The Castellan of the Veil turned to face the wall, and laid her hands on the bricks. The stone shimmered, and The Triumph charged towards it. He dived into it headfirst, passing through as if it were a hologram.
‘What about us?’ said Ben. ‘You can’t leave us down here.’
‘What would be the point of removing you?’ said The Archivist. ‘This world is ending. It is all one to us where you die.’
‘Please try to understand, Ben,’ said The Seraph. ‘It was inevitable that this should occur, for it was written, prophesied by the Box itself. If it is any consolation, your name will be writ large in the new Creation. We could not have achieved this without you.’
‘But I don’t want it,’ said Ben.
The Seraph shrugged. ‘Then this is the right place for you.’ He beat his wings, hovering momentarily, before plunging into the wall. One by one the others followed, leaving little ripples in the rock as they became submerged. Once they were gone, the disturbance in the wall subsided, and it became still, like it had never been anything other than cold hard stone.
Chapter Twenty
The Valley of Death
The only light now came from Kartofel, save the blip of daylight that could still be seen far above their heads.
‘What an ignoble way to end,’ said Orff. ‘I just want to say, gentlemen, that apart from the terrible physical agony I have endured the entire time I have known you, it has been a pleasure.’
‘And I just want to say that as far as things stand, I’ve won the Apocalypse,’ said Kartofel. ‘I said no good would come of this angel business, so I get bragging rights for the rest of our lives. Short as they’re likely to be.’
Djinn whimpered.
‘Stop scaring him, Kartofel,’ said Ben.
‘I’m just being realistic.’
‘That’s not helpful.’ Ben looked around the room. The walls were slimy and smooth, and curved up towards the entrance to the shaft. ‘We have to try and get out.’
‘What for? So we can face the Apocalypse in the middle of a ruined castle instead of at the bottom of a well in the middle of a ruined castle?’ said Kartofel. ‘It’s not like we can stop it, is it?
We’re bound to you, and you’re hardly the saving-the-world type, are you?’
‘I don’t know if that’s true,’ said Orff.
‘Oh yeah, he’s a proper action hero,’ said Kartofel.
‘I mean the part about us being bound. Our collars are gone. The Box appears to be burned out. Perhaps we’re free.’
‘I can’t hear the music any more,’ said Ben.
‘I don’t see how that helps,’ said Kartofel. ‘So we won’t get stretched if we climb out. But how can any of us climb out anyway? The ceiling is round.’
‘Can’t you try?’ said Ben.
‘I can’t hang upside down, can I? I’m not a bloomin’ spider. Why can’t Chunk go? He floats, doesn’t he?’
‘That’s rather a good point,’ said Orff, turning expectantly to Djinn.
‘Do you think you could?’ said Ben.
‘I don’t know,’ said Djinn. ‘It’s a long way. What if I get tired?’
‘Just imagine there’s cake at the top,’ snorted Kartofel.
‘Shut up, you,’ said Djinn.
‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea,’ said Ben. ‘Maybe if you pretend there’s bacon, and mustard, and jam tarts waiting for you, you won’t think so much about how high it is. Imagine cheesecake.’
‘And fish and chips,’ said Orff.
‘Really?’ said Djinn.
‘And carrot cake.’
‘Yeah, and that other stuff you like,’ said Kartofel. ‘That orangey-pink stuff that looks like pigeon vomit.’
‘Taramasalata?’ said Djinn, hopefully.
‘If it helps,’ said Ben.
‘OK,’ said Djinn. ‘Here goes . . .’
He started to expand, his form getting more and more transparent as he grew. Before long, he was at the entrance to the shaft, and he began to twist himself through it, moving slowly upward like the world’s laziest tornado.
‘I’m doing it,’ he said through snatched breaths. ‘I’m doing it! Hahahahaha!’
His laughter echoed down the shaft as he got further away. And then it stopped abruptly. There was whoosh of air and Djinn shot back down the tunnel, a panicked look on his face.
‘Ben,’ he said. ‘Ben. It’s that thing. It’s back!’
‘What thing? What happened?’
‘From the train. It’s waiting at the top.’
‘Watch yer heads,’ shouted a voice from the top of the well. It was a little slushy, but it had more of a gruff bark to it than the demon from the Orme. The speck of light at the top of the shaft was momentarily blotted out, and a clanking noise followed as something was thrown down to them. A few echoey crashes later, and a chain ladder unfurled in front of them.
‘Hop on,’ said the voice.
Ben put his foot on the first rung.
‘Don’t do it,’ said Djinn. ‘It’s the dog thing. Honest.’
‘Whatever it is, it’s better than being stuck in a hole as the world ends,’ said Ben.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ said Kartofel. ‘How are we going to get out? It’s not like we’ll get stretched, and I can’t climb up a rope ladder. I doubt the old geezer can either.’
‘Labyrinthitis,’ said Orff.
‘I tell you what, lads,’ shouted the voice. ‘Sound carries well from down there. I can hear every word. Don’t worry about climbing. Just hold on, and we’ll take care of the rest.’
‘That settles it,’ said Ben. ‘Let’s go.’
He climbed a few rungs, and Orff clung on below him. Djinn wrapped himself around the ladder between Ben and Orff, and finally Kartofel clawed his way on to the bottom rung.
‘We’re ready,’ shouted Ben.
‘Right y’are,’ said the voice, and the ladder began to retract at a steady pace. It took much longer to get to the top than it did to get down, but before long Ben was clambering over the lip of the well. There were large cracks in the ground from the earthquake, and several pieces of the castle wall had fallen down.
The ladder was long, and trailed out of the main courtyard. Even as Kartofel clambered over the top of the well, it was still being pulled away by some unseen creature.
‘Hello?’ said Ben. ‘We’re out?’
A small head in an ill-fitting helmet of Norman design poked out from around the wall. The ladder stopped moving, and sure enough the dog-demon padded in wearing chain mail.
‘See?’ said Djinn, wisping behind Ben. ‘I told you.’
‘Oh no, that weren’t me, lad,’ said the demon. He chewed constantly between sentences, only stopping to speak. ‘That were me brother Squat. I’m Neil, Captain of the Chaotic Guard.’ He took his helmet off, and bowed his head. ‘When the trumpets started blaring, His Nibs said I had to fetch yer.’
‘Who’s His Nibs?’ said Ben.
‘His most Chaotic Majesty, the King of the Underworld. Anyway, we’d better do one, what with all the apocalypses.’ He turned on his heels, and scampered back outside.
‘What do you reckon?’ said Kartofel.
‘I don’t trust him,’ said Djinn.
‘I don’t think we have a choice,’ said Ben. ‘We can’t stay here.’
Neil stuck his head back through the entrance. ‘Come on, we haven’t got all chuffin’ day.’
There was a giant green-and-yellow stegosaurus waiting outside the castle, peacefully drinking from the River Clwyd. It had a small saddle around its neck, and a bit in its mouth. Further up its spine, spaced out between its plates, there were four other saddles, each a different shape and size. Neil hurriedly finished winding the ladder back up and tucked it into his saddlebags.
‘All aboard. Stedge here is going to take us home. I know she looks fierce, but she’s right gentle really.’
They approached the creature with caution, Orff muttering something
about salmonella under his breath. One of the saddles had eight pommels, and was obviously meant for Kartofel, who clambered on to it. There was a particularly large saddle towards the tail, which was taken by Djinn, and Orff and Ben settled into the remaining standard ones. Stedge huffed as they got on, and Ben could feel her massive lungs working, moving his legs up and down. Once Neil was mounted, she lumbered forward, lazily splashing into the river and then stomping out of it as easily as if it were a puddle.
‘She takes a while to rev up,’ said Neil as he patted Stedge’s flanks. ‘Sixty-five million years young, that’s what we say, hey, girl?’
They blundered on through a succession of fields, gradually picking up speed as they went. Most of the buildings they passed had been reduced to rubble in the earthquake, and thick black smoke rose from those that weren’t. The once-green fields were now brown and dying, and the only living creatures were swarms of black insects.
‘This is horrible,’ said Ben.
‘Aye,’ said Neil. ‘Horsemen’s first stop it was, reckon they went a bit overboard. You should see the streets. Fightin’ and car crashes everywhere. We got stuck in a tailback just outside of Rhosesmor on the way in. Ooh, Veil’s coming up now, so everyone hold on tight.’
‘What if you haven’t got opposable thumbs?’ said Kartofel.
Neil kicked his heels into Stedge’s flanks, and she immediately surged forward, giving Kartofel his answer: you fall off. Ben managed to grab him as he tumbled, and held him firmly in the saddle. In the now fast-approaching distance, Ben saw the smouldering remains of the A525. There was a massive pile of cars stacked up in the middle of it, blocking their way. Stedge headed straight for it, and Neil made no effort to steer her away.
‘This is where it gets a bit hairy,’ he said, kicking his heels. ‘Go on, girl, you can do it.’
Stedge roared, and Ben closed his eyes just as they were about to crash through the metal mountain. His ears popped, and when he opened his eyes again, the Rhuddlan countryside had been reset. The pile of cars had gone, and they were racing through a genteel twilight world, untouched by the Apocalypse. They tore through this Veil version of North Wales until Ben’s ears popped again, and all was instantly grey.
He looked back at the road that had been luscious grass a moment ago, and saw only monotone gravel wasteland, as if they had always been travelling along this path. The abrupt change of terrain did not seem to faze Stedge, and she thundered on until they came to a steep hill, shrouded in thick mist.
Ben could no longer see more than a few feet ahead, and the journey suddenly became a slog. The never-ending incline caused Stedge to slow to a plod, and the unsteady ride made his saddle even less comfortable than before. He began to hear whispers as he passed through the fog, little snatches of gossip commenting on him, and on the demons, adding to his general sense of discomfort and disorientation:
‘Who’s this?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Someone should tell someone.’
‘Who?’
‘Dunno. You?’
‘Why tell me? I already know.’
‘No, you should tell someone.’
‘Who?’
‘Dunno. The Queen? It’s the kind of thing I’d want to know about if I was her.’
‘That one don’t look normal.’
‘Neither does the lizard.’
‘I meant the lizard, but now you come to mention it . . .’
On it went, until they reached the summit. The mist was thinner there, and Ben could see that the road twisted down into a valley. The opposite ridge was clearly visible, but the contents of the valley itself were unknowable, hidden by an even thicker mist than the one they had just come through.
‘What is this place?’ said Ben.
‘The Afterworld,’ said Neil. ‘Purgatory, some call it. Ones that do are normally the most put out to end up here. It’s where all the dead come, after they die. That’s what the mists are.’
Ben shivered. ‘So when we walk through the fog, we’re walking through people?’
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that, like, but aye. Suppose we are.’
‘That doesn’t sound very hygienic,’ said Orff.
‘Oh, little bit of a death stroll never did nobody any harm,’ said Neil. ‘We just have to pass through the Valley of Death, and then we can cross the Veil on the other side, get ourselves home.’
‘The Valley of Death?’ said Djinn. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
‘You’re not alive, idiot. Why would it bother you?’ said Kartofel.
‘It sounds scary.’
‘Oh, there’s no need to be scared, lad,’ said Neil. ‘They can’t hurt you. It’s only cos there’s so many of them makes the journey slow. Stedge doesn’t see too good in the fog.’
Before them, the mist began to part, forming a clear path.
‘Err . . . that doesn’t usually happen,’ said Neil with a forced grin. ‘Still, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about . . .’
Stedge rumbled on, occasionally turning her head as if she sought to move away, but the corridor of fog was so thick on either side that she had no choice but to follow the path the mists were making. They were led down to the valley floor, where they caught sight of a lone figure on a horse wearing a long black hooded robe. The mist parted around it, making a clearing. As Stedge drew to a halt, the figure pulled back the hood to reveal a black crown atop a head of pale green hair.
‘Well, well, well. Trespassers, is it?’ said Death. ‘Is this how things are in my kingdom now? Is it a thoroughfare for impudent demons?’
Neil dismounted, and gave a little bow. ‘Sorry about that, m’lady. We were just on our way to the Underworld. I’ve got papers, signed by The Opposition himself.’ He rummaged around in his saddlebags. ‘I can show you if you wait a sec . . .’
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ said Death. ‘So all the little demons are returning home in time for our lovely Apocalypse, are they? You don’t want to stay in the World and watch the show? How atypical.’
‘That is well demonist,’ said Kartofel. ‘We’re not all obsessed with destruction, you know.’
‘You are,’ said Djinn.
‘She doesn’t know that, though, does she? She can’t go around making assumptions about people. It’s not right.’
Death bent down and looked straight into Kartofel’s eyes, which shut him up immediately. She then did the same for Djinn, and Orff, before moving on to Ben. He felt a numbness inside his head, as if parts of his brain were dying just from having looked at her.
‘And what’s this? You dare to bring a living being into my realm? An actual breathing human? Tell me, demon, why shouldn’t I have my mists lead you round and round in circles until your mount drops dead and this little human starves to death?’
‘Err . . . well, to be honest, your deathliness, I wasn’t really expecting to see you here. I’m sorry, like, err . . .’
‘I’m the keeper of the Box,’ said Ben. ‘And you should let us pass. You’d still be in there if it wasn’t for us.’
The mists began to whisper excitedly. Neil bowed even deeper than he had before, so that his nose was almost touching gravel. ‘Err . . . I’m sorry, your most morbidness, please forgive us, the boy’s never been out of the World. We’re not trying to offend you, honest we’re not.’
Death laughed, and the mists stopped their chatter. ‘No offence was taken, little demon. So the human thinks he is owed a favour, does he? Tell me, boy, what is your name?’
‘Ben Robson.’
‘I shall remember that, you can be sure,’ said Death. ‘Very well then, Ben Robson. I will grant you and your party passage through my kingdom. You may take your leave.’
‘What, really?’ said Neil. ‘Crikey. Thanks very much, like. Consider us your servants.’
‘I have servants aplenty, demon, and many more on their way.’
The mists parted in front of them once more, and Neil tipped his helmet in D
eath’s direction.
‘See, nothing to worry about,’ he said.
‘Gladiators!’ shouted Death.
Individual figures of fog stepped out of the mists. Formidable men and women with shields, battle axes, and helmets formed in front of their eyes. Djinn whimpered as they passed a particularly tall and rugged woman with a large trident in her hand.
‘Are you ready for some sport?’ shouted Death.
The gladiator mists roared in agreement.
‘Very well. On my count, you may pursue our visitors. Are you ready?’
The gladiators roared again. Ben turned round in horror. ‘But you said you would grant us passage.’
‘I never said safe passage,’ laughed Death. ‘I shall give you to the count of ten. One . . .’
The gladiators started to bash their spirit weapons together, which made a strange whispery whistling noise, like wind through autumn trees. Neil whipped the reins, kicked his heels, and Stedge lurched into action. ‘Right. Best hold on tight again.’
The dinosaur took the bank at speed. Mists parted and then reformed in front of them, causing Stedge to move in a zigzag to be able to see. Behind them, Death reached ‘five’, then shouted, ‘Go!’
The whistling noise became deafening. Behind them, every gladiator that had ever lived – and since ‘gladiator’ was not a profession that encouraged longevity there were quite a lot of them – stormed up the hill behind them. They did not suffer the same impairment as Stedge when moving through the mists, and so they were very quickly upon them. They pressed against the dinosaur’s haunches, slowing her progress and throwing her off balance. Ben kicked out, and managed to make a little space around him, but the press of mists was soon irresistible, and they were penned in.
‘What do we do now?’ said Kartofel. He was waving his head around, which seemed to be working: the gladiators dodged out of his way. Even Djinn was getting in on the act, wisping around the mists so that they turned away in confusion.
‘How am I supposed to know that?’ said Neil.
‘I thought you were the Captain of the Guard,’ said Orff.
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