“He became even more quizzical when I asked about the Sunday bells, and in particular about the discordant Church.
“That will be Shoreditch,” he said. “They have a new Ringing Master. But why do you want to know?”
“I refrained from mentioning the worm – I have found that despite their aptitude for faith, religious men have little time for discussion of emanations from the Outer Regions. Instead I feigned an interest in campanology itself, and indeed I must have been convincing. Ten minutes later I was on my way, the old chap having provided me with a letter of introduction to the Ringing Master himself. I started to think I might be making progress.
“But any hopes in that direction were quickly dashed on meeting the Shoreditch Ringing Master. I am afraid to say that we took an instant dislike to one another. Now you chaps know that I am the most affable of companions in most cases; but there as something about this man that just put my teeth on edge right from the start. Each of my questions regarding his bell ringing activities was met with curt responses and no information of any value beyond the fact that they were trying out a new round. I was also told in no uncertain terms that if I had any problem, I should take it up with the Archbishop himself, and I was summarily shown the door as if I was an unwanted brush salesman.
“I did learn one thing, and that fact consoled me on my way home. The new round would be rung again on Tuesday evening as practice for the next Sunday. The Ringing Master told me that with some degree of glee, as if he though it might distress me. It did indeed, but not for any of the reasons he might have considered.
“No, it distressed me because my time was now limited, and I knew now that I had much work ahead of me.”
* * *
Carnacki paused to knock out his pipe on the grate and begin filling a fresh bowl of tobacco. We knew by the fact that he hadn’t risen that this was not to be a long break so we stayed in our places. But as usual, Arkwright abhorred a silence, and piped up almost immediately.
“I say Carnacki. This worm thing…had you ever seen its like before? And you say you had a lot of work to do? What kind of work precisely do you mean? It sounds like you had a plan. As for me, I’d have been round that warehouse with a few barrels of tar. That would get a fire going quickly enough and no worm, no matter how big would withstand that. Why, I remember when I was a boy we…”
Again, it took just one look from Carnacki to stop him in mid-flow.
“If you would just listen, you will find that I did indeed have a plan, and one that you, young Arkwright, will particularly enjoy, for it entails the employment of that fine Phonograph that I used in the Larkhall Barrow case. Now, do you want to hear the story, or shall we discuss your childhood adventures with worms?”
That raised a laugh from us all, even Arkwright and seconds later we were once again settled and ready to begin. Carnacki did not disappoint us, and launched directly back into his tale.
* * *
“I spent the larger part of Monday night catching up on sleep, for I knew that I would need all my faculties to be rested and alert for what was to come. During what moments I could grab I attempted to delve deeper into any available research materials. But in my heart I knew already that my own wits and ingenuity were going to be my main weapons; that, and the experience garnered in the Larkhall Barrow would have to be enough to see me through.
“By the time it came round to Tuesday evening I was as ready as I would ever be. I hired a carriage for the evening and had the driver get me as close to the Shoreditch bell tower as we could get without raising suspicion. I have bored you in the past with the details of my recording method so I will not go into it here lest I set Arkwright off again. Suffice to say, when it came round to the time for the bell-ringer’s practice, I was ready.
“As soon as the peal started I could immediately hear that there a certain weird cadence to the rounds. It was also apparent that each round was different in a subtle manner from the previous. To my ear, practiced in the chants and rituals of the Sigsand MSS, I noted that the whole peal, which turned out to be near three hours long, was in fact an incantation of sorts, but the purpose of it eluded me at that time.
“I did however manage to record the whole thing on six separate cylinders and once back in my apartments I intended to both decipher the manner of the thing that had been rung, and to plan an attack to nullify its effectiveness.
“Before then I had another call to make. I instructed the carriage driver to take me to Devonshire Square as I was anxious to know if the ringing had any effect on our worm. And indeed it had. Standing at the door of the storeroom I could see my defenses were still in place on the floor. But the worm was more awake than before, slithering and writhing in huge coils which almost filled the available space.
“I knew then that I could not allow the Shoreditch bells to ring another peal, not without having a counter-measure in place. The worm was now almost fully material in this plane, and I could only guess at the chaos and carnage that might ensue should it become fully manifest.
“The next four days passed in somewhat of a blur, and I became increasingly frustrated. You chaps know how much I abhor paper-pushers and the stifling nature of bureaucracy? Well I was about to find that the Church of England was just as guilty as our men in Westminster of obfuscation, sleight of hand and sheer pig-headed unwillingness to listen to reason. Short of marching them all round to the warehouse in Devonshire Square to see the worm, I could do nothing to persuade them that a problem even existed. Fortunately my evenings were more fruitful. By deep study of certain arcane sections of the Sigsand MSS, and by judicious use of the Phonograph I came to believe that I might just have an answer to the problem. It involved setting up a counter incantation to that being rung by the Shoreditch bells. I will not bore you with the details, for they are arcane and difficult for the uninitiated to follow, but suffice to say that by the time Saturday night came about I was fairly champing at the bit to prove I was right.
“Now, old friends, let us charge our glasses for the last time this evening. The climax is upon us, and speaking for myself, I believe I shall need a stiffener to hedge against the memory of what happened there in that storeroom the next morning.”
* * *
This time there was little chatter as all of us were eager to hear how our friend prevailed. In a matter of minutes we were back in our chairs and getting smokes lit in preparation. Carnacki kept us lingering, possibly for dramatic effect, as he filled his own pipe then puffed contentedly for long seconds before continuing.
“I once again had to make use of a carriage the next morning, transporting all my proposed defenses to the warehouse. I arrived in good time and immediately set to it. The first thing on the agenda was the reworking of the existing circle.
“On entering the stockroom I had to skirt the walls to avoid the worm. I could see it clearly now, and also could sense its presence, like a deep regular hum in my head that only abated when I stepped into the circle. I sealed the circle with garlic and holy water and placed the valves of the electric pentacle at the points of the star. I connected the valves to a fully charged battery and checked that the points were all connected. A shimmering rainbow light danced briefly over the body of the worm and it squirmed violently. I switched off the lights, deciding not to risk an early wakening of the beast.
“My next task involved several trips up and down to the courtyard. But twenty minutes or so later I was safely inside my protections with two phonographs at my feet and the wax cylinders set out, side by side, in the order I had surmised they would be required. I also attached my electric pentacle to the phonograph, such that the spectrum of light would glow in time with any sound being made – you may remember that it was this particular point which proved most efficacious in the case of the Larkhall Barrow.
“And I had completed my task none too soon, for just as I was lighting a pipe, I sensed new movement in the worm, and the sound of the first peals of the morning call to church start
ed to echo from outside. I set my phonograph running on the first cylinder and switched on the electric pentacle.
“The phonograph sounded thin and tinny in comparison to the pealing of the great church bells that echoed in the chamber. The Shoreditch chime started and the worm immediately grew and pulsed. But when the valves of the pentacle started to flash in time to my recordings the worm seemed to falter. It thinned enough that I could momentarily see the walls of the storeroom through it. I almost let out a cry of victory, but I was premature.
“The worm surged. Sparks flew from all the valves, the sudden light so bright I had to squeeze my eyes shut, and even then the after image stayed there for long seconds. The defences held, for a while. But when the first phonograph cylinder played itself out I almost forgot to set the second one going in time, leaving me only with the electric pentacle between the entity and myself for a fraction of a second. The worm threw itself at me. Again the pentacle flared, like a lightning bolt in the enclosed space. I staggered and almost fell. Indeed I nearly kicked the second phonograph out of the circle, and if I had, I would not be here now to tell the tale. I bent and quickly got the second machine running, at the same time readying the next disk in line in the spare machine.
“Once more the worm threw itself forward against my defences in an attack stronger than any previously made. The valves flickered and dimmed. But then my efforts started to bear fruit. It was as if my phonographs found a resonant vibration with the other church bells that were opposed to the discordance in Shoreditch.
“The whole room seemed to ring, echoed and amplified, as if recorded and re-recorded on a thousand phonographs simultaneously. And it only got stronger as the round of ringing continued, and after I had used up but four of my six available cylinders it was obvious that the worm was succumbing.
“It launched one final attack, rearing itself up to the full height of the room and falling on the circle. My defences arched like a dome of shimmering light over me. Where the worm hit them the light flared and sparked. I could see that my battery was starting to run out, but the creature’s attacks were getting ever more feeble now. Even as the valves failed completely the worm shrunk and diminished. A valve popped and I was forced to blink. When I looked again it was just in time to see the worm hover over the floor, like a cape falling softly to the ground.
“The cylinder played out with a last dying whirr. The worm fell into the floor… then was gone. The echoes faded and died and outside all the bells of all the churches came to a stop. I stood in a sudden silence. I waited for several minutes, but I could sense that the room had been cleansed. The worm was gone and my efforts had been rewarded.
* * *
We all applauded Carnacki warmly and thanked him for another most entertaining tale, but Arkwright wasn’t quite finished. He had questions even as we fetched our overcoats from the hall.
“Just one thing old chap,” he said. “Won’t it all just start off again on Sunday when the bells ring again?”
Carnacki smiled ruefully.
“No fear of that old boy. You see, just as the worm made its final attack, it seems that the new Ringing Master at Shoreditch rang his last – he dropped dead on the spot. And the Archbishop has relented. He has ordered a return to the old rounds from henceforth, and an end to experimentation of such nature. No, the worm may well be down there somewhere under the warehouse, lurking. But for now at least, the bells will keep us safe.”
He herded us all to the door.
“Out you go,” he said, and we walked out into the night as Big Ben chimed the hour.
The Dark Island
Part 1
The Room of Fear
Carnacki’s card of invitation arrived just as I was starting to wonder what he was up to this time. It had been almost a month since we were last gathered together, so it was with a certain degree of anticipation that I strolled along the embankment that Friday evening.
I arrived at seven prompt at his lodgings in Chelsea at 427, Cheyne Walk and Carnacki motioned me through to the dining room where I found the three others already there awaiting me. As ever it was not long before Carnacki, Arkwright, Jessop, Taylor and I were all seated at Carnacki’s table. On this particular evening he had some rather gamey pheasant, a pork pie that may just have been the most tasty I have ever eaten, and some thick Scotch ale that had to be taken in small quantities lest it go straight to the head.
Talk was confined to inconsequential gossip until we repaired to the parlour for after-dinner drinks and stories. By the time we got our glasses filled and our smokes lit we were all on tenterhooks, eager for the tale of Carnacki’s latest escapades.
He did not keep us waiting, launching straight into a story that immediately had us captivated.
* * *
“I am sorry it has been so long since our last meeting,” he began. “But I have been in Scotland these last three weeks, and I have but lately returned. You must prepare yourselves for a lengthy stint in your seats, for this is no short tale. It may be several evenings in the telling and longer still before I myself come to terms with the full ramifications of what has occurred.”
He settled back in his chair and took a long puff of his pipe.
“It began last month, with a knock on the door on a stormy night. I was settled in my chair with a favorite book and was loath to rise, but the knocking continued, getting more insistent as it wasn’t answered. I made my way slowly to the door, almost hoping that whoever was there would give up before I could get there. As it turns out I am glad the visitor persisted, for it led me in to a tale that is perhaps the strangest I have yet had to relate.
“But I am getting ahead of myself. I blame Arkwright.”
“So do I,” Arkwright replied with a laugh.
Carnacki let us fall quiet before continuing.
“It had been raining all evening, and the man on the doorstep looked like he had spent all that time out in it. At first I thought it was someone who had wandered off the street. He was unkempt, unshaven, eyes red and bleary. He wore an old brown wool suit over a long, out of shape cardigan and his hair stood out from his scalp in strange clumps. I have rarely seen a man more in need of a good meal.
“He was so thin as to be almost skeletal, the skin on his face stretched tight across his cheeks. I was worried that if I made him smile his face might split open like an over-ripe fruit. Water ran in rivulets down his face and his shoes looked to be full of water.
“‘Are you Carnacki?’ he said as I waved him inside out of the rain. I had been right about the shoes; his feet squelched on the floor. I needed to get him to a fire as soon as possible, but now that I’d let him in he seemed determined to say his piece. As he spoke I saw that he was younger than I had first taken him for, somewhere in his fifties at a guess, but his mileage was much higher.
‘Dawson at the Ministry said you might be able to help me. He said you helped them out over at Larkhall?’
“I waved him in to the fire and got him sat down.
“He sat, perched at the front of the chair, as if afraid to relax. His eyes flickered around the room, never staying long on anything, never looking straight at me.
“‘Smoke?’ I asked.
“He shook his head.
“‘It might kill me,’ he said.
“I lit up anyway… a smell wafted from the man, a thick oily tang so strong that even the pungent shag did not help much.
“‘So what can I do for you?’ I asked, aware as I said so that he had not yet even proffered his name.
“‘A good friend of mine is going to die sometime this month. I need you to stop them.’
I stared back at him.
“‘That sounds like a job for the police to me,’ I said.
“He laughed, making it sound like a sob.
“‘No. This is no job for the terminally narrow-minded,’ he said. ‘I need somebody with a certain kind of experience. Your kind of experience, if the Minister is to be believed.’
“He looked so lost, so alone, that I did not have it in me to turn him away. I sat back in my chair, all thoughts of a quiet night with a book now forgotten.
“‘Tell me,’ I said. ‘And we shall see what can be done.’
“He shook his head and removed a loose set of handwritten pages from inside his jacket and passed them across. They were slightly damp but perfectly readable.
“‘I cannot speak of it,’ he said, so softly I had to lean closer to hear him. ‘Not clearly enough to make myself understood. I have written it down here. It may prove faster, and more efficient, if you were to read it?’
“He finally accepted a whisky in exchange for his notes, and leaving him to steam quietly by the fire I settled down to read.”
* * *
Carnacki took some folded papers from his pocket, having to smooth them out from where they had become somewhat crumpled.
“I have read these several times now, and could probably relate the tale more succinctly from memory alone, but I shall read them to you in the same way I read them myself. It will add verisimilitude to what comes after.
Without further pause he started to read.
“I, James Doig have been to hell and back. At least, I hope I am fully back, although there is a part of me that will forever be lost, back there on that cursed rock in the black loch. I will tell the full tale here, in the hope that in the writing of it I may be able to expel the demons that haunt my dreams and even now clamor for my attention.
“I was in Scotland when my world started to crumble.
“The sun was going down behind the mountain and the loch was fading from blue to black, the breeze throwing refraction patterns in intricate dances across its surface. Later the moon would dance in those patterns, but for now there was only blackness.
“There was still over an hour till nightfall, but already there was a chill in the air, a portent of the winter yet to come. The trees rustled softly, and occasionally a leaf fell to swim in the ripples for a while before softly sinking to join its decaying brothers.
Carnacki: Heaven and Hell Page 16
