Devastation

by Jane Dougherty

  Rajeev stopped scratching and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Erelah still hopes. She says it won’t end like this. It can’t.”

  Sanjay shrugged his hand away. “Like you say, she doesn’t know anything. She just hopes. And in what? Dreams!”

  Sanjay snorted but Rajeev knew his brother was close to tears.

  “Erelah sees things we don’t. We have to trust in her visions. Just look at how often they lead her to another supply of food,” Rajeev said, to convince himself as much as Sanjay.

  “She won’t find anything if she keeps prowling around the school.”

  “Her visions tell her there’s something left there,” Rajeev said.

  “How can there be?” Sanjay’s voice was rising, shrill and petulant. “The canteen was looted years ago. Even the rats have moved on.”

  Rajeev licked his chapped lips. “If Erelah says she’ll do something, she will.”

  Sanjay wasn’t listening. His eyes had glazed over as they did when he was slipping into an inner world where he felt nothing. Rajeev feared his brother would slip so far nothing would bring him back. He made an effort to attract his attention.

  “Erelah says the ash falls less often now, and the cold is not quite so intense.”

  “We’ve just got used to it.” Sanjay’s voice was dull, indifferent. “What’s the difference anyway? The slime are everywhere. One day they’ll be back, when they’ve eaten everybody else.”

  As if that was the trigger, Sanjay’s voice broke, and he began to cry. Rajeev hated it when Sanjay wept. He was sixteen years old, but five of them had been spent in this non-time of the Abomination. That was the name Erelah gave the darkness where nothing changed and everything died. Sanjay had not developed since he was eleven years old. He had learned nothing except how to hide. For five years they had survived by scavenging in the wreckage of Rajeev’s old school, hiding from the gangs, watching their companions die. Now they hid from the scourges and their hideous followers. There was no hiding from the black slime, just the waiting to be found. Rajeev put a comforting arm around the shoulders of the little boy who had never grown up.

  “Erelah is right. You’ll see. Just trust her.”

  Sanjay carried on sobbing.

  A muffled sound at the door stopped Rajeev’s breath. Even Sanjay stopped crying. Rajeev’s fingers curled round the handle of the knife that was always within easy reach. The door opened and a head poked round, a lock of golden hair falling over laughing eyes.

  “I found it! It was there after all!”

  “The way out? You found your dreamer in the stars?” Rajeev was on his feet, ready to leave right away.

  Erelah’s smile faltered, but only for a second. “The food store. The visions are never wrong. There was a van buried under the rubble beneath the school car park. It was a delivery for the kitchens.”

  Rajeev tried to smile back, but he felt Sanjay’s bitter disappointment like a leaden weight on his heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Black Thoughts and Gray Men

  “How do we get back in?” The words were clipped and terse. Jim had no idea how to bring down his own barrier.

  “Easy.” Yvain put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “For you, anyway. You made it. Another modeler would have found it extremely difficult, even if he was as talented as you.”

  Jim snorted in irritation. “Why do you always have to take the Mickey?”

  “But you are talented, master modeler,” Yvain laughed. “A modeler can always modify his own creation or even destroy it. Go ahead! The barrier will dissolve of its own accord if you don’t maintain it, but try and unravel the knots anyway. It helps to find a loose end and pull on it.”

  Jim frowned, uncertain whether he was angry or simply skeptical, then concentrated on his barrier. They could see Eirian sitting on her blanket, watching them, but she had not woken the others. Jim took a deep breath to try to control his trembling, and he reached out a hand to pull on an invisible strand that would unravel the whole structure. He pulled, and the barrier dispersed.

  “See?” said Yvain. “Easy.”

  Jim shot him a black look then went over to his blanket, and, without a word, lay down. Eirian raised an eyebrow.

  “Golem,” Yvain whispered.

  Eirian raised both eyebrows and got to her feet. Jim kept his eyes on her, feeling an inexplicable anger boiling up inside. Eirian crouched down at his side and placed a hand on his brow. He snatched at her hand to pull it away but she blocked his gesture.

  “Let yourself be helped, master modeler,” she murmured. “You will be of no use to your friends with a golem in your thoughts.”

  He struggled with his black thoughts and forced himself to loosen his grip on Eirian’s hand. His own tension eased, but he could tell from the expression on Eirian’s face, furrowed in a grimace of pain, what it was costing her. She held firm, her features contracting more and more, until, with an audible gasp, she removed her hand from his brow, stared at it, then cast about wildly, looking for something. Without a word, she got awkwardly to her feet, ran toward the container of fresh water and plunged her hand into it. The water hissed like a kettle, and she gave a sharp cry of pain.

  Whatever Eirian had ripped out of him had left a raw, bleeding wound. Jim grappled with the thoughts, to stop them flying out of his grip, to stuff them back into the emptiness inside. He watched as the water in the container continued to bubble and hiss and the steam to rise, drifting and dispersing in the breeze, like his chaotic thoughts. He watched, numb and confused, until Eirian slumped to the ground in a faint. Then he sat up, holding his head in his hands, and stumbled over to where she lay.

  Shaking off the clinging memory of the golem, Jim stared in horror at Eirian’s arm where, from the tips of her fingers to the elbow, the skin was red and angry-looking, and covered in watery blisters. Gently, Yvain took her in his arms, and Tancred rushed to the stream for fresh water

  “Is she all right?” Jim asked Yvain, the words rasping his throat painfully. “I felt it, like a sort of…leech. Eirian pulled it off me, I felt it let go and it…leapt at her.” Guilt hit him like a physical blow. “Will she be all right?”

  Tancred soaked a clean cloth in the stream water and wiped it over Eirian’s face. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked at the three of them as if she barely knew them. Her eyes rolled and closed again, her skin took on a waxy pallor and her breathing grew faint. Jim stared helplessly at the injured arm, his fingers reaching out then drawing back, afraid of hurting her. He held his breath until it felt as though his lungs were on fire, letting it out slowly as Eirian’s eyelids flickered, and her eyes opened properly. She groaned and her features twisted in a grimace of pain.

  “That was…most unpleasant.”

  Jim let out his relief in a splutter of laughter. Yvain joined him. Jack sat up with a jolt and stared at the laughing faces.

  “Couldn’t you lot have your party somewhere else? There’s some of us wouldn’t mind a bit of a kip, you know.” He gave them a reproachful look. “You might not be taking this Wormwood lark seriously, but I can tell you, it’s the most bleedin’ awful thing that ever happened to me.”

  Yvain’s eyes flashed with laughter. “Jack, you know perfectly well you’re having the time of your life. Especially now that things are getting really interesting.”

  “You’re right. Tell me what I missed then.”

  “Later.” Yvain placed a finger to his lips and nodded toward the four sleeping forms. “Eirian’s arm needs attention first, mate,” Jim said, rummaging in Eirian’s saddlebags for a soothing cream and bandages.

  “Jack, if you can bear to wait until the morning for an explanation, would you mind volunteering to take the next watch?” Yvain asked.

  “If I knew what I was watching for it would help,” he replied. “I’m guessing it’s not Red Indians or man-eating tigers.”

  “Believe me, Jack,” Jim said, pausing in his bandaging efforts, “man-eating tigers would be a p
iece of cake after what we’ve just been through.”

  Jack winced. “Okay. Tell me tomorrow.”

  Jim moved his blanket next to the sleeping Eirian. “Just keep your eye on the fire, will you?” he said to Jack. “Man-eating tigers. Just in case, you know?”

  Jack threw a stick at him and snorted. Jim lay as close to Eirian as he dared, too wound up to sleep immediately. The very stillness of the forest was suspect and he found himself straining his ears for the comforting sounds of branches soughing in the breeze or even raindrops pattering on leaves. Nothing, though, broke the silence except the soft breathing of his companions. His restless gaze was drawn to where Tully and Carla lay sleeping, their hands tightly clasped.

  That pair—the hope of Lutecia and the whole world. Jesus!

  The thought would have been funny if it hadn’t been so horribly true. Suddenly the silent night seemed even more menacing.

  * * * *

  It was at the hour of the wolf that they struck, the darkest hour before the gray dawn, when the body and the soul were at their lowest ebb. Dusty was awake, her hackles raised, showing all her teeth in a silent snarl. They had changed watch again, and it was Tully who raised the alarm. They were all but invisible in the darkness, but he sensed the almost imperceptible change in the air pressure that signaled the presence of intruders—that, and the unmistakable smell of evil. Tully held his breath, and he could hear it, the cold presence that thickened the air around their clearing. His first thought was for the weapons they had brought, still in the saddlebags and out of reach. He cursed himself and everybody else for a bunch of amateurs then silently scuttled over to Jim to shake him properly awake.

  “There’s trouble! Get working on a defense or a weapon,” he whispered. “Anything. Just make it quick!”

  Jim cast about for the danger, ready to create his air ropes.

  “Everybody up!” Tully roared and raced across the campsite to shake his dad into life. The others were scrambling sleepily to their feet when something charged into the clearing—five men, gray-faced with staring, bloodshot eyes. Yvain and Tancred stood back to back, their staffs held at waist height. Carla joined Tully, a long kitchen knife filched from Flo’s kitchen in her hand.

  “Ropes, Jim,” Yvain shouted. “Round them up!”

  The gray men lunged, clubs in one hand, ropes coiled around their waists. Dusty bounded at the same time, grabbing one by the throat. The man snarled, an inhuman bestial sound, but her jaws clamped tight shut around the man’s jugular, crushing the life out of the source of her fear. Jim was a whirling tornado of arms and ropes of air, but he only managed to bind one of the gray men. The three remaining attackers split up, circling, snarling like mad dogs. Then one of them pounced, catching at Jeff’s leg and dragging him toward the trees. Kat screamed and threw herself onto the gray man’s back.

  “Jack,” Yvain called. “Brands, from the fire!”

  Without waiting to be asked twice, Jack bent and picked up a glowing branch in either hand. Jim glanced across at Eirian, who was still too groggy to move, and he did the same, flaring the dying embers into a fierce flame.

  “GetoffathatKat!” Jack roared and charged Jeff’s captor, who was struggling with one hand to unlace Kat’s hands from around his throat. As Kat slid to the ground, the man swiped at the burning branch with his freed hand. Jack darted the second branch at him, and the gray man shrieked as the flames caught at his sleeve and ran up his arm. Jeff rolled to one side then lashed out with his foot, tripping the screaming gray man. Tancred dealt him a crushing blow that caved in his skull at the temple.

  Carla was weaving and dodging the flailing club of her assailant, as Tully waited for an opening. It came when the gray man recoiled in pain as Carla’s knife sliced across his ribs. Tully sprang, bringing the wounded man to the ground with a dropkick. The momentum rolled him over on himself then brought him back on his feet, just in time to see Carla plunge her knife into the gray man’s back. Tully felt numb with shock, too numb to react when the remaining gray man went for him, dodging beneath Jim’s flaming brand and swinging his ugly-looking club into his back.

  Tully groaned and fell forward onto his face. He tried to turn over, but the weight of the gray man on his back pinned him down. He turned his head and saw the mad red eyes and the grinning mouth panting and the raised arm with the club poised over his head. He heaved, grunting with the effort, and saw the raised arm jerk higher, the wrist twisting uselessly, the fingers open then the club fall. The weight shifted and Tully rolled over onto his back, knees flexed to kick the gray man in the chest. His feet found empty air as something invisible yanked the man over backward and held his arms held together at the wrists. His legs lashed out frantically until Jim stilled them with another rope of air.

  Yvain, his hair loose about his face, tied up the first attacker with his own rope. Tully watched as Carla calmly wiped her knife on the coat of the man she had killed. She turned to him when she had finished. He saw the cold light still in her eyes, and he almost recoiled. But the light faded, and the old Carla rushed to him, conflicting emotions chasing one another across her face—confusion, fear, triumph and guilt.

  “Are you okay?” she murmured, as Tully pulled her close.

  “Of course I am,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve got Conan the Barbarian’s little sister watching out for me, haven’t I?”

  Eirian, clutching her bandaged arm, was inspecting the gray men who lay inert by the fire. She shook her head and turned away, but not before Tully had seen the reproach in her eyes. For a while nobody spoke, then Jeff answered the unspoken question.

  “They came from the farm by the river.”

  “Why?” Kat’s voice trembled with shock.

  “They were looking for Eblis.” Yvain’s face was solemn for once. “This will happen often, I am afraid. Wormwood has corrupted their minds, convinced them that they must capture Eblis for him, if they are to be spared.”

  “We don’t need anyone to tell us to get Eblis,” a hoarse voice rose from the gray man lying face down now on the ground. “It stands to reason. Wormwood wants him. We hand him over. Wormwood goes home.”

  Eirian shook her head. “Lies. Wormwood will spare no one once he is reunited with Eblis, least of all you.”

  She placed her hand on the man’s forehead, where sweat stood out in greasy droplets. He panted in fear, and Eirian drew back her hand sharply. Tully saw the memory of the golem in the pain in her eyes.

  “Eblis is here.” The voice was harsher, lower, more bestial. “I feel his presence. Come, Eblis. It is time!”

  Eirian leapt to her feet with a cry. Dusty whined piteously, and her ears flattened against her skull.

  “The Light-Bringer!” Jeff whispered, as the ropes binding the gray man began to smoke and dissolve.

  “Get back,” Yvain shouted, and in a movement that brought into play every muscle in his body, brought his staff down on the gray man’s head, reducing it to a pulp. Kat screamed and put her hands over her eyes. There was a strange throaty cough, and Carla spun around.

  “Tully, look out!”

  The second prisoner was arching his back and threshing from side to side, his eyes starting from his head.

  “Eblis,” his voice grated like a fox barking. With a sharp crack, the ropes broke and the gray man sprang to his feet.

  Tancred and Jack moved at the same time, but Tully was quicker. The discarded club lay at his feet, he picked it up, and in the same graceful movement, raised it above his head and brought it down with all his strength on the upraised forehead of the gray man. There was a sickening crunch as the bone caved in, and the mad eyes rolled white in their sockets.

  Tully looked at the club in his hands and the red stain at the end, then opened his fingers and let it drop. Carla was at his side in an instant, her arms about him holding him tight.

  “Eirian,” she whispered. But Eirian was already on her way, with her healer’s hands to soothe away the horror that comes from the taki
ng of a life.

  They dragged the corpses into the bushes. Kat had objected but Jeff explained that there was no ‘right thing’ to do with them. The men were dead and Wormwood had their souls. What happened to their bodies was neither here nor there.

  “And funnily enough, coffins were something we forgot to pack,” Jack said, provoking an unwilling smile from Kat. Tancred and Yvain had saddled the horses, and as the first light of dawn broke, they made their way deeper into the forest, following a course that was gradually swinging around to the north.

  * * * *

  Gray dust swirled about a patch of darkness at the edge of the clearing, banked against the invisible barrier then blew away to the side. In the deepest darkness gray-white shapes appeared like corpses floating in a muddy river. The shapes rose into the shallows of darkness then fell back into the depths. The air grew cold, ice formed at the rim, and the barrier turned to ice. Gradually, fine fissures appeared, and the ice cracked, letting thin black fingers pick it apart. Then darkness oozed like black slime into the clearing and the air filled with a creeping, viscous smog.

  Chapter Fifteen

  An Ivory Monkey

  Like the previous day, the sky was covered with low clouds, but a chill wind had dissipated the stormy atmosphere and the temperature had dropped sharply. Silence hung heavy over the forest, and as they progressed, Jim noticed that they all, except Yvain, seemed to be looking apprehensively over their shoulders every few minutes. Tancred called a halt around midday, but the brooding quiet reduced the conversation to uneasy whispering. Jim was glad nobody brought up the question of the unsettling events of the previous night.

  After they had watered the horses at the stream, they hobbled them and let them graze in the grassy clearing, while Jim helped Tully and Carla prepare a meal. Dusty took herself off along the animal track that led from the clearing, and Jeff called to her, his voice shrill and anxious. Yvain shook his head. “Leave the hound be. She’s only gone to take a look around.”