Leviathans in the Clouds

by David Parish-Whittaker

  “I struck a nerve. There’s a huge cavern down there where the rocks can speak to you.” Collins frowned. “Gets in your head. I know that sounds mad, but there it is.”

  “No,” Nathanial said, “it doesn’t sound mad at all. You wouldn’t believe how sane it sounds, in fact.” He found that he was growing dizzy. Not enough sleep and too many revelations, he supposed.

  Collins grunted. “Don’t patronise me. So there’s this mummy there, see, just lying in an open sarcophagus. Dunno what got into me, but I put his stuff on.” Collins patted the necklace. “Next I know, I’m all having a chat with the cavern. Not like a how are you and how’s the garden chat, so much as I suddenly knew what was what.” His eyes grew distant. “And I knew I could put my hand on the helm. I mean, when I came back up, I was calling the shots. Even the damned prawns had to listen to me. Ruler of goddamned Venus, not that you believe a word of what I’m telling you.”

  “I do,” said Nathanial.

  Collins narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be a buggered cabin boy. You ain’t lying, are you? I’m thinking you’ve seen something like this. You’d have had to. The story’s too mad to believe otherwise.”

  Arnaud gave Nathanial a look. “Perhaps you could show us this marvellous find of yours,” he said. “We will happily verify your findings when you are telling tout le monde. You will become very famous, I think.” He shrugged. “Of course, you will always be free to return to your little kingdom here, should you miss the damp.”

  “And here I was, thinking I’d have a bit of a laugh by telling you the truth to your face,” Collins said. “That’ll teach me.” He pulled something out of his sporran and popped it into his mouth. “Just having a gumme chew, don’t mind me,” he said. “Helps me think.” He chomped away for a minute or so, then spat the gum wad into his hand. He regarded it with the expression of a Roman priest scrutinising the latest edition of goat entrails.

  “Well,” Collins said, “what I’m thinking is we all need a good night’s rest. Then I’ll take you down to the cavern after lunch, eh? Always like to explore on a full stomach.”

  Collins had a particular sort of moodiness with his madness, Nathanial decided. It would probably be best just to ride out the waves of emotion. And if sleep and a meal made Collins more likely to share the location of this ore stratum, Nathanial was all for indulging him. Besides, he wasn’t adverse to a bit of rest himself.

  “Naptime it is,” Nathanial said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  1.

  Annabelle chewed on a plug of gum she’d filched from Collins. Considering his behaviour, she had neither the desire to ask for it nor any guilt about helping herself. It had an odd spicy flavour, reminiscent of whatever herbs Collins had used in the tea. Blackjack it was not. But she found that it helped keep calm. Lord knows, Collins was testing her patience.

  She followed the gentlemen and Collins down a hallway into the pyramid. She was fascinated with the architecture, with its curiously organic twists and curves, all lit by multi-coloured swirls of glowing moss covering the walls. But she could have done without Collins spewing drivel as he waddled ahead, the sound of his gum chewing echoing against the frescoed walls.

  Disgusting habit, if she had to be honest with herself. One step away from tobacco chewing. Sheepishly, she stowed her gum behind her ear. She could always chew it later in private. Annabelle did try to have the occasional go at being ladylike.

  “I got malaria back in New Guinea, yeah,” Collins was saying up ahead. “But I didn’t sit around expecting others to carry me about. That’s why I lived and others just curled up and died. I blame steam engines.”

  “Oh?” said Annabelle. “And just how did you get to Venus, Mister Ubermensch? Did you flap your arms really, really hard?”

  “Not the same thing at all,” Collins said. “Nothing wrong with taking advantage of what’s already there. Although it would better be done naturally, I think. I’ve got a notion that the Old Ones might have created some sort of creature that could soar between the worlds. For one, I’m fairly certain they made it to Australia. The animals there are clearly the descendants of something bred with weaponisation in mind. Jellyfish the size of your palm that can kill you? And you lot got all frightened by a few shrimp. On the other hand, I think we can write off the platypus as a failed experiment. The bit with the poison claw is good, but it’s far too slow to make an appropriate delivery system.”

  “I hate to admit this, but it does make one wonder,” Nathanial said. “Come to think of it, the wall murals have some similarities to some of the prehistoric aboriginal artwork. All these swirls and colours.”

  “Eh, that’s just the way the glow moss grows, I think,” said Collins. “Or maybe they cultivated it to grow that way. See, that’s what I admire about the Old Ones. They didn’t try to constrain Nature or beat it back. That just means you’re afraid of it. They bent it to their will. Put it in order.”

  “You’re rather obsessed with keeping things neat and tidy for a man who seems happy to live in swamps,” Nathanial said.

  “You’re like a spinster aunt, you know that?” Collins said. “You confuse prissiness with orderliness. But no matter. Here’s the mausoleum I was telling you about.”

  One might expect a mausoleum to flirt with the macabre, but by comparison with the room they were entering, the Parisian catacombs looked no more gloomy than the Merry Widow. The size of a small amphitheatre, its walls had the obligatory leg and thighbone panelling upon which the moss continued its glowing patterns. Humanoid skulls were arranged in spirals at regular intervals, and the floor was slick with what was hopefully just algae and water.

  It was the rows of dead bodies braced straight up by stone pillars that gave the room the feeling of a charnel house. There were perhaps five hundred bodies, each standing in a small pool with a pillar in the centre. They were mummified like the Germans had been, but it was still clear that they had been a beautiful race, almost human save for the unnatural thinness of the arms and legs. Their faces were noseless with large eye sockets.

  The look of horror on those faces was unmistakable. Multiplied by a few hundred mummies, it was unbearable.

  Collins walked up to the nearest.

  “How’ve you been?” he said. “Still dead, I see.” He reached into the pool surrounding it and grabbed something.

  “Catch!” Collins yelled to Nathanial, tossing a meter long prawn at him.

  Nathanial jumped back with a gasp. The prawn hit the floor in front of him. It worked its mouthparts slowly, but didn’t otherwise move.

  “Aw, come on, you baby,” Collins said. “It’s hibernating.”

  “I say, that was completely unnecessary!” Nathanial shouted. “I suggest we try to cooperate a bit more. We have common goals, remember?”

  “Oh, right,” Collins said after he stopped laughing. “Need you to accomplish my goals. Thank you for reminding me.” He wiped his eyes. “Damn me, but it was worth it to see the expression on your face.” He started walking. “Come on.”

  There were a number of doorways along the wall. Annabelle did her best to find a landmark for the one they’d come out of. Her eyes followed the orientation of the bodies, lining up on three small ones that looked like children.

  That raised a question, didn’t it? Despite herself, she hurried to catch up with Collins to ask him.

  “Why didn’t we see any young Therians?” Annabelle asked. “Do they hide them away from visitors? I just thought it was terribly odd.”

  Collins stopped, waiting for Nathanial and Arnaud to catch up. The two had been slowing down as they crossed the mausoleum, leaning on each other as they walked. They hadn’t walked that far, had they? Well, a lot had happened. For her part, Annabelle found sleep impossible to think of with hundreds of dead eyes staring at her.

  Collins nodded approvingly, then turned to Annabelle with a smile.

  “Oddly enough, you just asked an intelligent question,” he said.

  “Are
you even capable of opening your mouth without being rude?” Annabelle asked.

  “Why bother? There’s a good chance that I’ll rule the universe, don’t you know?”

  “You’re mad, don’t you know?”

  Collins smile grew wider. “Oh, not unaware. But in answer to your question, Therians don’t have children. They steal the little darlings of the lizard-men. Skreelan, you know.”

  “I didn’t see any Skreelan in the city. Besides, that makes no sense. They’re completely different. Are you trying to tell me you can raise a Skreelan to grow up to be a Therian?”

  “If a caterpillar wants to fly, it has to spin a cocoon.” Collins headed down a passageway. “Oh, come on, I know you’re curious.”

  Despite herself, Annabelle followed him down a long, curving passageway like a spiral staircase without the stairs. The air was thick with the scent of moss and something unpleasant she couldn’t quite place.

  “Ta-da!” Collins said, gesturing expansively at the room the passageway opened out into. It was shaped like a squashed ball, with a floor that was covered with thin silk strands lying in chaotic coiled piles. Small crab-like creatures scuttled away from their feet as they entered.

  Looking up, she saw a score of what looked like man-sized chrysalises hanging from the ceiling.

  “Oh, dear God,” Annabelle whispered. “You really do turn those poor Skreelan children into your slaves.”

  “Easier to train them when they’re young. There’s some mental changes when they get processed, mostly in the realm of obedience, but it doesn’t teach them how to fly or speak that damnable language of theirs. Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s perfectly natural. Are you disgusted by butterflies?”

  “You’re forcing them! This isn’t natural. You take children and…” Annabelle was too horrified to speak.

  “So? Children need a guiding hand. Think of it as a schoolmaster’s task. One takes unruly savage children and transforms them into obedient assets to society. Quite literally transformed, here, of course. But you’re right, it isn’t natural. It’s become a stagnant situation. The Therians are really little more than automatons, waiting for instruction. But now they have me.”

  “Aren’t they lucky?” Annabelle sneered. “Well, they won’t once we drag you off to the nearest madhouse.”

  Collins shook his head. “Right, you outnumber me two to one, three if you care to include yourself. So your course is obvious. But give me a bit of credit, dear. You think I strap these little lizard whelps down while they’re biting and scratching? Not at all. They’re blissfully asleep before the spider crabs get to work knitting them their swaddling.

  “As you will be in a few minutes, I expect.”

  Annabelle heard a soft thump just outside the room. Dashing to the passageway, she saw Nathanial and Arnaud sprawled across the threshold. She grabbed Nathanial by the shoulders and shook him, but he only moaned softly.

  “Good,” Collins said from behind her. “Do run about, will you? I find that exercise helps the drug work. Soon, we’ll get to find out what happens when humans are metamorphosed. I’m guessing at some mammalian equivalent of the Therians. But mostly, I’m hoping you’ll be nice and obedient just like all the other creations of the Old Ones.”

  “That’s the order you’ve been going on about, isn’t it?” Annabelle snarled. “Things you can abuse with impunity, everything enslaved to your every whim.”

  “Got it in one,” Collins said. “Then it’s off to conquer the rest of the planet. More aerial seeding, this time the spider crabs.” He stroked his chin. “Distributing the narcotic might be a bit difficult. It’s not as if I can invite everyone over for teatime.” He shrugged. “But I’ll figure something out.”

  Annabelle slapped Nathanial and Arnaud across the cheeks to no avail. “Wait,” she said, spinning to face Collins. “You said tea. You mean you drugged it? You drank it, too!”

  “Of course I did.” Collins winked. “And I chewed the antidote.” He opened his mouth wide, exposing a glistening wad of chewing gum.

  Annabelle pulled her gum out from behind her ear and flung it in Collins’ face.

  “Ha!” she cried.

  “To the devil with you!” Collins yelled as he jumped at her.

  Annabelle spun backwards with a waltz spin. Collins flew neatly by, landing on his face.

  “Don’t think I won’t knock you out,” he said, breathing heavily. “One adult male versus a little crippled girl.” He stood up, leaning against the wall. “Why don’t you make this easier on us both?”

  “Let’s,” Annabelle said. “You know, I’ve been wanting an excuse for this for a good day now.” She fired the revolver through her dress, hitting Collins in the leg.

  Collins fell on the floor, screaming and holding his leg. Annabelle took careful aim with the second round.

  Collins kicked her artificial leg out from under her as she fired. The shot ricocheted around the room harmlessly. She pulled the trigger again.

  The revolver didn’t fire. She quickly pulled the hammer back again as Collins lurched towards her, trailing blood and yelling incoherently.

  Click. Nothing.

  Annabelle silently begged Nathanial and Arnaud to forgive her for leaving. She rolled to her feet and leaned against the wall for support, stumbling her way up the spiral corridor. Her fake foot kept slipping on the slick flooring, but she could hear Collins right behind her, bellowing curses when he wasn’t moaning in pain. Maybe she could lure him back to the camp and stab him from behind. She might even be able to find her bow.

  Unless the Therians were around for him to control. Which they probably would be.

  Leaning against the wall she examined the revolver. The firing pin was cleanly sheared off. Trust Blayney to buy a cheap piece.

  Could she overpower Collins? He was wounded and flabby, but fat or not, weight was an advantage in a fight. And it was all she could do to run on this leg of hers. Look at how easily Collins had knocked her down back there. Annabelle bit her lip in anger. First Koivunen on Ceres, and now Collins! If they got out of this alive, Nathanial would have to reinforce her leg somehow. It wasn’t fair, but facts were facts. She wasn’t going to let pride lead her into a direct confrontation, not unless there were no other option.

  For now, getting out of here seemed the better plan.

  She made it to the mausoleum and began to work her way across the room, trying to slow her breathing as she took cover behind a corpse pillar. She tried not to meet the dead creature’s eyes. Perhaps that horrified look was a side effect of the mummification. She wanted to believe that.

  Had they been dead, and the prawns were used as a bizarre method of embalming? Or were they drained alive like the Germans in some unholy sacrificial rite? She was prepared to believe anything about the Old Ones now.

  The important thing at the moment was that she was still alive. She barely suppressed a shudder as she stepped on a quiescent prawn in the pool. It was hibernating, she reminded herself. If Collins was telling the truth, they needed to be signalled before they’d attack.

  Signalled by Collins. Hell and tarnation.

  Annabelle picked up her skirts and ran, stretching her legs out as best as she could. Her false leg actually seemed to help her pick up speed, pushing her forward like a spring. It actually seemed better at running than at normal walking. She’d just never tried running all out before. God bless Nathanial and his cleverness. There might still be the off chance she’d someday be able to thank him in person.

  “I hear you, girl,” Collins yelled from behind her. “Come on back and we’ll sit down for a little chat. Won’t that be nice, eh? Settle out any misunderstandings we’re having.”

  Annabelle was almost at the exit now. She wished she’d shot Collins in the head as planned, but at least his leg wound was slowing him down. Her lungs were burning from the running, but she could push it a bit further. She’d have to.

  Behind her, she could hear the scuttling sound of a hundre
d prawns crawling out of their pools.

  Annabelle kept running. The corridor straightened out and headed for the top of the pyramid. She could smell the hot, damp air of the outside. It couldn’t be any farther.

  She tripped over a low rise at the entrance to a chamber and went sprawling, skinning her hands against the rough coral-like flooring. Her artificial leg was laying askew, twisted from the fall. As she groped at its straps with bloody hands, she discovered that two of the straps had torn in the fall.

  Annabelle looked at the broken straps for a long moment, her mind trying to deny that it was a problem. She could just tie them back together, right? Or perhaps the leg would still stay on without them. But Annabelle was as honest as the day was long, as they’d say back in Arizona. She wasn’t good at lying, not even to herself.

  It was just a nickel’s worth of material at most. And it was going to get her killed. She screamed in rage at the unfairness of it all, then decided to allow herself to sob. No one could hear her cry. It was all right, she told herself. We all face death by ourselves in the end.

  “Miss Somerset? Is you oh kay?”

  Annabelle blinked away the tears and turned to the voice. Lovely, hallucinating in her final moments. Well, perhaps it would take her mind off being eaten alive.

  “Why, hello Thymon,” she said. She could hear the hysteria in her voice. “How do you do? Have you brought a pot of tea with you? I should like a cup, perhaps with some of those nice biscuits Professor Stone hides in his valise.”

  Thymon came running around the corner ahead. As hallucinations went, it was extremely believable. He looked the same as when she’d said goodbye to him last, so many years ago.

  Or was it yesterday? At least a day, she decided.

  “Where is others?” Thymon asked. Annabelle could smell the swamp mud on him as he helped her up.

  “Collins has them. Down below with the spiders.”

  Thymon shook his head. “Miss Somerset, please—” he broke off as a carpet of prawns crawled in through the far entrance to the chamber, slowly waving their forelegs in the air.