Clive Barker's First Tales

by Clive Barker

  From the balloon, the Cloud looked even larger and more ominous than ever, because for the first time, they could see how all- encompassing it was, stretching into the distant haze to right and left; now they could see how dark its seething depths actually were.

  Below them the ordinary clouds had cleared a little, and they could look down upon a beautiful patchwork-quilt landscape of fields and hills and rivers. They watched the ground go by under them in silence, the wind blowing in their hair.

  "I've just realised," said Graham after a few minutes.

  "What?" said Colin.

  "The wind is blowing in a different direction to the way we're going."

  "It can't be."

  "It is, Col. Look at the clouds."

  Graham was right. Though the wind was from the South, they were travelling East.

  "It's the Maggot-Cloud," said Gwen with a note of fear in her voice.

  "What do you mean?" said Colin.

  "Can't you see, Colin?" she said. "It's dragging us towards it. It knows who we are, it knows we have the Candle, and it's dragging us into it to destroy us."

  "That's ridiculous," said Colin. "The Cloud can't do that."

  "How do you know?"

  "It's a black cloud, nothing more or less. It came out of the earth during an earthquake, that's all," said Colin. "It can't drag us anywhere."

  "You mean you don't believe what the Queen said about Elz-raal-whatsizname?" said Graham.

  "I don't know. I mean, I believe he existed all right, and I believe the Fathers disappeared into the earth - but I don't know about all the rest," said Colin.

  "Don't you believe the Cloud was created by magic?" said Graham.

  "I wouldn't bet on it," replied Colin. "Remember what Darach said about the stars being holes in heaven – we didn't believe that, did we?"

  "No," said Graham.

  "Suppose this cloud were some sort of poisonous gas escaping from the earth - like all the smoke when Surtsey was born - that would explain it, wouldn't it?"

  "I suppose it would. But what about the horsemen?" Graham said. "You can't explain them away with science, can you?"

  "They're strange, admittedly, but why shouldn't they be men? Maybe all this stuff about them being made of darkness is just superstitious nonsense."

  "What about the one the sunlight killed in the field?" said Gwen. "Did it, Gwen? Why couldn't he just have hit his head when he fell?"

  "And that 'magic' of Darach's in the tower looked like a shrapnel-box"

  "But Col," said Graham, "if your theories are right, and the Cloud is made of poison gas – what are we doing trying to destroy it with a candle?"

  "That's just it," he replied. "If Darach and the others are right, and the Cloud was made by magic – then we stand half a chance of surviving – perhaps even winning.

  "But if they're wrong, and all this can be explained by science and common sense, then we're risking our lives without a chance of saving this world or ours!"

  There was a long silence.

  "We've got to try," said Gwen. "We've got to."

  "Yes, yes," said Colin. "Let's not talk about it any more."

  They didn't, but the damage was done. The seed of doubt was well and truly sown.

  "Look what I've found," cried Graham jubilantly.

  At the bottom of the basket was a bundle of bread and fruit. "Food!" they all yelled.

  "We'd better not eat it all at once," said Gwen. "We don't know how long it'll be until we have another proper meal."

  "Always the sensible one, my sister," said Colin with a mock grimace.

  They all laughed.

  It seemed ages since they had laughed together, and it was to be a long time until they laughed together again.

  They drifted on towards the Cloud, and the sun began to go down. Now there were mountains below them, and beyond the sharp peaks, a desert.

  "I hope we get beyond the mountains before night falls," said Graham. "I don't like the looks of those mountain-tops."

  "We'll be all right," said Colin.

  Almost before the words had left his lips the balloon suddenly fell a few feet. Gwen shrieked. They all felt as if they had left their stomachs behind them.

  "What's happening?" said Gwen.

  "The hot air in the balloon is cooling," said Graham. "We're going down."

  The mountains loomed, grim and forbidding.

  "We'll be smashed to pieces if we hit one of those," said Graham.

  "Shut up!" shouted Colin. "And start chucking out those sand-bags."

  As they threw the sandbags out of the basket the balloon stopped falling. But the sharp, misted mountaintops were very much closer.

  "Never a dull moment," said Colin.

  Graham whistled through his teeth. "That was close," he said.

  "If we can only get over the mountains," said Colin, "we can make a landing in the desert safely enough."

  The balloon had begun to descend again, more slowly than previously, but still too quickly for safety. They threw out some more sandbags but it did little good. Soon there were no more bags to throw out. Now they were so close to the mountaintops they could almost have reached out of the basket and touched them. Twice the bottom of the basket scraped the razor-sharp rocks, and on the second occasion the impact tore a hole in it.

  The balloon was now sinking rapidly. Small, misty clouds flew past. The mountain crags seemed to reach for them with sharpened fingers, to pluck them from the sky and dash them to the ground.

  Though they were descending, they were still moving at quite a speed between the peaks, hurried on by the air currents. A sheer rock face loomed immediately in front of them. There was nothing they could do that would prevent the balloon smashing into it. All they could do was cling to the basket, frozen with fear, as the slate-grey face came closer and closer.

  Then, quite suddenly, an air current caught them and lifted the balloon up and over the mountain. It was as if a giant hand had appeared from out of the mist and carried them over the threatening rock face.

  They all breathed a sigh of relief, and the sight that met their eyes on the other side of the mountain was the most welcome one of their journey. Before them, the mountains gave way to a wide and empty plain, over which brooded the face of the Maggot-Cloud on the horizon.

  Out of the thermal, the balloon began to descend again, more rapidly than ever.

  "Hold on," said Colin. "We're going to land with quite a wallop."

  The sandy plain rushed up to the meet them, as the balloon plummeted like a dying bird. The wind whistled in their ears. They closed their eyes as they hit the ground, bounced and hit it again. The children were flung out of the basket on to the sandy ground, taking in great gulps of air, and feeling for broken limbs. But they were unharmed. They had landed, safely, on the other side of the mountains.

  In the Hall of the Black Wolf

  In the Great Hall of his castle on the edge of the Wastelands, the Black Wolf, Lord of the Northern Marches, sat back in his huge throne, stroked his black beard, and studied his three prisoners carefully.

  "You," he said, pointing at Darach. "I know you."

  Darach said nothing.

  "You are Darach the Wise, aren't you?" he turned to the leader of the soldiers who had captured them. "You say there were children with him?"

  "Yes, my Lord."

  "How many?"

  "Three."

  "The Light-Wielders, no doubt," he mused. "Well, well – we may not have the children yet – but we've got you, Darach, and your two acquaintances."

  "We've never seen him in our lives before, have we, Marius?" said Montgomery.

  "No, Montgomery. Never clapped eyes on him. And, sir, he stole our balloon."

  "Curse your balloon!" said the Black Wolf. "The children escaped in it."

  "It wasn't our fault," whimpered Marius, his chin receding even further into his neck.

  "Shut up," said the Black Wolf. "You can be set to work usefully for the realm. Bu
t you, Darach, you will make a fine hostage. Somehow I think her most regal majesty the Queen will pay handsomely for your life."

  "No," said a voice.

  The Black Wolf looked up, eyes blazing with anger. "Who dares -" he began.

  It was a horseman. He had entered the chamber without a sound and stood at the great, oak-hewn doors in a pool of shadow that he seemed to weave around him. The guards and members of the court withdrew as he soundlessly approached the Black Wolf's throne down the hall.

  "No," he said again. "You will not have him as a hostage."

  "Will I not?" said the Black Wolf with a humourless smile. "My soldiers captured him – therefore he is my prisoner to dispose of."

  "Not this one," said the horseman. "He is ours."

  "Finders Keepers," said the Black Wolf, with a mocking smile. "Losers –" replied the horseman, with his hand on his sword-hilt, "–Weepers. Do not argue with me, or you may lose your life."

  "Threats?" said the Black Wolf with the same smile.

  "Yes."

  "Why's he so important to you?"

  "He is responsible for the destruction of several riders."

  "You ought to be more careful," replied the Black Wolf, and looked a little bored.

  "And he holds the secret of the candle. We must wrest it from him. Once we have the secret of its power, we can take steps to destroy it."

  "Very well," said the Black Wolf. "What will you give me for him?"

  "You dare to play games with a servant of the Cloud?" said the horseman, a dangerous tone creeping into his voice.

  "I dare anything," replied the Black Wolf. "You can have the old man - if you guarantee me the thrones of all the lands from here to the Northern seas when the Cloud has conquered the earth."

  "There won't be anything left to rule, Black Wolf," said Darach, breaking in.

  "What are you mumbling, old man?" said the Wolf, impatiently.

  "There won't be anything left," repeated Darach. "The Cloud destroys everything in its path. And that will include you."

  "No," said the Wolf. "Not me. I'm safe. I've served the Cloud well."

  "That means nothing," said Darach. "You will be wiped out the same as the lowest servinglad in your kitchens."

  "You seek to frighten me with fancies, old man," said the Black Wolf with a smile, but his dark eyes betrayed a glimmer of fear. "But you won't succeed. If the Cloud tries to double-cross me I shall raise up my army and destroy it."

  "How?" said Darach. "You can't fight with shadows."

  "What do you mean?"

  "This creature beside me is not a man. He is only darkness."

  "How can that be?"

  "By magic."

  "I don't believe you," said the Black Wolf, but his smile vanished.

  "Then prove it. You said you'd dare anything. Well command him to take off his helm."

  "What for?"

  "To see if I tell the truth. To prove if he be man or shadow."

  "I will not," said the Black Wolf.

  The courtiers and guards murmured to each other.

  "Frightened, my lord?" said Darach. "Or do you fear that he will not obey you?"

  "He will obey me," said the Black Wolf.

  "Then command him!" said Darach.

  The hall was hushed. The Black Wolf looked around at the waiting faces, and passed a dry tongue over drier lips.

  "Very well, old man," he said at length. "I am not afraid.

  He looked at the rider, who had neither spoken nor moved. "Remove your helm," the Black Wolf said.

  The rider stood motionless. "Remove your helm, horseman."

  The rider shook his head very slowly.

  "Well then - Guards! Remove his helm for him!"

  The guards closed in and seized the rider's arms, pinning him back. He didn't struggle. Slowly the Black Wolf stepped down from his high- backed throne and approached the rider.

  "You will obey me in my own realm," he said, "however powerful your master," and he removed the helm.

  The guards let the rider go and fell back, covering their eyes with horror. Even the Black Wolf, scourge of the Northern Marches, sank back, into his throne, eyes wide and staring. A mane of black hair fell from the helm on to the rider's shoulders. But where his face should have been was a slowly moving mask of mist, grey and seething, like a miniature version of the Maggot-Cloud. It had no form, but curled into the air about his head as if alive. The rider spoke, and a dark hole appeared where his mouth should have been.

  "Now you have seen, Black Wolf, what you would dare to oppose. The Cloud will give you nothing – except your life. And even that you will lose when your land is overwhelmed by the Darkness. Give me my helm."

  The black Wolf handed it back to the rider with white and trembling hands. He put it on.

  "Now, old man," he said, turning to Darach and drawing his sword. "We want your secret, and we shall have it."

  At that moment, the stunned silence of the Great Hall was broken by a mounting roar accompanied by shouting and the clash of arms.

  The Black Wolf rose from his throne, the sweat glinting on his white brow.

  Soldiers burst in, swords drawn, faces blackened by smoke.

  "Surprise attack, my lord, from the South. The Main Gate is breached – battering rams at the doors! We can't hold them off much longer!"

  Judging by the noise of battle, the fighting was getting closer by the minute. Smoke drifted through the open door of the Hall.

  The Black Wolf took up the two-handed broad sword at the side of his throne with the light of battle shining in his eye, and ignoring the three prisoners and the horseman, summoned the soldiers in the Hall to follow him. He had just got to the door when a trumpet was sounded outside and he and his men found themselves surrounded by enemy soldiers.

  "Drop your weapons," one of them ordered. "Your castle is taken in the name of the Queen."

  The soldiers' weapons clattered to the ground but the Black Wolf stood firm. At that moment, in swept the Queen herself, accompanied by Benedick.

  She addressed the Black Wolf.

  "Sir," she said, "your villainies have gone far enough. You have constantly sent raiding parties across the borders into my realm, have ignored all my ambassadors, sending them back to me beaten and humiliated. This I will not tolerate! Furthermore I believe you have in this mildewed little fort of yours a subject of mine whom you have had the presumption to arrest. May I suggest you release him immediately."

  The Black Wolf padded down the Hall.

  "There," he said with a half-smile, "is your prisoner!"

  At the far end of the Great Hall the rider put his sword-point to Darach's neck.

  "Don't come a step closer, Your Majesty," he said, "if you want the wizard to remain alive.

  The Queen stood quite still as the rider backed towards a door to the right of the throne with his prisoner.

  "Shall we rush him?" one of the soldiers whispered.

  "No," replied the Queen. "The wizard would be dead before you got within striking distance."

  Then the unexpected happened.

  Marius and Montgomery, who had been standing within a few feet of the rider throughout this tense scene, leapt forward and grabbed hold of him. The servant of Darkness let Darach go to shake them off, and the wizard slipped out of sword-range.

  The rider spun round and aimed a savage blow at Marius, who lost his balance in the fury of the struggle, fell over backwards, and avoided the blade by inches. Now the Queen's soldiers were rushing down the Hall towards the rider, swords at the ready. But someone was there before them.

  The Black Wolf stood in front of the rider with his broad-sword in his hands and said, "You threatened me, shadow-thing. You dared to threaten the Black Wolf, you, who are only marsh-mist."

  He lunged with the broadsword and ran the rider through. The Black Wolf let out a cry of triumph.

  "Nobody threatens me!" he cried, dragging the sword out of the rider.

  The helmed creature
stood in front of the Black Wolf unharmed. The sword had no effect.

  "Do you think to kill marsh-mist with swords?" said the rider, and with one stab of his own blade laid the Black Wolf dead at his feet.

  "So!" the rider screamed to the echoing Hall. "So perish those who obstruct the will of the Darkness!"

  "Capture him!" cried the Queen, "We will have this mist in chains!"

  The soldiers rushed forward, but the rider was too quick. He ran to the tall window in the Hall and leapt through it with a shriek.

  His cry died away and he hit the ground. When they went to examine the body later, they found only his clothes, gloves, boots and helm. The mist had gone.

  Darach thanked the Queen for his rescue.

  "Well," she said, "it's about time somebody around here did something constructive. Anyway, that lout had to be dealt with."

  "He died fighting the Darkness," said Darach. "It was a brave ending, in its way."

  "In its way, perhaps. But I'll have no sympathy for him. He was quite willing to have the Cloud destroy us all, if it suited his ends," said the Queen. "It was your friends here who tipped the scales in our favour.

  May we be introduced?"

  "Of course," said Darach. "This is Marius and, er –"

  "Montgomery."

  "Quite so."

  "Bravely done, gentlemen," said the Queen. "Will you return to the palace with us?"

  "We'd be honoured," said Marius.

  "Nay, overwhelmed," said Montgomery.

  "Very well, it is agreed then. Let us leave this disgusting place and return to the Palace."

  "What about the children?" said Darach.

  "Well, there's nothing we can do about them, is there? They could be anywhere. We shall return to the Palace and wait there," the Queen said, then, after a pause, "I have faith in these children, Darach. The victory will yet be ours."

  "I pray so, ma'am," Darach replied, and looking down at the still form of the Black Wolf sprawled upon the floor, he added, half to himself, "If they fail - we'd be better off like him."

  Desolation's Edge

  The day was long and heavy, and the children were hungry. They had left the wrecked balloon far behind them now, walking through the night and the following morning.