Carnacki: Heaven and Hell

by William Meikle

  CARNACKI: HEAVEN AND HELL

  William Meikle

  CARNACKI: HEAVEN AND HELL

  William Meikle

  This eBook edition published 2013 by Dark Regions Press as part of Dark Regions Digital.

  www.darkregions.com

  Dark Regions Press

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  Suite 10A

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  © 2013 William Meikle

  The Blooded Iklwa

  Carnacki's card of invitation arrived just as I was leaving for work on Friday and I had the whole weekend to wonder what tale he would have to relate this time. On Monday evening I arrived at seven o’clock prompt at his lodgings in Chelsea at 427, Cheyne Walk.

  “How was Scotland?” I asked as I entered, but Carnacki merely gave me one of his trademark arch smiles and motioned me through to the parlour where I found the three others already there awaiting me.

  It was not long before Carnacki, Arkwright, Jessop, Taylor and I were all seated at Carnacki’s ample dining table.

  As usual Carnacki would not discuss his latest adventure whilst dining, preferring to keep us waiting until we were ensconced in the parlour with some of his fine whisky and cigars. It was only once he was sure we were all settled that Carnacki lowered himself into his favourite chair, fired up his pipe, and began relating his latest adventure.

  * * *

  “As you may have heard from Dodgson, I have been in Scotland these past ten days,” he began. “But the tale of how I came to be there is almost as interesting in itself.

  “My story starts with a knock on the door of this very house eleven days ago.

  “The man who stood on the doorstep was military through and through. His suit was thick worsted tweed, his regimental tie was knotted just right, and his brogues squeaked as he walked across the threshold. He was in his sixties, but held his back ramrod straight. He dyed his hair, but did a dashed good job of it, with just the right amount of grey showing at the temples and in his carefully-trimmed moustache.

  “‘My name is Captain James McLeod. I hear you deal in mumbo-jumbo’, he said as I closed the door behind him. ‘I have a commission I would very much like you to undertake.’

  “He had a slight Scottish brogue, but it was well disguised and I guessed he had spent years away from his homeland.

  “Immediately after speaking he winced. I knew that expression -- this was a man in some degree of pain. I led him into this very parlour and poured him a large stiffener. He took to it like a man well used to the task. He sank a full two-thirds of the liquor before speaking.

  “‘Tell me Mr. Carnacki, do you know what an Ikwla is?’

  “I did indeed.

  “‘It is a Zulu spear of some kind is it not?’

  “He finished off the whisky in double quick time and I poured him another.

  “He nodded his thanks, and I was pleased to note that he had the strength and fortitude to put his glass aside for a moment.

  “‘It is a thrusting weapon, a shorter version of the assagai. It gets its name from the sound a thrust makes, first as it enters a body and the moist sucking sound as it is withdrawn.’

  “He punctuated his explanation with a thrusting motion of his own with his right hand, but had to curtail it when it brought with it another grimace of pain. He took to the whisky again before continuing.

  “‘I have some experience with such weapons,’ he said with a grim smile. ‘I was at Uluni in seventy-nine, fighting under Chelmsford as an officer in the First King’s Dragoon Guards.’

  “The man’s eyes took on a faraway stare, an old soldier remembering days of glory.

  “‘That was the day we broke the Zulu forever. I will not bore you with thirty-year old battles, but I rode off that field with a souvenir, an Iklwa that had pierced my thigh before I could cut down the wielder. Since my return to Scotland in eighty-seven it has been above the fireplace in my home. And there it stays. But I fear it has been travelling when no one is there to see.’

  “My curiosity was piqued.

  “‘And why do you say that?’

  “He lifted his waistcoat, and the shirt beneath. Below that was a bandage wrapped all around his body. A recent dark stain showed where he had exerted himself earlier and opened the wound below.

  “‘Three times now it has stabbed me while I lie abed,” he said. “I have never seen the attack coming, nor been able to avoid it, even in a locked room. The iklwa is always above the fireplace in the morning. And blood adorns the blade.’

  “He tucked his shirt back in place and straightened his tie.

  “‘What do you say Mr. Carnacki? Will you help me?’

  “The next morning we took the Flying Scotsman to Edinburgh.”

  * * *

  Carnacki stopped his tale to allow us time to refill our glasses and light another cigar or pipe as was our pleasure. We all knew better than to ask any questions at this stage of a story, and it was only a matter of a minute before we were once again settled and Carnacki took up from where he had left off.

  * * *

  “The Captain was a pleasant companion to have on the train. He regaled me with tales of his exploits in the Guards and proved most adept at bringing the sights and sounds of old battles to life.

  “We reached Waverley Station at six-thirty in the evening, but our journey was not finished there, for the Captain’s residence was outside the city. A carriage took us the rest of the way, a trip of nearly an hour, and it was full dark by the time we arrived at his handsome sandstone cottage.

  “The Captain proved to be a gracious host. He had sent a telegram ahead, and his housekeeper had prepared a magnificent meal of salmon and pheasant, washed down with some strong Scotch ale. I was feeling pleasantly tired by the time the talk turned back to the Captain’s predicament.

  “He led me through to the parlour after dinner, and poured a large glass of whisky for each of us before pointing out the spear above the fireplace.

  “‘I can scarcely even look at the dashed thing,’ the Captain said. ‘Maybe I should just throw it in the river and be done with it.’

  “At that I shook my head.

  “‘There is a puzzle here to be solved,’ I replied. ‘And I would be remiss in my duties if I did not attempt the resolution.’

  “I walked over to the fireplace and made a closer study of the weapon. It was a short-shafted, large-bladed spear. Brass wire reinforced the socket, and it had a wood shaft below a foot-long steel blade. Its total length was some fifty inches overall. The blade itself showed no sign of rust, but there was a thin veneer of dried blood on the lower edge.

  “I searched the fireplace and surrounding area thoroughly for any signs of trickery, but found none. That did not, of course, mean that no trickery existed. The Captain himself seemed rather fond of a wee dram and it is my experience that drink can do strange things to even the strongest of men.

  “I also had the Captain show me his bedchamber. I could find nothing to suggest that the assaults on his person were staged by a human agent. A perusal of the door locks showed them to be sturdy and of high quality and the windows seemed to be of similarly sound construction. I was forced to agree with the man that we did indeed have a mystery on our hands.

  “We repaired to the parlour for a final snifter. The Captain was destined for his bed, but I had another task in mind for myself. I waited until he had settled down for the night then placed an armchair outside his bedroom door, ensuring I had a view clear through to the parlour and the fireplace. I put out the lights and sat in the darkness smoking my pipe as silence fell all around me.

  “There was just enough light for me to see the dying embers of the fire and make out the darker sha
dow above the mantle where the spear had been mounted. I knew that I would be unable to watch that shadow for every second, for the strain on my eyes would prove too much to bear. Nevertheless I was able to keep most of my concentration on the parlour itself, confident that if anything did indeed move that I would know of it in enough time to take action.

  “The night passed slowly. I contented myself with running complex arithmetical problems in my mind, a soothing array of cube roots and prime numbers. I was almost lost in reverie when I noticed a drop in the temperature. Despite the fact that my pipe had long since gone out and grown cold, my breath smoked in front of my nose.

  “The air grew thin, as if I had suddenly been transported to a high altitude, and a soft wind whistled at my ears.

  “I peered into the darkness over the fireplace. The iklwa was still in its position, but the shadows seemed to have deepened around the fireplace, a blacker form above the mantle writhing like a nest of snakes. By Jove! You can imagine how queer I felt about that.

  “I was just about to stand when a scream came from the Captain’s room. By the time I threw the door open he was already sitting up in bed, bleeding profusely from a deep stab wound in his shoulder. Before I went to his aid I had a look back at the fireplace. The spear was still in position above the mantle.

  “To his credit the old soldier did not make a fuss as I roused his housekeeper and between us we dressed the wound as well as we were able. The housekeeper, being one of that stoic breed of Scots women who treats everything with equal scorn, took over from my misplaced fumbling and banished me from the maister’s room.

  “I took the opportunity to have a closer look at the spear.

  “It was right where it ought to be, still firmly secured above the mantle.

  “Fresh blood dripped from the blade to the hearth below.”

  * * *

  Carnacki stopped once more in his telling.

  “Dodgson, can I bother you to fetch me a refill? I am finding this thirsty work.”

  I did as he requested. I poured him a large measure of his favourite single malt and set it on the small table by his side.

  “I see your sojourn among the heathens to the north has left its mark on you,” I said jokingly.

  The look he gave me showed how little he was amused by my remark.

  “You are closer to the truth than you know,” he said softly.

  The others had taken advantage of the lull in proceedings to recharge their own glasses and to get fresh smokes lit. We sat contentedly in the growing fug waiting for the next revelation in Carnacki’s story.

  * * *

  Carnacki got his own pipe lit before starting again. He showed us the long stemmed briar.

  “I got a smoke lit and stood in that parlour for many minutes,” he continued. “But no matter how I looked at it, I could come to only one conclusion. A revenant spirit was at work in this house, and it seemed intent on bringing harm, and maybe even death, to the old officer.

  “I was about to check on his health when he arrived in the doorway. Apart from seeming slightly grey about the face he looked none the worse for wear, but there was a noticeable tremor in his hands as he poured us both a Scotch. If his own glass was more full than the one he passed to me, I chose not to mention it.

  “It did not stay full for very long as he took a gulp that would have had me gasping on the floor. It did however succeed in bringing some colour back to his cheeks. He motioned towards the spear, not seeming to notice, or care, that some of the whisky slopped and spilled from his glass.

  “‘It seems I am to suffer the death of a thousand cuts. It was yon spear again,’ he said, his accent stronger now than before. ‘How in the duece is such a thing possible?’

  “I took my time in replying, for in truth, I did not yet have any answers of my own to give. But I did know one thing.

  “‘The how of it is indeed puzzling,’ I replied. “And that is something we need to settle very soon. But I believe there is an even more important question to be asked. Why are these attacks targeting only you? And why now, at such a distance from the battle in which you procured the spear?’

  “Neither of us had an answer. The night was too far-gone, and we had too much liquor in our bellies. The Captain took to his bed once more, and I sat back in the armchair.

  “And some point I slept, but my inexcusable laxity did not, fortunately, prove to be calamitous. The remainder of the night passed uneventfully, and I was woken to sunlight lancing across the parlour floor and the sound of the housekeeper ringing the breakfast bell.

  “If the Captain was feeling any stiffness or pain from his new wound he did not show it at the table. He was a real brick about the whole thing. While the housekeeper fed us porridge, kippers and a mountain of toast he kept up a series of anecdotes about the social scene in Edinburgh that would have had the ears of the gentry in Morningside burning as they drank their morning tea.

  “It was only after he was sure that his housekeeper was safely back in the kitchen washing the dishes that he turned to serious matters.

  “He was looking for answers, but I did not yet have any to give. I did however have certain tricks up my sleeve. I banished the Captain to his club in the Castlegate and set to unravelling the mystery.

  “First of all, in the clear light of day, I wanted to make sure, once and for all, that no human trickery was involved. I examined the parlour -- walls, floor and ceiling. I probed and hammered each and every piece of panelling and examined everything thoroughly through my magnifying glass. I found nothing suspicious. It was only after I was completely satisfied that I set to making preparations for the next night.

  “I took my valise into the Captain’s bedchamber. I had been sure to tell him of my plans that morning, for I was about to perform some acts that he would surely dismiss as mumbo-jumbo, and I needed his cooperation if we were to succeed.

  “The Captain had retained his military regime and his bedchamber was little more than a bed and a dresser. I had little trouble in moving the bed into the centre of the room. Manhandling the dresser out into the hall was a different matter altogether. By Jove that thing was heavy. I worked up a sweat in no time, and needed a calming pipe of tobacco once the deed was done. Then it was swiftly back to work and to the mumbo-jumbo I have already mentioned.

  “I started by drawing a circle of chalk, taking care never to smudge the line as I navigated my way around the bed. Beyond this I rubbed a broken garlic clove in a second circle around the first.

  “When this was done, I took a small jar of water that had been blessed by a priest and went round the circle again just inside the line of chalk, leaving a wet trail that dried quickly behind me. Within this inner circle I made my pentacle using the signs of the Saaamaaa Ritual, and joined each Sign most carefully to the edges of the lines I had already made.

  “In the points of the pentacle I placed five portions of bread wrapped in linen, and in the valleys five vials of the holy water. Now I had my first protective barrier and with this first stage complete the bed, now protected as it was by the most basic of spells, already felt more secure.

  “I have told you enough tales by now for you to know what I did next. I will not bore you with my reasons for utilizing the increased protection provided by my electric pentacle, for you know that it has saved me many times already, and proves most efficacious against even the most cunning apparitions. I set the mechanism to overlay the drawn pentagram upon the floor. When I connected up the battery, an azure glare shone from the intertwining vacuum tubes.

  “By this time the stench of crushed garlic had assailed me enough. I made one final check that the protections were all in place then retired to the kitchen where the housekeeper provided me with coffee and gossip until the maister came home.

  * * *

  “That evening’s meal proved every bit as welcome as the night before, but the Captain was more subdued, and loath to take to bed. I do believe he might have taken solace in the bottle had I
not been present, and even then he took some convincing before finally retiring, muttering about bloody heathen nonsense as he stepped into the pentagram. I noticed however that he took pains not to stand on or smudge any of the lines.

  “Once more I took to my watch in the armchair and the house went quiet around me as I puffed on a fresh pipe. Now that I had the protections set I felt more confident that I was ready for whatever the night might throw at me. I thought I knew what to expect.

  “Indeed it began in much the same fashion as before. I can tell you that sheer funk almost took complete hold of me, sitting there in the dark. And when the air went cold I dashed near threw it all in there and then. But the thought of the old soldier lying abed just through the wall stiffened my resolve. When the shadows grew above the fireplace and the wind whistled in my ears I knew that the time had come. I quietly opened the Captain’s door and slid into the room.

  “I was just in time to see a web of frost crawl across the window. The Captain himself was asleep and his breath was clearly visible in the sudden cold.

  “A dark shadow ran around the walls, although there was no light from which it might have been cast. The wind in my ears grew stronger and the shadow lunged forward. It smashed against the protection in a shower of sparks. The pentacle held.

  “Again and again the shadow forced an attack. Again and again it was repulsed by the pentacle until the attacks became an almost constant frenzy. It was quite a light show, I will say that much, although it was a tad cold for my tastes. I was just beginning to feel smug that my technology was proving a match for the haunt when the Captain woke with a start. He immediately made to climb out of bed and I could see that his foot would land square on one of the inner lines of the pentacle.

  “I had no choice. I stepped forward, standing between him and the lowering shadow.

  “The blackness came straight at me and a cold sharper than any I have ever felt gripped me down to my bones. Somewhere the Captain shouted but I was caught immobile in a cold dark place. The only heat came as a blade slid between my ribs and blood flowed freely.