“Then we’ll look for him, you and me.” Ben wasn’t giving up that easily.
“The Under is vast, Ben. It stretches for miles. We’ll never find Nathaniel if Sweet doesn’t want us to.”
As much as Ben hated it, he realized that Ruby was right.
He would leave now, but he would return…with a plan and with reinforcements. Until then, Nathaniel was at Sweet’s mercy.
Munro had always hated Ben Kingdom.
The hunchback had been watching Ben quietly from the shadows since he and Ruby had left the barracks together. A few times Munro thought that he might have been spotted, but he had a talent for hiding. It was something which he had been forced to learn at an early age. Hiding from the other children; hiding from his father.
From the cover of darkness, Munro saw Ben holding Ruby’s hand. The pair of them were whispering excitedly. They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t even glance in his direction.
And they were none the wiser as he hobbled quietly after them.
Not so clever now, are you, Ben Kingdom?
Munro hated Ben’s cocky mouth. He hated his red hair. He especially hated the way he was talking to Ruby.
Munro saw the way that Ruby smiled at Ben and he felt as if she was stabbing him in the heart. Not Ruby.
Munro was used to being hurt. He was used to being laughed at and scorned. But not by Ruby Johnson. When she looked at him with her big green eyes, it was as if she didn’t see his twisted lip, or his partially closed eye, or even the hump which bent his back. Munro had always believed that Ruby Johnson was his friend.
And now Ben Kingdom was stealing her away.
Munro knew from their furtiveness that Ben and Ruby were up to something, but now he saw what they were planning. They had gone down a forbidden tunnel and that could only mean one thing: they were trying to leave the Under in secret.
Munro was faced with the prospect of never seeing Ruby again. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He turned and ran as fast as he could, a shambling, lolloping gallop.
It was only his anger that carried him onwards and he was on the verge of collapse when he finally found Claw Carter. He brought himself as erect as he was able before the knight commander, wheezing noisily as he made the Legion salute.
“Spit it out,” Carter snapped.
“Ben Kingdom…Ruby Johnson…” Munro forced the words out. “Gone…”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“The Metropolitan,” said Munro.
Claw Carter roared.
“So far, so good,” said Ruby, keeping her voice down.
Ben had to agree. They had hardly seen a soul so far.
Every step brought him closer to escaping the Under, to escaping Claw Carter. He thought of the man he had once so admired – a man of great intellect, and great talents – and Ben felt a pang of pity towards him. Ben knew the pain of loss but he also knew that part of Professor Carter had died along with his wife: the man had lost his soul.
Ruby brought them to a locked door and Ben’s attention refocused on the stone carving of an angry skull and crossbones. It was a clear message to anyone in the Under, the illiterate included: Keep Out. Unperturbed, Ruby had her lock-picks in her hand and winkled the door open in less than a minute.
“I’m impressed,” said Ben as they stepped into the sealed passageway, closing the door behind them.
“So you should be,” said Ruby.
They were standing in absolute darkness, close enough for Ben to feel Ruby’s breath on his skin. “Well, this is cosy,” said Ben.
Ruby poked around in her bag until she found a box of lucifers and a stub of candle. She struck the match and in the sudden flare of light they each saw their own smile mirrored on the other’s face.
“We aren’t allowed to be in this tunnel,” said Ruby with glee. “It’s prohibited to any Legionnaire below the rank of knight commander.”
“Where does it lead to?” asked Ben.
“You’ll see,” said Ruby.
She went ahead of Ben, lighting the way. The tunnel itself was no different to a hundred others he had seen in the Under; a combination of medieval splendour and Victorian ingenuity. Although he now knew that he didn’t belong in this hidden world, Ben couldn’t help but be impressed by the vision of Valentine’s distant ancestor, the original architect of this secret network, and by all the engineers who had come after him. It was incredible to think that they had built an entire community beneath the London streets. What a shame they hadn’t found a better use for it, thought Ben. In spite of all its wonders, it was just another rookery: a place where crime and desperation fed and multiplied.
His feet longed to be back on the surface, walking the dirty cobbles of Old Gravel Lane. No, he thought with a grin, back on the surface and running across the rooftops.
There were no exits from this passage, Ben noticed. It ran in a straight line and then disturbingly Ruby’s candle seemed to show that it came to a dead end. That was when Ben spotted the dark circle of the hole in the floor and guessed what was coming next. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt the rumble of an enormous engine rising up from beneath his feet.
They stopped beside the hole and looked down into its black mouth. Ben saw iron rungs embedded in the side of the shaft, and as he peered down a hot wind rushed up to meet him, bringing with it the taste of soot and steam. The distant rumbling became a thunderous roar.
“Tickets, please,” said Ruby, still smiling. “This is our express passage out of here, Ben. Don’t worry,” she reassured him, “I’ve done this before. I’ll give you some advice, though…put on these gloves and hold on tight.”
Cautiously at first, Ben followed Ruby down the ladder, hand over hand. A huge cloud of steam and soot filled the narrow shaft and Ben could feel the fierce heat emanating from the train as it passed. A shower of embers from the funnel briefly illuminated Ruby. She was poised at the bottom of the vertical tunnel with nothing beneath her except the morning train on the Metropolitan line.
“You can’t be serious,” Ben shouted.
“Follow me!” Ruby yelled above the thunder of the pistons.
Ben watched as she dropped, catlike, onto the roof of a passenger carriage and was swept away out of sight. The huge iron wheels sparked as they shrieked against the rails. He knew that he only had seconds if he was going to catch the train with her.
Ruby had made it look easy. She makes everything look easy, Ben thought. He shuffled into position and then…
It’s now or never, he decided, and he let himself drop.
Ben landed heavily on his hands and knees and immediately scrambled to find a grip on the smooth carriage roof. The train charged through the darkness. Ben fumbled blindly, desperate for something, anything, that he could get a grasp on. This gets better and better, he thought as a bend in the tunnel made the whole train tilt to the left and Ben was flung to the edge of the roof. He wasn’t sure how he managed to find a handhold but he clung to it like grim death.
Looking forward along the length of the train, Ben could make out Ruby in the red glow of the firebox. He got a better grip and as he started to feel more confident a smile spread across his face.
They were leaving the Under, leaving the Legion; for ever this time. Ben tugged his billycock hat down tight to stop the wind in the tunnel from whipping it off. There was every chance he could be moments away from falling from the train and being mangled beneath it, but he felt vigorously and wonderfully alive. This was escaping in style!
The lantern on the front of the engine pierced the darkness ahead of them and Ben fancied that he saw Ruby’s emerald eyes as she looked back at him. He counted six carriages between them and carefully began to crawl towards her, praying all the while that he could hold on until the tunnel broke the surface.
It wasn’t easy going.
Ben had to keep low to save himself from being dashed against the tunnel roof, and the train swayed alarmingly every time it came to a curve
in the tracks. He wondered if he might be better off climbing down between the carriages and taking shelter there, if he could make it that far. He might even try the door and introduce himself in first class; no doubt they would be delighted to meet him.
Meanwhile the noise in the tunnel was deafening. Ruby was shouting something to him but he couldn’t make out the words. He watched her lips carefully.
Behind.
You.
With a sinking feeling, Ben looked over his shoulder.
The whole train was covered with Feathered Men.
Ben had to fight down his panic as he watched the fallen angels advance towards him along the roof of the train. He should have known that Claw Carter wouldn’t let them out of his clutches that easily.
Illuminated by the flames from the engine and the sparks from the wheels, Ben saw brief glimpses of beaks silently opening and closing in anticipation. Several of the winged demons were actually flying down the tunnel, staying close to the train to avoid colliding with the low roof.
One landed, using its savage claws to puncture the roof of the carriage just behind him. As quickly as he dared, Ben scrabbled onwards towards the cab and Ruby. He just managed to reach the end of the compartment when he felt elongated fingers encircle his ankle. He turned to look, and the Feathered Man gave a shriek that stripped away all hope.
With nothing left inside him except desperation and defiance, Ben kicked savagely with his free foot. He tried to scrape his heel against the creature’s bony knuckles, and stamp in its inhuman face. The Feathered Man gave a croaking laugh which only spurred Ben on to lash out more violently. If I’m going down, I’m going down fighting…
More by chance than design, one of his blows managed to strike the Feathered Man in the eye and this time it didn’t laugh it off; it howled with pain. As it lifted its talons to protect its face, it released Ben from its grasp. Ben saw his chance and scrambled forwards, anxious to put some distance between them. Unfortunately, his lucky blow didn’t buy him more than a couple of seconds.
With one bloodshot eye, the enraged Feathered Man threw itself towards Ben, intent on revenge. Sensing the attack, Ben rolled onto his back, drawing his knees towards his chest in the hope of fending the beast off again with his boots.
The Feathered Man landed on top of him and Ben found himself holding the creature’s entire weight on his feet. Surprised to have its attack halted, the hideous creature strained its neck, keen to reach Ben’s face with its snapping beak. Ben could feel the muscles in his legs burning with the effort of holding the monster back and he knew that he couldn’t keep it at bay for much longer. Summoning all his hidden reserves of strength, Ben gave a mighty heave with both legs and launched the Feathered Man up into the air…and into the roof of the tunnel. Ben held it there for a second whilst the bricks did their bloody work, and then the creature was gone in a mess of tangled wings.
He watched it tumble away from him down the length of the carriage. In its agony, it flailed around uncontrollably and managed to unseat two of its brothers from the roof in the process. They too fell from the train and into the oblivion of the tunnel. But there was no jubilation for Ben.
Three Feathered Men had been defeated, but in their place he could count at least a dozen more, smothering the roof and sides of the train compartments like some sort of plague. They were angry. And every single one of them was looking at him.
Inside the train, Reginald Cowper, junior clerk and Sunday school teacher, felt afraid. He ran his finger around the inside of his starched collar. It was too tight, too stiff. There was nothing to stop him from loosening his tie and making himself feel more comfortable and yet he hesitated. It was not the done thing. He was an Englishman, Cowper told himself firmly. It was important to keep up appearances.
That was what he was doing now, he and the other subdued passengers on the train, going about their business as if London hadn’t changed. He kept going because that was what Englishmen did. Stiff upper lip and all that.
He lived near the station, which made it easier for him, he supposed, although he still had to shuffle every step of the way, using the railings to guide him in the appalling fog. There had been no one behind the desk at the ticket counter but Cowper slipped the money over the desk anyway. It had been especially quiet on the platform, the other commuters hardly daring to make eye contact. That was except for an unfortunate madman, who shook and trembled and raved about bird-headed demons, until eventually he climbed off the platform and onto the tracks, running down the tunnel, screaming as he went. That encounter had shaken Cowper to the core. He was afraid of demons.
He had taught his Sunday school class about them: horrible, evil creatures – the demons, not his class – but he had never truly expected to meet one. Mrs. Troughton, who worked in the post office on the corner and played the organ at chapel every other Sunday, said that her sister Mary’s boy Alfie had spoken to a chimney sweep who was almost positive that he saw one up on the rooftops before all this terrible business started. That was quite close enough, as far as Reginald Cowper was concerned.
The train shuddered violently and Cowper was flung sideways in his seat. He was sitting beside a somewhat severe-looking woman and to his horror his head actually landed in the soft cushion of her lap. He didn’t know which of them was the most mortified and he began to apologize profusely, when the compartment rocked again and he was thrown in the opposite direction.
“I’m so sorry,” he tried again, but then his attention was drawn to crashing sounds coming from the roof of the train. Every frightened eye looked upwards.
It wasn’t possible, of course. It couldn’t possibly be footsteps…
But that’s all it can be, Cowper realized with sickening dread, as he listened to the steady thump, thump, thump above his head.
He was so distracted by the ominous sound that he didn’t notice the creature that was clinging to the side of his compartment and observing him through the window – until the stern woman screamed.
Cowper didn’t scream. He didn’t have time. A pair of long hands smashed through the pane and dragged him out into the darkness.
A scream pierced the roaring of the tunnel.
Ben could see a Feathered Man bearing down on Ruby. It must have clambered along the side of the train.
He had never seen such raw emotion in her green eyes.
Ben brought himself up into a low crouch and tried to think fast, whilst thick clouds of smoke eddied around him. He needed to do something quickly. Especially because a particularly nasty-looking specimen, with a battle-scarred beak and a missing talon on one hand was almost on top of him. Three Fingers had a heartless gaze. It wanted him dead, Ben knew.
He found the courage to try standing, and discovered that his skyboots actually made walking a better option than crawling. Provided I keep my head down, thought Ben, remembering the Feathered Man who had been dashed to pieces against the roof.
Three Fingers continued to advance. Ben rolled his hand into a fist, then thought better of it. He turned and, after a second to get used to the drunken yawing of the train, broke into a low run.
Ruby was terrified. He could see her on the coal wagon, scrambling backwards over the heap of coal, trying to keep the Feathered Man at bay.
Ben reached the end of his compartment and faltered. The jump to the next carriage was one that he could easily have made if he was up on the surface. But here, in the dark, at speed, with no headroom, it was a different matter. Behind him Three Fingers hissed and made up Ben’s mind for him. Ben leaped forward. Three Fingers slashed at him but its claws passed through empty air.
“Hold on, Ruby,” Ben yelled. “I’m coming.”
Now that he was getting the hang of it, Ben quickly closed the gap between him and Ruby. The Feathered Man was hunched over her, its beak snapping spitefully. Without hesitation Ben threw a swinging punch, which caught the fallen angel squarely on the side of the head and sent it staggering.
“Get away
from her!” Ben shouted.
Ben knew that he couldn’t allow the Feathered Man a second to recover. While it was still disorientated, Ben stepped in as close as he dared and gave a mighty double-handed shove. It was enough to knock the fallen angel off its feet and send it skittering over the side of the train.
Ruby fell into Ben’s arms. For a split second she let her mask of confidence slip, revealing the scared street kid she worked so hard to keep hidden.
“Come on,” said Ben. “Let’s see if we can make it to the cab.”
“What is it with boys?” said Ruby, making a show of freeing herself from his arms, keen to put on her old act again. “You always want to be train drivers.”
“You don’t have to pretend with me, Ruby,” said Ben as they scrambled over the mountain of coal in the tender. “Not any more.”
Ruby didn’t say another word.
When Ben swung into the cab of the train, the driver and his fireman were waiting to greet him. The driver had adopted a stance like a boxer, his fists raised and making menacing circles in the air, while his feet did a nervous dance. The fireman, a huge man, naked to the waist and drenched in sweat, clutched his coal shovel like an axe.
“What’s your game?” the driver blustered. “What are those…things you’ve brought onto my train?”
Ben didn’t have time for explanations. “How do you make this train go faster?” he asked as Ruby clambered in behind him.
The driver looked at the gauge. “Faster? We’re going nearly thirty-four miles an hour already!”
“We’re under attack,” said Ben. “I need you to crank this engine up as fast as it can go if we’re going to shake those monsters off.”
Another scream echoed down the tunnel and the fireman began to fling coals into the furnace as if his life depended on it. Which, of course, it did.
“And what if we can’t, what happens th—”
The driver’s question went unfinished as two long-fingered hands were clamped over his mouth. A Feathered Man looked in at Ben, cocked its head and then, with a quick twist of its wrists, snapped the man’s neck and tossed him out onto the track. The fireman responded swiftly, raising his shovel and hefting it at the Feathered Man like a club. It was a good swing, Ben thought, as the fallen angel staggered from the force of the blow. But before the man could attack again, the Feathered Man picked him up as easily as a father carrying a child and threw him out of the cab too.
The Feast of Ravens Page 14