by Ben Yallop
There was a howl from the creature. Several pieces of cutlery bristled from deep within its face and blood began to drip on the floor. One eye was gone, a knife embedded in the socket. The beast raised a paw-like hand and began to rub at those blades that were embedded in its head.
They all saw the chance. Grabbing their bags they dashed towards the door at the same time, dodging around the flailing monster. Sam noticed that Weewalk seemed to be moving slowly, as if suddenly exhausted. Hadan burst through the open doorway first, Sam hot on his heels. Then there was a roar and a bang behind him and, turning, Sam saw that the beast had lunged as Weewalk had passed. Weewalk lay on his back. The creature's outstretched arm had caught his boot, two long claws hooked into the side. It roared again and adjusting its balance readied itself to make the kill. Weewalk seemed to have no energy left.
Sam stopped as quickly as he could and turned back, standing in the ruined doorway. ‘Noooooo!’ he cried, bringing his hands up to point at the terrible scene before him. Then he felt something. His hearing was suddenly muffled, as though his ears had popped. The beast, almost on top of the tiny kobold, flew backwards and cracked into the back wall of the shack with enormous force. There was an almighty smack as it hit the wall, punching part way through it so that splinters flew. The beast fell to the floor and lay still, its stare fixed, its remaining eye empty.
Sam grabbed the tiny figure before him, picked him up and ran, almost colliding with Hadan in the process. Together they escorted the little man outside and lay him onto the grass.
‘Keep going.’ he croaked ‘I'm okay. I can walk.’ They picked him up and set him on his feet and, with Hadan leading the way, the three of them hurried away.
They followed the line of the coast for half an hour or so, keeping to the tussocky grass rather than leaving footprints on the flat damp sand. The waves crashed endlessly on the beach. Gulls span overhead. Sam was wishing that he had never left home but with no idea where he was or how to get back he had little choice but to follow. Besides Weewalk had certainly saved his life. Surely he could be trusted. He noticed that Weewalk was studying him carefully. When they were far enough away that he felt able to break the silence Sam spoke. ‘What was that? A werewolf?’
‘Yes and no. It was a garoul.’ said Weewalk who was limping slightly from the injury he had received from its claws.
‘It's essentially the same thing.’ said Hadan. ‘They come from our world but the Riven have been sending them into your world over hundreds of years. It's where your legend of the werewolf comes from.’
‘But I thought that they were just that, a legend.’
‘There are few unexplained things in your world that do not have a basis in ours’ said Hadan ‘Name me a myth, a monster, a miracle, a civilisation that suddenly prospered and gained knowledge ahead of its time and chances are it will be something from Mu. It might be misunderstood or mis-explained or the reality may have been lost in the retelling but these things are real.’
Why do the Riven send things like the garoul through?’ asked Sam, horrified but interested and pleased that Hadan was offering information.
‘For fun. To kill.’ said Hadan. ‘They might bring one through to some remote village and turn it loose so they can watch it kill from the comfort of a rooftop somewhere. The legend of the garoul goes back a long time in Mu too. It's said they were men once but when Pyxidis came and scoured the world with magic they were created then. I don’t think they were supposed to be so vicious then. They’ve become more monstrous, more beastlike, over hundreds of years, partly thanks to the involvement of the Riven King.’
‘Who's Pixie dust?’ asked Sam.
Hadan just shook his head.
‘Pyxidis.’ laughed Weewalk, ‘I haven’t told you about him yet. He was a great mage, some revere him as a God, who came to our world from the heavens many thousands of years ago. Our people lived differently then and were constantly at war. When Pyxidis saw the mess that we had created he burnt the world to the ground and clouded the skies. The impact of his wrath created the lines to your world that we still use now. Most of the people at the time didn't survive but Pyxidis allowed a few who he deemed worthy to continue to exist in Mu. These chosen few were given the seed of new powers in the expectation that they would develop these powers and grow to be better masters of our people. Over generations, the power, the presence as it became known, waned in some. In others it became stronger. But peace did not last and new wars were fought by those who claimed to be the most worthy to lead and the most pure recipients of the gifts that Pyxidis had given. The different races were created by Pyxidis too. Kobold and yeren and others, and the beasts, garoul, Sitecah, ropen and countless others. The powers that men acquired allowed them to shape some of those early creatures and turn them into weapons.
‘So Ferus is one of these powerful people then?’ asked Sam.
‘Oh yes’, said Weewalk. ‘Legend tells that his ancestors were always powerful but when Ferus was born, the power grew dark. He is one of the Riven, a body of powerful men and women with great presence. They're zealots. They want to rule and conquer and see themselves as superior. You know they're the basis of your legends of black-robed magicians. They appear in all sorts of fiction in your world, don't they?
Of course, the Riven King is the most powerful of them all. Ferus is nothing compared to him. The Riven King rules Mu from the Rivenrok Complex. It is claimed that his presence is the most clear, that his ancestry can be traced back to the visitation of Pyxidis himself. As such he tolerates no challenge to his authority and seeks to weed out and destroy any who show the slightest degree of presence in order to keep the line of power clean. He is the most powerful being who has ever lived. Thousands of those showing potential have been recruited into the Riven or killed at his command.’
Sam was silent for a moment.
‘What kinds of powers does he have? The Riven King?’
Weewalk's face clouded ‘It's best not to speak too much of him out in the open but the extent of his presence is mysterious. You’ve seen some of my power but that's like the power of a mere mosen to him. They say he can control energy giving himself impossible strength. He can move any object at will. He can speak directly into your mind. He sits, a silent statue, on top of an ancient throne. Above all he is malevolent and twisted and he never forgets, he remembers everything, he remembers everything.’ Weewalk's voice trailed off and he hung his head with his eyes on the ground.
Sam had not expected such an emotional response from the otherwise cheerful character and realising that he had touched on the wrong subject Sam changed it quickly despite a burning desire to know what all this had to do with him.
‘Where are we headed now?’ he asked.
It was Hadan who answered. ‘There's another line up ahead. Although they're fairly rare Dragsholm has quite a few of them dotted around. The one nearby will get us away from here and hopefully we can find somewhere a bit safer. For now we need to keep moving and hope that no-one is on our trail. We need to protect you from Ferus and the Riven King.’
Sam was about to ask why he needed to be protected when he became aware of a hum in the air. Weewalk spoke first.
‘Nearly there.’ said the kobold.
They heard the line before they saw it. Guided by Weewalk's compass which seemed to work like a lodestone they found the source of the low hum. Within a series of lichen speckled boulders they found an entrance to a small cave. At the back of the cave was the patch of darkness.
As before Weewalk tensed and tore the hole open. Hadan went first followed by Sam. This time having some idea of what to expect Sam had more of an opportunity to prepare himself and think about the feeling as he entered the void behind the dark portal. As he stepped through the world throbbed. The very air pulsed like the inner workings of some giant speaker emitting a deep bass note in extreme slow motion. And as it did Sam fell, not down to the floor of the cave but though it and to another place entirely.
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sp; 'Welcome to Tongue's Scar.’ Ferus spread his arms, pointing at the blank grey walls of the square room. ‘I've made myself quite at home here, away from civilisation. I've set up a small prison here, not even the King can see us here I think. It gives me the space to work.' He ran his hands over the chains and serrated blades that hung from the wall.
'I've got some questions for you. Answer them and things will be less painful. I want the secret that you carry. This boy. Sam. He survived the fire. Does that mean that he is the subject of the prophecy? I want to know where I can find him? When was he born?' He stopped with his hand against a heavy hammer which had a little dried blood and matted hair on its head.
Tarak still seemed to be quite drunk, he lolled against his bonds and when he sat up to peer through his straggly hair at Ferus his neck looked like it was made of rubber and seemed unable to steady the weight of his stubbled jowls. He swore and then dissolved into a fit of coughing that threatened to choke him. After a moment he spat a gob of blood to the floor near Ferus' foot.
‘So, we’re going to do this the hard way then?’ said Ferus to himself, drawing a box of matches from the inside of his cloak. He opened it and a single long match flew into the air and hovered before his face. He plucked it from the air and struck it against the side of the box so that it flared, bringing a quick scent of sulphur flashing in the room. The match floated back into the air and Ferus directed it towards the man's face.
As the match moved Ferus chatted amiably
‘I only recently found this place you know. But I like it very much. I found a line that no-one else knows exists. It's well hidden. I took the line and ended up here. We must be far across the sea from the Rivenrok Complex. When I arrived I found a man wrapped in furs herding some strange beasts through the snow. He spoke a language I didn't know and the only useful thing he was able to tell me before he died was the name of the place, Tongue's Scar. Unusual isn't it? It's a bit cold, lots of snow, but, well, you know me, I'm always happy to light a fire.’
The match danced closer to the bound man.
‘Now, where shall we start Tarak?’ Ferus laughed ‘Shall I make Tongue's Scar live up to its name?’ The flame moved towards Tarak's jaw. Ferus made a movement with his hand and Tarak's mouth opened, his jaw muscles clenching as he fought to close it. He tried to blow the match out but only succeeded in breathing heavily, spraying spit over his chin. With his other hand Ferus put his thumb and forefinger together and cocked his wrist. Tarak's tongue slid over his teeth until it was held out ahead of him, the match hovering above it. Tarak made frantic noises in his throat, unable to speak. His eyes were wild as he stared at the yellow flame.
‘No, you're quite right, of course.’ said Ferus ‘I need you to be able to talk.’
He tapped his chin in mock thought ‘I could melt your eyeball. You know, that's what I did to your wife in the end. And she screamed and screamed. But still she wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know. I don't think you'll give me the same problem. Will you?’
The match moved close to the man's watering right eye.
‘Hmmm, no, maybe we'll start with your nose first.’
Tarak Everune struggled but could not move. His eyes looked madly at the match as it moved down a couple of inches in the air. Then the flame entered one of his nostrils and he screamed.
Ferus held the match there a second, his head cocked to one side as if he were watching a scene of only mild interest. Then he allowed the match to fall out and he sighed.
‘You really have lost your presence haven't you? I almost didn't believe it. Well, secret keeper. Let's see if we can't have some of those famous secrets of yours. Tell me where the boy is. What's his path?’
Tarak swore. A new match sparked and moved to his nostril and he screamed. After a few seconds the match burned out and the scream echoed and died.
‘Okay, okay’ gasped Tarak ‘I'll tell you how to find him. There's a girl, she will find him. Follow the girl. The prophecy. The boy. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. That's not what the secret is. Your precious King doesn't need to feel threatened. I've seen the future of their world.’
As Sam arrived, feeling the ground appear under his feet, his vision swimming into focus, he was aware of an enormous roaring sound and he felt a pressure across his chest. The noise of a huge heartbeat reverberated up from the ground, through his feet, into his stomach. TA-TAK TA-TAK. Yellow lights flashed in his eyes. As he became aware of his surroundings he realised that his face was inches from something moving very fast past him. A blur of light whipped past. The roar was deafening. Then there was a loud pop and some of the light disappeared and there was a squeal of metal. He stayed motionless, unsure of what was happening and then the rushing stopped and he looked up to see an underground train slowing on a track next to him. He looked down to see Hadan's arm across his chest. Had Hadan not been there he might very well have walked into the side of the train.
‘Thanks.’ he said, unsure what else to say.
Hadan gave a rare smile. ‘Don’t mention it.’ he said. ‘I think we want to keep you alive a bit longer yet.’
Sam turned and saw that Weewalk was smiling too. ‘This way.’ said the kobold, setting off through the dark tunnels. As they walked away down a side passage Sam saw people on the train peer at them curiously and he could hear the gasps of the people inside. They turned a corner as the train powered up again and accelerated away. Weewalk explained that the nearby line played havoc with the electrical systems of the trains, causing them to stop and cut out.
London.
Sam felt his heart leap. It would be good to return to somewhere with lots of people. London felt a world away from magic and monsters and cold deserted beaches.
It wasn't long before they came across a station. They could see the lights long before the station itself came into view. Several times they had to press themselves into recesses set in the wall to allow trains to move past.
As a train pulled into the station they jogged up a slope onto the platform. A few people were around but no-one noticed that they hadn’t simply stepped out of the last carriage. No-one even seemed to notice Weewalk's unusual appearance. It wasn't often one saw a small bearded man in a dress. But apparently London was used to the unusual and no-one stopped to bother them. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He was with real people again. Ordinary folk in London for a day's work, tourists eager to see the sights.
Weewalk motioned them over to a set of seats.
‘We need to work out what to do.’ he said ‘We can't just chase around for ever with no direction. I don’t know how that garoul found us but you can be sure that the Riven were behind it in some way. Hadan, where shall we make for? I think it would be good to find somewhere properly safe.’
‘Well,’ said Hadan, ‘there are other lines down here. We can get just about anywhere.’ He twisted his mouth as he thought.
‘Whatever we do we should take a train. If whoever sent the garoul is following us then we'll be harder to track.’ Weewalk said hopping off the hard metal seat. ‘Besides, I think I have an idea.’
They made a strange looking trio as they sat on the train in a row facing an opposing line of commuters. Weewalk swung his legs slightly, his hairy knees showing under his yellow dress. Sam felt a bit embarrassed but it was testament to the strangeness of people using the Underground system that no-one stared too hard. Sam tried not to catch anyone's eye. Instead he looked into the window opposite, over the shoulder of a suited, middle-aged man who had his eyes closed, his head back and his mouth open. The man's slumped position and the tilt of the window allowed Sam to see his own reflection. He gave a huge yawn to himself and realised that it was a long time since he had had any decent sleep. His eyes watered with the effort of stifling another yawn and his reflection blurred. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the reflections again. This time he studied Hadan, his handsome face looking disinterested and bored. Sam wasn't really sure how he felt about Hadan. Hadan clearly was not going to mak
e much effort to be friends. Perhaps he resents me joining their gang, thought Sam. But is that what I've done? Am I staying with them? Given what has happened so far I might be putting myself in more danger by staying with them. Or even putting them in danger by staying with me. Sam resolved then to leave them. When they got to the line that Weewalk wanted them to take he would say goodbye and go out into the bright streets of London and not think of all this magic again. He would be sad to leave Weewalk though. He had quickly become quite fond of the little man. The train lurched to a sudden stop causing the sleeping man opposite to rock wildly from side to side with a snort. Sam turned his gaze to Weewalk's reflection and jumped. The reflection in the window was not Weewalk's at all. A ghostly pale face stared back at Sam but as quickly as he'd seen it, it disappeared and the window was blank. Sam could only see the top of Weewalk's head reflected next to his own. He looked around but could see no-one that resembled the face. Had the person been outside of the train?
He leant down to whisper in Weewalk's ear as the train began to move again. ‘I just saw something odd.’ he said, ‘A pale face looking in the window.’
Weewalk looked up at him ‘Are you sure?’
‘It was only for a moment, but pretty sure, yes. Was it a ghost?’
‘No.’ said Weewalk dropping to his feet. Turning to Hadan he said ‘Sam saw a yeren, looking into the carriage. We may have been seen. I think we’re being followed. We should change trains or take a line.’