Mariah Mundi

by G. P. Taylor

  ‘Not this knife,’ the Captain said, half smiling, the moon shadowing his face. ‘Surely not this knife? That would implicate me in a murder.’

  ‘The Kraken said –’ Mariah gasped.

  ‘Krakens tell tales. They are storytellers of the sea. Krakens sink ships, eat whales and turn into giant squid when the sea covers their heads. It’s only when they appear on land that they look like he does now. If you saw him in the midst of the ocean you’d never listen to any of his tales again.’ Charity paused and looked Mariah in the eye. ‘And if he saw you, he would pick the flesh from your bones and think nothing of it.’

  ‘So he’s not a man after all?’ Mariah asked as they reached the entrance to the sewer.

  ‘Not in the slightest, not now. The Kraken is the curse of a sea witch, a changeling.’

  Mariah said nothing. He thought of what the Kraken had said of Monica. Suddenly everything was beginning to make sense. He stopped for a moment and looked at the moon that appeared to float on a veil of steam-mist that came up from the far away beach. By the entrance to the sewer he remembered the Colonial School. Gone was the rising at seven and eating hot toast by the fire; gone was the jipperdyke who had polished his shoes and cleaned his room. No longer could he sit and be waited on by the junior boy. Now Mariah was alone in a world that had changed beyond all recognition. It was as if the town at the end of the line was of another dimension, that somehow the laws of nature had been suspended and the track of the Great North Eastern Steam Railway had travelled across the boundaries of the mundane and into an earth filled with Kraken and murder.

  The crocogon slithered from the harbour and into the sewer. Charity climbed along a rusted iron gantry that led under the long pier and into the darkness. He was followed by Mariah, the lad’s trust of him fading with each step. He felt like a child of Abraham being led up a mountain to a burning pyre.

  They listened as they waited in the tunnel entrance. Far away they could hear the fumbling of short footsteps that slipped and fell, and voices moaning in the faraway darkness as a dim echo.

  ‘Lost,’ the Captain whispered. ‘I had kept an eye to see if they would come from the tunnel. If you don’t know the sewer then you could stay in here forever.’

  ‘We found our way to the harbour easily,’ Mariah said.

  ‘But you had Sacha to show the way. She grew up here, scurrying like a rat and hiding contraband.’ Charity brought out a long silver tube from his coat. It was tipped with a glass lens the size and shape of a whale-eye. He opened a small rivet on the top and unscrewed the cap. With a pair of tweezers he dropped in three pieces of what looked to be lumps of white bread from a silver tin. The Captain then stooped to the water and submerged the tube and quickly screwed on the cap. There was a loud hissing sound as the chemical and the water mixed together, then slowly the lens began to glow with a bright phosphorescent light so powerful that Mariah turned away his eyes. An explosion of brilliant white lit the entrance to the sewer as the whale-eyed lens cast its blinding light from wall to wall.

  ‘Lasts for a half of the hour,’ Charity explained as he took a leather hood from his pocket and cupped it over the lens. ‘Can’t be having them see if we’re about. In battle you always have to have the edge. Now we’ll find Grimm and Grendel and have some sport.’

  Mariah hesitated, a bone-numbing dread creeping through his body and stopping him from following. Soon Charity had disappeared ahead and all the lad could see was a faint outline lit by the escaping glow from the torch. He listened to the gulping water of the return of the tide and the drip, drip, drip from the crumbling bricks of the sewer roof.

  Swimming below was Cuba, her eyes visible as if they were charged with an internal fire. They glowed like two red jewels floating upon the black velvet that filled the tunnel from wall to wall. The creature moved effortlessly in the thick watery soup that spilled from the town sewer, a rising mist of stench dancing in wisps upon the water. Mariah slowly walked on, the crocogon keeping pace as if it were luring him to the coda of his life. Mariah bit his lip nervously as he left the night behind and entered fully into the dripping, festering world of the tunnel. The crocogon swam on and mimicked his discontent as it churned in the turbid wastes.

  Ahead, Captain Jack Charity had hidden in a small alcove, cut like a stone coffin in the sewer wall. He shone the metal torch back to the entrance. A pinpoint of light burst through a minute hole cut in the leather hood, shining like a white lance on Mariah’s coat pocket. He walked on as if dragged closer by the beam. The light began to smoulder the fibres of his coat, and tendrils of smoke spiralled from the stands of fabric. Without thinking he put his hand to his chest, where the light warmed his skin until it began to singe the hair. It was as if the torch had stolen the rays of the sun and funnelled them through a glass. Mariah wanted to shout for him to stop but knew Grimm and Grendel would hear him. He stepped to the wall and quickened his pace. Charity shone the torch to the water, looking for Cuba; all he could see was a trace of bubbles that slowly burst through the tension of the surface.

  Ahead they could hear the muttering of Grimm as he barked at Grendel. Their words were distorted by the many echoes that rushed back and forth as the sound billowed from the north tunnel that led to the castle and the Kraken’s lair. Charity stood deathly still as he holstered the torch in the bottom of his coat pocket and with the other hand pulled Mariah towards him. There was a glint from the three-bladed dagger as if it sparkled from within, and a churning of the water by their feet spoke of the nearness of the crocogon.

  A dim light came from the lair in the tunnel ahead of them. Grimm’s voice was brash and clear. It was easy to hear that they were neither lost nor afraid. Grimm scolded Grendel for being so stupid in not having the foresight to bring a lamp, and now all they had would be the candlestick from the table to show them the way through the tide.

  ‘Do you think he’ll speak?’ Grendel said. They could hear a rope being dragged across the floor.

  ‘He’d better tell us where he took them or he’ll never put to sea again,’ Grimm replied.

  ‘We could sell him to the London Chronicle,’ Grendel chuntered. ‘I once saw a picture of a man covered in hair who had been brought up by wolves. Surely a living Kraken is worth more than that?’

  ‘If we find the lad, Luger will pay us more than any photograph. Anyhow, I have been thinking that it would be more profitable for us to take over Mister Luger’s enterprises and have him done away with.’

  ‘Again? But I thought you’d already murdered –’ He stopped as the Kraken moaned loudly, the bonds cutting into his wrists. ‘Lucky we fell on him when he slept – he’s been out killing swans. I’ve a good mind to have that one plucked and roasted before the night is out.’

  ‘It’s not a swan, Mister Grendel, not with the feet of an eagle,’ Grimm said as he kicked the body of the Caladrius out of the way.

  ‘Once had a swan myself, when I was a lad,’ Grendel said, his words murmuring through the tunnels. ‘Didn’t have a bird for Christmas and wasn’t going to be without one. I took a rope and a wad of bread and walked the Thames at Rotherhithe.’ He paused momentarily as he thought of what he spoke about. ‘You know, Mister Grimm, they were so tame they would take the food from your hand. So it did, Mister Grimm, so it did … And as it plucked the last crumbs from my fingers I slid the rope over its neck and with one pull had myself the finest Christmas bird my father had ever seen. Plucked, dressed and halved for the baker’s oven, legs so big that it took you two hands to eat them.’ Grendel gurgled with delight and sighed. ‘Shame to leave this dead thing just to rot. Once we’ve finished with Mister Kraken we could take it with us.’

  ‘For one so thin, Mister Grendel, your mind is uncommonly annoyed with the passions of food,’ Grimm barked as Charity and Mariah listened from the passageway.

  ‘Always been the same – thinking of food and eating food all the day long and never fatter than a lath. And look at you, Mister Grimm, never eating more tha
n a mouse and growing wider by the day. What justice is that?’ Grendel snorted in false concern. ‘Well, he’s trussed and ready to be transported back to Luger’s dungeons. The tide should be topping out and we need to be away. Don’t want to spend the night staring into this creature’s eyes.’

  Grendel tied the last knot around the Kraken’s wrist and lifted him to his feet. He dragged him to the doorway and across the midden and into the dark tunnel. Grimm followed on, candle in hand to light the way.

  ‘Slowly, Mister Grendel, slowly … My stride is not the length of yours and we may need to be together.’

  Grendel didn’t reply. He clutched the Kraken with one hand and stood motionless, staring down the long chamber to the lapping water far below. In the distance he could see the red glow of two large eyes coming towards him. In the dark, the crocogon took on a larger, wilder frame. Grendel sunk back, pulling the Kraken with him as he chirped and gurgled in surprise at seeing such a creature.

  ‘Fiend – ogre – beast!’ Grendel screeched loudly as the crocogon pulled itself from the water and began to walk towards him.

  ‘Beast? Mister Grendel, we have the beast and we will take it to the Prince Regent for interrogation –’

  ‘Beast, Mister Grimm, a sewer beast, there before us, a red-eye sewer beast!’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Grimm said as he lifted the candlestick into the air to light all that was ahead.

  Cuba scurried by Charity and Mariah as they pressed themselves against the wall, covered by the shadows. The crocogon flicked its tail back and forth as it almost danced with excitement, breaking into a trot as it lumbered its black shimmering mass towards them.

  ‘Use your cane, Mister Grendel, USE YOUR CANE!’ Grimm shouted at the top of his voice. He turned and ran up the steep incline of the tunnel.

  [ 27 ]

  Calando

  THE last they saw of Grimm and Grendel was the turning shadows that dodged in and out of the shaft of pure white light that exploded from Captain Charity’s phosphorescent torch. Cuba had been called to heel as her master laughed and grunted to near choking at the sight of the two detectives scurrying into the darkness, chased by the crocogon.

  Upon the return of the beast, Charity pulled out several slices of malodorous sausage from his pocket and fed the creature one piece at a time. Cuba sat upon her hind legs with her tail wrapped about itself and snapped each piece.

  ‘Job well done,’ Charity said as he untied the tight bindings that cut into the Kraken’s wrist. ‘At least we know where they will be in the hour, if they can pick their way through the passageways.’

  The Kraken attempted to smile, unsure as to what Charity would do next. Mariah saw the look upon his face and gently took him by the arm.

  ‘I fell asleep,’ the Kraken said. ‘It had been so long since I last rested. Every night I have searched the streets for Scratty.’

  ‘Then you will search no more, for tonight she shall be found and all will be well,’ Charity said as he finished pulling the bindings from his wrists.

  ‘This is Captain Jack Charity,’ Mariah said as he stroked the Kraken’s arm. ‘It was his fish that you stole – but don’t fret, I gave him the money.’

  ‘I know,’ the Kraken said earnestly as he pulled the sleeves of his frock shirt to cover the iron manacles that enclosed each wrist. ‘I saw you bring the bread. I was hiding from you. No one was supposed to come into this place. It is –’

  ‘Haunted?’ Charity asked finishing his words. ‘Never been one to be afraid of ghosts. It’s only the living that can do you harm.’

  ‘Believe me, Captain Charity, I have met others who can work in realms that you would not believe existed.’

  ‘And turn you from a man into a Kraken?’ he asked boldly as the torchlight penetrated though the lining of his coat, casting a net of shadows at their feet.

  ‘Even that,’ the Kraken replied. ‘If you had not come back, then I know not what they would have done.’

  ‘Cooked you alive and served you like a Christmas swan.’ Charity laughed. ‘Where they hide, they shall find neither comfort nor food, and they will have to pass this way again. What do you do this night?’

  ‘I think we are united in the same task and our fate lies entangled in the Prince Regent,’ the Kraken replied as Cuba brushed her tail back and forth, sensing a nearby run of rats being chased by the high water.

  ‘Whatever, we will not pass through the entrance to the harbour. And we have but a quarter of the hour within this lamp, so we will depart your company. Do you remember the way?’ Charity said to Mariah, who watched as the crocogon snapped a large rat in its mouth and, tossing it into the air, opened its jaws and swallowed it whole.

  The Kraken led them to a small dam crossed by a long plank that would lead them to the tunnel and the chimney. Below them, the water bubbled. Charity clicked his fingers, and Cuba leapt obediently into the dark waste and in an instant had vanished from sight.

  ‘Do you walk the way of men or Kraken?’ Charity asked as they stood beside the deep pool.

  ‘I go the only way I know,’ the Kraken replied as he stepped into the water.

  ‘Then bid us safe passage?’ Charity asked.

  ‘I may be a monster but will never eat my friends,’ the creature replied as he sank further into the depths.

  Captain Charity took the torch from his pocket. The brilliance had begun to fade and yet still was bright enough to light the whole chamber as if it were day. The Kraken slipped down into the water, and as it was overwhelmed it began to be transformed.

  Mariah stared as the long tentacles of a gigantic sea beast slowly replaced the shape of the man. It was as if he were being absorbed inch by inch by an enormous squid-like creature, as if he were being turned inside out and something hideous born from within. The water began to bubble and boil as the Kraken grew in size and shape. Long spiked tentacles thrashed about in the black foam as the Kraken opened its horrendous beak and sucked a draught of stagnant air from the sewer.

  The pool swirled and twisted as the Kraken was finally transformed. Suddenly it lashed out towards them. Charity jumped from the grasp of a long thin spiked limb. Mariah was grabbed around his neck by a thousand minute cups that sucked at his skin and gripped him tightly. Another and another tentacle took hold of him by the arms and legs, raising him to the height of the roof. The creature dragged itself from the water, filling the entrance of the sewer as it rose up on what seemed to be a hundred thick, blood-red tentacles strong enough to pull any ship to the depths. Through two gigantic eyes the creature stared into Mariah’s as it held him from the ground. With a gust of stinking wind it opened the two claws of its blue beak, hissing and panting – and then, as if to answer some faraway call, placed him down with the gentleness of a father’s hand, sank into the water and disappeared.

  ‘Thought you’d met your end, did you?’ Charity said unhurriedly as he brushed some mire from his coat. ‘Knew it wouldn’t keep its word. Never trust a changeling – what they say to you in the flesh is not the word they will keep when transmuted to another form. Once heard of a werewolf who would always lose at cards and then promise never to steal back his money. In a strange way he kept his promise – he would just eat the throats of those who beat him at blackjack.’

  ‘You have the manner of someone not too concerned by his circumstances,’ Mariah said as he pulled a small claw from the skin of his neck and held it before the torchlight. ‘The Kraken only kills in the minds of men and those frightened of the tales you tell.’

  ‘I have seen many things and nothing will ever surprise me again.’

  ‘In the restaurant you said I would have what is rightfully mine. What did you mean?’ Mariah asked.

  Charity turned away and walked along the narrow path to the tunnels that led onward to the brick shaft and the street above. ‘My words ran away with me,’ he said. ‘Often say what I shouldn’t and if I was asked to remember what I meant I would have to say I had forgotten,’ he mumbled as he sc
anned the sewer with the fading light. ‘Best be making haste – like life, the brightness fades and all we will be left with are the memories of this place.’

  ‘But you said I would have what is mine. I remember clearly, Captain Charity. As an officer of the Crown I will have the murderer and you shall have your friend, and Mariah – Mariah will have that which is rightfully his – that’s what you said. Word for word. What belongs to me that I don’t know of?’

  ‘If you could have something, anything in the world, what would it be? A new life, a certain future, an inheritance? What would you choose?’ Charity spoke quickly, giving him no time to answer. ‘See – you don’t know. So why should I tell you now? It’s all about patience, Mariah … Mulciber … Mundi.’

  ‘Who told you? I have never said my full name to anyone and yet you just said it. How did you know?’

  ‘A guess, a stab in the dark, a wild chance, an insight into that which goes on in the subconscious?’ Charity replied as he weaved through the passageway towards the rusted iron ladder and the alleyway. ‘Mulciber? Doesn’t that mean someone who can bend metal?’

  ‘It was my grandfather’s name,’ Mariah snapped, knowing that Charity amused himself at his expense. ‘You know me well, Captain. So what of my future?’

  ‘It’ll come to pass, Colonial boy … Now we must keep to the task in hand.’ Charity slipped through yet another opening and the light of his torch faded to an amber glow. Soon they were near the rusted iron ladder that led up to the street. They walked on in silence. Mariah felt as if he were about to climb a high mountain. His mouth had dried with fear; his eyes stung with the stench of the sewer. The thump of his heart beat loudly in his ears. He turned his thoughts again and again, wondering what would become of them all. He realised that Charity was more a part of his life than a stranger met by chance in a railway carriage. It was as if he were an actor given only his own lines and were waiting for some unknown voice to speak the other part. Mariah knew too that the journey to his future would start with the first foot he placed on the metal ladder, a step that would take him not only to the street above, but also to the unknown.