London Underground: An Unofficial Legend of The Secret World (Unofficial Legends of The Secret World Book 2)

by Blodwedd Mallory

  “Nice to meet you, Michael.” I held out my hand to shake his, but he captured my palm and held the back of my hand up as if to kiss it, but smacked the air above it instead.

  “I prefer ‘Sevenoir,’” he said. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

  I smiled uncomfortably at him. Okay. So, was his agent name Sevenoir or something? And what was with the bunny ears? I knew the English were eccentric at times, but this was random.

  “Now Annabel, we need to get on our way. I have important things to get back to,” he said stuffily.

  “I prefer ‘Ms. Usher,’” she said with a sly wink at me as she pressed a £20 note into my hand. “And I believe Wedd is ready to depart when you are.”

  “Very good. Come along then.”

  Sevenoir moved past me toward the exit to the Administrative Office. I gave Ms. Usher a quick hug and thanked her, then I leaned into the inner office to blow a kiss to Carter and gave Headmaster Montag a grave bow. He nodded briefly and then turned back to the window.

  I picked up my duffel bag and suitcase and twisted slightly to get my backpack straight before following him out into the foyer and down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs sat a motorcycle, with a black tank and fender detailed with red and yellow flames. I looked at him in astonishment as he reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a World War II helmet and handed it to me. I put down my bags and attempted to strap it to my head.

  Sevenoir rolled his eyes and reached under my chin to fasten it, tossing the handle of my duffel bag over the safety bar and strapping my suitcase to the top of the right saddlebag. Then he climbed on the bike, his bunny ears flopping precariously.

  “Hurry up then,” he barked. “Hop on.”

  I looked down at my bandage skirt doubtfully. Well, at least it was somewhat stretchy. I threw my right leg over the seat and scooted myself back behind Sevenoir, resting my feet on the passenger foot pedals. I reached around his body with my left hand, while holding my suitcase with my right, trying not to let my bare legs touch the metal engine parts. They were pretty cool now, but they wouldn’t be once we got going, I knew from experience riding on the back of a motorcycle as a kid. I didn’t know how far we had to ride on the bike before we got to a boat to take us to the mainland. Or, maybe we were going to a charter plane at the Kingsmouth Airport.

  The engine of the powerful machine rumbled as he pulled slowly out of the Innsmouth Academy yard and onto the dirt road that constituted the front drive. I twisted my head around to look back at the Main Hall as we moved away, causing the bike to wobble with my motion. Ms. Usher and Carter were standing on the top steps, waving, as Gypcie ran up from the side yard where she’d been renewing the wards, waving to me with both arms over her head. Tears filled my eyes, and I waved back to my friends, sniffling, as I rode away from my home of the past four years.

  “Hold still!” Sevenoir scolded, and I reluctantly turned back to front. The trees that lined the Academy drive were full and green in the warm early summer day, and there was just a nip of salt in the air from the ocean.

  On my right, a still-animate member of the Kingsmouth Track and Field team loped along the wooden fence on the berm separating the drive from the fields surrounding the academy, drawn by the noise of the engine. We were traveling fast enough on the bike that encountering the zombie wouldn’t be an issue, but it gave me a stark reminder of how much chaos still ruled on Solomon Island and how much was yet to be done. I would no longer be around to help.

  At the entrance, I could see the tall Ferris wheel from the Atlantic Island amusement park looming over the trees across the road. Sevenoir turned left onto Illuminati Way, which was a paved two-lane road and picked up speed. We passed a car still parked in the street, abandoned by its owner when the dead began to rise. We drove by stone fences and fields leading to the more populated areas of Savage Coast, the houses getting bigger and more elaborate as we drew up to the main highway that encircled the island, Solomon Road.

  Sevenoir stopped carefully at the red stop sign, before turning left onto the highway heading west. Apparently, we weren’t going to Kingsmouth Airport. We must be headed to catch a boat to the mainland.

  I pondered the full stop Sevenoir made at the sign as we drove up the road. There was no traffic to speak of, but he stopped nonetheless. He believed in rules, apparently, and followed them even when no one was watching.

  We rode past more houses, a playground, and a construction project that was a time capsule into the past. A backhoe, shovel poised over the hole it had been digging, stood unmoving where its driver had left it. Feral groups of zombies clustered on either side of the road, scratching for sustenance on whatever ragged bits of sinew and bones that remained of the bodies that lay where they had fallen last October.

  On our left, we drove by the mostly abandoned Sycoil Oil gas station. “Mostly abandoned” because there were still groups of zombies straining at a chain link fence at the back of the property. We followed the highway until we came to the covered bridge over the Miskatonic River when he slowed and took another left turn onto a small dirt path. That startled me. There were no boats for rent down this path. Just a few small dinghies at the Academy boathouse. Where were we going?

  We rode a few yards down the path before he slowed to a stop and put down the kickstand on the bike and told me to get off.

  “Where are we?” I asked, taking off the helmet.

  “This is it,” Sevenoir said.

  “This is what?”

  “The entrance to Agartha.”

  I looked around me with confusion. To my right was a steep path down to the bed of the river. In front of me the dirt trail continued along the river, and I could see the shadow of a wendigo, a flesh-eating monster, hiding behind a tree, ready to jump out at unsuspecting passers-by.

  Sevenoir unstrapped my suitcase and handed it to me. I gave him back the helmet, then pulled the duffel bag off the safety bar, balancing my load as I tottered on my pumps on the dirt path.

  “Head down the embankment to the river, toward the crevice in the rock wall beyond,” he instructed.

  I gave him a baleful look as I took in the rock-strewn path down to the stream.

  He rolled his eyes again. “Oh for pity’s sake. Why didn’t you wear some more reasonable shoes?”

  “Because I thought I was going to an airport or a dock,” I snapped at him.

  “Why, in Gaia’s name, would you do that? Porting through Agartha is far easier, and there’s no fare required.” He grabbed the suitcase and duffel bag from me and started down the steep path.

  I followed him best as I could, muttering at him under my breath. “Wait, for me you… Mean. Stupid. Englishman.”

  “You know I can hear you,” he called dryly up from the bottom. “And I was born on Berwick-on-Tweed, so I consider myself Scottish, by the way.”

  Being no expert on British Isles geopolitics, I grunted noncommittally. I grabbed the bigger rocks on each side of the path to use as a makeshift handrail as I climbed down into the sandy bottom of the stream, effectively soaking my good black pumps. I scowled at him, blowing the obnoxious piece of my bangs out of my face. This was an adventure of my least favorite variety.

  “All right then. Just in through that crevice and out to Agartha with you,” Sevenoir said, handing me back my suitcase and duffel, then pointing to an opening in the rock. I stared at the crevice beyond the clumps of grass growing up on the far side of the stream bed. Faint golden light was visible behind it, but only if you were looking for it. I might have walked by the opening a hundred times previously without ever noticing it.

  I moved toward the opening. As I neared, the golden light grew brighter, illuminating what appeared to be a natural cave—natural that is, except for the multitude of tree roots lining the walls and ceiling. I could smell dark soil and loam and could hear a loud buzzing of bees coming from deeper within the cave.

  I turned back to Sevenoir. “What is Agartha?”

  “What is Agartha? Yo
u are wet behind the ears. Agartha is the hollow earth where the world tree abides. You’re standing before the entrance to it in this part of Solomon Island,” he said, not unkindly. “There are other entrances here as well, but they are not generally advertised to the uninitiated.”

  We both spotted a piece of paper fastened to the cave wall with a small knife. Sevenoir flipped the corner of the paper with a chuckle. “I suspect that some of the local boys may be familiar with this one. The League of Monster Slayers, eh?”

  He turned around to head back up to his motorcycle.

  “Wait?!” I cried. “Aren’t you coming with me? I thought you were supposed to take me all the way to London?”

  “Yes, well about that.” Sevenoir stopped and turned back to me with his arms crossed. “I’ve had something come up. I need to scoot down the road to wrap up a problem in the Blue Mountain area before I head back to London. Something far too dangerous to bring you along. Why do you need me to come with you?”

  “I’ve never done this before,” I said with a bit of a whine in my voice. “Can’t you come with me now and come back later to wrap up your…thing?”

  “You’ll be fine.” Sevenoir rolled his eyes. “You’ll face far scarier things as a Templar than Agartha. Just move deeper into the cave. You can’t miss the entrance. Look for the bees and walk through to the light. It’s as easy as walking through a door.”

  He climbed up the rocky path near the stream bed and got back on his motorcycle, starting it.

  “I’ll see you later in London,” he yelled to me as he rode off.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Crossing the Threshold

  Pulling my bags to my body with a huff, I tromped forward into the cave. I wasn’t going to be bullied by a rabbit-eared jerk. I could do this.

  The smell of ozone and dirt was intense from the entrance, as was the glow coming from within it. Waist-high grass covered the cave floor, and the walls looked naturally carved with massive tree roots breaking through the seams between the rocks. It was a reasonably wide passage to start, six feet across at least, but it narrowed as I walked deeper. I rounded a slight curve, and at last, I could see the portal of which Sevenoir spoke. Big fat bumblebees, some the size of small birds, buzzed back and forth around the entrance, filling the space with a loud hum.

  A round structure of tree roots, like a picture frame, stood before me, and through it, haloed by the golden light, was a strange scene. I could see an area comprised of more tree parts and foliage, but arranged to look like a sort of grand room with small alcoves, and what I could swear looked like a sign or mailbox.

  Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I stepped through the portal, which enveloped me with a sizzling tingle, into the golden light. The hum of buzzing became a deeper throb of noise, like jets flying overhead, making a kind of eerie music. I could hear the sound of gears churning and something squeaking faintly every few minutes. A deep chime resonated, adding another note to the sound, like the start of a symphony. Faint voices in a chorus surfaced from time to time, as I stared with wonder at the scene before me.

  Hundreds of giant trees, larger than the largest redwood, lined the horizon as far as the eye could see. From these trees grew a variety of branches, dozens of them, maybe even hundreds. The branches, which were the size of roads, had weird knobby growths that looked like alcoves. Golden lights shimmered from within them. I could see floating wooden platforms with more knobby nooks. The air was dense but pure. It smelled sweet, like honey but with an undertone of machine oil. I had a vague sense of being underground, and yet when I looked up, I couldn’t see any ceiling, just tree trunks extending endlessly upward. The area was filled with a golden glow, like a sunlit day, but there was no sun in the sky. And it was stultifyingly warm, like the inside of a greenhouse.

  I was standing on a wooden platform suspended in midair, it appeared, although it felt perfectly sturdy. I dropped my bags and turned around immediately to look at the portal through which I'd come. A knobby circular alcove—similar to those I’d seen on the branches and platforms—stood behind me. It had been grown, not constructed, the wood grain of the platform curving to form the shape.

  Through the window of the alcove or portal, I could see a faint image—not of the cave I’d come from—but of the Innsmouth Academy, the picture shimmering and rippling as I stared. The same golden light I’d seen in the cave leaked from around the edges of the image. I moved to the side of the platform and looked down, feeling vertigo as I realized that although I could see more platforms and branches below, as far as I could tell, there was no bottom.

  Nearby, a small robotic automaton made of copper and gears marched along the platform, startling me, and I stepped away from the edge of the platform to avoid falling. The device was no larger than a cat or a little dog and seemed to have no interest in me, as it wandered by on its task.

  There were two more circular alcoves on the platform. Through the one to my left, as I faced the Innsmouth Academy portal, I could see a faint image of the Kingsmouth Sheriff’s Office. My mouth dropped open of its own accord. This must be one of the other portals Sevenoir had mentioned. On the right, the alcove showed an image of a dark, mysterious looking mansion. I was unfamiliar with it.

  I heard a thump behind me and turned. A woman with short purple hair in a black leather jacket and short shorts was standing behind me in a crouch near a small circular pad nested within the base of the platform. It had a blue-and-white mechanism emanating concentric circles of white light. I started to greet her, but she ignored me, and jumped up and ran toward the Kingsmouth Sheriff’s Office portal where she disappeared without a word.

  I looked around helplessly. The copper automaton continued to pace around the platform, wandering from portal to portal, ignoring me. I heard a buzzing and watched a small mechanized drone flying toward the platform, ignoring me completely as well. It slipped through the Kingsmouth portal silently and disappeared. Was it some message delivery mechanism? I felt both annoyed and despondent.

  I could see the headlines now: Newsflash! Blodwedd Mallory stranded on Agarthan platform. Story at 11!

  Grrr. Just the thought of coming this far only to be stranded by my lack of knowledge annoyed me, and I felt anger at Sevenoir fill me all over again. I didn’t know what to do. I approached the mechanism with the concentric circles of white light at the front of the platform carefully, edging toward it with the toe of my wet right shoe.

  With a whoosh, the mechanism activated and my shoe flew off with a squelch, catapulted away from me toward a larger platform below, while my right leg lifted with the force. I fell backward onto my back end and elbows, electric shocks running up my left arm as I hit my funny bone.

  My face turned red of its own accord as I scrambled to my feet, shaking out my arm. Thank goodness no one had been here to witness that moment of grace. It looked like the mechanism was some sort of launch pad down to the larger platform. My right shoe was now down there somewhere.

  Well. That was it. It was clear that no one was coming to help me and I was not about to lose one of my good black pumps.

  I walked back to the pile of my bags and grabbed them before stumping awkwardly over to the pad with my bare right foot and my left in the remaining black pump. There was no help for it. I had to try or be left standing on this platform forever.

  I stepped forward firmly onto the jump pad and felt the concentric circles of light thrust me forward into the air like spring. I screamed as I was catapulted over the chasm of tree branches and endless space, my arms out gripping my suitcase and duffel bag for dear life as I was flung through the air.

  I landed on the larger platform in a crouch, in front of an entrance to the room I’d seen from the portal inside the cave. I quickly stood up. A few people moved around this platform, running in and out of the large room in the tree, some of them landing in a crouch behind me. Scrambling forward to get out of the way, I spotted my errant shoe. I dashed over to grab it and, dropping my bags, s
lipped it back on my foot. A blast of steam startled me further, and I looked up nervously. There was a giant copper automaton positioned there behind me along the wall; its gears whirred as it stood guard next to the entrance.

  Time to get my bearings. A few feet away I saw a short-haired woman in a black and white-checked miniskirt and jacket standing near the edge of the platform. I approached her cautiously, dragging my bags along.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Can you help me find my way to London?”

  She moved onto a jump pad and sprang away without answering.

  I grunted with irritation. I was having a heck of a time getting any help here.

  Another woman—this one dressed in an ornate costume consisting of a short black strapless dress, gossamer wings on her back, and black-and-white horns with an elaborate headdress on her head—stood nearby. She had a black lace choker and Egyptian makeup on her face. I wondered what the occasion was.

  “Excuse me,” I said again, hoping for some assistance this time. “Can you direct me to London?”

  She nodded and indicated that I should follow her. She ran to the edge of the right of the platform to another jump pad, with me keeping up as best as I could, my bags in my arms. We sprung across the chasm to another large platform to the right, which I managed without screaming this time. This platform had the portal alcoves embedded directly into the trunk of the tree supporting it. She went to the third portal from the left and said, “Enter here.”

  I could see an image shimmering in the portal that looked something like a picture I’d once seen of the Tower of London. She’d brought me to the right place. I turned back to her as she was walking away and yelled out my thanks.

  While I was turned, I looked across the wooden platform at the ocean of giant tree trunks extending in every direction into the distance and took a deep breath. I was about to realize my dream of going to London. I could still see the small alcove with the portal to Innsmouth Academy. It wasn’t too late to turn around and go back.