[Demonata 04] - Bec

by Darren Shan - (ebook by Undead)

  Drust’s fingers squeeze mine. Pain forces me to ignore the cold and dark. I try to wrench my hand free but Drust squeezes again. Then a light flares and his face is next to mine. His eyes are furious, warning me to stop struggling, to obey his commands.

  I go limp and Drust relaxes his grip. The light is coming from his right hand, flames glowing dully despite being underwater. That’s a spell I don’t know. I wonder if I could do it. While I’m wondering, Drust looks around, then moves slowly through the water. He’s not swimming exactly, although his legs kick out softly behind him and his right arm sways to the left and right, guiding us.

  A shoal of fish glides by, either not seeing us or unworried by our presence. I watch them swish past, amazed, taking a moment to reflect on the strange twists my life has taken, the marvels I’ve become part of. So easy to take it for granted, but this is something no normal human was made to see. The world of magic has blessed me with wonders and it’s only right to stop every now and then to appreciate them.

  Then—rock. The cliff, studded with shells, draped with seaweed, jagged and immense. Drust is heading straight for it. Coming up fast. He angles downwards. It looks like we’re going to hit the rock and be torn to shreds, but at the last moment I spot a hole—the entrance to a tunnel.

  We’re swept through the mouth of the tunnel. I’m not sure if magic propels us or the thrust of the tide. We pass along smoothly, protected from the walls by the water and Drust’s spell. The light in Drust’s hand fades, plunging us into total darkness. For a while there’s just the rush and noise of the water. I don’t feel afraid. It’s oddly comforting. It reminds me of when I was born, entering the world through the tunnel from my mother’s womb.

  Then there’s a glow ahead of us. Seconds later we’re out, shot into a pool of comparatively warm water. We float to the surface, where Drust pushes me on to land and crawls out after me. He touches my lips and nods. I stop the breathing spell and draw in a lungful of fresh air, shivering from the chill of the water.

  Drust stands and offers me his hand. Clutching it, I let him draw me to my feet. He smiles at me when I’m standing, then places a hand on my left shoulder. Heat flares within me and I dry quickly. Drust releases me and looks up. I follow his gaze and gasp.

  We’re in the middle of a huge cave. I can’t see the roof, it’s so far above us. All around are thick stone pillars… twenty… thirty… more. And on each pillar—something.

  I can’t think of any other word to describe them. Slowly shifting shapes of coloured light, taller than ten men stacked one on top of the other, the colours changing as their shapes twist and swirl, casting a dim light which illuminates the massive cave. There’s magic in these shapes, strong magic, but unlike any I’ve felt before. No… that’s not true. I have felt it a couple of times. In the ring of stones when the demons were repelled. And earlier tonight when Lorcan’s axe melted.

  “What are they?” I whisper.

  “Old Creatures,” Drust whispers back. He’s smiling strangely, gazing at the lights as a child might regard a new toy. “The magicians of the ancient past. The creators of land, life, maybe even the gods. Some say they came from the stars. Others that they are the stars, or at least their worldly forms.”

  He walks forward, then around in a slow circle, studying each pillar and shape. Most of the pillars boast scores of old etchings, but not like those found on ogham stones. These are long, complicated signs. If they represent words, the language must be much more complicated than ours.

  “Nobody knows how many there were,” Drust says as he walks. “Maybe thousands. This world was theirs. A playpen… a breeding ground… an experiment? We can only guess. Most have moved on, taken their magic with them, returned to the stars or wherever they came from. Or maybe they’ve died. We’re not sure. The Old Creatures communicated openly with our ancestors, but they’ve been silent for several generations.

  “Many druids mourned the passing of our original masters and begged them to stay, to help us protect this world from the threat of the Demonata, to teach us more of the wonders and magic of the stars. But even the Old Creatures must obey the laws of the universe. And those laws state that for everything there is a time. Nothing remains unchanged forever.”

  He stops before one of the shapes and stares up at it. Reaches out, then draws his hand back, fingers twitching.

  “I was told that when the final Old Creature leaves this world, all life will fade, all lands will fall, everything will turn to dust and blow away in the savage winds which will lash the world in their wake. But I don’t believe that. I think if they created this world and all its beings—especially us—they created it with love. Maybe they’ve created others, and will create more worlds later, a string of them throughout the universe. They give birth, help us through our infancy, then move on, leaving us to our own devices, maybe returning in the far-off future to see how we’ve fared. One day our descendants might be like them—mothers and fathers of worlds and life…”

  He trails to a halt. His words are strange, hard for me to understand. I’ve never heard anyone speak of such things before. My head’s spinning as I try to see the universe as Drust imagines it, speckled with beings greater than gods.

  And then one of the shapes—or all of them together—speaks.

  “Why Have You Come?”

  The accent is all the accents I’ve ever heard. The words are both lyrical and flat. Loud and soft. Coming from within my head and all around. Warm and comforting. No malice or threat. Only tired curiosity.

  “To seek answers,” Drust says, bowing his head. “I know it’s bold to ask, to disturb you when you wish for peace, but—”

  “—These Are Troubling Times,” the voice finishes. A pause. “The Demonata Have Crossed. We Were Not Aware Of It. But It Was Not Unexpected. They Have Always Been A Threat And Always Will Be. The Battle Between Demons And Humans Must Be Fought Over And Over, Until They Defeat You.”

  “Or we defeat them?” Drust says hopefully.

  “No,” the voice says. “The Demonata Are Creatures Of Pure Magic. Their Power Is Beyond That Of Humanity. That Is Something No Force Can Change. In The Past We Protected Humans And Prevented Demonic Incursions. But We Must Move On. We Cannot Stay And Repulse The Demon Hordes Indefinitely.”

  “But you can help us stop this current assault,” Drust groans, voice laced with more than a hint of desperation. He looks up and his eyes are red. I realise he’s crying. “You can show me the location of the tunnel entrance. You can tell me how to close it.”

  Another pause. Then the voice says, “Our Time Here Is Almost At An End, But While We Remain, We Will Assist, As We Always Have.”

  One of the shapes contracts and changes colour, becoming green, brown, grey, blue. It takes on the form of land, only much smaller than real land. I haven’t seen one of these before but I know what it is. “A map,” I mutter.

  “Aye,” Drust says, studying the map eagerly, reading it in ways I cannot. To the right there’s a shining dot, the size of my smallest nail. “That’s where the tunnel entrance lies?” Drust asks.

  “It Is.”

  “That’s not so far.” Drust looks excited. “We can be there in eight or nine days if we march hard.”

  “Indeed.” The map changes and the shape resumes its original, ever-shifting form. “But You Do Not Have Such Temporal Luxury.”

  Drust frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “The Demonata Gather,” the voice says. “We Can Sense Them Now That We Have Focused. They Press And Rip At The Fabric Of This Universe. In Two Days And Nights The First Demon Masters Will Cross.”

  Drust’s face turns a sickly grey colour. “No! They can’t! Not when we’re so close! We have to stop them! You must help us!”

  “We Cannot,” the voice says. “We Are Confined Here And Our Powers Are Fading Fast. From This Place, In Our Condition, We Cannot Speed You On Your Way.”

  “But…” Drust drops to his knees. “We’re damned then? There’s
no hope?”

  “There Is Always Hope,” the voice answers. “You Have Two Days And Nights.”

  “But we can’t move that quickly, even with magic,” Drust complains.

  “You Must Find A Way,” the voice says. “Or Perish.”

  Drust nods bitterly, getting his emotions under control. When he addresses the Old Creatures again, he speaks neutrally. “If we make it in time, we can close the tunnel?”

  “You Can,” the voice says. “But You Already Knew The Answer To That Question.”

  Drust looks sideways at me, then licks his lips. “Aye,” he croaks. “But I hoped… I thought there might be other ways.”

  “No,” the voice says. “There Is Only One.”

  “So be it,” Drust says, even more stone-faced than usual. “Will she suffice? A demon master worked a charm on her. She has not been warped by his touch?”

  “No,” the voice says. “Actually, Without It She Would Not Have Been Suitable.”

  Drust looks puzzled. “Do you know why—” he begins, but I interrupt before he finishes, unable to hold my tongue any longer.

  “Pardon me,” I say, my voice trembling, “but how can we close the tunnel? What’s my part in this?”

  “Quiet!” Drust snaps. “You have no right to speak! This place is—”

  “Peace,” the voice cuts in gently but firmly. “All Who Come Before Us Have The Right To Be Heard. The Girl Has Asked A Question. It Will Be Answered.”

  “But I only brought her to make sure she was pure!” Drust shouts. “She has no—”

  The rock beneath our feet shudders. It’s all the warning Drust requires. He closes his mouth and hangs his head.

  “The Tunnel Between Your Universe And The Demonata’s Has Been Created By A Human Magician,” the voice explains. “He Must Be Eradicated For The Tunnel To Be Closed, But That Spell Requires A Sacrifice.”

  “A human sacrifice?” I guess.

  “It Is More Specific Than That. The Killing Of A Human Would Not Generate The Power Necessary To Destroy The Tunnel. A Magician Must Be Slaughtered In Order For The Spell To Work.” The voice pauses. Drust looks up at me with haunted—but firm, unapologetic—eyes. “A Druid Must be Killed,” the voice concludes, “Or A Priestess.”

  TAMING THE WILD

  The Old Creatures fall silent and I get the sense that they won’t talk to us again. Drust senses it too and prepares to leave in a hurry without asking any further questions. Once we’ve recast the breathing and warming spells, he takes my hand—without looking me in the eye—and we jump into the pool, sink, then return through the tunnel. I thought we’d move slower this time, because the force of the water is against us, but it’s exactly the same as before.

  Shooting out of the tunnel, we rise to the surface, where we hang, bobbing up and down with the swell of the waves. I don’t break my breathing spell—the water is still foaming over my head. With his free hand, Drust points at the cliff face. I think he’s mad—there’s no way we can make the cliff safely or climb it even if we could—but I don’t argue as he guides us towards it, opposing the pull and cut of the waves.

  We move on the surface of the sea as we moved below, propelled by magic, not swimming, but gliding like seabirds across the surf. The wind and waves lash us angrily, as though enraged by our ability to defy them.

  Closer to the lethal screen of the cliff… closer… almost upon it. One more sweep of a wave and I’ll be able to reach out and touch it.

  We come to a stop and hang calmly in the water, rising and falling with the swell of the waves, but not moving towards or away from the cliff. Drust puts his free hand on mine and moves it forward until I make contact with the rock. He then nudges my other hand up beside it and releases both at the same time. As soon as he lets go, the wind and waves bite at me, trying to rip me loose. I cling to the cliff by my fingertips and scream, shattering the breathing spell.

  Then Drust’s arm is around me and he’s shouting in my ear, “Climb! Keep going! Don’t look down!”

  “I’ll fall!” I shriek. “I’ll drown!”

  “You will if you don’t climb!” he bellows, digging his chin hard into my neck.

  Since I’ve no choice but to climb and risk death or stay and die for certain, I push my left hand up, searching for a handhold. After a second or two I find one and rest a moment, face turned away from the spray of the waves. Then I move my right hand up. My feet follow automatically, scrabbling for toeholds.

  Drust keeps his hand on me, steadying me by placing pressure on my shoulder, then my back, my bottom, my legs, finally my feet. When I move out of reach, he shouts at me to stop, then climbs up after me until we’re level. Then it’s my turn to lead again.

  That’s how we progress, a small stretch of cliff at a time, dragging our way up, defying the angry howls of the sea, disturbing seagulls in their slumber. Drust only uses magic when I slip, to keep me hanging in the air momentarily, so that I can grab hold of a piece of rock again.

  I look down once and immediately wish I hadn’t.

  “We’ll never make it,” I sob, feeling my strength ebb away, certain I’ll collapse soon, not even able to keep myself going with magic.

  “We will,” Drust replies stubbornly, then pinches me to get me moving again.

  Finally, when I’ve started to think this is a nightmare from which I’ll never awake, we make it to the top and friendly hands pull us over the edge of the cliff, then carry us to our clothes. Fiachna has to help me slip into mine—my fingers are too numb to grasp and manipulate the material.

  They ask what happened, where we’ve been, how we survived, what we saw. They were sure we’d drowned. Their excitement at finding us alive makes them babble like children.

  Drust ignores the questions and pulls on his robes. I ignore them as well, too exhausted to provide answers. When we’re fully dressed, the clothes deliriously warm on my cold-blue skin, Drust tells the others we need some time on our own. He marches me along the cliff to where a jutting rock shelters us from the wind. Settling behind it, Drust starts a fire using magic, makes it expand so the flames are three times their normal size, then sits staring into the heart of the blaze, saying nothing.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I say eventually when I’m warm enough to speak.

  “I couldn’t,” he replies. “You wouldn’t have come with me.

  “I might.”

  “No. You wouldn’t have trusted me. Nor would the others.”

  “So you were going to keep it secret?” I snort. “Not tell me until we got to the tunnel, then kill me without asking?”

  “Aye.” He looks at me sideways, torn between arrogance and shame. “That’s part of the reason I was so hard on you to begin with. Yes, I needed to bring your magic out—you weren’t powerful enough the way you were. But I also didn’t want to get close to you because I knew I’d have to…”

  He stops and looks at the fire again.

  “Was there another magician with you when you first set off?” I ask.

  He nods. “An apprentice. No grown druid would accompany me. As I told you before, they have no love for Christians and will be quite pleased if the Demonata take over this land. But I found an apprentice who was born here, whose family still live on these shores. He was happy to lay down his life if necessary.”

  “If?” I sneer. “You told him it might not be?”

  Drust blushes. “I said there might be other ways. It wasn’t a total lie. Until I asked the Old Creatures, I still hoped…” He trails off into silence.

  “Is it truly the only way?” I murmur after a while.

  “So the Old Creatures said,” he sighs.

  “They couldn’t be wrong?” He shakes his head. “Then we must go there and you must kill me,” I mutter, and his neck practically snaps as his head lifts sharply.

  “What?” he gasps.

  “If that’s the only way to close the tunnel, we must do it.”

  “You mean you’ll let me…” He stops and sc
ratches his head. “Why? Now that you know, you don’t have to come. You can flee, sail for safe lands to the east. With your power, you could become a priestess of high standing or even a druid. There’s never been a female druid, but you can control male magic, so perhaps you’d be the first. You don’t have to stay—or die.”

  I stare at him as if he’s insane. “But the tunnel would remain open,” I say slowly. “The demon masters would cross. They’d kill everyone, then make them walk around as undead slaves. I can’t let that happen.”

  “Even if it means your own death?” Drust asks.

  “Of course.” I frown. “Why do you ask me this? You feel the same way. Otherwise why come on this quest and risk your life?”

  He shifts uncomfortably. “My reasons are not the same as yours. These aren’t my people, so I don’t really care whether they live or die. And I never planned to perish. The risks were high but I hoped—still hope—to get out of here alive. But if you go on, it’s to certain death, one way or the other. How can you do that?”

  “How can I not?” I reply simply. “One life is nothing when measured against thousands. I’d give it a dozen times over to save the lives of those I care about.”

  “And those you don’t know, who mean nothing to you?”

  “Aye.”

  Drust chuckles darkly. “A teacher of mine once said we druids knew nothing of ordinary people, that we’d been apart from them so long, we couldn’t understand them anymore. I didn’t agree, but I see now that he was wiser than me. Your way of thinking is opposite to ours. No druid would throw away his life to save others. Some let themselves be sacrificed when they believe it will lead to greater power in the Otherworld. But I know none who’d offer themselves as you have.”

  “Then they’re fools,” I tell him. “A single person is nothing. Only the clan matters.”

  Drust shakes his head again. “So different,” he mumbles, then looks at me with fresh respect. “Very well, Bec. Our quest continues, even though I believe it’s doomed and we won’t make the tunnel in time. But if we do, you know what must be done?”