Daemos Rising

by David J Howe

  Cavendish looked up briefly but continued his chant.

  ‘You have more energy for me,’ said the Dæmon. ‘You are broken, and a broken vessel bleeds faster than a sound one … Ahhh … What do you seek? What is your broken heart’s desire?’

  Tears ran from Cavendish’s eyes, and the Dæmon gestured with one of its hands to the stone statue of the gargoyle which was still crouching, immobile, where it had ended up. There was a hiss and glow of light, and the statue morphed into the shape of Kate herself!

  The statue walked across the cavern, smiled at the Dæmon, and approached Cavendish.

  He had stopped speaking, his mouth and lips dry. His eyes were locked on hers as she approached, raised a hand, and gently stroked his face, brushing away one of the tears.

  ‘What is it you want? You want this form? You want companionship? An end to loneliness? To despair? To feeling unwanted, and unloved? Give me those feelings, that power.’

  As she spoke, so Cavendish seemed to deflate, his face turned ashen grey, and his knees trembled, taking him down to the cavern floor.

  ‘That’s right,’ said the gargoyle. ‘You’re a good, good man.’

  With Cavendish down, the gargoyle moved over to the Dæmon, and knelt by its feet, looking up at it.

  Mastho drew in a deep breath, smoke and flame-lights flickering around it. ‘Power … freedom …’ it sighed.

  Kate narrowed her eyes. This wasn’t right. Cavendish had done nothing wrong.

  ‘… from a good man,’ she said quietly.

  The Dæmon paused, and then, with a hiss of smoke and roiling fumes, it moved towards her. She stood her ground, trying hard not to scream, as the creature came close to her. It regarded her for a moment, and then raised a hand and, with the gentlest of touches, brushed her own cheek.

  There was a crackle of energy and Kate stepped back as though she had been punched in the stomach. A rush of golden energy trailed from the Dæmon’s fingers and back to Kate as it tasted her essence.

  The Dæmon dropped its hand.

  ‘Your father would know what to do …’ it said simply. Goading her and reading her and understanding totally where her loyalties and beliefs lay.

  Kate straightened up. She felt drained, but she was not going to let this … Dæmon or whatever it was start to talk about her father in that way. She knew that it was trying to destabilise her. To break her in the same way it had broken Cavendish. That wasn’t going to happen.

  ‘My father is a good man,’ she said. ‘As is he.’ She gestured to Cavendish. ‘And if you feel you’ve won, after having fed on his desires and hopes, then so be it. But I don’t have to stay and watch.’

  Kate gave a look back at the Dæmon, then turned her back on it and walked unsteadily towards the cavern entrance. Sometimes retreat was the better part of valour.

  3

  Discussions with the Devil

  As she left the main cavern area, Kate again felt the chill breeze on her skin. She walked along the roughly hewn tunnel, wondering how she would find her way out again.

  There was a strange rushing sound, and, as she turned a bend and came to another open area, the Dæmon was standing ahead of her once more.

  ‘Explain yourself,’ came the powerful voice.

  ‘Why?’ she said. ‘Can’t you tell when there’s more important things at stake than power? Don’t you have a heart? Look at what you have taken … perhaps you’ll find the answer there. But I doubt it.’

  Kate took a deep breath. If you were going to argue with a Devil-God then you’d better make it a good argument, she thought.

  She stopped and looked up at Mastho. ‘If you’re going to destroy the Earth, or whatever it is you want to do, then I want to be with the people I love. My son. My dad … That’s more important than arguing with you.’

  The Dæmon regarded her for a moment, and then a chuckling sound echoed around the caverns. Kate realised that the creature was laughing.

  ‘That is an interesting observation, human. Power causes you to react in different ways.’

  There was a movement behind Kate, and she turned to see the gargoyle creature appear behind her, but still looking like herself. It was very disconcerting.

  The Dæmon looked at the gargoyle. ‘Ahh … my channel to the future. What have you to say? I will allow you back into the control of those who sent you …’

  The image of Kate flickered gently, and she rocked on her feet before stabilising, her face taking on the hard look which she had seen before in the cottage.

  ‘Power,’ said the gargoyle, ‘is whatever humanity makes of it. You are simply the catalyst, not the cause or the reaction.’

  In St Paul’s Cathedral, the shattered woman spoke the same words as the gargoyle uttered in 2003.

  ‘… not the cause or the reaction.’

  The High Executioner muttered some psyonic incantation under her breath, trying to gain full control over her creature.

  ‘We are so close,’ she said. ‘Mastho, the Dæmon, is with them, and we must gain full control. We must be seen as the worthy successors of its power.’

  She looked at the acolytes, slowly circling them. ‘Increase the ritual of binding!’

  They started a slow rhythmic chant, cabbalistic words designed and planned to capture the Dæmon and bind it to their will. Or at least to root it to one place and time so they could work further on proving that they should be the ones to receive its great power.

  Mastho regarded the gargoyle Kate with interest.

  ‘… the Portal is still open. I can feel the Sodality probing, testing me with their rituals and their bindings …’ It sounded thoughtful, impressed that these humans from the future could even do such a thing.

  Kate looked at the Dæmon. What argument could she use which might make it turn away. What was it that it wanted anyway? She realised that she actually had no idea what this massive Devil-like creature wanted. Why was it on Earth?

  She plucked up courage and asked the obvious question: ‘So what do you want?’

  The creature seemed to waver and flicker as it searched for the answer. ‘Cavendish was lonely … despairing … he wanted … he wanted …’

  Kate was interested that it seemed to be looking for the answer in Captain Cavendish’s memories. Maybe that was it. The creature had been summoned using his power, so maybe it was being driven by some of Cavendish’s desires as well.

  ‘Love?’ she blurted.

  At this, the gargoyle laughed and stepped forward to confront the Dæmon alongside Kate.

  ‘I … I cannot recognise that,’ said Mastho. ‘But there is much which interests me.’

  ‘We are taking what is rightfully ours,’ said the gargoyle. ‘The power to control this zone, to extend our worship of you through all times. Love does not come into it.’

  Kate could recognise the voice of that long-haired woman who seemed to be in charge in the future in what the gargoyle said.

  She considered all that she had seen. In particular the business with the Great Intelligence at the University. Some good people had become infected with its power, but whatever it wanted to achieve had been thwarted.

  ‘But power corrupts,’ said Kate. And then, remembering her own love for her father. ‘Love heals. A world without love is pointless.’

  The gargoyle looked at her. ‘Love is transient. Humans die every day, love unrequited. Pathetic.’

  Kate was not having this. ‘But love transcends death,’ she said. ‘Why do people mourn? Because they have lost something precious and valuable. Because they continue to love.’

  Mastho the Dæmon nodded his great head, seeming to take in and understand what Kate was saying. The gargoyle saw this too, and chipped in:

  ‘Don’t listen to her. She’s trying to trick you. You have been summoned by the Sodality … you must obey.’

  The Dæmon turned its attention to the gargoyle. ‘Obey? You … what are you? An artifact controlled from the future by those who would seek my powe
r. Do you know this thing called love?’

  ‘With power there is no need for love.’

  The rumbling laugh again echoed through the caverns and tunnels. ‘Power … power! Is that all your puny minds can conceive?’

  The gargoyle looked concerned, and frowned as it received further instructions from the future.

  It crouched on the ground and started to intone a further psyonic incantation.

  ‘Eco eco dah a elttil bmal … eco eco dah a elttil bmal … eco eco dah a elttil bmal.’

  Kate looked from the gargoyle back to the Dæmon. What would it do now?

  ‘So go on then,’ she called bravely. ‘Do whatever it is you were summoned for.’

  The creature looked at Kate. It found these humans fascinating. No wonder their great race had chosen this planet for its experiment. Even though the humans thought they understood, they actually knew little of the Dæmon’s great plan …

  ‘The Sodality want my power to control this temporal zone,’ it said thoughtfully. ‘Even now they are preparing to take it. But I am a Dæmon, and they dare to try and shackle me.’

  It looked again towards the tunnel which led to the main cavern where Cavendish had been left.

  ‘Love … You humans are fascinating.’

  It turned back to Kate. ‘Three times I can be summoned. This Sodality forgets this. Perhaps they need reminding … and their portal works both ways … The experiment continues.’

  With that, the huge creature raised a hand and touched the gargoyle on its head. The gargoyle stopped chanting and screamed, both it and the Dæmon fading away as the scream echoed through the caverns.

  Then all was silent.

  Kate looked around. There was no sign of the Dæmon or of the gargoyle thing. It was cold, and the breeze blew against her. She breathed out and saw her breath steaming in the air.

  She turned and made her way back down the tunnel to where she had left Cavendish, all the time wondering what his departure meant.

  4

  Endgame

  The High Executioner was not happy with how things were progressing. She could not understand how the Dæmon could be so interested in love. It was not a concept that played any part in the Sodality. It was all about power, and the need to capture the power from the Dæmons so that they could rule the Earth unopposed.

  In St Paul’s Cathedral, there was a shudder in the rocks underfoot as the energy that they were sending to maintain the portal and the gargoyle in 2003 was suddenly returned to them.

  The air around them darkened and a wind blew up inside the building, drawing dust and rubble towards a centre point where the energy was being focussed.

  The High Executioner recognised this from the Dæmon’s last appearance in Venice, 1586. The Dæmon was coming.

  Some of the acolytes were dragged in also, screaming as their bodies were crushed to a pulp, their blood and bone forming part of the swirling maelstrom.

  The two control elements: the shattered man and woman, sat in their cyborg cradles, all emotion had been purged in their conversion to the cause, so now they just sat and observed.

  There was a massive rumble, and the huge form of Mastho appeared in the church, towering over them all. Its goat-like hooves clattering on the stone floor, and sending chips of paving and debris in all directions.

  ‘Where is the one in control!’ roared the Dæmon. ‘I would speak with them.’

  There was a moment’s silence as the remaining acolytes all scurried for cover.

  The High Executioner stepped forward. ‘I am in charge.’

  The Dæmon considered her for a moment, and then spoke.

  ‘In my timeline this is the first time I have been summoned. You know already that you may summon me but three times.’

  The High Executioner looked at the Dæmon and smiled. She had already summoned this creature once before in her own, somewhat convoluted, timeline, back in 1586, and was familiar with the process and appearance. It didn’t stop it being quite terrifying though.

  ‘I know this, Lord Mastho,’ she said.

  The Dæmon paused and looked around. ‘So this is what your power has wrought so far,’ it said. ‘Death. Destruction. Fear.’

  It shook its head. ‘You humans …’

  It turned and moved closer to the High Executioner.

  ‘Know this, little human,’ it said. ‘This will be your death and your salvation. You may not be able to see what is to come, but for us it is as simple as flicking through the pages in a book.’

  The High Executioner frowned, not quite grasping what the Dæmon was saying.

  ‘But … I …’

  ‘Silence!’ cried the Dæmon. Its voice echoed in the church and as it faded, there was indeed silence.

  ‘You play with me further, and I will deem this experiment a failure, just as I suspect my brother Azal did before me. Now leave me!’

  The Dæmon watched as the acolytes hurried for the exit. The High Executioner gestured to two of her handpeople, and they pushed the trolleys on which the shattered man and woman rested out as well.

  As she turned to leave, the High Executioner bowed deeply. ‘My Lord,’ she said, before turning and sweeping out of the church.

  Left alone inside the chamber, the Dæmon Mastho gathered his energies, and prepared for the return trip to his homeworld.

  Humans were so amusing. But not one of them had yet guessed the true purpose of the experiment. But they would. Very soon. At his third coming on Earth, all would be revealed.

  Mastho didn’t think the humans would like it. But that wasn’t his problem. And indeed, he didn’t even consider it further, just as a human pouring boiling water on an ant colony never considered what an inconvenience this might be for the ants.

  The spectral winds and power grew as Mastho prepared to step back through the dimensions to his own world. The air grew cold as the energy was sucked from it, and ice formed over the floor by his feet. With a roar of power and an inward rush of air to fill the void left by his body, the creature vanished.

  Epilogue

  Kate entered the main cavern chamber to find Cavendish sitting up, his back against the crude altar.

  Beside him was the ghost, standing as always and looking concerned and very faint.

  Cavendish looked up at Kate as she entered. ‘You managed to distract him then.’

  Kate frowned. ‘I’m not so sure,’ she said.

  ‘And we’re safe,’ said Cavendish, more as a reassurance to himself.

  ‘For the moment,’ agreed Kate.

  Cavendish seemed to slump. ‘Thank you Kate,’ he whispered.

  ‘That … creature, Mastho. It seemed very sure of itself. And three times it said … does that mean it will be back?’

  There was a fizzing noise like a radio being tuned, and Kate heard the ghost speaking to her.

  ‘It will be back … just not in your lifetime,’ he said.

  ‘What about you?’ asked Kate. ‘Will you be alright?’

  ‘Who can say,’ said the ghost. ‘Power … three … my own …’

  And then he faded from sight.

  ‘Does that mean we won?’ wondered Kate.

  She helped Cavendish to his feet and together they staggered to the entrance of the cavern. Kate looked back. Everything was quiet. The massive leather-bound book was lying open on the altar.

  Kate left Cavendish propped against the wall, and returned to the book. She looked at it but the symbols were once more unreadable.

  She closed the cover firmly.

  ‘I think we will keep that closed,’ she said.

  Then she returned to Cavendish and the two of them limped back through the tunnels, heading for the steps leading to the cottage.

  For the moment, the adventure was over.

  About The Author

  David J Howe has been involved with Doctor Who research and writing for over thirty years. He wrote the book Reflections: The Fantasy Art of Stephen Bradbury for Dragon’s World Publishers
and has contributed short fiction to Peeping Tom, Dark Asylum, Decalog, Dark Horizons, Kimota, Perfect Timing, Perfect Timing II, Missing Pieces, Shrouded by Darkness and Murky Depths, and factual articles to James Herbert: By Horror Haunted and The Radio Times Guide to Science Fiction. Another notable work of fiction is talespinning, a collection containing David’s many short story pieces and screenplays.

  www.howeswho.co.uk

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