Untitled Novel 3

by Justin Fisher

  “Quiet, brother, all will be well.”

  But Aman’s eyes grew wide, looking beyond his brother at something behind him. Tial turned to follow his gaze.

  A great cage of razor-sharp thorns had grown up around them, trees bent forward to crush and skewer. There were no Demons, no Darklings or metal monsters. The Darkening King had found a new way to feed, and the forest was now his to control.

  Really Real

  hen Ned left his quarters the next day, the Nest’s corridors were completely empty. He could still see the telltale signs of the gor-balin attack: musket shot in the walls, the black streaks of fire damage and doors that had been smashed in the fight.

  He looked to his hand and the ring on his finger. His powers were his again and there was no one else around, so just to prove it he blinked for a moment and the walls on either side of him warped and buckled languidly, as though he was on the inside of some great jellyfish of his own making. He blinked again and they turned from ice to metal to rock, then back again. It felt different from before, playful even. He’d never had so much control over his gifts; they’d never flowed with quite the same ease. Maybe the break he’d had from it all was a good thing? He still couldn’t believe what they’d all put him through to get there but he really was back now and more in control than ever.

  “Not bad, eh, Gorrn?”

  His familiar merely bobbed its head to one side with a disinterested “Whatever”.

  Then the thought hit Ned – the horror of last night, even if it wasn’t real, was just a taste of what lay ahead. Now that his ring was working, he’d have to face the Darkening King and so would Lucy. He picked up the pace of his steps, heading to Lucy’s room, but when he got there he found it empty.

  “What’s going on?”

  His shadow oozed with a quiet “Roo?”, which in this case meant, “Don’t know.”

  “Master Armstrong, sir?”

  It was Mr Badger. They had never spoken before and Ned was, until that moment, quite sure that Mr Badger didn’t really like him, or anyone else.

  “Mr Badger, good morning. Where is everyone?”

  “Follow me.”

  The burly agent turned on his heel and headed for the nearest lift, Ned following behind. They were now in one of the smaller service lifts, with no view into the Nest’s inner atrium, just drab fibreglass walls and a grey-haired agent for company. Mr Badger pushed the button and folded his arms. There was a stomach-churning lurch as the lift kicked in.

  “Where are we going, Mr Badger?”

  “Up, sir.”

  “I guessed that much, but where?”

  “There’s been a development, this time in the forest. And your mouse thing would like to see you.”

  Ned was quite sure that it was in fact the eccentric scientist part of Whiskers and not his beloved old dog-mouse that wanted to talk. In the floors above, engines were being fuelled, weapons readied. If the Tinker or Faisal had called him, they had to have a plan. Either they’d cracked the code that would turn Barbarossa’s metal men, or else there’d been some breakthrough with the Heart Stone beyond what the Tinker had already told them.

  When they arrived, the surrounding labs outside the Tinker’s own were a mirror of what Ned had seen just days before. Lab staff both from the BBB and the Hidden were close to breaking point with frantic last-minute research. The Heart Stone and the Central Intelligence’s code were now the only two projects any of them were allowed to work on, and they had thrown themselves at the tasks single-mindedly without pause for breath, food or sleep. But as Mr Badger led Ned through the workshops to the Tinker, the workers did pause. They looked up from their monitors and printouts and, bleary-eyed, they nodded; one or two even saluted him, and an elderly minutian got up from his stool and shook Ned by the hand.

  “We’ve all heard, Master Ned – about your gifts coming back. We’re behind you, sir, one and all.”

  The little scientist looked quite overcome and went back to his desk and his printouts, leaving Ned with the once-more dawning realisation that the return of his powers meant a face-to-face confrontation with the Darkening King. He had been brave about it before, he realised now, because he’d lost his powers. The idea of them actually seeing the creature hadn’t been real – not really, not then. It was at the precise moment when he walked into the Tinker’s lab and saw only Lucy that everything – their role in what lay before them, the creature they would have to battle – became frighteningly real.

  Artificial Intelligence

  ed?!” said Lucy. “Ned, are you in there?”

  Lucy was smiling, but she looked nervous, Ned realised, as he focused on the room again.

  “Yeah, sorry. I had a bit of a, um, moment outside. How’s my frenemy today? Tricked anyone? Scared them out of their minds?”

  “Not yet, but it’s still early!” replied Lucy brightly.

  “Ahem? When you two have quite finished.”

  Ned looked down to see that it wasn’t the Tinker, but Whiskers talking, in a decidedly tinny and high-pitched voice. Try as he might, Ned still couldn’t get used to him speaking.

  “Congratulations on your returning powers, Master Ned,” said a grinning Tinker.

  “Thank you, Tinks,” said Ned. “It’s a start at least. Where’s Bene?”

  “He’s with your parents and the others. They’re reaching out to the Hidden, asking them to fight.”

  “So we’re going then? It’s really happening?” said Ned.

  “In the morning, from what I understand.”

  Ned took a minute to let it sink in. He looked at Lucy, who shrugged. He supposed they’d known this moment always had to come. At least now he had something to take into battle.

  “And on that note, I need to ask you a favour, Ned.”

  “A favour? Of course, anything, Tinks.”

  “I, that is, we –” the Faisal part of Ned’s mouse bobbed its head in solidarity – “still believe that taking out the Central Intelligence is the only thing that will turn the tide. There are vast amounts of Guardian-class tickers in the taiga now. If we can turn them against Barba, there’s a chance of getting you to the Darkening King, or at least to Sar-adin. Our issue is the code. We’ve run every test imaginable, but the definition of artificial intelligence is that it’s intelligent – it can think for itself, and change accordingly, should it come under attack.”

  “So what can we do, Tinks?” asked Lucy.

  “We hit it back with artificial intelligence,” said the Tinker, who was now beaming, as though he’d just told them the secret to eternal life.

  As far as Ned could tell, there was one glaring issue with this idea. “Erm, but I thought the Central Intelligence was unique – or am I missing something?”

  The scientist part of Whiskers sat upright, his two eyes blinking like flashlights.

  “Actually, Master Armstrong, you’re missing me. I, like the Central Intelligence, am both sentient and made up entirely from code. We were made in different ways, thank the Cogs, but if I can get close enough, if I can connect to his circuitry and I’m quick enough, I can take it over – at least in principle.”

  Lucy shot a look to Ned. She knew how much the mouse meant to him and what the Tinker’s favour would entail.

  “You want to put the future of our entire alliance in the hands of my pet mouse?”

  “That’s about it, Master Ned, yes,” blushed the Tinker.

  Ned’s blood was starting to boil. He wasn’t sure whether he was more angry about it having to be Whiskers, or that he and Lucy would die if the little wind-up rodent failed.

  “I take it you’ll be sending top agents with him?”

  “The best,” replied the Tinker, whose face was now going from a deep fuchsia to an unsightly purple.

  Ned calmed, but only slightly. “So, let me get this right. While I was away on a desperate mission to save my parents – with Lucy’s help, of course.”

  Lucy smiled appreciatively.

  “You
hijacked my childhood pet and stuffed your great-uncle into his mind – or circuits, whatever. And now …” Ned had to pause. “Now you want to break into the Central Intelligence’s stronghold in Gearnish and use my mouse, again, to take him – it – over? In, err, principle?”

  The Tinker beamed up at him proudly, and so did Ned’s mouse.

  “Yes, sir, I think you have it exactly.”

  Ned leant in to the table. “Whiskers? You in there?”

  The furred ticker did a sort of twitch, then blinked its eyes repeatedly, before sticking its tongue out and wagging its minuscule tail. Faisal had relinquished control and handed it back to Ned’s pet.

  “We’re in a bit of a bind, aren’t we, pal?”

  Whiskers nodded.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know. You’ve got a soul in there somewhere, so if you do, do this, you have to do it because you want to.”

  The Debussy Mark Twelve cocked its head to one side and started to flash his eyes with Morse code. A long dash and two dots: a “D”… Little by little, the small rodent blinked out his message.

  “D O N ’ T - B E - D A F T - I ’ M - O N L Y - D O I N G - I T - F O R - Y O U - A N D - L U C Y.”

  Ned’s chest suddenly felt tight – his pet mouse and eternal sidekick was going to risk everything to help him and Lucy on their mission.

  But Whiskers hadn’t finished.

  “D O N ’ T - M E S S - T H I S - U P.”

  Time’s Up

  t was the morning of the battle – no time for doubts or regrets. In one hour they would take off for the Siberian taiga, with no knowing how many, if any, would return.

  The Nest’s laboratory was home to some of the greatest minds in existence, but for all their gadgets and testing, the Heart Stone was still largely a mystery. They knew only what Tiamat and then the Tinker had told them: that the Source, Ned and Lucy’s rings and the Heart Stone were all linked; that they somehow drew on the same magic. They wanted more time to run their tests, but time had simply run out.

  George had been helping Monsieur Couteau and Grandpa Tortellini and their teams with last-minute training in the central courtyard. The kindly ape had been using his extensive knowledge of Darklings and Demons to point out some of their weaknesses, so that they might be used in the coming battle. By the time he’d finished, the agents’ faces had turned as white as sheets, with the point he was trying to put across now fully understood and one that they would be taking with them to Siberia: Darklings and their Demon masters had no weaknesses, not when it came to the art of war.

  When the training session was over, George noticed Lucy in the corner with Ned. They had been watching, and as the session had ended, Lucy had started to cry uncontrollably.

  “Dear girl,” said George, running to her, “this isn’t like you. Please calm down!”

  And in that George was right. Since being reunited with Ned, Lucy had seemed so in control, so in charge of her gifts and what lay ahead, that Ned had felt slightly jealous.

  Lucy looked beyond the ape’s shoulder to the agents he’d been briefing. She closed her eyes and drew in her breath slowly, visibly calming as she did so.

  “Do you know what it’s like being a Farseer, George?”

  There wasn’t much George hadn’t read about, though the world of Farseers was well known for its secrecy.

  “A little, Lucy – but only because of what you and Kitty before you have shared with me.”

  “I wish I only knew a little, but I don’t. I know what all of those agents are feeling, especially since you finished your talk. I know how scared they are, despite their training. I know what the troops and citizens of St Albertsburg felt when they saw their city being destroyed. And I know you, George – I know everything about you.”

  As she said it, the anger and worry drifted from her face to be replaced with a single tear, warm and wet, rolling down her cheek.

  “I know how you long to meet another George or Georgia, someone like you. I know how hard it’s been to fit in, even with the Hidden. I know you love bananas because they make you feel like ‘you’. I know you love books because they don’t judge, because they share their knowledge freely.”

  George couldn’t speak.

  “I know you’d do anything for Ned, and me, and I know that not just because I’m a Farseer, but because I’ve seen you do it. I know you’d do anything for anyone you love because you don’t have a family and because of that, you’re the kindest, most selfless creature in the world. But I don’t just see it, do I, George? I feel it – every bruise, every heartbreak, from you to all of them, and if Ned and I fail, I know what it will mean to all of you, what it will feel like, because I’ll feel it too.”

  George was a creature of strong words and even stronger feelings. But Lucy had drawn the words out of him and left him speechless and silent, so he did the only thing he could. He pulled his two wards into his chest for a rib-cracking hug. For a moment, the three of them stood there swaying silently, till Lucy finally spoke.

  “I’m sorry, George, I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you all right?”

  “I think I may need a banana.”

  ***

  In the central courtyard, not far from where the three friends stood, was a single camera and its blinking green light. It was put there along with countless others in the Nest to ensure the base’s security. The network had not been able to detect the gor-balins until they were already in the ventilation system. It did, however, serve a second purpose and one that it was currently taking care of admirably. In a different room, on a different floor, Mr Spider’s bulbous eyes watched the feed on his monitor. Mr Spider liked to keep records of everything and would be sharing his findings with Mr Bear and Mr Owl. The more he saw and the more he shared, the more obvious it was that Mission X was necessary. A shame really, but no matter which way you looked at it, the human race at least would go on. Bear and Owl would see to it, and so would their bomb.

  The Un-Hidden

  ed sat on the deck of the Gabriella, watching the world go by beneath him. Despite the gravity of their mission, it was always exciting to be flying through the sky in Benissimo and the Circus of Marvels’ great flagship. This high up it was hard to imagine the troubles of the world below – or the battle to come.

  They had been flying all day and the sun was now low in the sky. It was bitterly cold and they sped across the Siberian countryside, cresting the forest, with great looming trees ahead and behind them. Their staging ground was to be one of the taiga’s largest natural clearings and the closest spot they could land on next to the fortress.

  Flying with them were some of the Circus of Marvels’ most loyal and bravest troops. Scraggs the cook had come with his gnomes, and Monsieur Couteau had accompanied Grandpa Tortellini along with his rabble of grandsons. Rocky and Abi the Beard were cooped up in their own cabin, enjoying what might be a last supper and going through their preferred list of weapons. Even the Glimmerman had gone with them, though what the portly gentleman would do in the coming fight was anyone’s guess.

  On a normal voyage and on a normal mission, there would have been excitement, a rousing speech from their Ringmaster to muster what was left of the troupe, but Benissimo had barely spoken a word in days and neither had Mr Fox. Their call to arms had been answered by no more than a few aged fighters still loyal to Benissimo. The Hidden, battered and bruised as they were, limped across the sky in a flotilla of airships. Not a man or woman aboard the Gabriella really believed they would or could win the fight, but they had climbed aboard nonetheless. That was the way with Benissimo’s troupe, and that was the way with the Armstrongs.

  “They still might come,” said Ned, as his parents came out to join him on the deck. But he didn’t say it with much hope.

  Ned’s mum put an arm round her son. She had barely smiled once since Oak Tree Lane, and the certainty of what lay ahead was weighing down on them all.

  “The Hidden are hiding, like always.”

  �
��Livvy, we used to hide ourselves, remember?” sighed Terry. “Don’t judge them too harshly.”

  Ned’s mum winced at the memory of it, but then managed a smile for her son.

  “Well, we’re not hiding any more, are we, boys?”

  Ned felt in his pocket for the Tinker’s perometer. It had been vibrating solidly since they’d left the Nest. He pulled at its clasp and opened it. Its single needle was pointing in perfect alignment with the Gabriella’s course, as it had been since Dover.

  “Useful thing, Tinks’s perometer,” said Ned. “Did you know the name comes from ‘periculum’, which is Latin for ‘danger’?”

  “Yes, darling,” said his mum distractedly.

  “When George gave it to me, he said that if it pointed solidly I was to go the other way. There is no other way now, is there?”

  His parents didn’t answer, because they didn’t need to. There would be no hiding from the Darkening King for any of them.

  Ned closed the clasp again and was putting the device away, when there was a mighty boom from one of the Gabriella’s cannons. A second later and her engines slowed dramatically, as the great flagship prepared to come in for landing.

  Just then, George came bounding up to them from the Gabriella’s bow.

  “George, what is it?” yelped Ned.

  Lucy’s beaming face appeared a moment after. “Come and see – quickly, come on!” she screeched.

  Breathlessly, Ned and his parents followed them round to the front of the ship as the Gabriella came in to land. They touched down at a vast and rocky clearing, the taiga’s limitless dark trees stretching for miles in all directions.

  But they were not alone.

  A very confused Ned stepped out on to the airship’s walkway to the single most glorious gathering of the Hidden he had ever seen.

  “Just look at them all!” said George, with a ridiculous, beaming grin that ran from ear to ear.

  Ned watched in awe as the sun started to set over the forest. They had come in their tens of thousands. Giants, gnomes, dryads and dwarves. Witches from the far north, with their flowing black locks, stood deep in conversation with a group of elderly Farseers. There were feathered swan-men from Eastern Europe and hundreds of trolls from Norway, Russia and beyond. Each of the burly trolls was more ugly than the next, and Ned spotted Rocky rushing towards them, half laughing and half fighting with one of his reunited cousins.