The Dead World of Lanthorne Ghules

by Gerald Killingworth

  “A lot of families we know have changed their names,” Lanthorne continued.

  “Why?”

  “Because they think names like Ghules and Grewsumme and Skellingtone give the wrong impression.”

  “What’s wrong with Ghules?”

  “Haven’t you ever had Ghules in your world?”

  Edwin thought hard for a moment, then the penny dropped. “Our word is ‘ghouls’, not Ghules. Gools, not Gyules. G, H, O, U, L, S. You get them in horror stories. They feed on…” English was one of Edwin’s best subjects at school, so how could he have not noticed the significance of Lanthorne’s name? The Ghules family’s ancestors had once been ghouls, and now they were determined to kick the habit, like a family of smokers turning to peppermints instead. “Why didn’t your family change their name, then?” he asked.

  “My dad says names are unimportant, but I’m going to call myself something different when I’m older.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Edwinhelper?”

  “Or Shinerliker?”

  They tried to laugh, but it was difficult.

  “Jugge says one of the reasons people in your Shiner world closed the doors is because they didn’t like people from our world coming through to practise the Old Ways.”

  “You can hardly blame them,” said Edwin. “I really am getting very cold. Do you think there’s any chance of the guests having an early night?”

  “Swarme’ll come for us as soon as he can.”

  They had no choice but to hunker down in their coats and wait. Edwin was aware of an unpleasant dampness settling on them, and the muscles of his legs were stiffening and becoming increasingly sore. He kept the backpack close to him, with his right arm through one of the straps. Its contents were all he had in this world to help him recapture Mandoline and keep her safe until they got back home. He dreaded losing it.

  Edwin tried to empty his mind of thoughts, hoping this would make the time pass. One thought simply wouldn’t go away: the meat dish Swarme had been using was exactly the right size for a baby, and the more Edwin told himself not to think about this, the more a picture of Mandoline—shiny and wriggling in the dish—fixed itself in his mind’s eye.

  It wasn’t long before he was crying, noisily and continuously. Lanthorne was tactful and said nothing.

  13

  Regrouping

  Edwin was so cold, despite wearing the anorak under his coat. He was sure frost must be forming all over him. The night dragged on and on, and then suddenly there was a change, a noise he couldn’t identify, perhaps scratching or sniffing. These weren’t sounds Lanthorne was likely to make. Someone or something must be close by. Twigs snapped and there was a long grunt, as if whatever it was was trying to force its way through a small space.

  “Did you hear that?” Edwin whispered, struggling to his feet. His sense of direction didn’t work at all in the darkness, which made the situation worse. His hands, despite being inside gloves, were now too cold for him to grasp the penknife or lighter.

  “Keep your face hidden, Edwin,” said Lanthorne. “Don’t shine at it, whatever you do.”

  They stood very close to each other.

  “What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know. It’s trying to get through the hedge.”

  “I hope it’s a thick hedge. Does it know we’re here?”

  Of course it did. They could hear the creature’s eagerness to reach them in every sound it made. A succession of loud snaps told them it would soon succeed.

  “Inside. NOW!” said Edwin.

  Lanthorne grabbed his hand and pulled him along. The back wall of the building was only feet away and Edwin banged into it in his night-blindness.

  “I can’t find the door handle,” Lanthorne cried out.

  “Yes you can!”

  “It hasn’t got a handle on the outside. Swarme must carry it about with him.”

  Edwin felt his way to the door and then started kicking and banging for all he was worth.

  Lanthorne joined in, shouting, “Swarme! Swarme!”

  With the sounds in the hedge getting more frantic all the time, who cared who opened the door? It was most likely to be Swarme, in any case; it might even be Trunke, who would have recognized their voices.

  “Idiots!” Swarme hissed. “I was just coming to get you.”

  The boys knocked past him into the safety of the kitchen. Swarme slammed the door shut.

  “I told you not to make a noise.”

  “There’s something out there!” Edwin shouted.

  The one good thing about being so cold was that his sense of smell seemed to have shrunk. He didn’t feel so sickened when he breathed in. He noticed that the chopping block was bare and the meat cleaver and saw had been tidied away.

  All three of them jumped as the “something” threw itself heavily against the kitchen door, scratched it a couple of times and then apparently went away. The noise made Lanthorne squeal and clutch his brother, who pushed him off.

  “That happens all the time,” Swarme said. “I couldn’t name half the things that are out there. The thorns on the hedge are poisonous, but they still keep coming. Looks as if I rescued you in the nick of time.”

  “It nearly got us,” Edwin said angrily.

  “I said I was already on my way!”

  “Will everyone know we’re here now?” Lanthorne asked in a frightened voice. He was imagining all the other guests converging on them, delighted at the prospect of an unripe midnight snack. “You’ll protect us, won’t you, Swarme?”

  “I don’t expect I’ll need to. They’ll have turned over and gone back to sleep. Everyone’s used to cries in the night in a place like this. I’m more worried about your friend.”

  “Why me?” said Edwin, puzzled.

  “Not you, Edwin. The other friend, Trunke.”

  “What about him?”

  “There are things I need to tell you about Trunke,” said Swarme. “He had nasty plans lined up for you, that’s for sure.”

  This time both boys squealed.

  “I’m going to hide you in my room, and then I need to deal with him. He’s probably out on the prowl already. Come on.”

  Swarme hurried them down the passage outside the kitchen and through the heavy door. They slipped across the hallway, through a second door and down two passages, until Swarme arrived at the door of his own room, which he needed to unlock. Once inside, he lit a tiny lanthorne and told the boys to sit down on the simple bed.

  “Trunke may have a plan, but I’ve got an even better plan,” Swarme told them. “The two of you wait here until I’ve found Trunke and talked to him. When I’ve done that, I’ll explain how you can get your sister back. You’re in safe hands now.”

  As soon as his brother had left the room, Lanthorne said, “Aren’t we lucky, finding Swarme? He’s come up with a plan straight away.” He was so excited by this picture of his brother as their hero that he couldn’t sit still and bounced up and down on the bed energetically until Edwin put a hand on his shoulder to restrain him.

  “He hasn’t told us what the plan is yet,” said Edwin.

  “Whatever it is, we’re going to do exactly what Swarme says,” Lanthorne announced firmly. “No peeping outside.” As if Edwin planned to do that. “You can go to sleep for a bit, if you like. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I’m too excited.”

  “This room’s like a prison cell,” Edwin said. “No window, no personal things. Nothing’s painted.”

  “That’s because Swarme’s being kept a prisoner against his will,” Lanthorne told him. “Imagine what he’s been through.”

  All Edwin’s imagination could manage was to replay the sound of Swarme’s gentle humming while he neatly chopped up dead people’s arms.

  “I need to rest for a bit,” he said. “We seem to be doing everything in the middle of the night. I just…” He toppled sideways slowly enough for Lanthorne to slip the thin pillow beneath his head. Ed
win was so exhausted that he didn’t even notice he was still wearing his backpack.

  Lanthorne patted Edwin affectionately on the knee and got up and perched on the edge of his brother’s chair—the big brother he hadn’t seen for years, and who had promised to be their saviour.

  When the key turned in the lock, Lanthorne jumped off the chair as if he had been trespassing, and joined Edwin on the bed. It took several hard shakes before he could make Edwin open his eyes, let alone sit up.

  Swarme looked very pleased with himself. He dropped onto his chair and surveyed his audience. “That Trunke’s a crafty one,” he said. “But he’s not crafty enough to get past me.”

  Lanthorne gave Edwin a grey I told you so smile. Edwin tried to smile back. His tiredness made any facial expression a challenge.

  “He’d heard the noise and was on his way to your room,” Swarme told them, pausing to let them share the tension of the moment. “I caught up with him just as he reached the door.”

  Swarme lifted his hand as if he were going to open the door himself. Lanthorne gripped the edge of the bed with excitement, but Edwin frowned. He wanted more information and less performance.

  “What did you say to Trunke?” Edwin asked.

  “I said, ‘I’ve put them back in their room without anyone noticing, and I don’t think you should hang around up here.’”

  “What did he say then?”

  “He asked me why I was poking my nose into things that didn’t concern me.”

  “He would say that,” said Lanthorne. “He’s rude and horrible. He stole Edwin’s horlogge and all my money.”

  “I told him I was your brother and I’d caught you both trying to go outside.”

  “Did he believe you?” Edwin asked.

  “Why shouldn’t he believe me? It was the truth.”

  Not exactly the truth, thought Edwin. “Have you met Trunke before?” he asked.

  “Oh yes. I know old Trunke quite well. He’s a regular here. Brings people out from Landarn every few months.”

  Lanthorne gasped. “Do lots of people come here for?…”

  “They call it the ‘Special Menu’. Trunke’s your man, if you want to taste it.”

  “He was in ever such a hurry to get his supper,” said Edwin. “He must have been in that room with those people who were laughing about what they were doing.” His face was suddenly more green than shiny. Swarme noticed the change and decided it was time to reveal details of his great plan.

  “I’ve thought of a way to make us all very happy,” he said. “You get your sister back and I get to go home. You two lads have given me the extra courage I needed.”

  Lanthorne glowed with pleasure, as much as a person with grey skin can be said to glow. Edwin was all attention.

  “You’ve no idea how hard it’s been for me, living in this terrible place for the past six months,” Swarme said, closing his eyes at the painful memory.

  “I guessed what it was like,” burst out Lanthorne. “I told Edwin.” He got up from the bed so he could stand as close as possible to his brother, his hand on Swarme’s arm.

  “I’m afraid to disobey the inne-keeper in case he, you know, does something nasty to me,” said Swarme. “I don’t want to end up being…”

  Lanthorne brought his hand to his mouth in shock. Edwin still remembered the humming and said nothing.

  “There aren’t many places where the Old Ways live on. This is one of them,” said Swarme. “When the word goes round that the inne-keeper’s got his hands on some… stuff, they sneak out here from Landarn. I call them the Outlawes. I don’t know what story they tell their families.”

  He put his hand on top of Lanthorne’s.

  “You know I only ran away with Auntie Necra because I needed an adventure. I didn’t expect all this.”

  Tears began to trickle down Lanthorne’s cheeks. “You see, Edwin,” he said. “I told you. I kept telling you.”

  Edwin and Swarme exchanged a look.

  “It seems as if your shiny friend still thinks bad things about me,” Swarme said in a hurt voice. “I don’t blame him at all. If I was in a strange world and someone had kidnapped my little brother, I wouldn’t know who to trust. They set creatures on me last time I tried to run away. I could show you the scars.” He made a move as if to lift up his shirt.

  “No, don’t!” said Lanthorne. “I’ll get too upset.”

  “What was Trunke planning to do with us?” Edwin asked as pleasantly as he could. “I’ll do anything to get my sister back. Thank you for helping.”

  “We need to deal with Trunke,” said Swarme.

  Edwin didn’t like the sound of “dealing with” Trunke. He didn’t want him to be next week’s, or rather, next year’s—Special Menu.

  “He’s in his room for now,” continued Swarme, “but he’s an Outlawe through and through. Who’s to say he won’t sneak out and lock you up or hand you over to the inne-keeper?”

  “You’d stop him doing that,” said Lanthorne confidently.

  “Which is where my plan comes in. I go to his room and make sure he doesn’t come out.”

  Edwin gasped. “You mean, kill him?”

  “I mean that I loop a piece of rope round the door handle and tie it to a nail on the wall. It’s what I do if we have guests who aren’t interested in the Special Menu. They need to be kept away from the kitchen.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  “Your shiny friend’s very impatient, isn’t he, Lanthorne? Are they all like that?”

  “That’s a really interesting story. Jugge says…” replied Lanthorne, who was obviously happy to sit around and tell it.

  “Not now, Lanthorne!”

  “Then we steal Trunke’s hansomme,” said Swarme dramatically. “Auntie Necra will have wanted to get to Morting as quickly as she could. She’s got friends along the road. A quick stop with them to feed your baby sister and then off again. I expect I’m a better driver than the one she hired, so I promise you we’ll be in Morting in no time. We find your sister, probably tie up Auntie Necra, and tell her what we think of her while we’re doing it, and head back to Landarn before anyone can stop us.”

  It was a wonderful plan, Edwin had to admit it. If they stole Trunke’s hansomme and set off now, they’d be in Morting hours earlier than planned, which would give Auntie Necra less time to… to do anything harmful to Mandoline.

  “I like that plan,” said Edwin. He stood up, put his gloves on and pulled his hood back over his head to show how eager he was to leave. He had managed to push his tiredness aside for the time being.

  “Won’t be a moment,” said Swarme and left the room. True to his word, he was back in no time at all.

  “Trunke’s safe and secure for hours,” he said. “No one will pay any attention if he calls out when it’s still dark. I’m the best in the world for knots. I heard Trunke snoring away and I thought to myself, Little do you know what’s going to happen when you try to open your bedroom door tomorrow.”

  “What is going to happen?” Lanthorne asked.

  “Nothing at all,” said Swarme, “because I’m…” He waited for one of the boys to finish his sentence.

  “Because you’re very good at knots,” said Edwin. He pushed his hood back again and made sure Swarme could see him smile.

  “Those white teeth,” said Swarme. “How do you cope with them? Now, I don’t need to pack because there’s nothing I want to take with me except my winter coat.”

  “You can’t bear to be reminded of your life here,” Lanthorne added, as if he knew all about such things.

  “Exactly so, little brother. Let’s find that hansomme. It’s quicker and safer if we go out by the front door. Besides, there are things you don’t want to see out the back.”

  Edwin was absolutely not going to ask Swarme what he meant.

  Swarme put on his winter coat, which was ankle-length and seemed to be little more than a tube of cloth as thick as a carpet with sleeves that stuck out at right angles. �
��It’s not as smart as that coat of mine you’re wearing, Edwin,” he said. “I’m pleased to see how well my best coat suits you.”

  As Swarme opened the bedroom door, Edwin unexpectedly took off his gloves.

  “What now?” Swarme asked.

  Edwin sat back on the bed, slipped off his backpack and fiddled about inside it. “One last check to see I haven’t lost anything,” he said. “Mandoline’s a baby. She needs particular things.” He found the pocket with the notepad and pen he always kept there.

  Swarme and Lanthorne stood waiting for Edwin by the half-open door, their backs to him. He continued fiddling for a moment or two, with his head buried in his pack.

  “Ready,” he said at last.

  They hurried along the couple of passages that led to the hallway, and were soon inside the main downstairs room of the inne, heading for the front door. Edwin sprang another surprise at this point by darting away. A single lanthorne had been left burning near the fireplace and he rushed over to it, more or less able to see where he was going. When he reached the fireplace, he took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and threw it as hard as he could up the chimney. “For Jugge in Landarn,” he whispered and waited anxiously to see if his message fell back down. A distant clicking sound from somewhere high up in the chimney reassured him that it wouldn’t. It was the same sound he had heard in the Beanery when he sent his first note to Lanthorne.

  Swarme was reaching out for the bolts fastening the front door when Edwin darted away, and the note had already been posted by the time Swarme caught up with him beside the fireplace.

  “What are you playing at, Edwin?” Swarme demanded. “This is the most dangerous place you’ll ever visit in your life. We can’t waste time with silly games.”

  “I was just destroying a piece of paper with my name on,” Edwin lied. “I didn’t want to leave any Shiner evidence.”

  A rush of cold air told them that Lanthorne was holding the front door open for them. Swarme grabbed Edwin’s sleeve and marched him out of the inne. When he had shut the door quietly, he took some deep breaths and put his hands on Edwin’s shoulders.