Читать книгу Darkmouth - Shane Hegarty, Shane Hegarty - Страница 10

Like other Blighted Villages around the world – with names such as Worldsend, Hellsgate, Bloodrock, Leviatown and Carnage – Darkmouth had been home to generations of Legend Hunters, families who swore to protect the world against the unending attacks from what they called the Infested Side.

Except the attacks did end.

Mostly.

Each year had brought fewer reports of humans captured or killed by Legends – and of Legends captured or killed by Legend Hunters.

In Blighted Village after Blighted Village, the attacks had slowly died out. For the first time in thousands of years, our world appeared sealed off from the realm of Legends. After many generations of war, the Legend Hunters could stand down.

Except for one village. One family.

“You were fine,” said Finn’s dad, breezily. “I had you covered the whole time.”

“That thing almost killed me.”

“You know I would never let that happen.”

“It didn’t feel like that.”

“Look, Finn, don’t be so hard on yourself. You did well. A little loose in parts maybe, but you weren’t exactly chasing after a chicken there. And don’t be so sour. Most twelve-year-olds would die for a chance to run around chasing Legends.”

“Die?” said Finn.

“You know what I mean.”

Finn’s father held his gaze for another moment before giving his son a gentle punch on the arm and picking up the desiccated remains of the Minotaur.

Wearily, Finn unhooked the container from his belt and entered a code into a keypad on its side. The lid hissed open, releasing a small cloud of blue gas and the faint tang of what smelled like orange juice. His father placed the round object in the box and pressed the lid shut. “It’ll have a ball in there,” he said.

Finn shook his head in mild disdain.

“Oh, suit yourself,” said his dad as he grabbed the container and began to walk out of the alley. “Get out of that gear and I’ll drive you to school.”

“School? Seriously? How am I supposed to go to school after that? I’m not going. I’m just not.”

But his dad didn’t stop, so Finn reluctantly picked up his Desiccator and started to follow. A glint of light in the rubble caught his eye, a tight curve of crystal lying where the Minotaur had been desiccated. It looked like the diamond that had been in the creature’s nose.

Odd.

Finn picked it up and examined its jagged beauty. He began to call after his father, but stopped himself. If he was being forced to go to school after all of that, then he wanted a reward.

He slipped the diamond into his pocket before jogging clumsily on, his suit clattering all the way.

They drove through Darkmouth, their car a large black metal block on wheels, its seats torn out to make room for lines of weapons and tools of various shapes and sizes and sharpness.

There were a few people on the streets now, though most had their heads buried in hoods, their faces down, protecting themselves from the drizzle, looking like the last place on Earth they wanted to be was the last place on Earth where Legends still invaded. It didn’t exactly help their mood that Legends always brought rain with them.

“It’s always the same when a gate opens,” Finn’s dad observed. “At least a small gateway means only a light shower. There was a time when the bigger gateways brought terrible storms. The old stories blamed them on the gods. As if, eh?”

Finn didn’t answer. His father tutted. The car swung right.

Before jumping into the passenger seat, Finn had thrown his suit into the rear of the car. On his lap were his schoolbag and his Desiccator. He held the canister in front of his face and gave it a rattle.

“It never ceases to amaze me, that trick,” said his father.

Finn felt a spark of sympathy for the creature trapped in there. From the outside, the only evidence that a Desiccator net’s victim might once have been something living was the way the exterior of the resulting ball was coated in whatever the creature had been wrapped in originally: fur, scales, skin, leather trousers.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit cruel to do this to them, Dad?”

“Maybe you’d prefer to tickle the next Minotaur into submission. Or pet him and offer him a biscuit. Seriously, Finn.” He glanced across at his son and noticed his scowl. “OK, so this morning didn’t go too perfectly.”

“Neither did the last time,” said Finn, grimacing.

“Yes, but—”

“Or the time before that.”

“My point, Finn, is that you are learning,” said his dad. “I was the same when I was your age. Did I ever tell you about the time I—?”

“Yes,” said Finn with a sigh.

“And the day I—?”

“That too. All I ever hear about are the great things you did when you were my age. You defeated this Legend. You invented that weapon. Unless you’ve a story that ends with you falling down a toilet or something, you’re not going to make me feel any better right now.”

The car pulled up at the school. Finn didn’t move.

His father shifted a little, the armour of his fighting suit creaking in the car seat.

“It’s not all bad news,” he started.

“How is this not bad?” interrupted Finn, dismay in his voice. “My Completion Ceremony is only a year away, Dad.”

“When did you turn twelve?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“So, the ceremony is eleven and a half months away to be accurate, but plenty of time still.”

“What about this morning – did you not see?” said Finn, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Finn, our family has defended Darkmouth for forty-two generations.”

“Well, I haven’t.”

“But you will,” said his dad. “You’re going to be generation number forty-three.”

“I won’t be ready.”

“Darkmouth is going to be your responsibility.”

“It can’t be,” protested Finn.

“It has to be.”

His father let a hush settle in the vehicle before continuing.

“Anyway, the Council of Twelve has been in touch,” he said. “They have good news.”

“Does it have to do with me?” asked Finn.

“No. Well, yes. Kind of.” His father paused. “The Twelve have offered me a place on the Council. Forty-two generations, Finn, and not one of our family has ever been invited to become one of the leaders of the world’s Legend Hunters. Sure, most of the world’s Legend Hunters are sitting at home getting fat right now, but still, it’s a huge thing for us, a big honour, and—”

“Hold on,” said Finn. “You’ll be on the Council of Twelve?”

“Yes, isn’t that excellent?”

“Aren’t they based in—?”

“Liechtenstein. Small place with big mountains.”

“So, you’ll be out of Darkmouth?” asked Finn.

“Yes,” said his dad. “Sometimes.”

“And me?”

“No.”

“Oh great,” said Finn, feeling a great weight settling on his shoulders. “You’ll be gone and the protection of Darkmouth will be up to—”

“You. Exactly. Won’t that be cool?”

Finn stared at him as his brain tried to process that notion.

“It doesn’t change anything, Finn,” said his father. “Not much anyway. You’re about to become the first true Legend Hunter to graduate in years. Darkmouth was always going to become your responsibility at some stage after that. And I won’t be going straight away. The Twelve say there’ll be a process, some checks.”

“What kind of checks?”

His dad shrugged. “I don’t know. Background stuff, subject to confirmation of rule 31, clause 14 of the whatever. You know, paperwork. The Twelve love their paperwork. Anyway, it’s happening.” He cleared his throat. “Just as soon as you become Complete.”

“And what if I’m not ready?”

With a squeak of his fighting suit on the car seat’s leather, his dad turned to look at him directly. “Finn, every Legend Hunter in this family had their Completion on their thirteenth birthday. Every single one, as far back as records go. They could have waited until they were fifteen or seventeen or even nineteen, like weaker families, but they didn’t. So, our family – past, present and future – needs you to be ready. I need you to be ready. This town needs you to be ready. You will be ready.”

Finn pushed open the car door and stepped out. “I feel so much better. Thanks, Dad.”

As he swung the door shut, Finn saw his reflection in the window. His hair was damp, his skin flushed. He opened his mouth to protest again about having to go to school, but his father cut him off. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Finn stood at the kerb with his bag slung over his shoulder, listening to the low growl of the car as it drove away. The drizzle tickled his forehead.

In his pocket, he felt the buzz of his phone. There was a message from his mother.

DEEP BREATHS. LOVE YOU.

He took a deep breath, then another, steeling himself for the next challenge.

School.