The Chronicles of Jonathon Postlethwaite: The Seed of Corruption (14 page)

                            The Captain had therefore led the  huge misshapen, half-human creature on its chain to the entrance to the Tombs and released it to do its job alone in the darkness. He slammed down the stone trapdoor and had forgotten Rislo and the Turkanschoner before he was half way back to the Towers, pre- occupied with the prospect of tonight's  entertainment and confidant in the abilities of the predator that meant certain death to its deserter prey, once it had acquired his scent.

                            The Turkanschoner crouched in the darkness alone with the scent of its future victim on a piece of clothing attached to its collar. The beast did not fear the darkness for it could see nothing. It did not hear the echoes of its talons scratching neurotically at the stone floor for it could hear little, except its own muffled howls which were transmitted through the bones of jaw and skull to its inner ear. All its sensory consciousness was concentrated into one capacity; its incredible sense of smell. The Tallmen had conditioned it to hunt by this sense alone, its reward was food, the living flesh of the victim whose scent it was locked on to and pursued.

                            It crouched  low in a paved passageway, its permanently arched back bringing its elongated snout close to the ground. The beast's spinal column arched in a series of sharply defined and protruding metal vertebrae, clearly visible due to the emaciation of its lean and jaundiced flesh.

Its yellow skin was stretched dry and taut over efficient, lean  muscles and protruding bones and joints. If it could have stood upright it would have stood the height of a tall human being, once it may have been able to do so, but now it stooped low in a deceptive gesture of servitude, bowing to the cruelty of the Tallmen and the steel rod which had been surgically implanted in its back to permanently bend the beast to its tasks.

                            Long arms terminated in huge hands with slender, yet powerful fingers that concluded in savage, almost surgical talons. Its feet where large, its toes splayed unnaturally outwards and equipped in a similar way to its hands.

                            The creature's neck was long, thin and incredibly supple, capable of turning through almost three hundred and sixty degrees and supported a large, intelligent looking head. From the beast's head, fine wisps of grey hair exploded in long tufts from a heavily scarred scalp, hair that flowed down over sunken eye sockets, which continually oozed thick, white mucus onto a powerful muzzle and jaw, supporting two pairs of wickedly sharpened and huge incisors.

                            A long  tongue,  which  assisted  its  sense  of smell, now lolled out between its teeth as it sought to establish the location of its prey. The beast's nostrils flared, the scent was strong and fresh and the presence of another scent did nothing to confuse it. The Turkanschoner moved forward, adopting a  scuttling gait, almost treading directly in Rislo's footprints as it ventured into darkness  that  exploded with a panorama of scent and purpose.

                            The              Turkanschoner              thought              nothing              of              the fearful atrocity it would perform when it caught up with its prey. It had no conception of failure, since it had never failed But it felt uneasy today, uneasy with the freedom it had. mThe  usual  choking  and  restrictive  chain  was absent, as was the scent of a handler close by, but the presence of another scent, along with that of its prey, reassured it of some normality. It began to reason to quell  a  rising inner fear. The other scent, the one not its prey, it decided, would command it to kill today. The scent was ahead not with it here, but this did not matter, the other scent must be the master There was always master to command it to kill or reward the Turkanschoner when it had captured its prey... wasn't there? Today, it decided, would be the same as previous hunts, the `other' would  command.  Its   reasoning   satisfied   the conditions  of  the  hunt  that  were  etched  into  his  mind.  Things were different today, but it could still pursue its tasks to a satisfactory conclusion. All the right elements where here, it  was just  that they were  not in the right places it deduced; but soon they would be.

              Assuring itself of an adjusted normality, the Turkanschoner howled excitedly and sped in pursuit of the two  people  ahead  of  it,  the  discomfort concerning  its  freedom and the different circumstances of today's hunt rationally dispelled. Soon it would eat and all would be well.

Chapter Eleven

                            Jonathon heard Rislo's anguished words as he was literally shaken back to the edge of reality, but it took him several moments before he orientated himself completely. By this time the Tallman was frantically packing possessions  into  his  large  pack,  visibly  shaking  and sweating, beside himself with fear. He noticed Rislo's  uncontrollable  trembling as the giant hastily lifted a heavy steel beam  onto its wooden stays to bar the door. He muttered unintelligible obscenities as he struggled until, at last, the beam dropped noisily into place.

                            Rislo leaned back against the door, his eyes closed, terror etched across his forehead, temporarily relieved.

“That ought to hold them for a while at least." he squeaked, his voice breaking with fear. As he picked up his now bulging pack, he grabbed the groggy Jonathon by the elbow and dragged him roughly across the room, kicking aside a pile of boxes to reveal a natural fissure in the rock wide enough for them to slip through.

                            Rislo fumbled nervously with his light orb and eventually fixed it to a clasp on the end of the black rod attached to the chain on his belt.

“Come on my little friend, we have scarce time, the door will not hold the beast for long."

                            He dragged Jonathon down the uneven and steep rock crevice until they emerged into a larger fissure that levelled out before them. Jonathon, the exertion bringing him back to full consciousness, now felt the fear, which oozed from the Tallman. Feeling  stronger  and  more alert he detached himself from Rislo's arm and trotted

behind the long striding giant.  He  could  now  hear the  echoing  screams  of  anger  and   frustration   as the Turkanschoner met with the  door  Rislo  had secured. The beast's howls seemed to be all around them, coming from ahead and behind as the devilish echoes found their way around the labyrinth of tunnels, caves and fissures they had travelled to their ears.

Rislo's  anxious  face  was  covered  in  beads  of perspiration, partly from exertion, partly from fear. He turned and indicated to Jonathon urging him to move more quickly.

“Come friend, move faster, we must find a way out of here quickly it will soon be upon us" he panted.

“But where do we go, we can't run forever! Why not fight them, take them by surprise." Jonathon replied. The gasping giant stopped to catch his breath.

“The thing that pursues us, me in particular, is both  faster and stronger than both of us. Hiding is impossible. It has only one intention - which is to tear me limb     from limb and feed upon my flesh. That is how it is trained to deal with deserters like me. If we get to the surface we may have a chance. I do not think its handler will risk pursuit in the human  city."  Rislo wheezed  heavily.  “This  Tower  of  Lepers,  your home, where  is  it?  Perhaps we  can  seek refuge there? I will be safe from both the Tallmen and the humans.”

                            Jonathon nodded in agreement, they would be safe there and he himself, confidant on his own territory.

"It’s close to the bridge that leads across the river to the Upper City, at the top of the rise on a street which leads from the bridge. But how do we get there from here? I've no idea of where we are! "

Rislo rummaged in his pack and pulled out a crumpled parchment covered in clear plastic.

“I have a map, a map of all these underworld ways and the  gates  and  tunnels  which  lead  to  the  surface." he  pushed it toward Jonathon. “The surface streets are superimposed in red, the ways we now walk in blue.

These black dots are old water wells, empty now, perhaps we may find one that leads to the surface near your Castle of Lepers." he looked hopefully at Jonathon.

                            Jonathon took the map and peered at it carefully, taking note of the distinctive landmarks. He found the bridge and traced the red lines of the street with  his fingers until he came to a large block, isolated on all sides by wide streets that stood apart from the rest of the city buildings. A black dot appeared within its walls.

It made sense Jonathon thought. The lepers rarely ventured into the city and the well was obviously not dry - it was their water source.

                            He looked up to the giant who was peering nervously back along the tunnel they had travelled and from where the sound of splintering and crashing of wood now echoed." Rislo, where are we now? “he asked.

The giant turned and, after a moment of deliberation, pointed to a blue line which snaked roughly towards the well that led up to the Castle of Lepers.

They were less than two hundred paces from it, moments from sanctuary. Rislo's eyes widened.

"We are close then! We have a chance! “he cried, after Jonathon had explained their location relative to the Castle of Lepers. Jonathon nodded and smiled weakly. Rislo's face brightened with hope. He clasped his hands together and looked upwards. “Then let us thank God! " he proclaimed.

                            Jonathon  raised  his   eyebrows.   His Grandfather had spoken of God. Memories  of Cornelius's thick, black leather bound book  filtered back. The memories dissolved quickly as Rislo grabbed him again and dragged rapidly him along the rock strewn fissure in the direction of the well shaft.

After a short while, Rislo stopped dead and looked anxiously around him.

"It should be here, but it should be here!" he shouted disappointedly, fear returning to his voice as the Turkanschoner's   excited   howls   echoed   around   the tunnels, seeming  to  get  closer  every  time  they heard  them.  Jonathon  also   expected   the   well shaft to be blatantly obvious, situated on the map halfway across the tunnel they now stood in, but there was little to indicate the presence of a well shaft here. Frantically Rislo began to examine the walls and floor around the spot they had stopped. The light from his orb showed nothing that was different from normal.

                            Now the giant began to scratch and scrape furiously at the crumbling walls. At one point the wall bulged slightly outwards. Running his fingers in the compacted dust that had accumulated over the years, he found what he was looking for - stone mortared blocks, hidden beneath the dust that curved slightly outwards from the rock wall.

“Here!” he shouted, laughing excitedly. "It is here!"  and began to tear at the blocks with his bare hands attempting to find a loose one and gain access to the well shaft. But the blocks were secure.

                            Rislo pushed Jonathon aside and lifted the black rod that hung on the chain from his belt. He twisted the rod and the orb's light changed from its currently soft, yellow illumination to an angry, burning red.

“Stand back Jonathon" he warned, retreating several yards from the position of the well shaft and then crouching low. Jonathon joined him.

                            Pressing an unseen trigger on the black rod caused a bolt of blood red energy to leap from the orb to the brickwork of the well shaft. A loud explosion hurled brick and mortar fragments along the tunnel covering Rislo and Jonathon in dust from head to toe.

                            The roar of the explosion reverberated along the tunnels of the underworld and could still be heard after the debris from the blast had finally come to rest. A wall of thick dust obscured Rislo's handiwork and caused the pair to cough harshly. But the dust did not settle on the ground, it was moving horizontally into the dark hole left by the explosion. There it streamed up the shaft rapidly on a current of moving air, drawn upwards, soon clearing the dust particles from the confines of the tunnel.

                            Now the dust had cleared, but the air was  still being sucked strongly into the well shaft. Rislo and Jonathon moved cautiously towards the hole where the force of the moving air tugged at their clothes and hair.

The Tallman returned his orb to normal usage and pushed  it  into  the  shaft,  leaning  in  himself  to   peer  upwards, his long, red hair streaming vertically with the strong air flow. His eyes widened as he looked upwards, a look of dismay fell upon his face.

“There is a terrible fire burning up there. I can see its glow. The fire sucks in the air, it must be very intense to create

such a draught." Rislo shouted over the roar of the air into the shaft.

Jonathon felt cold. If the Castle of Lepers burned, what of Milly and the others? He remembered his vision, the High Hats faces reflecting fire. Flax!

“We must go up Jonathon!" The Tallman implored as he looked back along the tunnel as the latest scream of the Turkanschoner hardly echoed at all, it was that close now. “We have a choice, burn or be torn apart, but there is a third  choice."  He  said  as  he  leapt  into  the shaft  and  wedging his long arms and legs against its sides and moved upwards, his pack dangling below him.