by Alan K Baker
‘This is incredible,’ said Simon Castaigne as he gazed down at the planet’s surface from the main deck of the Aurelius. ‘I had never thought to look upon the surface of another world with my physical eyes.’
Oberon looked at his human companions, who were now sealed tightly within their environmental protection suits, and gave the occultist a sad smile. ‘Would that it were a happier world you are looking upon, Dr Castaigne,’ he said.
‘Indeed,’ Castaigne replied in a quiet voice, as he continued to watch the blasted grey-black landscape roll past beneath the vessel’s great keel. Imagining what this world might have been like before the blasphemous hunger had descended upon it from the stars, he supposed that there must once have been fields and forests, snow-frosted mountains and glittering blue seas, and great cities teeming with people following the complex trajectories of their lives.
Now, though, there was nothing but twisted, ash-coloured rock and scarred, empty plains sweeping silently to each horizon, a place from which light, life, even the laws of physics had been banished. He imagined this happening to Earth and shuddered.
Oberon turned away from the melancholy scene and addressed the platoon of fifty faerie warriors assembled on the deck behind them. Each was dressed in glittering green armour and carried the same type of weapon which Blackwood and Sophia had seen used to such great effect during the affair of the Martian Ambassador a few weeks previously. The faerie carbines looked like long, slender tree branches which ended in many-petalled blooms rippling with strange colours. Their delicate appearance, however, concealed a vast and terrible power, for they were capable of disgorging beams of energy which nothing in the material world could withstand.
Spreading his iridescent dragonfly wings, Oberon said in a loud and powerful voice, ‘Today, we go into battle against that which does not belong in the sane universe, against a thing of madness and insatiable hunger which has destroyed countless worlds and threatens to destroy countless more, beginning with our own beloved Earth.
‘Beneath us lies the Lake of Hali, which the King in Yellow has made his home. Like a malignant disease, he seethes and writhes within the tortured walls of a once-proud castle that now lies in strange ruin on the lakebed. It is this castle which we must enter, this citadel of madness and chaos which we must conquer, to thwart the beast within.
‘It will be a great trial of our strength and courage, for the Planetary Angels of Carcosa have told me of the Servitor of the King in Yellow which inhabits those twisted walls, and which will defend its master to the last.
‘Our strategy will be as follows: we shall penetrate the castle first and clear the way for our human friends, who will then destroy the Anti-Prism while the King in Yellow is in transit between this world and Earth. While we are doing battle, Queen Titania, my beloved wife, will lead the assault upon the Void Chamber beneath London and destroy the companion Anti-Prism there. With his entry and exit points destroyed, the King in Yellow will be trapped forever outside the realm of ordered space and time. Am I understood?’
‘Yes, my King!’ cried the faerie warriors in unison.
‘Our human friends well understand the reason we must enter the Castle of Demhe first, and so should you. The Planetary Angels of Carcosa have told me much of the Servitor which dwells there with its master: a terrible cousin of the creature which haunts the train tunnels beneath London. We will have to destroy it before our friends enter the castle, lest they see it and suffer the same fate as poor Alfie Morgan. Then they will be able to perform their part and destroy the Carcosa Anti-Prism, while Queen Titania directs the attack by Gerhard de Chardin and his Templar Knights on the Anti-Prism installed within the Void Chamber. Thus will humans be the ones to rid the Earth of its approaching doom. Thus will our ancient Covenant with the universe be preserved!’
Oberon gave a signal to the helmsman standing upon the aftcastle, and immediately the deck inclined as the Aurelius began to descend towards the churning cloud waves of the Lake of Hali.
The waves parted before the prow of the faerie ship, and with barely a jolt, Oberon’s great vessel cleaved the waters of the lake and plunged beneath the surface. Blackwood surmised that the protective shield was still in place, for he had no doubt that he and his companions would otherwise have been swept instantly from the main deck as the ship submerged.
The world was transformed into a green-tinged darkness that pressed horribly all around them, as if it were a living thing, intent on absorbing and destroying this new interloper. The foul murk was, however, short-lived, for at numerous points upon the deck and the vast walls of the forecastle and aftcastle, faerie lanterns were lit, and their illumination, at once powerful and gentle, its hue like luminous mother-of-pearl, banished the gloom in the ship’s immediate vicinity.
Carried by radio waves, Castaigne’s voice crackled in Blackwood’s and Sophia’s helmets. ‘Can’t say that’s much of an improvement.’
‘Not really,’ Blackwood replied, gazing out at the featureless green void surrounding them. ‘Do you have any idea how deep the lake is?’
Castaigne shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘I would estimate it to be about a thousand feet,’ said Sophia. There was a distinct tone of displeasure in her voice, and Blackwood quickly understood the reason.
‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he said. ‘I should have asked you first, since you are the only one among us who has actually plumbed these depths.’
‘That’s quite all right, Thomas,’ she replied, somewhat mollified.
For several minutes they descended through the livid green of the lake, expecting at any moment to be confronted by some slimy denizen. Their descent, however, continued unchallenged.
‘This is too easy,’ muttered Blackwood.
Castaigne glanced at him. ‘How so?’
‘I can’t imagine that the King in Yellow is unaware of our presence, and yet he allows us to approach. Why?’
‘I’ll wager it’s because he’s so cocksure of himself that he thinks he’ll be able to dispatch us once we enter his castle.’
‘I suspect Dr Castaigne may be right,’ said Oberon as he leaned over the balustrade and looked down into the dark depths. ‘On the other hand, it may be that he is keeping his minions close to him, their numbers concentrated, so that they can protect him as he prepares to travel to Earth.’ After a short pause, he continued, ‘In any event, we shall soon find out, for we are nearly upon the castle. Look…’
The others looked down in the direction he was pointing.
Sophia shuddered and closed her eyes, while both Blackwood and Castaigne took an involuntary step back.
‘Great God!’ said Castaigne. ‘Are we really to go in there?’
CHAPTER FOUR:
The Doom of Two Worlds
The castle emerged from out of the gloom like the fossil of some vast submarine entity that should never have existed on this or any other world in the sane universe. As he gazed down at it, Blackwood thought he could discern remnants of the castle’s original form: a few crenellations here and there, a vague smattering of recognisable masonry, misshapen openings which might once have been windows – although what manner of being now looked through them he couldn’t begin to imagine. But these were merely memories of what had once been, for the vast majority of the building (if it could truly be called that) was a hideous tangle of twisted towers and warped buttresses, of bulging walls which collided with each other at strange angles and led the eye in directions the brain was reluctant to follow. The confusion stretched away into the gloom, the bizarre outrages of the castle’s malformed architecture eventually becoming lost in the depths of the green-black waters.
‘So this is the Castle of Demhe,’ said Blackwood.
‘It is,’ replied Oberon. ‘It once belonged to the Royal Family of Carcosa. It was here that Queen Cassilda composed her Song, before she was forced to flee into exile when the King in Yellow took up residence.’
‘Does she live stil
l?’
Oberon shook his head. ‘She and her family are long dead, as are the great majority of the Carcosan people. Those few who remain now huddle together in the last cities of Alar, Hastur and Yhtill on the shores of Hali, awaiting their final doom.’
‘But at least,’ said Sophia, ‘we may save them, for when we have vanquished the King in Yellow, will they not be able to rebuild their world once it is theirs again?’
Oberon glanced at her and smiled. ‘When we have vanquished him? I admire your optimism, Sophia. In any event, there is precious little of this world left to rebuild.’
‘How many are there?’ asked Blackwood. ‘How many remain alive on Carcosa?’
‘A few thousand; a mere handful compared to the millions who once called this benighted place their home.’
‘Hmm,’ Blackwood said. Sophia glanced at him, but he did not return her look.
The Aurelius continued on its course above the warped and smeared form of the castle, propelled by the great paddle wheel at its stern. Looking down upon the vastness of its repulsive form from their vantage point upon the faerie ship’s main deck, Sophia wondered aloud if it had originally been this huge.
‘Not according to the Planetary Angels of Carcosa,’ Oberon replied. ‘They told me that Queen Cassilda’s castle was large and impressive, its elegant spires rising majestically from a verdant island in the lake. But its size was nothing compared to this, for when the King in Yellow took it for his own, forcing the island to the bottom of the lake, his very presence transformed its fabric, altering its structure and bloating its size, so that it spread upon the lakebed like a tumour ravaging a living body. In fact, I sense that it is growing still.’
As Sophia looked down again, she thought she caught a slight movement in one of the misshapen buttresses strung tendon-like across the castle’s surface – although whether this was merely the result of the murky water’s distorting effects, she couldn’t tell.
‘Where are the Planetary Angels?’ Blackwood asked. ‘Couldn’t they lend us a hand in this business?’
‘Time was when they could indeed have offered us great aid in our mission,’ the Faerie King replied. ‘But this world is far older than Earth, and their powers have waned, just as a man’s strength and vitality wane with age. But in truth they have already offered us much, for they have divined the way through the castle to the throne room of the King in Yellow, and have shared this information with me. It will save us a great deal of time.’
‘How much time?’ asked Castaigne. ‘I mean, how long do you think it will take to clear the way for us?’
‘I am uncertain… it depends on what we find in there.’
A few moments later, Oberon pointed to a large opening which bore an unsettling resemblance to a screaming mouth. ‘There! That is where my men and I shall enter, and where you shall too, once you receive word from us that you may do so.’
Blackwood grimaced as he looked down into the ghastly maw. ‘Good luck to you, my friend,’ he said. ‘Good luck to us all…’
Midnight in the West End.
Queen Titania sat by herself on one bench in the back of the speeding police carriage and looked across at the five Templar Police opposite her. They were bunched uncomfortably together, like commuters on a crowded omnibus, but found this preferable to sharing a seat with the fabulously beautiful and powerful being who sat smiling before them.
Such was their gallantry, and, truth be told, such was their fear.
Even Detective Gerhard de Chardin, who found little to intimidate him in the world, considered it preferable to stand at the front of the carriage, his head bowed awkwardly beneath the ceiling, his arms reaching out to steady himself, than to share a seat with the Faerie Queen, which he felt would be somehow inappropriate.
Titania was dressed in a suit of armour fashioned from the leaves of the great apple tree, as large as a human city, where she and Oberon had their home in the Realm of Faerie. The leaves were cut and interlaced to form a garment which hugged her body so perfectly that it was easy to imagine her completely naked, which was another reason why the chivalrous Templar Knights chose to look anywhere but at her.
She held in her lap a branch-like faerie carbine, its petalled muzzle glowing softly with a faint ruby hue. Every so often, a Templar cast a quick glance at the curious weapon, unsure as to just how useful it would be in a firefight. Titania caught these furtive looks, and smiled; they would find out soon enough.
The Templars carried their own weapons: each man had a revolver in his hip holster and a recoil-powered Maxim machine gun slung across his shoulders. Beneath their overcoats, they also wore cuirasses of polished steel upon which the cross pattée was etched.
There were five other police carriages behind them, each packed with Templar Knights. As they turned into Bond Street, their wheels clattering loudly on the cobbles, Titania reflected that a faerie detachment would have been so much more elegant and understated in the raid which they were about to mount. She sighed. At least, she thought, what the humans lacked in subtlety they made up for in enthusiasm.
In fact, she had suggested to Oberon that she lead a platoon of faeries into the Void Chamber to neutralise the threat quickly, quietly and effectively, but her husband had gently rebuffed the idea, reminding her that their involvement had to be kept to an absolute minimum. The humans would have to find and destroy the London Anti-Prism; those of the Faerie Realm could not do it for them. For his own part, Oberon was providing transportation to Carcosa for Blackwood, Sophia and Castaigne, and would find and destroy any madness-inducing entities inhabiting the Castle of Demhe, but the destruction of the Anti-Prism on that sad and dying world would likewise have to be effected by humans.
The Earth was under human stewardship now; its protection was a human duty.
The carriage came to a juddering halt outside Bond Street Tube Station, and the Templar sitting closest to the rear door stood and opened it, glancing back at Titania as he did so.
‘Your Majesty,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ the Faerie Queen replied as she moved past him and stepped lithely down to the street.
The metropolis never slept, and even at this late hour there were many people around – late-night strollers, returnees from theatres and restaurants – many of whom cast curious glances at the open entrance to the Tube Station and the two Templar Police who stood guard there, awaiting the arrival of de Chardin and his men.
When they saw Titania emerge from the lead carriage, the passersby stopped and gaped at the exquisite vision, bathed in soft lilac light, which had suddenly appeared before them. They stared open-mouthed at her perfect form, and the glittering dragonfly wings emerging from between her shoulder blades, murmuring to each other in shock, excitement and fear. Even the policemen guarding the entrance to the station forgot themselves and gawped at her, so that it was left to de Chardin to send the people on their way.
‘Move along now,’ he barked. ‘There’s nothing to see here. Come on, move along!’
‘Nothing to see?’ muttered more than one passerby. ‘He’s joking!’
De Chardin approached one of the policemen standing guard. ‘Constable Zafón, your report.’
‘We opened the gate five minutes ago, sir,’ Constable Zafón replied, consulting his fob watch, ‘just as you ordered. We’ve also apprehended the station’s night staff, who are now in custody.’
‘Good. We’ll question them later, when this business is attended to – although I doubt they’re in on Exeter’s plan.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Zafón said, his gaze constantly straying over de Chardin’s shoulder towards Titania.
The detective glanced at her, smiled briefly and clapped the constable on the shoulder. ‘Good work, Zafón. Carry on.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The occupants of the other police carriages had alighted, and fifty Templar Knights now followed de Chardin and Titania into the station.
‘You all know the plan,’ said the detective
over his shoulder as they crossed the ticketing hall towards the escalators, which had been switched off for the night. The station’s gaslights were on low and cast a minimal glow, lending the station the look of a vast sepulchre. ‘We’re anticipating that the Void Chamber will be well protected by Exeter’s men, so it’ll be a tough job getting along the new tunnel. We’ll have to make full use of the boltholes and entrances to maintenance tunnels along the way. Once we gain the chamber, our orders are simple: find the Anti-Prism and destroy it.’
‘Sir,’ said a tall, powerfully built man at de Chardin’s shoulder.
‘You have a question, Sergeant Clairvaux?’
‘Yes, sir. The creature… the thing that drove that train driver mad. Please don’t misunderstand me, sir – I’ll have at it given the chance… but what defence do we have against a thing that can drive a man insane at a single glance?’
By way of answer, de Chardin glanced at Titania, who was strolling along beside him. Although not nearly as tall as her burly companions, the Faerie Queen somehow seemed to be keeping up with them with minimal effort. ‘Your Majesty?’ he said.
‘Do not be concerned, Sergeant Clairvaux,’ she replied. ‘Your part will be to get us into the Void Chamber and destroy the Anti-Prism; my part will be to engage the Servitor.’
‘But, begging your pardon, Your Majesty,’ the sergeant persisted, ‘once we’re inside the Void Chamber, if the thing is there…’
‘You must look away from it,’ said Titania, ‘even while fighting Exeter’s men, if any remain.’
‘That will be difficult.’
‘Yes. You will be at a serious disadvantage, but you have no choice, for to look upon the Servitor for any length of time will be the end of your sanity.’
