by Darren Shan
“It would be pointless,” Kernel argues. “Even if you got out alive, it would take weeks to reach civilisation. Dervish will find out quicker through us. Disciples visit here regularly. One might come tomorrow or the next day. You won’t achieve anything by sacrificing yourself. Do you want us to tell your uncle you wasted your life on a pointless mission? How do you think that would make him feel?”
I stare at Kernel coldly, then turn slowly to Beranabus. “You swear you’ll let him know as soon as you can?”
The magician nods. “As Kernel said, we receive several visitors a year. When the next Disciple comes, I’ll give him or her a message to pass on to Dervish.”
“What if it’s months before anyone visits?”
Beranabus doesn’t reply.
I think it over. Weigh up the pros and cons. Try to decide what Dervish would tell me to do. I finally figure it makes no sense to leave.
“OK,” I sigh, taking my place by the fire. “I don’t like it, and I’ll hold you to account if anything happens to Dervish or Bill-E. But I’m going to trust you. I don’t know for sure that I should, but to hell with it. Now I assume you brought me here for a purpose. What is it?”
Beranabus laughs. “Damn it all, I like you! You’re blunt and to the point. I’m sure you’ll cause me all sorts of aggravation, but I’m looking forward to having you around.”
“Never mind the compliments,” I growl. “Just tell me why I’m here.”
“Very well. As I explained, I don’t have much to do with the Disciples. They deal with largely unimportant matters. They stop some demons from crossing and limit the damage caused by those who get through. That doesn’t mean much in the universal scheme of things. Hundreds of casualties… a few thousand… even a few million… what of them?”
I gawp at the elderly tramp, then at Kernel. “Is he for real?”
“You’d better believe it,” Kernel says in a low voice, looking at Beranabus darkly.
“I can’t waste time worrying about a few dead humans,” Beranabus defends himself. “I have more important work to tend to.”
“What’s more important than saving lives?” I challenge him.
“Saving the world,” he answers without the least hint of irony. “Most of the demons who hit our universe are weak. It’s relatively easy for a sly demon—with human assistance—to create a window between their universe and ours, but the masters can’t squeeze through. Occasionally a tunnel can be opened—like at the cave in Carcery Vale—which more powerful demons can access. But most of the time only the lesser Demonata can cross and they can’t stay more than a few minutes. A nuisance, aye, but they don’t threaten the existence of the human race.
“I focus on combating the threat of the stronger monsters, those who could wipe out mankind. They’re always looking for ways to cross. The Disciples act when they uncover evidence on this world of a potential crossing, but I can’t allow that to happen with the masters. I have to prevent such threats in their infancy.
“To do that, Kernel and I work in the universe of the Demonata. Unlike the Disciples, we spend little time on this world. We walk among demons, spying on them, uncovering their plans in the formative stages, wrecking them. We divide demons who are working together. Locate and destroy places where tunnels could be built. It’s difficult. We have to fight constantly and the battles are savage.”
“Savage,” Kernel echoes, his voice a whisper.
“It’s a horrible undertaking,” Beranabus says. “One might even call it a curse. But it has to be done. The Demonata are a constant threat. Those of us with the power to limit them to their own realm don’t have the freedom of choice. Kernel and I know that if we don’t fight the monsters on their worlds, the demon masters will cross and fight us on ours—and everyone will perish.
“We went to Carcery Vale as soon as I heard the entrance to the cave had been opened. My warning spells should have been activated instantly, but for whatever reason they didn’t work. When Dervish sent word, we rushed to the scene. I feared the handiwork of the Demonata and thought I might be too late to stop them. To my relief I found no evidence of their presence.”
“What about Lord Loss?” I cry “And Juni?”
“They didn’t bother me. Lord Loss doesn’t want to open a tunnel. He prefers things the way they are. I considered talking with Dervish about Juni, but I didn’t know if I could trust him. For all I knew, he’d pledged himself to her dark cause and was working with her to trap me.”
“Dervish would never do that,” I growl.
“Probably not,” Beranabus agrees. “But he might have fallen under her spell. She could have been using him to strike at me. I decided not to reveal my presence. I sent Kernel back here and remained hidden, to ensure no demons came to make use of the cave. I planned to close the entrance again and let Dervish know about Juni before I left. But then I spotted you…”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’m no fool. I can see where this is heading. But I say nothing. I act ignorant, hoping I’m wrong, not wanting to put ideas in his head if they aren’t already there—though I’m certain they are.
“You’d hidden your magic masterfully,” Beranabus says, “but it had started to spill out by the time I arrived. I could see it shining through.”
“Dervish and Juni didn’t,” I mumble. “Juni tested me, searching for magic. She couldn’t find any.”
“Of course she could,” he barks. “You still haven’t seen through all of her deceptions. I don’t blame you. It’s hard, when you’ve trusted someone, to see them as they really are. You know Juni was working against you all this time, but you still think of her as a friend.
“Juni’s far more powerful than Dervish. She knew the magic was there. Those tests were to check how strong you were, how much of a threat you posed, so she and Lord Loss could plan their assault. I don’t think she was able to find out as much about you as she hoped. That’s why they decided to confront you in the cave. They chose a place of magic, where Lord Loss would be more powerful. When you escaped, they switched to the aeroplane, figuring that up in the air you couldn’t escape—at worst, they could crash the aircraft and kill you that way.
“Juni’s been manipulating you at every step. Worming out your secrets, finding weaknesses to use against you. She’s a cunning vixen. She artfully drove a wedge between you and Dervish. Even summoned the Lambs to make you believe he’d sacrificed you to the Grady executioners.”
“You mean he didn’t?” I gawp at Beranabus, ashen-faced.
“Of course not,” Beranabus grunts. “You know your uncle. You saw how he fought to save your brother. He would have done the same for you. He’s not a man to give up on his loved ones.”
I feel cold inside. I thought Dervish had betrayed me, when in fact I did the betraying. I should have known he wouldn’t call in the Lambs without discussing it first. Dervish always played straight with me, ever since he came to visit me in the asylum and told me that he knew demons were real.
“I’ve been a fool,” I mutter.
“Aye,” Beranabus says. “But we all make fools of ourselves one time or another. It’s part of being human. But that’s beside the point. I was talking about…” He frowns and looks to Kernel for help.
“You’d just spotted the shining beacon of magic that was Grubbs Grady,” Kernel says drily, and I realise he’s jealous of me.
“Of course. Forgive me, I lose track of my thoughts so easily. Old age and more battles with the Demonata than I care to remember. Yes, I was on the verge of leaving Carcery Vale, satisfied that no demons were lurking in the wings, when you caught my eye. I saw your magic, the struggle taking place within you, the power you could wield if you survived. It’s not often that I come across such a promising find.
“I stayed to track your development. I staked you out and let you see me from time to time—I hoped your magic would respond to mine. I was trying to load the deck in my favour. I’d apologise, but that would be hypocritical of
me.”
“Get on with it,” I snarl.
“There’s not much more to get on with. I spied on Dervish and Juni when I wasn’t following you. I knew that witch was up to no good, but I wasn’t sure of her exact plans. Then I saw the Lambs arrive. You burst out of the underground cellar. I trailed you to the cave, but didn’t follow you down—Juni would have sensed my presence. I waited while she came, dealt with you and left again. Then you burst out of the cave. I pursued you to your brother’s house, then the airport. When I realised Juni planned to board an aeroplane with you, I guessed what her plan was and I followed.”
“You could have stopped her,” I say icily. “You knew she was going to kill the other passengers. You could have attacked. Ripped me from her before we got on.”
“No,” he says. “I wasn’t sure. She might not have struck on the aeroplane. Or perhaps she was taking you somewhere else to meet Lord Loss. Maybe you were in league with her. I weighed up all my options and I decided to wait. It was the right call and if I had to make it again, I’d do exactly the same thing.”
He scowls at the disgusted look I give him, then waves the matter away. “And here we are,” he says. “The end of the story.”
“Not quite,” I reply. “You still haven’t said what you want me for, why you rescued me and brought me here.”
Beranabus frowns. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Yes. But I want you to say it.”
“Very well. You’re a magician. I want you to become my assistant, like Kernel, cross into the universe of the Demonata with us, and spend the rest of your life by my side, killing demons.”
THE MONOLITH
Sitting on my blanket, legs crossed, hunched over, fingers locked together. Beranabus is at his table, sorting through papers, muttering and whistling. Kernel is exercising, stretching and limbering up. They’re setting off to fight demons shortly. They expect me to go with them.
It’s crazy. I told Beranabus I wouldn’t do it. Leave my own world? Enter the Demonata’s realm? Fight monsters like Lord Loss every day? No bloody way, Jo-bloody-se!
Beranabus didn’t argue. Just shrugged and said we all have to make our own decisions in life, then went to get ready. I sat by the fire a while longer, watching him and Kernel prepare. Then came back here, where I’ve been sitting for the last half-hour, silent, numb.
Kernel finishes stretching. Bends, touches his toes, then rises in the air. Slowly turns head over heels. Lands softly on his feet and lets go of his toes. Spots me watching him and walks over. “Having fun?”
“It’s better than a circus.” I stare up at him, his scars and bruises, the marks of past battles, the fear in his eyes. “How do you do it?” I whisper. “I’ve fought demons. I know what it’s like. How do you find the courage to…”
Kernel shrugs like it’s no big deal. Licks his lips and glances at Beranabus, then sits beside me. “I never really had a choice,” he says. “I had a brother. Well, I thought… No, let’s leave it at that—it gets too complicated otherwise. He was kidnapped by a demon. I followed after him. Met Beranabus and some others—your uncle was one of them.”
“You know Dervish?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes. I haven’t seen him in thirty-odd years, but we were good friends back then. I wouldn’t have survived without him. Is he still a punk?”
“What?” I frown.
“He was a punk. Spiked hair, earrings, leather jacket, chains.”
“No,” I chuckle. “We must be talking about a different guy. Dervish was never…” I hesitate. How many demon-fighting Disciples called Dervish can there be in the world? “I’ll quiz you about that later. Finish telling me about yourself first.”
Kernel shrugs. “Things didn’t work out with my brother. I returned home, but several years had passed—time works differently in the Demonata’s universe. I couldn’t pick up the pieces of my old life. I no longer belonged to that world. So I came to work for Beranabus. He taught me how to master my powers and slay demons. I’ve been doing it ever since.”
“What’s it like? Do you have days off? Weekends? Holidays?”
Kernel laughs. “Sure—two weeks on a beach of fire in the sunny south of Hades, half-price offseason. Of course we don’t have holidays! We don’t fight all the time—we have to rest, and Beranabus occasionally has to do something on this world—but we’re at it most days of any given year.”
“What do you do when you’re not fighting?”
“Recover and relax here.”
“You don’t get out at all? Not even for a day trip?”
“Day trip to where?” Kernel snorts. “I pop up the ladder every now and then for a breath of fresh air. Maybe go for a walk for an hour or two. But it’s boiling by day, freezing by night, and there’s nothing to see or do.”
“Doesn’t Beranabus take you with him when he goes away?”
“Rarely,” Kernel says hotly. “He prefers it if one of us is here when we’re not battling demons, in case anyone tries to contact him. And even when he does take me, it’s only ever on business. We’re in and out as quickly as possible, keeping a low profile, hiding in the shadows.”
He stops. His fingers are trembling. There are hard tears in his eyes, but he’s holding them back. I try thinking of something comforting to say, but can’t. I want to change the subject, but don’t know what to talk to him about. So I ask about his age—not entirely off-topic, but hopefully less of a sore point.
“You said you’d been with Beranabus thirty years, but that can’t be right. You don’t look more than sixteen or seventeen.”
He smiles tiredly. “Like I said, time works differently in the demon universe. It varies from zone to zone. In some places it passes faster than here or at the same rate, but usually it’s slower. We’re often gone for what feels like a day or two, only to return to find six months have passed here.”
“Bloody hell!” I gasp.
Kernel nods miserably. “In real time I’ve been with Beranabus for… I don’t know… maybe four or five years. But thirty or more have slipped by on Earth while we’ve been off fighting demons.”
“That’s what Beranabus wants me to sign up for?” I gulp. “Spend my life facing demons? Live in a cave when I’m not working? And go out one day to find that decades have passed and everyone I knew is old or dead?”
“It sounds bad when you put it that way.” Kernel laughs hollowly. “It has its rewards. I’m more powerful than just about any living human. And I save the planet from unimaginable dangers on a regular basis. But that’s not much comfort when I’m rotting away here or being pummelled by a four-headed giant.”
Kernel stands and smirks, a hint of pity in his otherwise bitter, mocking smile. “Welcome to the firm.” Then he goes to get ready.
Beranabus works on opening a window to the Demonata’s universe. It was a big deal for Dervish when he summoned Lord Loss, but Beranabus is more adept. A few spells, some scrawled symbols on the walls, a silly short dance and the world starts to fade around us. Smoke pours from Beranabus’s flesh, all sorts of shapes, mostly a mix of animals and demons. The roof of the cave goes momentarily translucent. I spot a red sky full of giant demons streaking across the heavens like meteors. Then the cave firms up again. The smoke clears. And Beranabus is standing in front of a black pillar which is strangely familiar. The word “monolith” pops into my head, but I don’t know why.
“Not bad, aye?” Beranabus says. “Kernel is the master of opening windows, but he’s at his best in the universe of the Demonata. From here it’s as easy for me to do it. But once we cross he’s in a league of his own. You’ll see what I mean soon enough—if you come with us.” He takes a step back from the monolith. “Made up your mind yet?”
“I made it up ages ago,” I snap. “I’m not coming.”
“Of course you are,” Beranabus smiles. “Who could resist a challenge like this? The chance to flex your magical muscles, eliminate scores of demons, save the world. You’ll come with us in the
end, so why not drop the reluctant act and—”
“I’m not acting!” I shout, flushing angrily. “I’ve had enough of demons. I don’t want to fight them. I don’t care how magical I am. I’m not your assistant and I never will be. So just—”
“There are two fields of thought about the granting of magical talent,” Beranabus interrupts smoothly. “Some claim it’s pure luck, the random lottery of the universe doling out magic without method or purpose. Others—and I’m one of them—believe there’s a force which wants humans to triumph. We think magicians are created to keep the world safe from the Demonata, that at times of great peril, heroes are generated, capable of defeating the otherwise unstoppable forces of evil.
“It doesn’t matter which is right. You have the power. Whether you gained it by design or accident is irrelevant. You have the ability to kill demons, to stop them crossing. If you don’t make the most of that talent—if you hide from your duty—it’s because you’re a coward, plain and simple.”
I tremble with rage at the insult. Part of me wants to call upon all of my newly revealed powers and hit him with the strongest magical blast I can muster, to teach him never to mess with me again. But I don’t. Because he’s speaking the truth.
Dervish loved me, so he never said it, but he must have thought it. He didn’t object when I refused to learn spells and magic. He respected my choice and never made me feel like I was chickening out. I told myself I’d done my bit and now I was entitled to a normal life.
But that was rot. Deep down I knew I didn’t want to fight because I was scared. Dervish knew it, I knew it and now Beranabus knows it. The only difference is, Beranabus has called me out.
Beranabus is leaning towards me, eyebrows raised, awaiting my comeback. When I don’t respond to the insult, he smiles sadly. “I can’t afford to wet-nurse you. This is a serious business, no room for lies or charades. When you were an average child, you could afford to be a coward—nobody suffered. Now you have to be a hero or untold billions might die.”
