Moonbreaker

by Simon R. Green

  “Just the Armageddon Codex,” I said. “And according to the recorded message I triggered the last time I was here, the Armourer found time to seal the Forbidden Weapons inside the Lion’s Jaws, so the enemy couldn’t get to them.”

  And then I stopped, and thought for a moment. This family’s Armourer had been my uncle James, not Uncle Jack. Here, Jack had been the famous field agent, while James had stayed home to be Armourer.

  “You’re scowling,” Molly said accusingly. “Which is rarely a good sign. What are you worrying about now? Is this some new problem, and if so is it something I can hit?”

  “This family’s Armourer left a message for me in the Lion’s Jaws,” I said. “Remember?”

  “I was here with you,” said Molly. “There is nothing wrong with my memory.”

  “I was just wondering if there might be another message,” I said.

  “Worth a try, I suppose,” said Molly. “Where are the Jaws?”

  “I’m surprised you don’t remember,” I said.

  “Don’t push your luck, Drood.”

  • • •

  The Lion’s Jaws were in the exact same place as in my Hall: right at the back of the Armoury. A massive carving of a lion’s snarling head, complete with mane, perfect in every detail. It had been fashioned out of rough, dark stone, and wasn’t stylised in any way. It looked like the real thing, only twenty feet tall and almost as wide. I stood before it, looking steadily into the Lion’s angry gaze. Molly stuck close beside me, scowling unhappily and just a bit warily into its eyes. Which was a perfectly normal reaction for any sane person. The Lion’s Jaws don’t just look dangerous.

  “I have to wonder,” I said, “whether this might have been carved from life. Very big life.”

  “Maybe we should look around for a really big wardrobe,” said Molly.

  “Don’t even go there,” I said.

  The eyes gleamed, and the snarling jaws seemed only a moment away from lunging forward to snap my face off. The Lion’s Jaws were created to give access to the pocket dimension where my family stored their most powerful and dangerous weapons, the kind you use when you need to destroy a whole army of monstrous invaders from another dimension. The Forbidden Weapons, for when reality itself is under threat. To open the gateway, you had to place your hand between the stone teeth. And if you weren’t a Drood in good standing, and your heart wasn’t pure, the Jaws would bite your hand right off. (The pure-at-heart bit was supposed to be just a legend, to scare away people with no good reason to be troubling the Jaws, but with my family you never knew.) The last time I’d been here, just my touch had been enough to trigger a recorded message from the Armourer James. A warning—and a last plea for revenge on those who’d destroyed the Droods.

  I took a deep breath, and laid my hand flat on the great stone mane. Nothing happened. The old message was gone. Which meant the only thing left to try was putting my hand inside the Jaws. Even in my Hall, in my Armoury, I would have hesitated, but here . . . I wasn’t even sure these Jaws would recognise me as a Drood. Armouring up wouldn’t help, because these Jaws wouldn’t be expecting Ethel’s strange-matter armour. So I flexed my fingers a few times, breathed steadily until I was as calm as I was going to be, and then thrust my bare hand into the snarling mouth. My heart hammered as I fought to hold my hand steady, but the Jaws didn’t move . . . and there was no second message. I snatched my hand out and stepped back.

  “Nothing?” said Molly.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I said. “Something really unpleasant very nearly happened in my trousers. But no message.”

  “You’re the one with the excellent memory,” said Molly. “Was there anything in the first message that might prove useful to us now?”

  “Not really,” I said. “Though it did reveal some interesting differences between this family and mine. They still had a Heart, to provide their torcs and armour. Their Matriarch was Penelope, and the Armourer James said he destroyed the key to the Lion’s Jaws, so at least we can be sure the Armageddon Codex is secure.”

  Molly looked dubiously at the Jaws. “What if someone tries to force them open?”

  “It would be the last thing they ever tried,” I said. “Let’s get out of here. This whole place feels like someone is dancing on my grave.”

  • • •

  Molly had to conjure up a glowing sphere to lead us up the long flight of stairs to the ground floor. We needed the eerie green light to push back the darkness, because none of the lights were working. The thick layer of dust on the stone steps made it clear no one had been this way in a long time. Our footsteps sounded loud in the quiet, as though warning we were coming. The trapdoor at the top was still lying open, just as I’d left it the last time I was here. I frowned as I emerged cautiously and then hauled Molly up into the dimly lit room. The great open space looked just the same. Nothing had been touched, all the rubble and destruction left exactly as it was. Bright sunlight slanted through the shattered window, thick with curling dust. Molly dismissed her conjure light and looked quickly around her, but we were completely alone.

  “Why has no one moved in?” I said, speaking loudly to show I wasn’t intimidated by the setting or the hush. “I’d have thought someone would have taken possession of the Hall by now, if only for bragging rights.”

  “Maybe everyone thinks the place is haunted,” said Molly. “Droods are dangerous enough when they’re alive . . . And there’s always the chance they didn’t get everyone. The Hall could have been deliberately left empty, to draw back any Drood who wasn’t here when the hammer came down. Bait in a trap. Just another really good reason why we should forget the sight-seeing and get the hell out of here.”

  “I can’t help thinking Edmund marooned us here for a reason,” I said.

  “He dumped us here because this is the only other Hall he had access to,” said Molly. “And, anyway, what better place to leave you than a world where everyone wants to kill Droods? I mean, more than usually.”

  “I need to know more about this Hall,” I said. “I need to know why this version of my family had to die.”

  “Of course you do,” said Molly.

  • • •

  We went wandering through deserted rooms and empty corridors, stepping carefully around and over the wreckage and piled-up rubble. The walls were pocked with bullet-holes, and showed signs of bombs and incendiaries. No bloodstains. The Droods died in their armour, fighting till the last. As we moved on, it became clear the whole building had been stripped clean. The accumulated loot and tribute of centuries was gone; every priceless statue and painting, every piece of antique furniture, and all our trophies. Every bit of Drood history and every precious thing I remembered . . . gone. Nothing remained to show my family had ever been here.

  It felt like someone had stolen my life and pissed on my heritage.

  “I never liked living here,” I said finally. “Ran away to London first chance I got . . . and only came back when I was forced to. But I still hate to see the Hall looking like this. Like the king of the beasts dragged down by jackals.”

  “Can’t say it bothers me,” said Molly. “A Hall without Droods actually feels safer, like a predator whose teeth have been pulled.”

  “Thank you, Little Miss Tact.”

  “Don’t get maudlin on me, Eddie. This isn’t your Hall, and it wasn’t your family. Hell, if Edmund’s anything to go by, you should be grateful you never knew them.”

  “They were still Droods,” I said.

  I stopped in the middle of a large, airy meeting place, where my family liked to sit and drink tea first thing in the morning. To read the world’s newspapers and discuss the day’s events, before setting about our various business. A civilised way to start the day. I looked around slowly, half expecting to see ghostly figures with familiar faces . . . And then I frowned.

  “Oh, what now?” said Molly.


  “All the way here, I’ve been spotting small differences,” I said slowly. “Doors where there shouldn’t be any, corridors opening onto halls that shouldn’t exist, familiar routes that end abruptly at blank walls . . . I haven’t seen any major changes—this is still the Hall I know—but it worries me that these little differences might add up to a Hall and a family I might not recognise at all.”

  “I do have some experience travelling in other earths,” said Molly. “Often it’s the small differences that can be the most disturbing.”

  I looked at her. “And you never got around to telling me about these little side trips before because . . . ?”

  “I don’t have to tell you everything,” Molly said haughtily. “I do have a life of my own, away from you. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Eddie. It’s just that sometimes . . . I feel the need to get away from everything. And where better to do that than on a completely different Earth?”

  “I never feel the need to get away from you,” I said.

  “And you’re the only thing in my world that doesn’t occasionally drive me crazy,” said Molly. “Settle for that.”

  “All right,” I said. “What could be so disturbing about this strange new world?”

  “Well, to start with, people we saw die could still be alive here. And vice versa, of course.”

  “But not my family,” I said. “It was a nice thought, that some might have escaped the massacre. But Edmund seemed quite convinced all of this world’s Droods were dead, apart from him.”

  “He should know,” said Molly. “He betrayed them.”

  I shook my head slowly. “How could any version of me be so . . . vicious? What could have happened to me in this world to turn me into a cold-blooded killer who happily arranged for his whole family to be slaughtered?” I had to stop and breathe deeply for a moment, to bring my emotions under control. “The Armourer James said his family drove Edmund out. That he went to ground and disappeared.”

  “So he never hooked up with me?” said Molly.

  I tried to smile, just for her. “No wonder he went to the bad.”

  “Eddie, you need to forget about these other Droods,” said Molly. “It’s just holding you back. We need to concentrate on finding something that can help you. Maybe even find a cure . . . Eddie? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m just . . . tired.”

  Exhaustion hit me like a sucker punch. It was all suddenly too much, being so far from home, trapped in a distorted mirror of everything I knew. With death hovering over me like a vulture, just waiting for me to weaken. My vision darkened, my knees buckled, and I started to fall. Molly was quickly there to grab me and hold me up. Leaning in close so she could shout in my ear.

  “Eddie, come on! You can’t give up now. There’s still things that need doing, people who need killing, and I can’t do it all on my own! I need you! You’re a Drood, dammit. Act like one!”

  That’s my Molly. Always telling me what I need to hear, whether I want to hear it or not.

  I forced the weakness back, refusing to be beaten by anything that got in the way of what needed doing, even myself. Perhaps especially myself. I stamped my feet hard until my legs straightened and my head came up. Molly saw my face clear and immediately stepped back to let me stand on my own. Watching me carefully, until she was sure I could manage without her. I gave her my best reassuring smile.

  “It’s all right, Molly. I’m back. You didn’t really think I’d leave you here alone, did you? I can be strong for you.”

  “I know that,” she said. “You just forgot for a moment. Look, have you seen enough of this Hall? Can we go now?”

  “Not just yet,” I said. “A thought has occurred to me.”

  “Oh, that’s never good,” said Molly. “What is it this time?”

  “The last time we were here, we visited the Old Library and found a book set out on a reading stand. Left there for us, to tell us things we needed to know. And while we were there . . . something spoke to us.”

  Molly shuddered briefly. “Yes . . . A voice, from out of the dark between the stacks. It knew our names. But it really didn’t sound like anything I wanted to stick around and meet.”

  “In our Old Library, there’s always the Pook,” I said carefully. “The Librarian’s not-quite-imaginary-enough friend. Maybe whoever left that book out for us is ready to help us again.”

  “Okay,” said Molly. “I have to say, that doesn’t strike me as one of your better ideas. Our Pook is disturbing enough. I’m not even convinced he’s real, just something that followed the Librarian home from the Asylum for the Criminally Insane.”

  “True,” I said. “But I always got the feeling the Pook was on our side.”

  “Yes . . . ,” said Molly, drawing the word out till it sounded more like no. “I suppose it’s worth a try. We could use someone here on our side.”

  I frowned as another thought hit me.

  “Oh, what is it now!” said Molly.

  “There are no bodies in the Hall,” I said slowly. “There were bodies the last time we were here. Dead Droods in their armour, the golden material half-melted and fused together. I hadn’t thought anything could do that to Drood armour. But I haven’t seen a single body anywhere.”

  “Maybe they were harvested by this world’s Black Heir,” said Molly. “So they could reverse-engineer their own armour.”

  “They would have known better,” I said. “This world’s armour came from the Heart and drew its power from the life energies of sacrificed Droods. The kind my family used to depend on, until I put a stop to it. But that never happened here.”

  “Don’t start blaming yourself for things you didn’t do,” Molly said sharply. “Whatever kind of Droods they were, they weren’t your family.”

  “They were a version of my family,” I said. “With familiar names and faces.” I broke off as a really disturbing thought hit me. “Molly, could the Heart still be here? I know we checked the Sanctity last time and there was no sign of it, but could it be . . . hiding somewhere? Hoping for a Drood to return?”

  “You are not thinking of making the Heart your ally!” said Molly.

  “Hell no,” I said. “I just want to know if I’m going to have to kill it again.”

  Molly’s eyes became cold and distant as she sent her witchy Sight racing through the Hall. I looked quickly around, my hands clenched into fists, my skin crawling in anticipation of the attack I knew I’d never see coming. And then Molly relaxed, and shot me a reassuring smile.

  “Take it easy; there’s no trace of the Heart anywhere in the Hall. Or on the grounds, or even on this plane of existence. It probably ran off to some other dimension the moment it saw the Droods were losing.”

  “Well,” I said, relaxing a little in spite of myself, “that’s something, I suppose. One less thing to worry about.”

  “Now you see what I mean, about small differences adding up to big changes,” said Molly. “Because of this, you never uncovered the truth about the Heart. These Droods were never freed from its control. With Ethel’s more advanced armour, they might have stood off their attackers.” She stopped, and looked at me sharply. “Hell, I’m amazed this world even exists, given you and I weren’t here to save it from some of the threats we’ve faced.”

  “And yet the world still turns and life goes on,” I said. “So someone must have stepped up to save the world in our absence. I find that comforting.”

  “You would,” said Molly. “I wonder what price the world had to pay, to be saved by someone else.”

  “You would,” I said.

  • • •

  As we moved quickly through the Hall, a lifeless hush hung over everything, swallowing up the small sounds we made as though resentful of our presence. This wasn’t a place where people lived any more, just a memorial to all the people who’
d died here.

  And then Molly and I came to a sudden halt, as we came face-to-face with the first really big difference between this family and mine. In an alcove I was sure didn’t exist in my Hall stood a massive statue of the goddess Kali. Thirty feet tall, with half a dozen arms, caught in mid dance. Carved from some unfamiliar blue stone, she was perfect in every horrifying detail. A chain of human skulls hung round her neck, and her many hands were full of unpleasant weapons. Her eyes were dark and dangerous, and her smiling mouth was crammed full of pointed teeth.

  Old bloodstains covered the statue’s base, caked and crusted over the delicate feet and ankles.

  “Looks like something was sacrificed here,” Molly said quietly. “In fact, I would have to say it looks like a whole lot of somethings died here.”

  “Human sacrifices,” I said. “Kali has always valued human deaths over and above all others.”

  I leaned in for a closer look. Engraved into the stone base, half-obscured by dried blood, were the words ANOTHER THOUSAND YEARS, OH KALI.

  “The old-time Thuggee cults murdered their victims as sacrifices to Kali,” I said. “Not just to worship her, but as payment—to hold her at bay and keep her out of this world. What kind of Droods were they here?”

  “And why did the looters leave this statue untouched, when they took everything else?” said Molly.

  “They were probably scared to go anywhere near it,” I said. “I can understand that. Just being this close is giving me a major case of the creeps. And I have to wonder, given that these Droods drove Edmund out, what he could have done that was so bad even they couldn’t stomach it.”

  “I told you they weren’t your family,” said Molly.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “It feels like the statue is looking at us, and not in a good way.”

  “Damn right,” said Molly. “This isn’t a safe place to be.”

  The wall beside us exploded inwards, the shockwave blasting pieces of broken stone ahead of it. I armoured up in a moment, grabbed Molly, and held her to me, bending over to shield her body with mine. Jagged stones rained down, bouncing harmlessly off my armour. Thick black smoke billowed across the room as the deafening explosion echoed on and on. Eventually the sound died away, the pieces of shattered stone stopped falling, and the smoke reluctantly began to clear. I straightened up, and Molly immediately pushed herself away from me.