The Dark Portal

by Robin Jarvis

  Oswald nodded uncertainly.

  The work continued – in the world outside, the stars were fading and grey morning began to dawn.

  Oswald’s limbs ached: he had never worked before and his mother made sure that he did not over-exert himself. Now his head throbbed and beads of perspiration trickled from under his scarf.

  Even Smiler had slowed down. His great arms rose less frequently and the amount of soil behind him took longer to pile up. Surely it was time for another shift to take over.

  Skinner slouched over a heap of earth and yawned loudly. ‘This work stinks,’ he cursed. ‘A pox on this barmy mine.’ Several other tired rats joined him. They threw down their tools and talked sullenly. They wanted to know what they were doing all this digging for and what they would be getting out of it.

  Oswald listened to their grumbles but pretended to work.

  ‘Always the same questions,’ Finn said suddenly behind him. Oswald did not like the rat’s habit of creeping up like that. ‘They all want summat out of this dump. Expect too much, they do. Nah, we’re lucky if we find the odd worm or beetle down here, and there not so many of those now.’ He watched Skinner’s group for some time, his beady eyes flicking from left to right. ‘They’ll gab on till the end of the shift now. Useless great lumps. Here’s me breakin’ me back with this lummackin’ great sack of dirt.’ Finn pulled a pained expression and allowed the sack to fall on the floor.

  ‘No good, can’t lug it one step more!’ He looked at Oswald craftily. ‘Do us that favour now, Whitey chum. Carry this ’ere load down for us – just this once.’

  Cautiously Oswald picked up the heavy sack. It nearly knocked him down when he heaved it over his shoulder. Finn watched him and something like a triumphant smile spread across his face.

  ‘That’s right Whitey! You an’ me, old mates now. This way.’

  The rat set off along the mine and slowly Oswald followed. Past the shovelling, raking rats the albino mouse laboured, the load on his back weighing him down horribly. Finn was always just ahead, urging him on, encouraging him excitedly. So eager was he that he gradually began to walk faster and compelled Oswald to keep up with him, until Finn was virtually skipping along.

  Oswald felt he could not take much more. He lumbered as fast as he could but his legs were wobbly and his back ached with the weight of the sack.

  ‘Gettin’ too much, is it Whitey?’ inquired the rat, rubbing his one ear gleefully. ‘Good job I’m here then. I knows a short cut! Just round the corner there. Cuts the traipse by half.’

  They rounded a bend and Oswald noticed a small passage leading off from the main tunnel. It was dark and empty. He did not like the look of it. He shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he gasped, wary of Finn. ‘I think I can make it.’

  Finn laughed. ‘Don’t kid me, Whitey. You look all done in. That scarf o’ yours is heatin’ up yer head too much. I’ll take it off for yer.’

  Oswald coughed in panic. The other rats in the tunnel were looking at them now and without his scarf one of them was bound to recognise him as a mouse.

  ‘No . . . I’ll go with you down there,’ he stammered quickly.

  Finn grinned widely: ‘Thought you might. This way – not far.’ He entered the small passage and Oswald followed.

  It was dark. No torches burned on the walls and the air was cold and stuffy. Finn’s voice echoed along the passage to him. He seemed far ahead.

  ‘Come on, Whitey lad.’

  Oswald gulped. He felt like a small fly stumbling into the heart of a dark web and Finn was the spider. Nervously he plodded on, his heart fluttering.

  Suddenly he crashed into a solid wall – the tunnel was a dead end. Blindly he groped around, panic bubbling up inside him.

  Where was Finn? Why had he led him away from the others? Oswald turned his back to the wall and saw two pale points of light approaching. They were Finn’s eyes, lit with a mad hunger. He had doubled back and waited for Oswald to pass him in the dark and be trapped.

  ‘Oh Whitey boy! I’ve been so patient with you. Yes, Finn’s not so daft as he makes out. I saw your little mousey ears when I woke up. They had my mouth waterin’, they did. Oh crispy mouse ears – gorgeous! But them lot would have had yer an’ poor Finn would get none, so I waited and waited.’

  Oswald cried out in terror. The two pale circles drew closer. Finn was smart: he had lured his prey away from the others where no one could hear him and at the same time worn him out so he could put up little resistance.

  A cold gleam of metal flashed as Finn pulled out his knife. The blade glittered icily as he threw it from claw to claw, taunting his victim.

  ‘Oh spare me! Save me!’ yelped Oswald, covering his face.

  ‘But I have saved you, Whitey boy – for myself!’ The rat laughed horribly. ‘I won’t eat you all at once. Don’t want to be greedy. No, I’ll keep what’s left here and come visit yer whenever I’m peckish.’

  Oswald shrank down in despair.

  Suddenly the ground shook and the passage trembled and quivered.

  ‘Another blasted roof-fall,’ said Finn. ‘Still, they’ll be runnin’ round like ants for ages in there now. Gives me time to have a nice relaxed breakfast. But first I gotta peel yer . . .’

  The circles narrowed and Finn lunged forward, knife held high and ready to strike. Oswald dodged and Finn cursed passionately. ‘Damn yer stinkin’ hide,’ he said, flourishing the knife once more. But the albino ducked and the blade smote the wall with a scrape of sparks.

  Finn’s free claw scrabbled around to catch Oswald and keep him still.

  Oswald nipped here and there, trying to get past the rat and escape. But Finn was too wily.

  ‘Gotcha!’ A claw snatched at him and gripped the mouse tightly by the throat, pinning him to the wall. ‘I oughta squeeze yer good an’ slow till yer eyeballs pop out on their stalks. Stop yer squirmin’.’

  The sharp talons bit deeply into Oswald’s neck, but he was too frightened to feel the pain. In a mad frenzy he kicked Finn on the shin and reached for the knife arm. He bit it hard.

  ‘Aaarrcchh!’ cried’ the rat in surprise and the knife fell clattering to the floor where it wedged, blade upwards, between two stones.

  ‘You damn maggot – I will squeeze yer!’ Finn thrashed out with both his claws in a wild rage, screaming oaths and snapping his jaws together.

  Oswald tripped over the full sack of dirt and sprawled on the floor. Finn jumped on top of him and gouged three long lines in his side. Oswald howled and smashed his elbow into Finn’s stomach. The breath whistled through his teeth and the rat staggered to his feet wheezing in agony. Seizing this chance Oswald gave him an almighty shove. Finn staggered, then tripped over the sack, landing on the upturned knife. He screamed as the knife pierced his ribs. For a moment he writhed in agony and then was still. Oswald had killed him.

  The mouse was distraught. He had not meant for that to happen. All he wanted to do now was get away. He ran down the passage, leaving Finn in it widening pool of dark blood.

  Out of the gloom Oswald ran, out of the small passage and into the mine shaft. Everywhere was confusion and noise. Rats ran here and there with torches. The cave-in had happened just where Oswald had been digging. With a shock he realised that Finn had probably saved his life by leading him away when he did.

  ‘Twenty snuffed it!’ the rats were saying.

  ‘Didn’t get Skinner though. He’s still twitchin’.’

  ‘I’m not stickin’ around for the rest of it to fall in.’

  ‘Nor me.’

  ‘Not worth it, this diggin’. Might be any of us next.’

  The cry was taken up by all the rats in the mine. Their minds were made up: no more work for them.

  Oswald crept down the tunnel. He knew that no one would notice him in all the confusion. He decided to make for the entrance where the soil was tipped into the water, as the way he had come in was still locked. Anyway, it was too near the rats’ quarters for his liking.
If he had to swim, then he was sure he would be able to splash to the far side well enough. He had forgotten that the rats were afraid of something that lay beyond that entrance . . .

  The rats behind him were shouting loudly now and had begun marching down the tunnel. Oswald scampered along as fast as he could to avoid getting caught up by them.

  The mouse ran as fast as he could but the mine was very long. He belted round a corner and ran smack into Morgan.

  Oswald fell back. The Cornish rat’s face was grim and frightening to look on. He glared down at Oswald. ‘Get up, Milksop!’ he snarled, giving him a spiteful kick. Morgan stared beyond him up the tunnel where the ruddy glow of torches bobbed nearer. ‘Insurrection is it? Is that what’s in their wooden heads? Well no more! They’re gonna feel the bite of His Lordship – He’s ready for ’em now.’

  Oswald noticed that Morgan was carrying a sack in which a strange, round object bulged. The rat patted it thoughtfully. The mouse got to his feet and edged away.

  ‘Get back in there,’ Morgan hissed at him, ‘if you want to save yer fur!’

  Oswald scrambled back along the mineshaft. There was something terrible about Morgan. He seemed cloaked in a shadow of evil power that made him appear taller than before. His eyes were like cruel spears and they stabbed out ferociously.

  Oswald was trapped between a hundred angry rebels and this malevolent servant of Jupiter. Yet he felt that he would rather face the mutinous rats that marched towards him, their torches held high and their tempers flaring.

  ‘What’s this?’ they cried as they saw Oswald stumbling towards them.

  ‘It’s Wishy Washy.’

  ‘Where you off to, Pasty?’ Oswald stammered and pointed down the tunnel. ‘Morgan’s coming!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Oh, is he now?’

  ‘Ain’t we lucky lads?’

  ‘Old Patchy’s comin’ to see us – that’s considerate of him.’

  ‘Pull him to bits.’

  ‘Rip his head off.’

  Smiler the giant was amongst the mob and he grinned more than usual.

  ‘Yesshh,’ Smiler drawled in his awkward, sploshy way. ‘I’ll rif hisshh tongue out and eath it.’

  ‘Stick ’im proper – all these years ’e’s lorded it over us an’ we took it – no more! ‘E’s ’ad it now!’

  The rats waited expectantly and fell silent. Oswald edged past them: they had forgotten him for the moment.

  Morgan turned the corner and strode up to the silent mob. ‘Well lads – not workin’? It’s not time to lay off yet, the shift’s still yours.’ As he spoke he paced up and down looking at each of them menacingly.

  Oswald could see that Morgan was not frightened at all. The mouse hid at the back, not wishing to be seen by those evil, beady eyes that darted to and fro.

  ‘We ain’t doin’ nowt,’ said a solemn, steady voice.

  ‘That so? Now lads, if you know what’s good for yer you’ll do as I say or there’ll be big trouble.’

  The rats all cackled thinking this the most ridiculous and idle threat that they had ever heard.

  But Morgan did not flinch. He stood his ground coolly and waited for the guffaws to cease. One by one the rats fell silent. Even Smiler stopped laughing. This was new to them. Morgan had never been brave – or stupid. They wondered why he was so confident. When all was hushed Morgan spoke softly so that they had to strain their ears to listen. He had their full attention.

  ‘How dare you threaten me,’ he sneered. ‘Remove those thoughts of revolt from your addled brains and bow down before the Black Prince of Nightmare. Beg His forgiveness! I am His right hand, His servant. Raise a claw against me and you challenge Him. He is Lord of All – do you think He hides in the dark portal idle and ignorant! His eyes are, everywhere – all around – all-seeing and all-knowing.’

  The rats considered this uneasily. Morgan pushed past them like a high priest speaking to the pagan rabble.

  ‘Beware your thoughts!’ he continued. ‘For Jupiter will read them and you will be sent to serve Him on the other side of His altar.’

  A faint murmur rippled through the rats. He had nearly won them over.

  ‘Return to your places and be honoured that the work you do is for His greater glory.’

  ‘A pox on the stinkin’ work,’ shouted a raucous voice. Morgan looked over the crowd. Approaching them was Skinner. He looked shaky – bruises covered his body and cuts marked his face, his tail was broken in three places and trailed limply behind. The rats turned to him to see what he had to say.

  ‘We choke and die in roof-falls – for what?’ he spat bitterly. ‘We break our backs – for what?’ He punched the air with his fists and some rats began to mumble with him. ‘I’ll tell you what for,’ continued Skinner. ‘For some fat freak who sits in that chamber laughin’ his whiskers off at us. The work keeps us busy – that stops us askin’ too many questions like “Who is Jupiter?” and “Why won’t he come out?” I’ll tell you why because he’s a fraud, some old codger who’s got it good.’

  The crowd nodded at that and began to grumble once more – soon they were all waving their fists in the air angrily.

  Oswald dared not move. He cowered down and wondered how long the argument would continue before it turned really nasty. Skinner seemed to have the upper hand at the moment but Oswald still reckoned that Morgan had a surprise left.

  The piebald rat regarded the mob in disgust. ‘You fools,’ he cried. ‘You know nothing of the power of Jupiter.’ He pointed at Skinner. ‘But you are the biggest fool of all.’ Morgan reached into his sack and brought out Madame Akkikuyu’s crystal.

  The mirth that the sight of this brought quickly died away as flames flared inside the globe and two eyes of red fire blazed out.

  The voice of Jupiter boomed over their astonished heads.

  ‘I AM YOUR LORD.’

  The rats fell on their faces in terror. They had never witnessed his full wrath before, or his powers. Oswald trembled and sank to his knees, stricken with horror.

  ‘I am your Lord!’ Jupiter called again. ‘I have been generous and lenient in the past but now you have angered me. I should bring a terrible doom on you all.’

  Morgan raised the burning crystal above his head and the light from it shone out blindingly.

  ‘Without me you would revert to sucking the slime from the walls as you did when I found you. I have blessed you with the thirst for blood and murder – yet you would rise against me.’ Jupiter laughed. ‘I know who the ringleaders are. Behold my vengeance.’

  Skinner looked nervously around him. In his wildest imaginings he had not thought Jupiter was this powerful.

  A halo of white fire suddenly formed around the crystal, then shot out in an intense stream of death. Skinner screamed as the white inferno consumed him. The rats around fell back in fear.

  Skinner crackled and sparkled, writhing and waving his arms about in agony. His squeals filled the mine and echoed long after he had died. Abruptly the fire vanished and a smoking, charred skeleton collapsed on the ground. The peeler fell on top, smashing the brittle charcoal bones.

  Gasps of horror spread through the crowd.

  ‘Now I tell you to return to your work before I have to demonstrate my anger further. Do not fan the flames of my wrath.’

  As one, the rats jumped to their feet and scurried back to their posts.

  Morgan chuckled. Now he had the power he had always craved. No one would dare challenge his position now. The fear of His Lordship would keep them in check.

  For the first time in his nasty life, Morgan felt secure and safe.

  The rats worked swiftly. The roof-fall was quickly cleared away and the suffocated bodies flung to one side. Smiler charged at the mine face with renewed vigour and the dirt flew up around him.

  Oswald picked up his spoon and dug speedily. He dared not believe what he had just seen and his mind was reeling. Surely nothing could defeat Jupiter. Morgan remained on his lofty vantage point observing the wor
k. The crystal was still in his claws and the eyes continued to burn brightly.

  ‘Do not think this is a profitless task,’ Jupiter boomed. ‘There will be rewards for all of you at the finish. Once the tunnel is completed the treasure that lies under Blackheath shall be yours to enjoy for ever.’ He chuckled wickedly. ‘Morgan, return to me at my altar. Another problem approaches, one which I shall crush with the utmost pleasure.’

  The crystal became dark as the fires within died. Morgan jumped down off the brick and made his way through the mine. He was pleased to see how the rats bowed reverently and saluted as he went past. He had achieved his life’s ambition at long last and he revelled in the feeling of joy it brought.

  Oswald was troubled – he had heard Jupiter’s words about the treasure and they worried him, though he did not know why. He dug away thoughtfully. Somewhere a nagging doubt was tickling him and would not go away. He scratched his head and wondered.

  Smiler smashed through the soil, his great claws ripping out vast clumps of earth. Then one of his claws snapped and flew off. He cursed and inspected the rough soil before him. He picked out some stones and wiped some dirt away. Hastily he withdrew his claws. ‘Acchh, it sshhtingsshh,’ he said, examining his skin. It was growing red and sore.

  ‘The sshoil burnsshh!’ he exclaimed.

  Several rats went up to him and peered at his burns, then they stared at the mine face.

  ‘Smells queer,’ sniffed one of them.

  ‘Oohh, it burns me nose,’ yelped another after having a good whiff. He rubbed his snout.

  ‘Get tools and see what it is,’ they suggested.

  Oswald watched them as he racked his brains. He knew the answer was there if only he could find it. Something in the soil that burned . . .

  He tried to think back to when he was younger and Master Oldnose had stood before him and the rest of the class of young mice. He had told them of something terrible that had happened many, many years ago. Something to do with Blackheath, but what?