I lowered the weapon slightly. “My friend, you survived,” I said.
“Indeed. It appears that I can breathe underwater. Rather a useful skill.”
“So that means you have defeated your fear of water?”
“No, still cannot stand it. You should see how filthy it is down there. And to think that we drink that stuff willingly.” He walked over to the device and knelt down to examine it.
“Maxwell?” I asked. “Did you see him?”
“No. I assumed he was with you.”
My heart sank. “No. I could see neither of you when I pulled myself out of the river. Do you think…?”
N’yotsu looked up at me with grim intent. “I do not mean to be harsh, but we have a job to do and precious little time in which to do it. There will be time to search for your brother later, once this is over. He would not wish us to dally and possibly lose the whole world on his account.”
I frowned but could not fault his logic. In my place Maxwell would have kept on going; indeed, he might not even have noticed my absence at all. I kept my weapon trained on the device. “Why did you stop me destroying it?” I asked. “We could end this misery now and deal with Andras later.”
“Whilst I like your logic, destroying the machine at this point would not only leave the portal intact but it would also remove our one chance to close it. There is a particular incantation I must do to reverse the machine’s action, then we can destroy the device itself. I just need some quiet in which to concentrate.”
“That’s always the problem,” said a hideously familiar voice from the doorway. We turned to see Andras grinning at us. “Just when you really need to concentrate, some nuisance pops up and distracts you.”
“I shall stop you,” snarled N’yotsu. “I shall close this rupture and end this madness.”
“No, you shan’t,” grinned Andras. “Even if you could, you wouldn’t. Just think—this,” the demon said, gesturing to the hole in the sky above us, “shines like a beacon across the Aether, calling to our kind, bringing them to us. And us to them. Home.”
N’yotsu shuddered. “I remember our kind and I do not wish
to meet them again, or for them to destroy this world.”
“We will not destroy, just mould. Imagine, all these millions of slaves here to do our bidding.” The creature nodded at me and I felt a chill run down my back. “Just as they have for all of these years.”
N’yotsu glared at the demon. “It is over, Andras. This is your last chance: surrender to us, disable the portal, and I will let you live.”
Andras laughed. “Oh, that really is priceless. You are mere insects to me; less than insects. It is already too late.”
“You forget one thing,” said N’yotsu. “Insects can bite.” He took a step back and started to chant but, in what was little more than a blur to my mere human eyes, Andras darted across the room, grabbed him by the throat and threw him against a wall. N’yotsu slid to the floor, stunned.
“That sounded suspiciously like a reuniting spell,” Andras said. “I do not know what mischief you are planning, but let us see how well you can chant without a tongue.” The demon picked him up and threw him back against the floor, causing cracks to spread across the ornate tiles. It drove a knee hard into N’yotsu’s stomach and, kneeling on his struggling form, wrenched his mouth open. N’yotsu screamed as his mouth was pulled wider and wider.
CHAPTER 42
“No!” I shouted, aiming the weapon at Andras, who in turn raised an eyebrow in my direction. Before the demon could react further, the wall exploded.
A thick dust filled the room and I pointed the weapon at where Andras and N’yotsu had been locked together just moments before. As I tried to make sense of what had just happened, I discerned a large silhouette rising from the wall’s wreckage, hazily framed in the half-light. As the dust parted, I recognised the massive bulk of the golem, Kate astride its back. A smaller figure walked next to them, and with a sigh of relief I recognised a damp, stumbling Maxwell.