Читать книгу The Demonata 6-10 - Darren Shan - Страница 19

→ Everybody in the Vale — dead. Unable to believe it. I want to scream my head off, call Beranabus a liar, demand he tell the truth. Except… I can see the truth in the old magician’s eyes. In his stooped shoulders. In his weariness as he sets his papers in order and prepares to leave for Carcery Vale to find out how far the Demonata have spread. He wasn’t lying. They really did break through. Dervish and Bill-E are…

I don’t complete the thought. Filled with sickness and fear. The last time I felt this empty inside was when I lost my parents and sister. It took me months to recover, and that was only with Dervish’s help. Now I’m alone, wracked with guilt and shame as well as grief. I don’t know if there’s any way back. Madness looms, waiting to consume me. I doubt if I can fight it.

Kernel is sitting by the fire, staring glumly into the flames. Every so often he trembles as he thinks about the battle to come. He’s been fighting demons for years, but in their universe, where his powers are far greater than they are here. On Earth his magical talents are vastly diminished. The Demonata are weaker here too, of course, and if it was just a few of them, he and Beranabus would fancy their chances. But if thousands have crossed and are running riot…

A sudden pounding noise. Three blows, a pause, then three more. Beranabus and Kernel jump nervously at the first sound, then relax.

“I forgot,” I say quietly, madness receding temporarily, confident of taking me whenever it chooses. “Those noises have been coming for the last week. I went up the ladder to find out what was making them, but I couldn’t get out.”

“The entrance is protected by spells,” Beranabus says. “Only Kernel and I can open it.” He nods at Kernel, who heads for the ladder. “Be careful,” Beranabus calls after him. “It might not be one of ours.”

A short while later, Kernel returns. An elderly Indian woman in a light blue sari comes after him, limping but making good speed. She has a kind face, but it’s twisted with worry. At first I don’t know where I recognise her from. Then I remember — she was in a dream I had in Slawter last year.

“Sharmila,” Beranabus greets her, smiling wanly.

“Master, there has been a tragic–” the woman begins in a rush.

“I know,” Beranabus sighs. “The Demonata have crossed. I just found out. I’m going to Carcery Vale shortly, but perhaps you can flesh out the details before I leave.”

The woman stares at Beranabus blankly. “You are going there?”

“I think I should,” Beranabus says. “A stand must be made, aye?”

“But there are so many of them,” the woman wheezes.

Beranabus frowns, then tilts his head at me. “This is Sharmila Mukherji, one of my Disciples. Sharmila, this is Grubitsch Grady — though I believe he prefers the name of Grubbs. He’s Dervish’s nephew.”

Sharmila looks at me with surprising anger. “Dervish! He was on watch. He was supposed to make sure the tunnel was never reopened. He failed. He–”

“I don’t believe in finger-pointing,” Beranabus interrupts curtly, conveniently forgetting that he himself was pointing a finger at me not so long ago. “I trusted Dervish as much as I trust any of you. I’m sure he did all that anyone could. Now tell me how the situation stands. Quickly.”

“There is no point,” Sharmila snaps. “We have lost. They…” She stops and looks around the cave. Smiles briefly when she spots Kernel. Frowns when she faces Beranabus again. “I have been waiting in the upper cave for many days, incapable of contacting you. I told you years ago that you should share the access spells with us, so we could reach you swiftly in case of an emergency. It was probably too late even then, but if I had been able to find you directly…”

“It’s easy to be wise in retrospect,” Beranabus sniffs. “I made that call a long time ago and I stick by it, even now. It was essential that I remain protected from…” He trails off into silence, then growls to himself. “This is getting us nowhere. Tell me what’s happening. Please.”

“I am not up to date with the latest developments,” Sharmila replies sourly. “I was in contact with Shark until four days ago, but he broke the lines of communication. I suspect he lost patience and went into battle without you. He was never the most…”

She shrugs, then straightens her shoulders and speaks quickly. “The Demonata crossed three weeks ago in great numbers. They worked like soldiers, coordinated, attacking set targets, establishing control of the area around the cave. They have fractured since then, individuals branching off by themselves, spreading in chaotic directions. But they were organised to begin with. We did not expect that. They have never banded together in that way before. Who could have commanded them? Who has the power to unite so many monsters for even a short period of time?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Beranabus says. “The investigation can come later. Tell me more about the invasion. They were able to operate by day as well as night?”

“Most of them,” Sharmila says. “There were some weaker demons, but most in the first wave were beasts of great strength. The sun meant nothing to them.”

“Strange,” Beranabus frowns. “They can’t have massed in advance — I would have received word of such a build-up long ago. They must have been summoned when the cave was reactivated. But for so many to gather so quickly… You’re right. This was no ordinary attack. There was a leader working behind the scenes, establishing contacts, making allies, forging secret links, priming them to await a call, so they could respond immediately.”

He shudders. “It’s our worst fear come true. The disorderly division between the Demonata has always been our strongest card. But if they’ve finally found a figurehead to unite and lead them…” He puts the thought aside and nods sharply at Sharmila to continue.

“They established control of Carcery Vale and the nearby regions within a day,” Sharmila says. “They expanded steadily over the next few days and nights, conquering neighbouring towns and villages, establishing bases. Most people had fled their homes by then, but the demons did not care. They were more interested in boundaries than victims — again, very undemonlike behaviour.”

“Did anyone survive?” I ask, not wanting to interrupt but having to. “In Carcery Vale, were any spared?”

Sharmila laughs brutally. “Do not be ridiculous! It was a bloodbath. They kept a few alive to torture, but most were slaughtered that first day.”

“But not all,” I whisper, a faint ray of hope forming, forcing the madness back, giving me a ghost of a reason to stay sane. “Lord Loss hates Dervish and Bill-E. He wouldn’t want to kill them quickly. Maybe he spared them, so he could torment them at his leisure.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Beranabus says gruffly. “Alive or dead, it makes no difference, not when an army of demons separates us from them. Finish your report, Sharmila.”

The Indian lady shrugs. “The rest should be obvious. Public shock, confusion and denial to begin with. We live in scientific, enlightened times. People do not believe in demons. Even when the film crews went in and the first pictures emerged, most refused to accept it. They thought the pictures were computer generated, the work of a prankster, maybe an especially cunning film producer trying to generate interest in their next movie. There was talk of Davida Haym faking her death a year earlier in order to set this up. Quite ironic, no? But as the days went by, realisation sunk in. There were too many confirmed deaths, a never-ending series of reports and no government denials.”

“Bless the governments,” Kernel snorts. “How did our great leaders respond?”

“Slowly,” Sharmila says. “We warned them of the threat of the Demonata many times in the past, even though Beranabus told us not to bother.”

“I’ve never met a politician who didn’t deserve to be tossed into a pit full of Kallin,” Beranabus grunts.

“Nobody heeded our warnings,” Sharmila continues. “Despite all the evidence we presented, and our predictions of what would happen if a prolonged invasion ever came to pass, we were treated as cranks. We have always had a number of supporters in various high-ranking corners of the globe, but not enough to make a difference.

“Most governments spent the initial week in a blind panic. First they had to confirm the reports were genuine — that took a few days. Then they debated the meaning of it, what the demons might want, how they could placate them, what their response should be if the demons refused to negotiate. A few acted quickly and sent troops in – mostly from nearby countries, who could see they were next on the agenda – but it was the second week before the war began for real.”

“War,” Beranabus murmurs, face crinkling. “Most humans know nothing of true warfare. They wage their silly territorial battles, kill each other ruthlessly and freely, and consider themselves experts on war and suffering. But the real war has always been ahead of them, unseen, unimagined. Enemies who can’t be killed by normal weapons, who have their base in an alternate universe, who are interested only in slaughtering every living being on the face of the planet.”

“They know about it now,” Sharmila says grimly. “They have seen the footage on television and the Internet. Hordes of soldiers firing bullets into demons, dropping bombs on them. The demons falling from the force of the bullets, shattered by the bombs. Then rising, piecing themselves back together. Coming on again. Unstoppable. Ripping the soldiers to shreds. They are still trying – or were, the last I heard – to send in more troops, to drop more destructive missiles. But they can see it is pointless. They realise now – too late – the manner of beasts they are dealing with. The human race has learnt a lot about war over the last three weeks. More than I wish they ever had to.”

“Have there been any nuclear retaliations?” Beranabus asks calmly.

“Nuclear?” Kernel and I shout at the same time.

“The politicians have resorted to nuclear assaults before,” Beranabus says. “They say they don’t build such bombs to use, but when the pressure builds, the fingers will come down on the buttons. Only a fool thinks otherwise.”

“No nuclear strikes yet,” Sharmila says. “There has been talk, and if not for the Disciples it might have happened already. But our voice has been heard at last and officials are knocking each other over in their haste to bring us on board as advisors. We said a nuclear attack would not stop the demons, that the tunnel is of magical origin and can only be closed magically. They did not like that. Some wanted to chance a nuclear blast anyway. But for the moment they are holding off. At least they were…”

This is crazy. We’re standing here, talking about nuclear bombs being dropped on Carcery Vale. It’s insane.

“We have to do something!” I shout. Beranabus, Sharmila and Kernel look at me, eyebrows raised. “We have to… to…”

Beranabus smiles cynically when I run out of words. “I wish you’d been able to finish. If you had a plan, I’d have loved to hear it. But of course you don’t. I don’t either. But let’s hear Sharmila out and, who knows, maybe one will fall together.” He turns his attention back to the Indian woman. “What have the Disciples been doing aside from advising?”

“Meera Flame led a small team in when we first realised what was happening,” Sharmila says.

“Meera,” I moan. “Is she…?”

Sharmila sighs. “Most of us thought it was too soon. We did not know enough about what was going on. The general consensus was to wait a day or two, gather more information, then hit them hard. Meera rejected that plan. Dervish was her friend. She thought he might still be alive. She asked for volunteers. A few rallied to her side. They went in. Nobody has heard from them since.”

“And the rest?” Beranabus asks as I reel from the news of another friend’s almost certain death. “What did you do once you’d sized up the situation?”

“Not much more than Meera,” Sharmila says miserably. “We pinpointed the opening to the cave, and that was where we struck, but the demons had it guarded. Eight of our best went in, led by Shark, in the light of midday, hoping to take them by surprise. But they were ready and waiting. Two got out alive — Shark was one of them. The others…”

“That’s bad,” Beranabus grunts. “It would have been better if you’d waited for me. I know you couldn’t,” he says quickly as Sharmila starts to protest. “You did what would normally be the right thing. It’s usually best to strike early. But as you’ve observed, this is a most unique attack. The demons have been marshalled by a leader who understands the ways of human warfare. Such a leader wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving the cave unguarded. In this case…” He stops short of openly criticising Sharmila and the other Disciples.

“It has been damage limitation since then,” Sharmila says coldly, concluding her report. “We have done what we can to contain them. Ordered the grounding of all aircraft, the pulling out or destruction of boats. Established a watch to stop the demons spreading any further. But we are fighting a losing battle. Within a couple of weeks – if it has not already happened – the exodus will begin. Once they have complete control of the country, they will move on to the next. And the next. We will defy them. Shoot down the planes and boats they commandeer, as well as those demons capable of flight. Send soldiers to stall them so we are not rushing around madly all the time. But there are already far too many for us to deal with, and more crossing every day. Unless we can stop them at the source…”

Sharmila falls silent. Beranabus is chewing his right thumbnail, frowning.

“We could attack from their side,” Kernel suggests. “Cross universes, find the other end of the tunnel, hit them there.”

“They’ll be expecting that,” Beranabus mumbles. “They’ll have left a guard. Also, every demon within a million-world radius will be rushing to the tunnel, eager to squeeze through and get their claws on some humans before they’re all gone. We wouldn’t have a hope. We’re too late to do anything from that side. We stop them at Carcery Vale or nowhere.”

“Then Carcery Vale it is,” Kernel says and stands. “When do we go?”

“Yes,” I say, taking my place beside Kernel. “When?” I expect him to say something cutting, but he only looks at me calmly, then nods approvingly.

“Soon,” Beranabus mutters. “We’ll catch some sleep first, then–”

“Sleep?” I explode. “We can’t waste time–”

“Let me make this as clear as I can,” Beranabus cuts in. “Mankind is in its death throes. The war has come and gone — we lost. We’re going to give it one last try, hit Carcery Vale with all we have, go down fighting. But go down we certainly will, bar a miracle. And while I believe in miracles, I don’t think we’re going to experience one this time. When we go to the Vale, we go to die. And once we’re dead, the rest of humanity will soon follow.

“But we have to pretend that we do stand a chance. For the sake of our sanity, we must act like we believe we can pull this off. That means going in fresh and feisty, at our physical and mental best. So I’m going to sleep, fully aware that it will probably be my last ever snooze – bar the never-ending slumber – but desperately hoping it will make the blindest bit of difference. I highly recommend that the rest of you follow suit.”

With that he stumbles to the rug which serves as his bed, lies down, closes his eyes, mutters a spell and falls asleep.

“He is right,” Sharmila says softly. She looks at me and I see nothing except negativity in her eyes. “I hoped he would be able to offer hope, that he knew some secret way to stop this. But I could not believe it. We should sleep. Once we start, there might not be any later opportunities for rest.”

“I’ll find a blanket for you,” Kernel says.

“My thanks.”

While Kernel searches for a spare rug, Sharmila studies me. “What I said earlier about your uncle… I did not mean it. I just wanted someone to blame. I am sure it was not his fault. There are some things you cannot stop.”

“No worries,” I mutter, though part of me doesn’t agree with her. Dervish had been hoodwinked by Juni. He was probably frantic with worry about me. His mind was elsewhere. He wouldn’t have been focusing, doing his job. Maybe part of this is his fault – and mine – for not seeing through Juni Swan in the first place.

Kernel prepares a bed for Sharmila. She lies down as soon as it’s ready and repeats Beranabus’s sleeping spell. Her face goes smooth and I can tell she’s having pleasant dreams.

“How about you?” Kernel asks. “Want me to teach you the spell?”

“I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel right, sleeping at a time like this.”

Kernel shrugs. “If you don’t, you’ll only brood about what’s happened and what lies ahead.”

I think about that, then sigh wearily. “OK. Tell me.” Moments later magic sends me under and I tumble gratefully into the arms of a deliberately dreamless sleep.