Growl turned and fixed Ben with a piercing stare. ‘Exactly.’
‘The Temple of the Holy Crystal,’ Rupam remembered. ‘That’s what the village is named after, remember? The Memento Mori temple.’
Knight was frowning at Growl. ‘Are you serious? Diablo’s Crystal – here?’
‘Why not? One of the fabled artefacts that has been lost for centuries. We know that the Memento Mori took it and we know that here they founded a Temple of the Holy Crystal.’
‘And the Crystal was created by Diablo as some sort of focusing device for his power,’ Knight said. ‘That could fit.’
‘But why are things happening right now?’ Maria asked, cutting casually through a trailing branch of cedar.
‘The ceremony that Carstairs Endeavour held to summon Mortagula,’ Knight said. ‘Could that have somehow activated or interfered with the other artefacts – the ones he didn’t have?’
‘I have no idea, but anything is possible,’ Growl told him. ‘Now, please let’s stop speculating and try to discover the truth. When we get to the church, let’s hope we can find answers to all these questions.’
‘If we ever get there,’ Ben said.
Even as he said it, there was the sound of a muffled thud, followed moments later by an explosion. A cloud of smoke and dust rose above the hedge to the side of the road.
It was followed almost at once by a similar sound. Another explosion, close to the first. Grit and mud blasted past Ben and the others.
‘They’re shelling the village,’ Knight shouted above the noise. ‘They’re going to level it completely.’
The road ahead exploded. Chunks of tarmac flew at them, rising dust blotting out the light. The rumble of the tanks was getting louder all the time, approaching from behind.
‘We have to stop them,’ Growl yelled. ‘The Crystal – if it is the Crystal – is barely holding the Green Man in check now. If the tanks destroy it, we have no hope!’
They were level with a ruined house set back from the road. Honeysuckle and climbing roses formed a latticework over the broken walls. The roof had gone and the windows were empty sockets. Everyone turned towards the house as they heard the sound of a powerful engine from the other side of it.
Moments later, a tank ploughed through the building. The gun appeared first, then the main body of the heavy vehicle shattered through the stonework, sending debris flying. The front of the tank lurched upwards as it climbed the remains of the house wall. Then it slammed down, bricks and stone crunching under the tracks.
‘Get to the church,’ Knight yelled at Growl. Then he turned to the others. ‘All of you, get to the church.’ He grabbed the nearest person by the shoulder – it was Ben. ‘Not you. You can help me here.’
‘Help you do what?’ Ben shouted back.
The tank was heaving through the remains of the building. A side wall collapsed behind it. The vehicle turned, one track stopping as the other kept going to line it up with the roadway. Then it lurched forward again.
‘We’re going to talk to the crew of that tank. Find out if there’s any way to stop the attack.’
The tank slammed down on to the roadway, just metres from where Ben and Knight were standing. They dashed out of the way. Knight jumped on to the grass verge and from there up on to the broken remains of the wall of the house. As the tank rumbled past, he leapt on to the back of it.
Ben was not so fast. The tank was already pulling away, too far from him. If he tried to jump on now, he’d get caught in the tracks at the back. He ran along the broken wall, parts of which were only a few bricks high. He could feel the masonry crumbling under his feet.
Knight reached for Ben from the back of the tank. He was holding on to a part of the metalwork with one hand, stretching with the other as far as he could to grab Ben.
‘Jump!’ Knight yelled, though Ben couldn’t hear him above the straining roar of the engine. Black exhaust blasted out.
He leapt. Ben was still running as he left the ground. The fumes stung the back of his throat. His hand brushed against Knight’s, but he couldn’t hold on. He was falling.
Frantically, Ben flailed his arms, trying to balance on the sloping back of the tank. He was perched on a curving section that covered the top of the tracks. If he fell …
A hand grabbed his wrist and dragged him away from the edge.
‘Thanks,’ Ben gasped. ‘Now what?’ He doubted Knight could hear him.
It was hard to stay upright as the tank lurched and bumped along the road. They were shaken to their knees as it skirted the hole in the road caused by the shelling. The tank slowed, the gun raising slightly. There was a huge rush of noise as it fired. Ben could hear the whine of the shell.
In the distance, the wall of a ruined house exploded into fragments.
With the tank still going more slowly, Knight leapt up on to the turret. He gestured urgently for Ben to follow. Hoping the turret wasn’t about to turn and throw him off, Ben clambered up after Knight.
There was a heavy, circular hatch on top of the tank. Ben guessed it could be sealed from the inside, but although it was shut, it was bouncing in its frame as the tank moved. Knight grabbed at an external handle and heaved it open. Ben helped him fold it back so that it lay flat across the turret.
‘Why didn’t they lock it?’ he shouted.
Knight was staring down into the tank. When he looked across at Ben, his face was pale. ‘Because someone was trying to get out,’ he shouted back. ‘Maybe all of them were. Let’s hope they made it.’
Ben leaned forward to look down through the hatch – to see what had made Knight turn pale.
The inside of the tank was dimly lit by internal lights. The sunlight shone down through the hatch, giving further illumination. He could make out the vague shapes of the crew, the metal sides of the cabin, the first aid box marked with a white cross and the word ‘Emergency’ fixed to the inside of the turret … It took Ben several moments to realise what he was really looking at.
‘There’s no one here,’ he finally said out loud.
Or was there? As he leaned in through the hatch, his eyes adjusted and he could make out more details. The whole interior was smothered with branches and leaves. Gnarled wood jutted through the leaves, curving round the tank’s controls. Ivy and creepers laced through the systems and the gun.
But it wasn’t a disorderly mass of vegetation like the creeping hedges. There was purpose to it. The greenery was driving the tank, firing its gun. The sinewy branches, thick trunks, tendrils and leaves were very definite shapes. They looked at first glance like people. That was why it had taken Ben a moment to work out what he was seeing.
A section of leaves turned as if to look at Ben as he stared down into the tank. The way they were arranged, the way the veins ran across them and the stems linked them together, the leaves could almost be a face.
Could have been a face.
‘I was wrong. The crew didn’t get out,’ Knight was shouting to Ben. ‘They didn’t have time.’
Ben could see exactly what Knight meant even before the man said it.
‘They’ve been taken over, possessed. Probably when the tank came through those hedges surrounding the village. They’ve become plant life. Just like the Green Man.’
15
THE INSIDE OF THE TANK WAS ALIVE. LIKE A single creature, the foliage and greenery, the branches and leaves, swung round towards the open hatch. Faster than Ben could have imagined, a length of branch shot upwards, stabbing towards him.
He tried to move, lost his balance and fell. The tank lurched beneath him. The branch disappeared back inside as the tank crashed through a low wall and tore across the grass. Ben was jolted forward, falling. He reached out his arms to stop himself tumbling inside the tank, into the greenery. His right hand connected painfully with the first aid box, knocking the clasp. As the box fell open, bandages and tubes of cream and field dressings fell out.
And something else. Ben’s scrabbling hand closed on so
mething cold and metallic. Instinctively he grabbed it – a gun.
Then he felt strong hands on his shoulders, heaving him back up and out of the hatch. Knight pulled him clear and they both fell backwards – just as a mass of ivy poured out of the hatch, like water boiling over on a stove.
The gun was chunky and crude, with a very wide barrel. Ben hadn’t seen anything like it before. It looked more like an old toy than a real gun.
‘Flare pistol,’ Knight shouted above the noise of the engine. ‘Might be useful to signal for help. Only one shot, though, so let’s not waste it.’
Ben stuffed the flare pistol into the pocket of his ragged jacket.
‘Now what?’ he yelled back.
The ivy was still boiling out of the hatch, trailing towards them. It coiled and writhed, dragging itself forward.
‘Nothing we can do here. Time we were going,’ Knight decided. ‘We’ll have to jump for it.’
He took Ben’s hand and together they leapt from the moving vehicle. The impact of their landing shook Ben’s hand out of Knight’s. He rolled and tumbled. The tank wasn’t moving fast, but it was a long way down. The grass beneath Ben was pulling at him like Velcro, hooking into his clothes and tearing at his skin.
Ben staggered to his feet and ran for the nearest safety – the narrow road the tank was still rumbling along.
‘It’s heading out of the village again,’ Knight said, joining Ben. His face was scratched and his jacket was in shreds. ‘Taking the curse of the Green Man, or whatever you want to call it, on to pastures new. We have to stop this before it spreads too far.’
The shelling hadn’t stopped. The noise of the tank had simply deadened the sound of the explosions in the village. Some small areas of vegetation had been hit and were burning, but the tanks were aiming at the buildings not the jungle. Smoke rose above the swaying trees, turning the sky to a gunmetal grey. The already ruined buildings were little more than piles of rubble. There was only one structure still standing high enough for Ben to see it properly.
‘Why haven’t they been shooting at the church tower?’ he said.
‘I was just wondering the same thing,’ Knight said. ‘I think we should find out.’
Getting to the church was a nightmare. The entire landscape was coming to life. The grass under Ben’s feet clawed and tore at him. The trees and bushes lashed out as he passed. Branches whipped at his face, while creepers and tendrils fought to ensnare him.
They kept to open ground as much as they could, not daring to pause for breath or even slow down as they ran for the distant tower that stood proud and defiant against the smoke-filled sky.
The churchyard was a wasteland of ragged tombstones and writhing, overgrown grass. Ben pushed through the broken remains of a wall. Knight, who was close behind him, paused to rip brambles away before they could grab him.
Ben braced himself, then charged into a tangle of undergrowth. His foot twisted awkwardly on a lump of stone buried in the thrashing grass and weeds. Knight arrived beside him, also stumbling and grabbing Ben’s shoulder for support.
‘From the wall,’ Knight said, kicking at a large piece of pale stone.
They waded through the clawing vegetation, tearing free of the clutching grass.
‘That’s not from the wall,’ Ben said.
Half buried in the churning grass was a head. A head carved from stone. The chipped, weathered face stared up at Ben through blank eyes. One side of it had been smashed away – recently, since the stone here was pale and unblemished.
‘There’s more,’ Knight said.
He was right. Ben could now see a fractured body – part of the same statue or a different one? Another broken head, lying beside a mossy gravestone … A section of leg … An arm poking up like a pale branch …
A head and shoulders stuck out from the ground further on. The crucifix was still just discernible at the figure’s ancient neck.
‘I think we found where the Puritans dumped the statues of the saints after they smashed them,’ Knight said.
A shout from further into the churchyard drew their attention. Maria was standing with her sword raised. She waved it to attract their attention, the blade gleaming.
‘Over here,’ she called.
She then ran towards them, hacking aside the brambles and tangled grass that tried to impede her progress. She forged a path they could follow back to where Gemma was standing beside a large pile of dark earth.
‘We found the Memento Mori grave,’ Gemma told Knight as he and Ben joined the others.
Growl was digging with a short-handled spade. The edge of the blade had rusted away, but despite the earlier rain the ground was dry and powdery. He had dug deep, standing in a pit almost up to his shoulders. Rupam was working with him, scraping away loose soil in a metal fire bucket and chucking it up on to a growing pile above.
Maria stood ready with the sword, constantly watching for any movement from the plants and undergrowth round them.
‘Enough,’ Growl told Rupam. He leaned his spade against the steep side of the pit and scrabbled at the floor with his bare hands. ‘I think this is it.’ He looked up for a moment at Knight, Ben and Gemma, who were all staring down into the pit. ‘The coffin has decayed, of course. We found a few splinters of wood. Fragments, nothing more. But this …’
Growl teased something pale from the earth with his fingers. It was a human skull. The jaw was missing and it was stained with age.
‘There’s this too,’ Rupam said. He had found the broken hilt of a sword.
‘Memento Mori,’ Knight said. ‘Anything else? Any sign of the Crystal?’
Growl carefully replaced the skull where he had found it. He took the remains of the sword from Rupam and laid that down too.
Rupam gave a sudden yell, leaping back as Maria’s sword flashed through the air towards him. But he was not the target. A sinewy root broke out from the earth at the side of the grave pit, stabbing towards him. The sword cut through it easily and the root fell to the bottom of the grave. It twitched for a moment, then was still.
Growl seemed not to have noticed. He had found something else. It looked like a pouch or a small bag made of dark leather. It was torn and scuffed and falling to pieces. And in the muted light of the pit, it seemed to be glowing.
‘The Crystal?’ Ben wondered.
‘Open it,’ Gemma urged.
Growl tipped the small bag up, emptying it into the palm of his hand. In among the loose soil and torn bits of the bag’s lining, something burned with a pale white light. Growl let the soil and debris scatter through his fingers. He was left with an object about the size of a golf ball, but faceted and gleaming with inner luminescence.
‘Holy Crystal!’ Maria said.
‘Indeed,’ Growl told her. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger, gazing deep into the glowing heart. Then he let it fall into his palm and tossed it up to Knight.
‘Diablo’s Crystal,’ Knight agreed.
‘It’s glowing,’ Ben said. ‘Does that mean it’s working? That it’s doing whatever it’s supposed to be doing?’
‘In that case, why are the plants going wild?’ Rupam asked, clambering out of the pit, then reaching down to help Growl scramble up after him.
‘A good question, young man,’ Growl said.
They all stared in fascination at the Crystal now resting in Knight’s palm. Sam leaned forward, her hand on Ben’s shoulder, to get a better look.
‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ he murmured.
‘Sorry,’ she said out loud. ‘Would you rather I wasn’t here?’
‘You’re not,’ he almost said.
‘Have you told Growl about the saints?’ Sam asked. She obviously knew he hadn’t. ‘Tell him about the saints.’
‘What about the saints?’ Ben asked her, more loudly than he had intended.
‘What saints?’ Growl asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Knight, slipping the glowing Crystal into his jacket pocket. ‘Probably not
important, but it might interest you to know that we stumbled – literally – over the broken-up statues from the church tower.’
Growl frowned. ‘Where?’
Ben pointed. ‘Over there. Only …’ There was something in the back of his mind that wasn’t right. He tried to remember exactly how the broken stones had looked.
‘But if they were removed hundreds of years ago,’ Gemma said, ‘how come they’re still here? Wouldn’t someone have taken them away by now?’
That was it. ‘They weren’t though, were they?’ He remembered the clean, new break down the side of one of the heads. ‘It’s recent. It has to be. That’s why this is all happening now, isn’t it?’
Sam was nodding. ‘Has to be,’ she agreed, though no one else heard her.
‘If the statues were recently moved, their spell over the Green Man was broken,’ Growl said, thinking it through. ‘The Crystal alone isn’t enough to keep everything in check. But who removed the statues and why?’
‘Greene,’ Ben realised. ‘When we got through the barrier, one of the soldiers said something about Greene vandalising the church.’ He turned to Rupam. ‘What did he say exactly? Do you remember?’
Rupam nodded. ‘Of course. He said …’ The boy stared thoughtfully into the distance as he recalled the conversation. ‘He said, “I don’t know what Colonel Greene’s got against that village. But pretty soon it’ll be nothing but rubble …” Then Ben asked what he meant and he said, “He’s had it in for that place ever since he spent a week there alone on survival training, a couple of months back. First he had his men vandalise the church – now this.”’
‘“This” meaning the tanks,’ Ben explained. ‘And vandalising the church – that must be it. Didn’t he tell us he’d camped out in the churchyard or something?’
‘If Greene was here, in the churchyard for a while, he might have been infected. Possessed,’ Knight said.
Growl nodded. ‘If he was susceptible. His name suggests an ancestral link of some sort to the ancient priests and elders who worshipped the Green Man. And so the Green Man was presented with someone he could use to remove the blocks on his power. Despite those blocks, he managed to get inside Greene’s mind and persuade him to remove the statues and break them up. To start the process of setting him free. With every statue Greene broke up, the power over him grew …’
Creeping Terror Page 11
