by Robin Jarvis
"The Three will guide us!" they boomed. "They will watch over our fate! Bless the tribe! Save the tribe!"
Raging through a wide cavern, they tore into an adjoining tunnel and suddenly all was chaos and confusion.
"Eeeeee!" screeched a panicky voice. "Out of my way! Eeeee!"
A squat shape barged straight into the middle of the aufwaders. Sticks clattered over the ground and startled wails filled the cramped passage.
"It's got me!" someone squawked.
"Kill it!" called another.
"Let me go!" howled the shrill voice. "Tarr Shrimp call them off!"
Nelda's grandfather strode angrily up to the tangle of wriggling bodies and dragged the bewildered fisherfolk away.
"Parry!" he snarled. "What are yer doin'? Stand up, woman!"
Old Parry struggled to her feet, bawling at the top of her discordant voice. As soon as she had heard Prawny's death screams she had run for her life, leaving Baccy to face the terror alone. Down the caves she had scuttled, wailing and knocking aside those foolish enough to stand in her way.
"Move!" she yammered, spinning round and hurtling into the recovering group once more. "It's after me! Get away, let me through! Eeeeee!"
"Parry!" Tarr shouted, striding up to her and shaking the sea wife by the shoulders. "Get a grip on thissen! What's all this about?"
She quivered like a cornered mouse and her glance darted over Tarr's shoulder to the shadowy passage. "You ain't got no right to keep me!" she protested. "It's all in vain. I heard Nusk when the monster got him."
"Prawny..." muttered Tarr sadly.
"Aye," she squealed, "and many more since—their voices have followed me down the caves and always at my heels it came galloping, chasin' me—I even heard it chatter to itsen." Parry wriggled free of Tarr's grip, "Well it'll not feast on me!" she cried and trampled by those still in her way.
"Come back!" Johab called. "Stand and fight."
"Let her go," said Tarr, "she'd only hinder..."
"Aaaaiiiyeeee!"
A bright silver arc sliced through the gloom and an aufwader fell dead to the ground. The enemy had found them and due to Old Parry's demented interruption they were caught unawares. The creature flew at them through the darkness, its eyes burning with hate and malice. A second furious sweep of its claws threw two others to the floor and it immediately leapt upon their bodies to launch itself at the rest.
"That's fer Prawny!" Tarr roared, striking out with his staff and catching the Mallykin across the neck. It squealed in pain and whirled around, raking its claws at him. The aufwader dodged the attack and brought his staff down once more. This time the blow glanced off the creature's back. A splintered knitting needle was embedded in the shoulder; Baccy had evidently stood her ground and had managed to strike before the creature killed her. Tarr's staff drove the needle deeper into the scaly sinew.
Maddened and yowling in agony, the fish demon pounced, flattening him against the wall, where it snatched the staff from his hands and bit it in two. Then its bloody jaws lunged for his throat.
From the shadows, a blade shone brightly and Johab plunged a knife into the creature's side. Screaming, it released its victim and whirled viciously round. Johab quailed, his action had saved Nelda's grandfather—but he was done for.
"Noo!" he howled, as the full might and fury of the enemy sprang at him. The cruel claws slit his throat and the elder was dashed against the rock, slumping to the ground like a discarded ragdoll.
The Mallykin was furious now, baited into a terrible rage that nothing could withstand. All it craved was to drink its bloated fill of their hot blood. The luminous eyes became narrow slivers of green and it took a menacing pace closer to the three fisherfolk that remained.
The aufwaders were utterly petrified, and the weapons drooped from their hands. A string of saliva oozed from the open jaws and a joyous gurgle bubbled from its flapping stomach.
"Leave them!" rang the commanding voice of Nathaniel suddenly. The fish demon whipped about and sniffed warily—where was he?
"Seek out the leader," the warlock demanded, "Your appetite can be satiated later."
The fish demon let out a confused whine; the voice was inside its head. "Down to the lower caves," the voice declared, cutting through the creature's primitive mind, "you shall find him there—now go!"
With a final hiss of consuming hatred, it rushed between the remaining fisherfolk and disappeared into the blackness of the caverns beyond.
Tarr groaned and coughed, his neck was clawed and bleeding. "Where is it?" he choked, stumbling to his feet. "Don't let it get away!"
But the others had had enough. They stared helplessly at the corpses of Johab and the others and silently lay their weapons on the blood-drenched ground.
"It's over," said one, "we canna fight against that."
"We must," spluttered Tarr.
The aufwaders shook their heads. "The tribe is finished," they declared, "the Deep Ones have deserted us."
Tarr shook his fist at them. "Theer's no escape," he shouted, but they would not listen.
"Our time is over now," they said. "The caverns are no longer ours—we have lost."
Their spirits were completely quashed and their faces betrayed the sickness in their hearts. They were tired of everything, weary of the world and all its troubles, appalled at the loss of their friends and stricken by the fiend that had attacked them. Their grief was immeasurable and, dragging their feet in the crimson-stained dust they trailed despondently up the tunnel.
"Deeps take 'em," cursed Tarr, "all is lost now."
Stooping over the bodies of his fallen comrades, he said a quiet prayer. "I canna gi' up hope," he murmured dismally. Then he found the two splintered shards of his staff and he covered his face with his hands. The others were right, there was no point in going on, the time of the aufwaders was over. Tarr's keen spirit sank within him.
"Grandfather!" came a voice. "Grandfather, where are you?"
At once Tarr leaped to his feet. "Nelda!" he shouted and the flame of hope burned brightly in his breast once more.
Running from the shadows of the far passageway, the girl raced towards him and flung her arms about his neck.
"Oh Grandfather!" she cried. "You're hurt."
She stared at the clawmarks at his throat, then saw for the first time the fallen tribe members.
"I'm too late!" she wept. "Is everyone dead? Did the creature kill them all?"
Tarr's eyes narrowed. "Has tha seen it?" he asked.
"I was hurrying up the Ozul Stair," she nodded, "when I heard something pattering down towards me. So I hid in a cleft in the rock and the beast ran by—it was a loathsome thing!"
"Aye," he agreed, "but what's it doing down theer?"
"Esau," Nelda whispered, "it's gone for him! That's where the guardian was—that's what it wants!"
Tarr searched Johab's body for his knife and said gravely, "It canna have that! Ah mun get after it!"
"No!" cried Nelda clinging to him. "The creature won't find the guardian down there—look, I've got it here." She showed him the jet carving and her grandfather gazed at her sorrowfully.
"Oh lass," he whispered, "how did tha get the old goat to gi' it up?"
Nelda said nothing, but she lowered her eyes and he held her more tightly than before.
"Well, you mun get it out of here!" he told her quickly. "Won't take long fer that beastie to come back."
"But what shall I do with it?" she asked. "I never thought about that."
Tarr glanced up the tunnel. "Take it to thy human friend," he instructed, "anythin' to get it out of the caves. Go now—while theer's a chance."
"But what about you?" she demanded.
"Ah'll stay here," he said solemnly, "theer's still a few of our folk loose in the caves. They're all of a panic and'll need to be found. Even the likes of Old Parry can't be left for that divil's pleasure."
Nelda hugged him. "I'll be waiting for you, Grandfather," she said, "promise m
e you'll leave as soon as everyone's been found."
"Ah swear, lass," he told her.
The two of them hugged one another desperately. Then, clenching the guardian closely to her, Nelda darted up the passage.
"Now," Tarr muttered, brandishing the knife fiercely, "ah'm gonna make that beastie squeal if it's the last thing ah do!"
***
Esau gave a complaining groan as his blissful sleep became increasingly troubled. "Nelda," he burbled, "my dearest beloved..." The elder rolled on to his side and a wide yawn divided his wizened face.
With a jolt, he awoke. Esau rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gazed about the chamber. Where was his bride? He pulled a sullen frown and scratched himself lazily.
"Nelda!" he called. "Nelda?" There was no reply, but outside the cavern he heard the rumour of unpleasant screeches far, far away.
"Where is she?" he mumbled irritably. "A wife ought to wait upon her husband. I must be sure she learns what else is expected of her."
He dragged himself from the bed and reached for his sticks. "What is that clamour?" he shouted, as a terrible crashing resounded from the Triad chamber. "Be that you wife?" he cried. "Get in here and tend to my wants. I would eat some vittles now..."
Esau's voice dried in his throat, for at that moment the curtain was wrenched from its hooks and went sprawling across the chamber.
"Noooooo!" he wailed.
Framed within the low doorway was the hideously deformed figure, whose fins ruffled and shook with odious glee.
"The Mallykin!" Esau croaked. "How did the wight find me? How did it reach the lower realm?"
Snarling, the creature took a prowling step closer, its round eyes glowing malevolently at the ancient aufwader.
Esau shrieked in dismay and flung one of his sticks at it. The hobgoblin of the waters sprang aside, raised its deadly talons and burbled wickedly.
Nelda's husband staggered across the chamber, he had to escape it—but the toad-like apparition hopped nimbly towards him. Then Esau noticed the pool and his legs collapsed under him.
"What madness is this?" he screamed.
His Darkmirror was swirling, the filthy water bubbled and spat as the bottom of the pool began to tremble.
"Curse thee, Nelda!" he screeched. "Thou hast betrayed us and sealed all our fates! The guardian of Irl ought not to have been moved—couldst thou not guess the reason—didst thou not see what the Darkmirror is? What hast thou done?"
Even as he watched, a great split appeared beneath the water.
"Morgawrus!" he yelled. "He stirs! The end is come!"
The crack gaped wider and gradually a pale yellow radiance welled up, filling the entire chamber with an awful light and a blistering heat. The pool churned and the fish demon yammered in dismay as a huge eye blinked open in the chamber floor.
Esau tore at his beard; the dark slit of the pupil glared up at the insignificant aufwader.
The terrible glance rooted him to the spot, and the hellish light shone angrily through the stagnant tears—tears which he in his folly had drunk. He had only done it in order to gain wisdom and indeed Esau had learnt much from sipping daily at the stinking brine, but it was this that had driven him insane. The still pool had been a distillation of pure evil and, once he had dared to taste it, Esau had been lost.
"Morgawrus," he gabbled, his gnarled hands scalding in the heat of that dreadful gaze, "spare me, return to thy slumber. Have mercy!"
The cavern trembled as the gigantic enemy of the world twisted its buried head. Esau fell on his face, grovelling before the eye of the dark god as it shifted beneath the rock. This was where the Deep Ones had imprisoned it many thousands of years ago, trapped beneath the cliffs of Whitby, to sleep out eternity under their enchantments. But once more its cold black blood pulsed through its endless veins and up above, the town juddered as the vast heart began to pound and beat.
Prostrate on the ground, Esau felt his skin bake under the scorching blast of the eye. His forked beard singed and steamed, shrivelling upon his chin and his scalp smouldered sending up a reek of brown smoke.
"Nelda," he murmured in his agony, "forgive me...!"
Into the sizzling heats of the eye crept the fish demon. The bright light had frightened it at first but the irresistible sight of Esau prone on the floor, helpless and unarmed was too much and it swiftly overcame its fear. Gurgling with delight, it flew at Esau, who threw back his head and let out one final mad laugh before the Mallykin slew him gleefully.
Now surely its master would be pleased, it thought, as the eldest of the fisherfolk gasped and croaked his way to the unknown shores.
And then the cavern shook suddenly and the livid green slit of the pupil swivelled round at the bottom of the pool. Morgawrus was awake, the sleep of aeons was past.
Revelling in the aufwader's blood, the fish demon looked up, startled at the quaking world. The lid of the eye snapped shut once more and sank into a black void, leaving an empty well in the ground. The nightmare serpent was moving.
At once the rocks shuddered with cataclysmic violence. A massive part of the floor ruptured and cracked asunder as Morgawrus seethed below. Yelping in fear, the Mallykin scurried to its feet as the unsupported ground crumbled and fell completely away, crashing down into a gaping abyss.
"Get out of there!" commanded the voice of Nathaniel in its head. "Return to me!"
Shrieking, the fish demon bounded from the cavern as the ornately decorated roof buckled and quivered ominously. Then, with a horrendous shattering of shale and rock, the entire structure collapsed. Thousands of tons of rubble came crushing down and the broken body of Esau was buried beneath the full weight of the cliff.
Out through the Triad chamber the Mallykin fled and the three thrones topped in ruins at its heels. The silver lamp was smashed and the crystal waves it rode upon shivered into flittering dust.
To the fish demon it seemed that the whole world was ending and it tore out of the hallowed hall bleating shrilly. Behind it the stalactites splintered and broke from the ceiling, thrusting into the ground like stone spears—stabbing at the very heart of the aufwader realm. And as the serpent rumbled and snaked in the depths, the sacred springs of the blessed shrine boiled away to nothing.
Still the Mallykin hurtled on, leaping over the fissures that yawned suddenly beneath it and veering between towering columns of rock that burst from the floor and drove ever upwards, smashing into the high galleries. Finally the Gibbering Road reared up before the squealing creature. The slender bridge stretched out before it and the fish demon threw itself on to the treacherously narrow way and began pattering hastily across.
In the black gorge far below, Morgawrus slithered. At last its loathsome head was free and a tremendous roar blasted up from the invisible deeps. The dreadful noise reverberated underground, booming throughout the earth and shaking its molten heart.
Upon the bridge the fish demon screamed, for the voice of the serpent shook the stone and to its shrieking horror it saw jagged cracks suddenly appear. The Gibbering Road flew apart and the fragments plummeted down into the chasm.
Emitting a terrified squeal, the last of the Mallykins toppled, and as it went spinning through the darkness to its death, the creature felt Nathaniel wrench himself from its mind.
A monstrous black fin stretched up from the abyss as Morgawrus started to uncoil and the sides of the precipice were demolished as it thrashed and writhed. In claps of deafening thunder the sheer walls were destroyed and amid clouds of engulfing dust they slid into the evil darkness. The end had indeed come.
14 - Shadow Over Whitby
A grotesque, unnatural night covered Whitby, and the folds of its vast, black shroud pressed heavily down. In the harbour, the water boiled and steam mingled with the dark, forming putrid clouds that rolled over the quayside and poured sluggishly into the town. Down the narrow streets the terrible shadows flowed, filling the doorways and stealing into the cosy homes beyond. It was a blinding, impenetrable gloom that e
ntered the hearts of the inhabitants, instilling each one with dread and despair.
On the West Cliff, a gas main had fractured and the inhabitants of the nearby houses were hurriedly evacuated. On the East side, the power cables were down and all the windows looked blank and dark. The telephone lines were also severed and the panic of the people rose to fever pitch. Cars careered into one another, skidding into shops and spinning off the quay. Chaos reigned everywhere and harsh sirens blared across the seething harbour.
Upon the shore, Ben watched as the two halves of Whitby were gradually eclipsed by the creeping shade. Behind him, the sea was still, broken only by occasional jets of white smoke. The tide had ceased, no waves came lapping up the beach and the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
"Jen," the boy murmured as the dense black fog swallowed Church Street and the red roofs were lost from sight. He knew he had to get back, he should be with his sister.
Quickly, Ben began to run over the sand, the clinging darkness swirling about his knees—but then he froze.
Frightened voices were on the air. Terrified gabbles and dismal wailings were issuing from the cliff side. Out of the many secret entrances, poured the surviving members of the aufwader tribe. Into the choking gloom they staggered, relieved to escape the ferocity of the fish demon's attack, yet dismayed at the bewildering midnight world that greeted them.
Ben hurried over to the cliff face and shouted to them. "What's happened?" he called. "Where's Tarr? Is Nelda safe?"
A bedraggled company stumbled out on to the rocks. Three of their number were horribly wounded—slashed and gored by the Mallykin's claws—and they leaned heavily on their comrades. Only one of them turned to look at the boy and he glared down, consumed with hatred.
"The tribe is finished," he spat. "This is the fault of your kind!"
Even as he spoke, a distraught clamour rose amongst the others—one of the wounded they had carried from the tunnels was dead and, wailing, they gathered around him.
"I'm sorry," Ben spluttered.
"Get gone, landbreed!" an aufwader screeched, stooping to pick up a large stone.
