by Ben Yallop
‘What is this place?’ Sam said.
‘I do not know for sure.’ said Vallalar ‘But I have a theory. Samuel, I believe this is the distant future as yet unformed. I think that something is to happen. Some choice will be made which will determine the shape of this place. For now, I think, it exists only as pure possibility. I wanted to show it to you so that you could see that everything is not mapped out for you. Yes, much of what we do seems predestined but this place, if I am right, shows there are still choices to be made which will affect the entire world. It is my belief that the Riven King knows of this place. That he has seen it too. He knows the future is yet to be decided and that is why he seeks to wipe out any who threaten his own future.’ Vallalar lowered his voice. ‘Sam, there is tell of a man who will save us all. Whether it is a prophecy, a whisper of something someone has seen in the future, or mere wishful thinking, I do not know. But it is enough to have the Riven King worried, I think. There are not many who have presence and he seeks to kill us all. Should he succeed I believe mankind is doomed.’
Vallalar closed his eyes
’A fiery dragon will cross the sky,
Six times before the earth shall die,
Mankind will tremble and frightened be,
For the six heralds in this prophecy,
And when the dragon’s tail is gone,
Man forgets and smiles and carries on,
To apply himself – too late, too late,
For mankind has earned deserved fate.’
His masked smile, his false grandeur,
Will serve the gods their anger stir,
And they will send the dragon back
To light the sky – his tail will crack,
Upon the earth and rend the earth,
And man shall flee, king, lord and serf.’
'What does it mean?' asked Sam.
'Well, it is part of a very old prophecy by a lady called Mother Shipton. She was born sometime around 1488. Either she used lines or somebody told her of the future, I suspect the latter. She made many prophecies which people have interpreted as having some to pass. It is said that she foresaw motorised travel, instant electronic communication, aircraft, large-scale farming, television and submarines but she also spoke of a number of disasters which would befall the world, certain wars and the rise of particular tyrants. The passage I quoted is one that it is believed has not yet occurred. It is thought the fiery dragon refers to a comet with a red tail. Beware such a sign Sam.’
Sam took a step closer to Vallalar.
‘Thank you for showing me this place, and for everything you have done for me. Despite the threat of the King, seeing that there might be a future that is undecided has given me hope.’
Sam turned to leave. But Vallalar stopped him.
'Oh, and Sam. Keep an eye on old Weewalk. Although he likes to play the lowly kobold he is more important than you know. Maybe, one day, he will take you to the Palace of Kalapa in Shambhala, which you might know as Shangri-La. Then you will see.’
Vallalar turned away signalling the conversation was at an end and Sam slipped from the room wondering what secrets Weewalk kept.
Jak appeared in a stand of trees, the line behind him closing but the hum still ringing in his ears. He grinned and flexed his long claw like fingernails. The sound of a battle reached him between the trunks of the trees around him. He had been drawn to this place. He was always drawn to places like these. He could smell the fear and death. He crept to the edge of the copse and looked out onto a sea of mud. To one side he could see a large force of men, clad in a dull green. They fired rifles at other men that he could not see. Smoke and fog obscured large parts of the hummocked battlefield. Every now and then a large explosion threw large clods of mud through the air. One impact was close enough that small stones rained down on Jak, tinkling against the dull metal helmet that he wore. He brushed grit from his black cloak and continued to watch. A unit of several hundred men appeared out of the whiteness making for Jak's hiding place. He smiled to himself and ran his tongue over his sharp teeth and then shrank back into the trees to wait.
The men came into the trees at a trot. Jak heard snatches of voices.
‘...come on, men...quick smart....through the wood...Gerry won't know what hit 'im....form up’
Then through the trees they crept.
Jak readied himself. Stretching out with his presence he pulled fog and smoke around and into the woods so that the men could see little as they moved forward. Jak waited until they had moved slowly past then scampered up behind the last man. The man was wearing a flat green cap and carried a pistol. Jak clicked his long claws together. Hearing the noise the soldier stopped, allowing the others to move on into the fog. Jak used a flash of presence against the ground and leapt over the soldier and landed in front of him. The man's eyes widened in shock and his mouth dropped open beneath his thin moustache. Before he could move Jak had slashed at his throat with silver fingernails. The man died on the spot, slumping to the ground like a dropped sack of potatoes, a pool of deep red blood soaking into his uniform and the carpet of leaves and earth. Jak licked his fingers. He opened the line nearby and with a quick burst of presence he flung the man's limp body through the portal. The blood-lust was on him now, the other men didn't stand a chance. Shrieking with glee he leapt high and threw himself into their midst and the carnage began.
A short time later Jak stood panting in the foggy wood, his eyes closed. He felt the blood drip down his face and from his hands. A voice behind him startled him and he was ready to leap and attack before he recognised it.
‘Hello Spring-heel.’ said the voice.
Jak turned to see a figure emerging from the mists.
‘Been busy, I see.’ said Ferus, stepping over the tattered remains of what had once been a man. ‘I have a job for you. There is a young boy who I am particularly keen that you should meet. He has become rather elusive.’ This last sentence was said with such anger that even Jak quailed for a moment. Ferus continued in more measured tones ‘I don't want anyone to know about this. It is starting to become an embarrassment to me that this boy still lives. The secret keeper tells me that I don't need to worry about this boy, but I don't trust Tarak Everune. The boy must not survive. Find him. Kill him. You will be rewarded.’
Jak grinned, showing his pointed teeth. As much fun as killing in numbers was there was nothing he enjoyed more than the thrill of the hunt, the challenge of a single elusive target.
He and Ferus spoke for a short time. Jak listened carefully then led Ferus back through the line into a grisly scene. Jak had flung a large number of the dead soldiers down the line and into a room. The bodies lay in bloody heaps. He crouched atop a pile for a moment, grinning wolfishly.
Then with a nod to Ferus he climbed through a window and out into the night. Using his presence to push off from the ground, he travelled in large leaps across the town below him. Every now and then he would drop to the ground in front of a person just to delight in the look of fear on their faces. Ladies fainted. Gentlemen in tall hats raised their canes in defence. But Jak stared down at them with his red, flame like eyes and they all quailed in fear.
In the darkness of night, on the shore of a lake in a wooded Romanian valley, a young gypsy girl knelt before the still waters, a candle in her hand. Tonight she would complete the ritual, for tonight was ' Sânziene ' night. Tonight a gateway to the world of the ghosts would appear and she would be able to see the future. She was hoping for a vision of her husband. The old lady from the village had taught her how to perform the rite, on this evening when there was magic in the air. As she solemnly said the correct words she was startled to see that something had begun to happen. She hadn't expected it to actually work. The old lady was a bit mad, everyone knew that. The girl's eyes grew wide as some kind of doorway opened just off shore. Was this the vision of her husband which she had so hoped for?
There was a splash and she heard a deep voice utter a loud and extremely rude sound
ing curse. More splashes reached her and then a figure appeared. This must be him. Her dream man. Her breath caught as she peered into the mists, holding the candle aloft.
Her dream man had a bushy beard, round eyes and a large nose and ears. He was only a few feet tall and he was wearing, well, this couldn't be right, he was wearing a yellow spotted dress and big black boots as he squelched from the lake. He stopped and sat on a thick log at the edge of the shore. He pulled off each boot in turn, pouring lake water from them as he muttered. Then he continued his way towards her.
He growled a greeting as he stomped past. He was followed by a girl who gave her an apologetic smile, then a young man who gave her a quick and perfunctory nod and finally a slightly younger boy. The last she smiled at. He was particularly handsome. She wouldn't mind him as a husband.
He said something to her and gave her a sympathetic smile but she could not understand the language. The four figures trooped into the dark trees behind her and the girl found herself alone again, the candle flickering in her hand.
Now that the anger had been burnt out of him by the events in the Mermaid Tavern Sam felt hollow and empty. When the time had come to leave Jēran to repair the damage he had left with a cold determination in his stomach. But the trip he had taken with Vallalar had made him feel substantially better, like suddenly life was less futile. Like there was something be could do. But still he thought he might never get over seeing the death of his parents. Ferus had killed them in an attempt to kill him. He could see that Weewalk kept giving him quick glances to check that he was alright.
‘So, where are we headed?’ Sam asked as they walked along a quiet lane which meandered away from the lake and woods and into open countryside.
It was Kya who answered ‘We're going to see someone who studies Mu. We need to get to Tongue's Scar, where Tarak is being held, and this man might know how to reach it. His name is Professor Keel. His home is quite close to here. He lives close to a line to the Tavern as it's such a good source of information for him. Jēran told me about him.’
‘Wait, Jēran told you. I thought he couldn't speak.’ said Sam.
‘No-one ever said he couldn't speak.’ said Weewalk, ‘Only that he didn't. He seems to have changed his mind since the Riven attacked him. I've never seen him so angry. Ferus has made himself a powerful enemy.’
As they walked Sam had the chance to consider Kya. She really did look remarkably like the girl from the painting. She caught him looking and Sam quickly looked away trying not to blush. They walked for half an hour or so before reaching a narrow lane which ran towards a house, only partially visible beyond a stand of trees. A postbox at the start of the lane bore the single word 'Keel'.
‘I guess this is it.’ said Hadan, eyeing the letters which overflowed the box. ‘Should we take him his post?’
‘It seems like the polite thing to do.’ said Kya.
They waited for a moment while she gathered up the letters into a bundle and then they walked down the track to the house. As it came into sight they could see that it was quite large and rather unkempt and ramshackle. They climbed a step to the big front door and Sam pushed a button. They heard a chime sound within the house.
When no-one appeared after a few minutes Sam pressed the button again. This time, from deep within the house, a thump could just be heard. After another couple of minutes the door swung open in a rush. A strange smell emanated from the doorway.
The man who had opened the door scowled at them, but when he saw Weewalk his expression softened. He ran a hand through his shock of white hair and pulled a pair of goggles away from his face, nestling them in his frizzy hair, leaving deep pink lines around his eyes.
‘Murian folk?’ he said excitedly.
Weewalk nodded and smiled and introduced them all in turn.
‘We need your help, Professor Keel. May we come in?’
‘Of course, of course. This way, please.’
The scientist ushered them into the fusty smelling house and led them along a corridor to a large bright room at the end of the hall which clearly functioned as some sort of laboratory. Sam had the impression that Professor Keel spent the vast majority of his time in this room. Where the hall had been dim and slightly unkempt, this room was full of light and piles of stuff lay everywhere. Papers, odd pieces of equipment and books covered every surface and much of the floor. Shelves around the sides of the room held oddly shaped contraptions. In the middle of the room a black box, the size of a shoebox, emitted a strange hum which seemed to dominate the air.
Professor Keel gestured to the room.
‘Welcome. Come in come in. Have a seat.’
As he mentioned seats he swung an arm around as if gesturing to some chairs which he couldn't quite locate amidst the debris and clutter of the laboratory. Sam couldn't locate the seats either and shifted nervously for a moment, anxious to be polite and obey the instruction but finding it an impossibility to do so. Eventually he settled for leaning against a table, deciding that was as close as he could get.
The man before them dashed around the room for a few moments, moving piles of papers and books as though needing to reassure himself that he had done something to improve the mess. All he did was move it around. Eventually, apparently satisfied, he stopped, or perhaps gave up, and turned to face them. He looked excitedly at Weewalk.
‘So, you are a kobold? A mine kobold? Yes, how very interesting. What brings you here?’
‘We need your help, Professor Keel. Jēran said that you might know of a way we can reach a place called Tongue's Scar. We are in something of a hurry.’
‘Tongue's Scar. Hmmmm.’ The scientist scratched at his head. ‘I can see why Jēran has sent you here. I have studied Mu for many years and have made many attempts to map the lines which you folk are so fond of using. But, I am afraid that I do not recall any mention of such a place. I will check my notes though. My memory is not what it once was.’
He stepped over to a shelf and brought down a large book. He thumbed through the pages.
Whilst he searched Weewalk looked around at the others nervously. If the scientist could not help then they were stuck. They had no idea how to begin to find the place.
Eventually Professor Keel turned to them with an unhappy look on his face.
‘I am afraid that I can find no reference to it. Do you have any more information?’
‘No,’ said Kya ‘I just know that we need to get there. The message I received had only the name of the place, nothing else on how to get there or where it is.’
‘Well, I'm sorry, my dear. But it seems that I cannot help.’ The scientist looked genuinely unhappy, like it was a personal failing.
‘It's not your fault, Professor.’ Kya said. ‘We'll find another way. Here, we collected your post from the road.’
‘What? Oh, thank you.’ Professor Keel took the bundle of papers glumly and flicked through them idly.
Weewalk turned to Kya ‘Is there really nothing else that you know? What can we do now?’
‘I just don't know.’ said Kya ‘We need to hurry, but we don't know where to hurry to.’
She looked so sad that Sam moved a step closer to comfort her, but couldn’t quite summon up the courage to say anything. They stood in silence, brooding.
‘Um.’ said Professor Keel. ‘Um. Excuse me.’
Weewalk looked over ‘Yes, Professor.’
‘Um. I have received a letter. Look.’
He passed a single sheet of paper to the kobold. Weewalk looked at it as the others crowded round. Sam could see it was a page torn from some kind of journal. He read it over the kobold's shoulder.
Entry 79
Strange. Today during my research I wandered away from my usual section of the library and came upon a book of philosophy called The Grandfather Paradox. It caught my eye as it was sticking some way out of the shelf. I opened it and a separate piece of paper fell out. On that page was a poem. A poem I remember well for it led us on the path to Montauk and T
ongue's Scar. I copy it here:
Down in the dark, beneath the Deeps,
A line lies where the Cyclops sleeps,
A man-made line which full of power,
Will help you in your darkest hour.
That door will also lead to doom,
For beyond its gate; that dreaded room,
Yet do not falter, do not dismay,
To Tongue's Scar you will find your way.
Even as I write this I realise what this page before me means. I know what I am supposed to write. Do I have the power to change things now? I could leave a warning. Dare I write something different? But what if I'm wrong and altering events leads to a worse tragedy. This is torment. What should I do?
Ha! Without meaning to I realise I have written what I should have all along. It is settled then.
They looked at each other in utter amazement.
‘Professor, can I see the envelope?’ asked Weewalk. He turned it over carefully in his hands. It was blank apart from the Professor's name on the front. There was no stamp, no postmark and nothing else inside.
‘Weird.’ said Sam ‘What does it mean?’
‘I don't know but it is our best lead.’ said the kobold. ‘Montauk. Who would have thought we would need to go there!’
‘It could also be a trap.’ said Hadan ‘The problem with time travel is that someone might already know our movements and have sent Professor Keel this page knowing we would arrive here and follow the clue.’
‘I don't see what choice we have.’ said Weewalk ‘If we don't follow these directions then we have no chance. And we don't know how long we have to rescue Tarak. If they knew we would be here then why not just attack?’
‘But the Deeps.’ said Hadan, shaking his head, ‘There must be some other way.’
‘What?’ said Sam ‘What is the Deeps?’
Weewalk sighed ‘It's a network of caves and caverns. It's dangerous, there's no doubt about that. There are not many that could cross those paths, but I've done it, once. We kobold know how to move through the earth's heart. It's safe so long as one is quick and quiet. But this Cyclops. What threat that poses I do not know.’