Tales From The Wyrd Museum 3: The Fatal Strand

by Robin Jarvis

  'Edie!' the boy called frantically. 'Look!'

  Edie Dorkins stared through the howling snow. As she watched, the ogre's shape blurred and shrank, withering and melting as the rightful owner of that body seized control once more.

  A deep, freezing blackness suddenly engulfed The Wyrd Museum. It was a darkness blacker and more stifling than anything Edie had ever known. High above the rooftop, torn and buffeted by the ravaging gale, Gogus had already reached the end of his brick-runged ascent. Then, twirling his tail about the iron pole of the weather vane, the imp shinned speedily higher.

  With the Eye of Balor still wedged firmly in its grasp, the wood urchin clambered on. Past the planished metal sunburst it scrambled. Over the compass points where Quoth had once roosted and listened to the unwelcome words of Woden, his former master.

  'Gogus...!' the imp gibbered. 'Gogus... Gogus!'

  It did not pause to glower at those titanic shapes looming up out of the dark. The wooden eyes were fixed only upon the topmost pinnacle and, with a snorting grunt, the urchin reached it.

  Down on the rooftop, with an overwhelming effort of will, Brian Chapman finally succeeded in his internal battle.

  'This weakling is restored unto thee? the departing, vanquished spirit spat as it fled howling out of his mouth with a spiralling rush of hail. ‘We bath no further needV

  From the man's hands the ice talons fell away, the cadaverous pallor drained from his flesh and the infernal glare perished in those hideous eyes. Then the hoary thicket of the frozen beard cracked and snapped off his face, shattering in a million fragments. Exhausted and spent, the caretaker slumped sideways. But his mind was returned and his gangly body restored—free at last of the Frost Giants' dominion.

  'Neil...' he gasped, holding out a quivering arm. 'I... I... ‘an't...' The caretaker's legs collapsed under him and he fell awkwardly on to the tiles, then went slithering down the steep, slippery roof.

  'Dad!' Neil shrieked, rushing forward, thrashing his way through the woollen strands, which snapped and twanged around him. The magical light was at once extinguished, and the severed threads of the unravelled pixie hood were torn from the chimneys by the screaming gale, whipping out into in the terrifying night.

  Clinging to the base of the stack, her hair streaming in her face, Edie watched the boy break through her enchanted barrier.

  'Come back!' she yelled to Neil, who was already clambering down the roof. 'It's too late—you'll both be killed!'

  But Neil was not listening. Edging his way cautiously downward, he peered over the roof's perilous brink and saw that his father was clinging haplessly to the lead gutter. Beneath him, the ground dropped in the distance and, beyond, the darkness was consumed with the fury of the Frost Giants.

  Those mountainous shapes were horribly near now. The boy could feel their icy breath battering against him, and he gripped the slates anxiously as he crawled towards that part of the guttering where Brian's knuckles shone white. The lead was bowing under the man's weight.

  'Give me your hand!' Neil bawled, reaching out as far as he dared.

  His legs kicking the empty air below, the caretaker wailed, trying not to look down at the remote ground, or at the vast shadow shapes which were closing about The Wyrd Museum.

  With the blizzard tearing at him, Neil recklessly stretched out a little further and took hold of Brian's wrist, then struggled to haul him back on to the roof. But the man was too heavy for his son to lift by himself.

  Then, abruptly, the guttering buckled and snapped away from its fixings. Brian Chapman felt himself drop and lurch, but he was saved from falling by one last bolt that kept the gutter hanging precariously to the roof edge. Almost wrenched from his treacherous position, Neil was blanched with despair as he tried to drag his father up one last time. But it was no use.

  ‘I can't do it!' he cried. 'Help me!'

  Perched aloft in that slaughterous night, Gogus wrapped its squat legs about the highest spire. Taking the Eye of Balor securely in its wooden claws, the imp lifted the leathery globe above its large head.

  In the bellowing dark, countless frost-flaring eyes glared and Arctic gales blasted down from cavernous maws. This was indeed the final instant, and the fate of the world was held in the balance.

  'Gogus...!' the imp shrieked into the snatching wind, the hail drumming savagely against its outlandish figure. ' Gogus... Spike... Eye...!'

  And, with that, the Paedagogus thrust the Eye of Balor down on to the topmost point, skewering it adroitly on the spear-like tip. Hugging the back of the impaled sphere, the wood urchin reached over and curled its hooked claws under that fleshy lid which had not been raised for three thousand years.

  At that same moment, down on the roof, Edie Dorkins darted out to help Neil drag his father back from the brink. With the caretaker's arms hoisted about their necks, the children lugged him back to the towering chimney.

  'Keep in, close as you can!' Edie told them. 'Don't move or look up, whatever you do!'

  Pressing against the rearing stack, a violent tremor shook the roofscape as finally, the full, venomous fury of the lords of the ice and dark fell upon The Wyrd Museum.

  Into its walls the calamitous, harrowing might of the Frost Giants went pounding and every window shattered and exploded in its frame. With a tremendous crash, one of the remaining turrets was hurled down, and the roof ruptured and split as monstrous forces smote it. From breached, cloven walls, a deluge of crumbling bricks cascaded, and the violated building was beset by a seething maelstrom of clangorous wrath.

  Besieged by the cauldron of chaos and hatred, the Paedagogus yammered its loudest and pulled the eyelid open. 'Doom... Gogus... Doom!' it barked.

  In that fate-filled instant, the Eye of Balor was finally uncovered.

  At first the ancient globe was dark, its curving surface wondrously smooth, glistening with countless, unwept tears. Then, in those dim depths, the many blood vessels and threading veins suddenly shone with a scarlet light. Into the central black pupil it coursed, and then the terrible, destroying power was roused and unleashed.

  Out into the fearful night a flickering red glow shone, stabbing through the thundering storm, cutting a scathing, killing course into the darkness.

  This was the fulfilling moment of Destiny, when the wood urchin performed the task first prophesied by the Queen of Askar. This was his high-appointed Fate, to be the one who would rid the world of the Frost Giants for all time.

  From the Eye of Balor the venomous glare blasted, slicing a deadly beam of light at the malignant host which assailed The Wyrd Museum. Nothing could withstand its lethal force and the inhuman voices that filled the tempest roared with terror.

  Huddled against the base of the chimney, Neil and his father screwed up their faces, as the annihilating glance of legend swept through the discordant shadows high above them. Beside them, Edie Dorkins gazed defiantly out across the roof to witness this, the final end.

  Up in the squalling night, looming over the spires and chimneys, she saw the dark shadow shapes of the lords of the ice and dark writhe in fear as the baleful stare came crackling towards them. Into that foulness the fiery red beams went shooting, and Edie caught her breath as she beheld the immense, monumentally evil faces.

  Like nightmare visions of blackened ice were those horrendous countenances. Their gargantuan heads were crowned with a forest of glittering, fang-shaped pinnacles and their eyes were as frozen stars. Over the rocks and jags of their massive brows the unerring stream of light travelled, burning a crimson line across the crevices of those heinous, twisted features. Into the glacial throats of winter the searing glance shone, and along those searing rays, streaks of slaughterous flame went scorching.

  Piercing screams ripped through the blizzard as the ice lords encountered at last a power as virulent and mighty in the dealing of death as themselves.

  Laughing at their torment, Edie mocked the ghastly horrors revealed in that ruby glare. Every illuminated visage was distort
ed with agony and their howls quaked The Wyrd Museum to its foundations.

  Far above her, seated behind that legendary instrument of carnage, Gogus crowed triumphantly. Then, using its tail to propel itself, it began to spin upon the axis of the weather vane.

  Round and around the Eye of Balor whirled madly and, in every direction, its lethal glance went blasting. Like a beacon of death, the red, fire-raking glare revolved, slaying all in its blistering sight.

  The screeches of the dying Frost Giants were terrible to hear and Neil buried his head in his arms. All around, those malignant creatures withered before the exterminating light that streamed from the murdering eye.

  The eternity that had passed since the first of the undines had chosen to assume frozen flesh, and stride the land that was never meant for them, had finally come to a close. Here, in the heart of their frozen domain, the mountainous contours of the lords of the ice and dark began to shrivel. As that scarlet ray continued to shoot out over the museum's roof, nothing could withstand its devouring might. All perished before it.

  Gradually, the hideous clamour was replaced by the sounds of devastation as the huge, surrounding shadows split asunder. Enormous, hail-wreathed heads went toppling down rocky shoulders to explode upon the ground beneath. Everywhere the sound of death and destruction thundered as the staggering heights of the Frost Giants came tumbling down, the towering cliffs of their being crumbling and crunching.

  From The Wyrd Museum the slates went sliding and, under the shivering rafters, the oak beams shifted alarmingly as each wall quivered and trembled. Throughout the world, the disruption of this ultimate, eradicating moment was felt, juddering and quaking into every continent.

  Crouched against the chimney, Neil and his father felt the bricks shudder and lift. Then dislodged mortar went rattling over them and they clung to one another, desperately, as the final, blaring screeches tore over them.

  Then it was over.

  The last of the Frost Giants was slain. At once the raging blizzard fell and The Wyrd Museum was utterly becalmed.

  Sitting upon that battered, blasted roof, Edie Dorkins suddenly squealed with joy. Shaking with delighted laughter, Neil Chapman raised his face, whilst his father wept and rejoiced. The evil cold had been banished from the world forever and, from the already glimmering sky, a soft, warm rain was pattering.

  Wheeling wildly upon the highest pinnacle, the Paedagogus yapped and barked as the sweet rain splashed over its broad head and trickled over its tongue. Then, solemnly, the imp of the Loom lowered the Fomorian's great eyelid. The destroying glance was covered for the last time and its unequalled power never wielded again.

  About the wreckage of the museum a grey light was welling. Edie Dorkins held up her hands to the mizzling heavens to let the falling water wash her sorrow-stained soul clean. The lords of the ice and dark were utterly defeated and Brian Chapman hugged his eldest son fiercely.

  From its vantage point, Gogus looked down on them and grinned. Then, using its tail as a brake, it stilled the weather vane's wild revolutions. Out across the roof the imp stared, to where the dark hills of the Frost Giants' remains were already changing. Streaked by the glad downpour, the vast rockscape of their exposed glacial bones melted behind the sliding rain. Regular shapes took their place as the familiar buildings of Bethnal Green glimmered into view all around. The ancient building of The Wyrd Museum was returned to its proper age-old location, and Gogus' ears jiggled excitedly when they caught the sound of many voices floating up through the cloudburst.

  Far below in the alleyway, in front of the entrance, the descendants of Askar, led by Chief Inspector Hargreaves, were cheering and applauding. Binding its tail securely about the spindling spire, the wood urchin drew itself up to its full, stunted height and waved dementedly at them.

  'Gogus...!' it gibbered. 'Danger... Gogus ... Gone... Gogus... Gogus!'

  Within the timbers from which the Paedagogus was carved, the last drops of the divine sap that had once nourished the wondrous Yggdrasill in the dawn of the world were still flowing. Upon that high place, the familiar of the Fates threw back its head, to give vent to a glorious and grunting, pig-like chuckle.

  In the Chamber of Nirinel

  Edie Dorians stood in the wreckage which filled that cavernous space, a flickering torch held above her head. It was two days since the Eye of Balor had destroyed the lords of the ice and dark, and there had been much rejoicing. Yet now, here she was, back beneath the museum's foundations, the first time she had dared to return to this place since that most evil of hours, when the Doom of the world had hung by the slenderest of threads.

  Sadly, she remembered those who had brought her out of the war-torn past and adopted her as their daughter. Now the three Fates of the world, they who had ruled since the fall of Yggdrasill, were gone forever.

  Verdandi's charred remains were lost in the bottomless reaches of the well. Skuld had been consumed by the intense cold of The Separate Collection—when the drifting snow had thawed, her body was nowhere to be found.

  As for Urdr... Edie stared through the murk at the colossal hills of rotted timbers which filled one half of the chamber with their dark magnitude, and knew that no power- would ever move the gigantic ruin of Nirinel. Beneath it, Urdr and Woden would stay until the tale of the world was ended.

  The ancient enmities were over; the Fates and the Gallows God were reconciled in death—yet Edie Dorkins doubted if she was fit to assume their mantle.

  'Them's all lost,' she murmured sorrowfully. 'Now there's just me.'

  A gruff bark at her side roused the girl from her mournful recollections. Gogus gazed up at her and Edie smiled.

  'An' you, too,' she added.

  Sniffing the stale air, Gogus turned its head to whimper at the spectacle of the fallen root. Then its wooden ears pricked up and it jumped up and down in excitement.

  'Gogus...!' it gibbered, leaping about Edie and dancing before her.

  The girl shook her head in bewilderment. 'What's the matter?' she asked.

  But the wood urchin was too agitated to tell her. Scampering forward over the sea of splintered timber, it yammered and yipped, then turned and scowled to find that she was not following. Bounding back, Gogus took hold of her hand and led Edie deeper into the chamber, to where the wellhead jutted from the debris.

  'Gogus... Gogus!' it cried, leaping up and prancing wildly about the stone dais. Bemused, Edie clambered on to the well and peered down into the gaping gulf at its centre.

  Then she heard it. A faint rushing sound was rising from the black depths. Down in the furthest reaches of the immense shaft, water was flooding into the ancient well. As she listened, it surged higher and higher, and the girl began to giggle uncontrollably.

  Bright was the gurgling surface of that wondrous sight. Like a glimmering, bubbling disc it drew ever closer to the brink and, beneath the surface, Edie saw a pair of large, fish-like eyes.

  'He's here!' she sang through happy tears. 'He's finally here!'

  Halting his hopping jig, Gogus stared into the clear swishing water and barked in welcome.

  'Undine... Undine...!' it called, somersaulting and flipping itself over about the well.

  Edie Dorkins gazed into those same luminous eyes that she had encountered deep beneath the streets of Glastonbury, and cried with joy at the object in the undine's webbed and scale-covered hands.

  In the hallway of The Wyrd Museum, the Chapman family was waiting to say goodbye. Everything they owned was packed into the van outside, where Chief Inspector Hargreaves and the elderly Jean Evans were waiting. All that remained was for them to take their leave of Edie.

  'You sure you want us to do this?' Brian Chapman asked.

  Neil looked around them at the devastation that had been wrought upon the building. The parquet floor was wrecked and ruined, and the oak panels were ripped and shattered. Everywhere was in chaos, but that was not what had made up his mind.

  'What I mean, Neil,' his father began, ‘i
s... I really don’t mind it here now. I suppose I’ve finally found the place where I fit in. This museum knows me, and there’s so much repair work to be done. Even Josh is used to it here. The dangers are over, forever.’

  Neil turned to his young brother and Josh gave him a forlorn look. 'Don't wanna go,' the toddler muttered.

  'Can't you see?' Neil said quietly. 'I have to leave. There's no way I can stay here—none.'

  Their father nodded his understanding. 'Okay,' he sighed. 'We can be at your Auntie Marion's by tonight.'

  Then, from the blank emptiness of the open wall, where once the secret panel had concealed the hidden entrance to the stairway, there came the sound of happy laughter. The Chapmans stared at each other in surprise. Edie had been morose and silent for the past two days.

  Out of the darkness the girl came, calling over her shoulder for Gogus to keep up with her. Then, looking at the caretaker and his family, she folded her arms and pouted peevishly.

  'You off?' she demanded, the suggestion of a smile tweaking the corners of her mouth.

  'We have to,' Brian told her. 'Neil can't live here any more. We just wanted to see you before we went.'

  Narrowing her almond eyes, Edie approached Neil and grudgingly admitted, ‘I reckon this place needs more lookin' after than I can give on me own an'... well, I s'pose I needs it an' all. Wish you'd stay'

  'Can't,' the boy shook his head. There's too many unhappy memories in here.'

  The slow smirk on Edie face burst into a grin and, as the chattering grunts of the Paedagogus came drifting from the dark opening, she told Neil, 'Well, it's up to you to make better memories then, ain’t it’

  With that, Gogus came scampering into the hall and greeted them, yapping at each of their feet, until it came to rest before Neil.

  It pawed him fretfully. ‘Gogus...’ it growled. 'Gogus... Stay ... Gogus.'

  The boy frowned quizzically, for the wood urchin was jabbing one of its claws back towards the steep stairway. Then, suddenly, Neil heard the most wonderful sound he could ever have wished for.