Mariah Mundi

by G. P. Taylor

  [ 32 ]

  The SS Tersias

  THE clocks struck midnight with a chilling sound. It was as if their call was different than on any other night. The Prince Regent shuddered in time with each beat, the sound of the chimes almost deafening Mariah as he ran. He could hear the echoing carillon coming from all around him as he chased the red glow of Gormenberg’s footsteps. As the clocks struck the third chime of midnight, he turned a corner of the stairs and into a long corridor. He had never been this way before. It was cold and damp and had the smell of cordite and pepper. It reminded him of the odour an old aunt who would carry her wheezing and toothless dog everywhere she went.

  In front of Mariah a door stood a fraction open, the light from inside shafting into the dark corridor. The footsteps led through it; they were bright and fresh and shimmered with red vapour. He knew Gormenberg was near. From inside the room he could hear the man fumbling with the lock of a safe and the clitter-clatter of a dial ratcheting loudly as he turned it back and forth to find the combination. Mariah heard the safe door creak open on squeaky hinges, followed by the slithering of metal across a shelf.

  He waited outside the room, not daring to venture in. The chimes of a gentle clock picked out the hour again, as if time had stood still. Mariah counted the twelve strokes of midnight, repeated over and over like the call of a faraway bird.

  He listened as Gormenberg slammed something heavy against the slats of a wooden table. There was the click of another lock. The man mumbled to himself, half cursing, half laughing. It was as if he recited a charm under his breath, not wanting the world to hear the secret words he recounted.

  ‘Guardian of Gold, open the door to riches and grace …’ he said again and again, his words seeping out through the open door as Mariah listened, wondering what to do next.

  It was circumstances and not bravery that forced his hand. Mariah was leaning against the door to hear more of what Gormenberg was chanting when suddenly he fell into the room and to the floor at the man’s feet.

  Gormenberg didn’t look at him. Mariah could see that he held the outstretched wings of a plain lacquered box, the Panjandrum lying by its side.

  ‘Stay, boy, and don’t move,’ Gormenberg said as he placed a piece of black coal into the box. ‘I must do this before I deal with you.’

  ‘I’ve come for the Midas Box,’ Mariah said, his voice trembling.

  ‘Brave or stupid? I haven’t decided which you are but will soon find out,’ Gormenberg nagged through chattering gold teeth, as he was about to close the lid of the box upon the lump of coal.

  ‘Neither!’ shouted Mariah as he jumped to his feet and stepped towards the man, grabbing him by the hand and thrusting it into the Midas Box as he slammed the lid upon it.

  Gormenberg screamed in agony, his face turning blue and then deep crimson as throngs of white spittle blew from his mouth like foaming wave tops. The box juddered against the wooden table, vibrating and alive, as shards of golden crystal light beamed across the room, the light so intense that it dazzled. Mariah struggled to hold Gormenberg’s hand fast as they both became absorbed within the blazing light that escaped from the Midas Box.

  ‘You don’t know what you do!’ screamed Gormenberg as he struggled to be free. ‘I had altered time and at last would have succeeded. It will kill us both if you don’t set me free.’

  His voice sounded feeble. Mariah could smell the noxious odour of stale cigars and old cologne that clung to Gormenberg’s jacket. Tiny ribbons of wax began to melt from his face as his nose began to drip and liquefy. His eyes bulged as if they were being pushed from his head. As he screamed, darts of golden light shot from his mouth.

  There was a sudden and terrifying explosion. The room was darkened as the lights flickered. Mariah was blown from his feet and landed against the wall. Gormenberg was nowhere to be seen. A thick layer of black smoke hung like a pall of winter smog across the stone floor. As Mariah got to his feet he saw Gormenberg’s arched back rising from the mist. The man stood up, clutching his left hand. It glowed in the gaslight. It was completely golden, every finger frozen in bright precious metal.

  ‘My hand …’ Gormenberg stuttered as he stared disbelievingly at what had been done to him. ‘Look what you’ve done!’ His voice sounding like that of a child who had discovered a broken toy.

  Mariah looked towards Gormenberg, who had been showered in golden rays. Upon his coat were globules of shining metal; his skin shimmered in a fine gold powder. Droplets of gold hung from the ceiling of the room, sparkling in the light. It was as if everything had been bathed in gold and outlined like a finely painted icon. He looked again at Gormenberg’s hand – it was solid gold.

  The Midas Box lay on the table, the cards close by. They appeared to have been undisturbed by the explosion of light that had knocked Mariah from his feet. The lad saw Gormenberg’s eyes flash from box to cards and then to his golden hand.

  ‘Want to take them both?’ he asked as he felt for the dagger in his belt. ‘Your move, Gormenberg. Go for which one you want, but go for both and I’ll pin you to the table with this dagger.’ Mariah couldn’t believe he had spoken the words – his fear had gone, and his heart pounded as if with each beat it changed a boy to a man. He clutched the dagger and heard the disturbing sound of soft metal touching against the hilt.

  Mariah held out the dagger before him and looked at his own hand. It was then he saw that the tip of his little finger to the second knuckle had been transformed to pure gold. It was perfect in every way and joined seamlessly to the flesh, as if the gold had grown from his skin. He stared at it intently, mesmerised by what he saw.

  Gormenberg saw the look of panic on the boy’s face and laughed.

  ‘Slightly less than mine,’ he said jovially as he grasped his hand. ‘If we had fought for longer then we would both be turned to solid gold.’ With that he reached out, grabbed the Midas Box and ran from the room.

  Mariah picked the Panjandrum cards from the table and followed. The mist swirled red before his eyes as the divining spectacles followed Gormenberg’s every step. They ran on, down and down, Gormenberg’s stride lengthening as he left Mariah trailing behind. Through door after door and around dark landings they ran. All Mariah could see was the plod, plod, plod of red footprints in the sands that covered the stone steps. They clattered into a long tiled corridor that Mariah knew led to the beach.

  Gormenberg darted quickly into a side passage far ahead as Mariah ran on behind. In the distance, Mariah saw three figures coming towards him, their bodies outlined by a fine blue aura.

  ‘Mariah!’ shouted Sacha. She held Felix by his arm as Charity carried the boy along.

  ‘He’s running for the harbour. Gormenberg is going to catch the Tersias before she sets sail,’ Mariah screamed as he ran on, in his heart knowing he couldn’t stop.

  ‘I’m with you, lad,’ Charity shouted as he laid Felix to the ground. ‘Take him to the beach. Can you make it, Felix?’

  The boy nodded as he leant towards Sacha, and Charity joined the chase.

  Mariah snatched the eyeglasses from his face and plunged them into his pocket. At last he could see without stumbling, free from the blinding of the divining spectacles. He ran even faster, trying to make a yard on Gormenberg, but the man ran like the wind, faster than Mariah had ever seen a man run before – it was as if his feet didn’t touch the ground as with every step he bolted a further yard. Soon they were upon the beach, where a growing storm was mounting in the bay. The waves washed across the top of the North Pier, the dolphin buoys dancing in the water.

  Mariah watched Gormenberg leaping across the sands and stretching the distance between them with every step. The man danced across the strand like a gazelle, soaring over the dispersing mist.

  ‘CU-BAA!’ shouted the distant voice of Charity, who ran far behind Mariah. ‘Get the man!’

  Several yards from Mariah the soft white sand burst open, and out sprang the crocogon who had been basking in the warmth. The beas
t looked about it, hearing the call of its master, and then, sighting Gormenberg, set off to run.

  ‘Go, Cuba, go!’ shouted Charity as he ran on behind Mariah and together they watched the beast chase Gormenberg through the mist and towards the pier.

  Gormenberg turned and cast a glance behind, slowing his steps as if he taunted the crocogon to run faster. He stopped and held out his golden hand to tempt Cuba, and looked across the sands to Mariah and Charity as they raced on.

  ‘Do you think a dragon can catch me, Captain Charity? Is that the best you can do?’ he screamed, his voice shrill and angry. ‘You have no idea who I am, do you, Captain?’ he shouted mockingly as Cuba rushed towards him, about to strike.

  Cuba leapt the last six feet, launching herself through the air with all the strength of her dragon legs. Her long tail twisted as she dived towards him, and at the final moment she snapped her mouth.

  Gormenberg sprang to one side. The crocogon fell into the surging water of the surf, perplexed as to how it had missed the man.

  ‘Better luck next time!’ Gormenberg laughed as he ran towards the fish pier lined with gutting sheds that were silhouetted against the moonlight.

  ‘Run for the ship, Mariah!’ Charity shouted as Mariah raced on, his lungs fit to burst and his throat burning.

  The blackened and sooted funnel of the steam-tramp Tersias poked above the chimneys of the houses that lined the pier. A thick column of black smoke rolled upwards like the blade of a knife cutting the sky as its engine chugged and clanged, ready to set sail.

  Gormenberg ran on, leaping from the beach to the top of the pier like Spring-Heel Jack as the crocogon followed up a flight of stone steps. Mariah came behind, with every pace losing his breath. He stumbled up the steps, slipping on the jagged winkles and seaweed that clung grimly to each tread. Long swags of draped nets pulled at his face as he ran past the scaling huts to the harbour side.

  In the faint gas light of the pier end Mariah could see Gormenberg leap from a stack of fish boxes and on to the ship. At once the Tersias put to sea, crashing the boats that were moored to its side to matchwood. Mariah ran along the pier, knife in hand, as he caught up to the ship. Gormenberg stood aft, the Midas Box held proudly in his right hand as he waved to Mariah with his five golden fingers and shimmering palm.

  ‘Next time, Mariah. I am sure there will be a next time. Out of them all it was you who came the closest to capturing me. Imagine – a boy, a Colonial boy! Keep the hotel, whatever is left of it …’ Gormenberg laughed as the ship slipped through the mouth of the harbour. Its portholes glimmered with a meagre yellow light that seeped through the dirty windows.

  ‘I expected your escape on something finer than this,’ Mariah shouted back to him as he stood on the end of the pier.

  ‘I have a bilge full of pearls and the Midas Box, what more could I ask for?’ Gormenberg swaggered as he turned to walk away. ‘One more thing,’ he shouted. ‘The man who was killed outside the Three Mariners – I didn’t do it. It was another.’

  ‘We’ll find you, Gormenberg,’ Charity shouted as he found Mariah and stood watching the vessel put to sea.

  Gormenberg waved his golden hand and laughed as the Tersias sailed clear of the stillness of the harbour and into the turbulent open water of the Oceanus Germanicus.

  ‘Lost to us …’ Mariah said as he turned to Charity. ‘He got away.’

  ‘But you fought well, you proved yourself. The struggle changed you … And you and Sacha did it together.’

  ‘But Gormenberg got away with everything.’

  ‘Sometimes things are never the way we wish. Often it looks as if evil has triumphed and light is weaker than darkness. That is life, my lad. Loose ends and misery.’ As Charity spoke, the panting crocogon came and wrapped itself around their feet like an attentive lapdog.

  ‘The Prince Regent!’ Mariah blurted. ‘I must go, the steam was switched by Gormenberg …’

  ‘And the faucet released by Captain Charity. Sacha helped me escape – she did well, no one could have done better. Together we found the valve and the Prince Regent will shudder no more.’

  Mariah shooed the crocogon from his feet and together they turned to walk away. In his heart he felt saddened, as if the burden of the world had been thrust too early upon his young shoulders. The cold night clung to his face and dewed his eyes. Nothing of what he had done or seen made any sense to him. It was as if life had become an opera and he a player against foul fiends.

  As they stepped away, Mariah smiled at Charity and then turned to cast a final glance to the sea.

  ‘LOOK!’ Mariah screamed and pointed to the sea just beyond the harbour mouth. The tentacles of the Kraken wrapped themselves around the bow of the Tersias, tearing the wooden slats from the steel hulk. The sea boiled as the creature took hold of the ship and pulled at its smokestack, ripping it from the ship and hurling it to the water. ‘The Kraken – it did come back!’

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Charity said as he looked on. ‘Never trust a creature like a Kraken, you never know what they will do.’

  They stood as onlookers, watching the waves break over the ship. From below another beast gripped itself upon the craft’s stern, and a gigantic tentacle broke open the bridge door and searched inside. Three crewmen leapt to the foaming sea, to be lost in the waves. Gormenberg stood proudly on the top of the ship, waving to the shore in defiance, his screams drifting upon the wind with none to hear them.

  In seconds the vessel was no more. The Krakens together pulled it from the surface to the depths below. Gone was Gormenberg, gone was the Midas Box.

  ‘What’s to be done?’ Mariah asked of Charity.

  ‘Nothing. All has been done for us,’ he replied calmly as Albion and Black ran towards them.

  ‘He escaped …’ Mariah said before they could ask.

  ‘Only to be caught again,’ Charity continued.

  ‘We saw it well but couldn’t believe our eyes. In all these years at the Bureau we have never seen the likes before,’ Perfidious Albion snorted enthusiastically.

  ‘And the Midas Box?’ Mariah asked.

  ‘The sea will keep it safe … for the time being,’ Black said seriously. ‘Until it calls to be found again to ensnare some other madman.’

  ‘I have the Panjandrum,’ Mariah added.

  ‘Then all is not lost,’ Albion replied as he held out his hand.

  In the Golden Kipper, Smutch polished with vinegar the head of a stuffed elephant that was fixed to the wall above the door. He stood precariously on a rickety old ladder, his foot propped against a covered parrot’s cage. The smell of fish blistered from the kitchen as the gathering sat waiting in anticipation. Sacha held her head in her hands, trying to keep herself from sleeping as Mariah and Felix chattered constantly.

  ‘So you’ll be staying longer?’ Black asked Mariah as Charity entered the restaurant with a platter of steaming fried fish.

  ‘At least a year,’ he said, smiling at Felix. ‘And Felix is staying too. He needs the time to get over the drubbing he got from the sea witch.’

  ‘And to keep an eye on you and Sacha. Here less than a week and the whole town nearly explodes. Heaven help us if he stays for longer,’ Felix said as he jostled him with his shoulder.

  ‘Then you’ll take this?’ Albion asked Mariah. He slipped a felt-covered case across the table.

  Mariah opened the case as they all looked on. It felt warm and soft in his palm. He pulled the lid and looked inside. There in a silk sheath was a silver badge. It was imprinted with the shape of a Caladrius rising from the sea, and around its edge were seven stars cut through the metal. Along the outside were the words: Bureau of Antiquities.

  ‘This is for me?’ Mariah asked, wide-eyed, a look of surprise across his face.

  ‘If you’re up for the task,’ Charity replied as he placed the fish upon the table and handed everyone a silver fork.

  ‘Then I will take it,’ he said, and they all laughed.

  Under the co
ver of its cage, snug and warm, the Caladrius warbled and chirped quietly to itself. It had rested in death, its life spent, and in the light of the moon had been revived. Opening one eye, it gazed at the shapes that were outlined beyond the swathe of calico. By the fire Cuba flicked her tail back and forth as she dreamt of an ocean far away.

  Beyond the harbour, further than the headland and away from the shadow of the castle, the two Krakens swam contentedly together, the spell of the sea witch broken. Upon the beach the bodies washed from the Tersias lay like waxworks in the bright lights cast by the Prince Regent.

  There in the steaming sands the sea had taken the sacrifice it was due. Gormenberg laid in the ebbing surf by Long Rocks, his golden hand shining in the sinking moonlight, his face looking to the stars. Slowly, as the sound of the last steam train hooted its departure from the end of the line, he turned his head, smiled and stared out to sea.

  Praise for Mariah Mundi – The Midas Box:

  ‘When Harry Potter hangs up his wizard’s cloak, booksellers will be looking to G. P. Taylor’s Mariah Mundi - The Midas Box, to keep the cashtills ringing.’ BBC News

  ‘It really is wonderful, wonderful stuff … Mariah Mundi surpasses Potter on just about every level there is. Highly recommended.’ The Bookbag

  ‘The book that combines the big story of C. S. Lewis and the plot of an Indiana Jones movie. We could genuinely be looking at the book series that will replace Harry Potter at the top of every child’s wish list.’ BuddyHollywood Review

  Praise for Shadowmancer:

  ‘The biggest event in children’s fiction since Harry Potter.’ The Times

  ‘The adventure unfolds at a vivid and breathless pace.’ Observer