The Curse of Salamander Street

by G. P. Taylor

  ‘Had I have slept and not entered into foolish stories you would never have known,’ he replied.

  ‘So was meeting us a coincidence?’ Raphah asked.

  ‘Like a moth to a flame I seek the beggar and his people. I could feel it in my bones, something stirred within the earth. I knew that Riathamus had returned, but was too late. The night of the sky-quake and then the comet – all were signs of his return and the world saw them not. I followed my heart and upon a barren road found you.’ Barghast spoke quietly as if the walls listened to them. ‘Tonight you showed yourself on the moor – powerful magic, healing a madman. I quite expected the pigs to rush into the lake and drown themselves … Then again, you are not the beggar, only his lackey.’

  ‘And you’re the carcass that can never die,’ Raphah said as he gripped Barghast’s hand until he called out in pain. ‘I would not expect a man who can cheat death to cry like a dog.’

  ‘Nor a prophet who heals to bring pain,’ Barghast said as he snatched away his hand.

  ‘So you follow us?’ Raphah asked.

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself. News of your arrival spread amongst my associates … Soon, everyone was talking about the healer. If Demurral hadn’t caught you there would have been others far more powerful than that meddler. I searched you out for selfish reasons.’ Barghast moved closer to the fire. ‘I hunt for the last road on which my earthly feet will walk. I have looked for it many times but it can’t be found. It’s as if it only appears to invited guests, those whose fate it holds in its hands. You are the key I have been looking for.’ He leaned closer to Raphah as if to bring him in to a deeper secret. ‘There is another who travels with us who seeks the place also. Somewhere in the city is …’

  From the room above Lady Tanville screamed in horror. It pierced the silence of the dark night. Beadle jumped from his sleep as Raphah and Barghast ran to the stairway. He followed, not knowing why he was running towards the screams when his wits told him to flee.

  The landing quickly filled with the guests at the inn. Merchants, soldiers, mountebanks and laggards ran from their sleeping. Barghast kicked open the door. In the centre of the room was a large black dog the size of a man. Lady Tanville cowered against the end of the bed, candlestick in hand as she screamed and screamed.

  The dog turned and looked at Barghast and growled. He stepped forward into the room as Raphah tried to hold him back. The dog hackled and snarled, spitting blood from its teeth and shivering with anger. It stood its ground, its head darting back and forth as it looked from Barghast to Lady Tanville. The creature panted as it stood, its breath phosphorescent in the meagre light.

  ‘Stay away,’ Barghast said quietly as Carsington attempted to push by.

  ‘It’s Black Shuck, he’s returned,’ the man cried as he caught a glimpse of the dog. It bristled with fear and repugnance at the smell of humankind, and coughed as if it choked on the blood that dripped from its mouth.

  Lady Tanville trembled as the creature paced the room, its head swaying. The breeze blew the drapes at the open window.

  The dog settled back, its eyes glowering as its stench filled the chamber.

  Slowly, inch by inch, Barghast moved closer, his eyes fixed upon the beast. It glared at him as it bared its teeth. There was a sudden cry from the passageway as fearful voices spread the word of Black Shuck.

  Without warning, Carsington ran into the room and dived upon the beast, grabbing it by its throat and attempting to wrestle it to the floor. Lady Tanville ran from the bed as Black Shuck twisted and spun with Carsington gripped in its jaws.

  ‘A gun, bring a gun!’ Beadle shouted as he pulled her from the room.

  Barghast slammed the door behind her and locked it from within, barring it with an old chair.

  Raphah banged against the door, shouting to be let in. From inside came the screams of Carsington and the howling of the beast that ripped at him in frenzy. A soldier smashed at the wood with the butt of his musket. Raphah and Beadle kicked and punched the wooden slats. The door held fast as the pandemonium within grew louder. It was as if two beasts pitched themselves to the death. The floor trembled like the opening of hell’s gates. There was a roar of a wind that sealed the room and pushed the door against itself. The wood bowed into the hallway. Raphah stepped back as the noise grew more intense. The sound of the howling dog filled the Inn and shook the windows, and all who heard it trembled.

  There was then complete silence. Raphah kicked at the door again and heard the chair slide to the floor. He looked to the soldier who stepped back, his face saying he would go no further for fear of what was inside. Beadle held Lady Tanville as she wept beside them.

  With one hand Raphah turned the handle and pushed against the door. It opened slowly. He looked into the room. Gone was the beast. Carsington lay like a cloth doll in a pool of blood. Raphah took a pace inside. He listened for any sound of the animal. All was still.

  Inside the chamber was the heavy smell of blood. It had the stench of a charnel house. By the window lay Barghast, his face ripped open as if a wild animal had gorged upon it.

  As he looked on, Raphah saw what should have been Barghast’s hand. The flesh was ripped from the bone.

  ‘Let no one see,’ Barghast said as he laboured to speak. ‘I thought that it would kill me and for a moment saw death. How cruel this curse,’ he whispered. ‘It was the hell-hound, but not the one they speak of. There is a changeling in our midst, a beast of hell that wants to see us all dead.’

  Quondam Discomfit

  THE moment Thomas stepped upon the factory floor, the sound of screaming rang out. Far away he could hear the cries from the tower. It was a voice he knew, the voice of Smutt. The lad screamed for help, his wailing carrying down the open tower with its spiral staircase and through the halls and galleries that made up his world.

  ‘He’s escaped!’ Smutt screamed loudly. ‘A killer, he’s escaped …’

  Like the wail of a far-off sea-horn, a susurrating voice rumbled in a low moan that echoed throughout the workhouse. ‘Rooms – back to your rooms!’ It repeated again and again, louder and louder, drowning the cries of Smutt to a whisper.

  From every floor came the sudden sound of a stampede. Footsteps clattered on wooden boards as hundreds of feet dashed to their lodgings. Thomas hid in the shadows, wondering what to do next. Two Druggles ran by, each with cudgel and red-laced boots. They dashed up the stairs of the tower, following the sound of Smutt’s cries for help.

  Thomas knew that somehow he would have to retrace his steps through the countless passages and workshops until he found the doorway out of Glaphus’s workhouse. For the moment, he hid himself in a dark corner of the stairwell and tried to think. Smutt’s screaming grew louder and closer by the minute as the boy shouted of how Thomas had tried to kill him by throwing him from the tower.

  He could wait no longer – he would have to run. Darting from the blackness like a bolting fox, Thomas made for the workshop. All was still. No one was to be seen. It was eerily silent. Upon every anvil was a leather hammer, and over them a neatly folded apron. Gone were the rows of workers who had tap, tap, tapped the seconds of the day. Now, there was just Thomas.

  As he looked on, he became aware of a set of footsteps prowling in the darkness. Thomas moved quietly along a narrow aisle between cold anvils. He kept as low as he could, just peering out to see who followed him. From the murky corridor appeared a Druggle, cudgel in hand, tapping it on his palm in time with every footstep. As he walked, he searched for Thomas, looking along the empty rows and listening with each step.

  Thomas crouched behind a rack of heavy overcoats, hoping to cover himself and not be seen. They rubbed against his face and made him want to cough. He held his breath, hoping that the Druggle would turn and go back the way he came. But footstep after footstep, he came closer to his hiding place. Thomas knew he couldn’t move or he would be discovered.

  It was just one boy, he thought as he choked on his breath. One boy and that was all
, not much older than himself – he could take a chance, take him by surprise. He waited until the Druggle came to within an arm’s length. Thomas stood as still as death, his lungs fit to burst, and then in an instant he thrust the coat rack upon the lad. Its wooden spikes cracked against the Druggle’s skull. Thomas kicked out with his boots as he grabbed the cudgel. The fearless lad seized his leg and held fast with brawny hands.

  Without thinking, Thomas lashed out with the cudgel as hard as he could. There was a head-bending scream as the lad’s arm snapped. Thomas ran. On and on he blindly stormed through the building. His feet clattered, banging out his place in the world for all who could follow. Left – right – back and forth. Corridor after corridor.

  From behind feet chased him. He turned as he ran but could see no one. He could hear them running above him until he reached the stairs, but Thomas ran faster. Down a level. Across a landing. Into unfamiliar places. Panic gripped him tightly with unwelcome arms. His breaths burnt his chest, his heart pounded, his feet ached and blistered within the ill-fitting boots.

  Then the sound of the Dragon’s Heart beat out from somewhere very near. It echoed from hall to hall, shaking the building with each beat. The sound went on and on until all the notes merged into one long continuous pitch. The sound pierced Thomas’s ears until his mind was blinded, numb. His heart began to ache as his guts shook and shook with each wave.

  Thomas ran as fast as he could to get away, but upon his feet the boots came to life. They seized his ankles, squeezing his feet to bursting and stopping him dead. The louder the Dragon’s Heart, the greater the pain. It was as if they had been brought to life and fought against him. The boots became as lead weights holding him to the floor and stopping him from running. He dragged his feet clumsily across the wooden boards, scraping them as he went. Hiding in a dark shadow, he tried to untie the laces. They became like tiny snakes in his fingers, snapping at him to leave them be as they coiled about his ankles.

  The boots twisted and pulled, turning his feet until he fell to the floor. Thomas dragged himself across the workhouse until he came to the stairs. He slid face-down down several flights, loose nails biting at his skin. All the while he could hear the Druggles coming closer. The demon boots gripped him until tears came from his eyes and blood flowed from his ankles.

  Pulling himself into a tight ball, Thomas attempted to roll from flight to flight. The treads of each stair bit at his back as he fell downwards. High above him the beat of the Dragon’s Heart went on. It shivered his heart and quivered in his guts, vibrating them from him. He could feel his insides dance, and as he breathed his lungs had the air beaten from them like a springtime carpet. The boots crushed his feet to breaking as he tumbled into the black hallway.

  Ahead of him was a light. He could see the lanterns that had welcomed him to the factory. There was the green door, its paint flaked from the wood like dead skin. The Druggles had gone. Thomas was alone. He got to his feet, dragging them as if he pulled the world behind him. He screamed with pain as he reached out. His boots were rooting him to the wooden floorboards as he clutched the brass handle.

  Incredibly, the door fell open as the beating footsteps of the Druggles thundered down the stairs. Thomas fell into the dimly lit yard. The sound of the Dragon’s Heart faded. He was free.

  The boots loosened their grip as he got to his feet and began to run. He ran towards the blackness of the alleyway and then – a cane snapped across his legs, knocking him to the ground. Within two paces, Galphus’s hand gripped him by the throat and held him to the floor. As he looked up he saw that Druggles surrounded him.

  ‘Take him to the cell and teach him a lesson,’ Galphus said eagerly as Smutt appeared in the doorway. ‘You did well, Smutt. For this you will be rewarded.’

  Smutt bowed, grinning at Thomas who was arm-gripped and dragged past him. Smutt cracked him one to the face and then the chest as quickly as he could and laughed out loud.

  ‘Even,’ Smutt said as he spat in Thomas’s face. ‘Pray they keep you in prison for I’ll be waiting.’

  Thomas was pulled back inside the factory and down a flight of stone steps to a basement room. It smelt like a converted sewer with iron bars across the grates. In the corner was a wooden bed held against the wall by two iron chains. There was no light. From all around came the sound of running water and the damp dew of an icy underworld.

  ‘We meet again,’ said a young Druggle with a grin upon his face. ‘I’ll be back to give you a lesson myself. I won’t say when I shall come or what will be done. Waiting is half the pleasure. First we’ll see how you like the dark.’

  With that Thomas was left alone as the light was shut out with the closing of the door. He closed his eyes tight shut, wanting to keep the memory of the light within him. He sat upon the bed in complete darkness and took off the boots. This time there were no snakes to bite at his fingers and they slipped easily from his bruised feet. The power of the Dragon’s Heart was finished when the gong ceased its ringing.

  Above him he could hear Galphus barking angrily at Smutt for allowing Thomas to get that far. There was a sudden crack of a cane and a shriek of pain. Thus, Smutt was given his reward. He could hear the lad’s tears as he cried over his treachery. ‘Take him,’ Galphus said to the Druggles. ‘Do unto him what he would have done to another.’ Thomas thought of his own punishment and what the Druggle would do upon his return.

  He waited in the dark. The green door slammed shut and footsteps echoed along the alley above. The sound of Galphus’s footsteps filtered through the drain from the street. Thomas could taste the strong and vile air. For a moment he opened his eyes and the light from inside vanished – now he felt dark within as without. He tried to remember what was in the cell and where the door was. In the thick black, he was mouse-blind. He reached out to the wall and followed the stones until he found the door. Now he knew from where the young Druggle would come.

  Thomas didn’t know if he had slept at all during his waiting. One thing was in no doubt: his dreams had escaped him. All he was aware of was another presence in the cell. It was as if he had woken from sleep to find someone staring at him, someone he couldn’t see. He knew they were there. They could be felt close by. Thomas could neither hear them breathe nor feel their heat, but in the night-black he knew he was not alone.

  As a young boy he had once awoken from a nightmare. In the dark of the cell it came easily to mind as if he were there again. His room was dark and the sky jet-black and starless. The night sweats wetted his head as if he had slept rolled in damp seaweed. All he could recall was that as soon as he opened his eyes, he was aware of someone near. Half-dreaming, he had called out, and his father had answered, telling him to fear not and all was well. Thomas had lain back against the pillows and in that complete trust had drifted again into sleep.

  All of a sudden a noise of screaming came from outside. It called from far away, then grew closer by the second and then stopped. Thomas could hear nothing more. The cries carried on in his mind, and he knew it was the sound of someone falling.

  Within the darkness of the cell, the cold presence came even closer. Thomas sat against the wall, believing something sentient to be near to him. He could smell the scent of wild jasmine that overwhelmed the stench of the sewer. As he sat upon the bench he could feel someone sit next to him and then touch his face. Thomas sat completely still, wondering if by some strange means the Druggle had returned. He said nothing as a swish of crinoline swept the floor and there came a sound of faint laughter, and then all was gone. He held his breath to listen, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

  From the alleyway above, Thomas heard the tap, tap of Galphus’s cane. It seemed speedy and urgent and matched his steps. He rattled a door with a heavy turn of the key and entered quickly. All went quiet. The door opened to a room above Thomas’s head. He could pick out the sounds easily as they filtered down through the sewer. There was much talking and heated conversation that babbled and babbled. />
  ‘Get the boy and shut him up. I have been followed – we have visitors,’ Galphus belched at the guard.

  From outside in the alleyway came shouting. ‘Galphus! Galphus! I know you’re near!’ Crane screamed loudly as he stormed the labyrinth of passages like an incoming tide. ‘I want the boy and the boy comes now.’

  There was a scurry of feet from the stairs outside, the door to Thomas’s cell opened quickly and two Druggles grabbed Thomas from the darkness. They bound his hands and feet, gagged him tightly and then threw him to the floor.

  ‘Say nothing, make no sound, we have uninvited guests,’ one said as he slapped him around the face and left the room. Thomas lay in the darkness and listened as Crane beat upon the factory door.

  ‘Mister Jacob Crane – I am glad you have come at my wishes …’ Galphus fawned as Crane pushed his way into the factory. ‘Did my messenger find you?’

  ‘Don’t treat me like a fool, Galphus. You promised to bring the lad back. I’ve just seen the writ of indenture upon the door of the Salamander – the boy’s name is upon it.’

  ‘So it might be, a hasty decision on his behalf and one I warned him against. But sign he did, all legal and irreversible, Captain Crane.’

  ‘Just like death?’ asked Crane.

  ‘Sadly, just like death. And that is the grave matter of why I called you.’

  ‘Then I suggest if you wish to delay yours then you bring the boy to me now and give me the indenture. I promised him a future and your sweet ways will suit him not.’

  ‘If only that were possible. Were you not told?’ Galphus paused. ‘I sent word to you, Jacob … Life is so cruel,’ he said as he sat at the desk in the cold room that he used to store his goods. ‘There has been an accident. A fall from the roof, a stupid mistake, and poor Thomas is …’

  ‘No, Galphus, more lies?’ Crane asked.