The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis (36 page)

Read The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis Online

Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic

BOOK: The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis
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Knocker did as he was asked and together the two Borribles lifted the wounded and unconscious Wendle between them as gently as they could. They stepped lightly over the rails and passed between the two trains, stopping to hide whenever the sounds of battle came close.
They were lucky and arrived at the control cabin without incident. There, in that strange brick shed, half a mile beneath the streets of London, Napoleon Boot rested from the battle, the blood seeping from his chest.
Chalotte bent over him and tore back the clothing to look at the wound. Napoleon’s eyes fluttered open; his greenish skin was pale. He gazed upwards, past Chalotte’s troubled face, and stared at the rows of switches and junction boxes and the huge diagrammatic map of the Underground railway system. He looked puzzled and then he remembered.
‘Did I get him?’ he asked, and when Chalotte nodded the Wendle smiled and closed his eyes again. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘The little sod. Who did he think he was, eh? Who did he think he was?’
The idea of Napoleon dying made Knocker despair of life ever being right again. Never had he thought to be so hurt or so saddened. It was strange that the bond of their friendship, though never mentioned, had grown stronger and stronger over the long months since the two Borribles had first met in mutual dislike and suspicion. Now Knocker could see that if the Wendle died a great part of his own being would be wrenched away like a lump of living flesh, and he would never be the same. He, Knocker, would be altered deep in his very soul. Napoleon Boot, just as he’d boasted on the day of the name-giving before Rumbledom, had covered his name in glory. There was no other Borrible like him. Knocker gulped back a sob. He felt hatred and love rising in his breast; love for the dying Wendle contending with hatred for the causes of death and pain in the world.
Knocker wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at Chalotte. She shook her head and then kissed Napoleon on the mouth, and as she kissed him she felt his lips go cold and she saw the life fade away from him like thin sunlight slipping behind an endless cloud of grey.
Knocker could not stand the watching of this scene and lurched out of the cabin door and leant against the wall and let the tears run
unchecked down his face. Napoleon Boot dead. How could he ever live with such a truth? Napoleon Boot dead while dwarfs still sneered and laughed with Sussworth. Napoleon Boot dead, revenging the death of Scooter, the first adult ever to become a Borrible. Napoleon’s name would live as long as the world lived. Knocker smiled a grim smile and wiped his face. ‘I’d better find a few dwarfs,’ he said aloud, but before he could move there was a noise at the corner of the cabin and Sydney appeared, breathless with excitement.
‘I’ve found some old transformer room,’ said the girl from Neasden, ‘dug into the wall and big enough for us to hide in, horse as well. It’s been half built and then left. It might be the answer if we could brick ourselves in.’ Sydney was so thrilled with her news that she couldn’t get her words out properly. Her eyes were bright with happiness and she was smiling. Knocker did not tell her about Napoleon; she would hear soon enough. Besides he was glad for the hope she brought, glad to have something else to think of.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Get the horse inside and knock up some cement … I saw some trowels … Go on, fast. There isn’t a moment to lose.’
Sydney nodded and a joy bubbled up in her throat and made her laugh. ‘Right,’ she said, and was gone.
‘Okay,’ said Knocker. ‘Now for the dwarfs.’
He did not have to go far. As he ran back into the space between the trains he saw four of the enemy in the distance. They saw Knocker too but because of the green jacket he was wearing they stood their ground and gestured for the Borrible to join them.
Knocker smiled as he ran. Kill Napoleon would they? Four against one, eh? That would do nicely … Nothing less would satisfy him.
A stone whizzed past his ear as he sped along, missing him narrowly. He was being foolhardly but he didn’t care. His brain failed to register the stone as a danger, failed to realize that stones could kill. Another ricocheted off the train above his head but nothing could stop him now.
The dwarfs waited, glad to add to their strength by one more. Knocker ran faster and the smiles on the faces of his enemies stiffened as they failed to recognize him, but still they hesitated until, with a
fearful cry, Knocker leapt upon the nearest opponent and struck out with his truncheon and the unfortunate dwarf fell senseless to the ground.
Knocker did not stop there. His impetus carried him on to the next dwarf and there was another cry, a cry that echoed far along the tunnels, chilling the blood of those who heard it, filling them with despair and reminding them of the nearness of death.
Down went the second dwarf, his head smashed. Knocker whirled round to face the two survivors but they wanted no more of this madman. They threw down their weapons and ran while Knocker leant weakly against a wheel and watched them go. He felt suddenly tired and sick; all his emotion drained from him in a moment. He’d had enough of fighting.
But whatever Knocker felt, the battle was still raging and he must play his part in it. A voice broke into his thoughts and dragged him back to reality; the voice came from the roof of the carriage behind him.
‘You want to be a bit more careful, Knocker, running around with a green jacket on. I shot two stones off at you before I realized you weren’t a dwarf. You could get yourself killed that way.’ Knocker looked up; it was Stonks. Beside him stood Torreycanyon.
Knocker nodded and touched his forehead with the back of his hand. It was then that his two comrades noticed the terrible grief on his face and their own features became lined with anxiety. They dropped quickly and easily to the ground.
‘What’s up?’ asked Torreycanyon. ‘You look awful.’
Knocker shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to tell of the death of Napoleon just then. He knew that to tell it would be like causing it again. ‘Nothing’s up,’ he said, his face rigid with misery. ‘Look, just take those green jackets off these dwarfs, will you. I think I’ve got an idea, only I haven’t worked it all out yet.’
Stonks knelt and did what was asked, handing the jackets over to Knocker as he regained his feet. ‘Where’s the rest of us?’ he said. ‘Are they all right?’
‘I dunno,’ said Knocker, ‘but we’ll have to find ’em. I want to get everyone together before the coppers move in. My plan might just work.’
‘We’d better go then,’ said Stonks. ‘They can’t be far away, not in this place.’
 
Stonks was right. At that very moment Vulge was standing near the front of the trains and firing his catapult at a group of four dwarfs who were gazing down at the body of Ninch. They were frightened and angry; there lay the corpse of their leader, his eyes white and lifeless, the blood soaking through his shirt.
‘Get that murderer,’ they shouted, and all four of them, seeing only one skinny Borrible to deal with, brandished their truncheons above their heads and set off in pursuit.
That was exactly what Vulge had wanted. When the dwarfs were near enough to him he turned and ran away, along by the carriages, his pursuers close on his heels and getting closer every second.
Vulge limped along as fast as he could but he had no intention of going far. He was a decoy only and he led the enemy straight to where Bingo, Orococco and Twilight waited, crouching in the shadows beneath the train.
As the dwarfs ran past their hiding place the three Borribles tugged on a length of rope, the other end of which was tied to a junction box fixed to the wall of the tunnel. This rope had been covered over with dust and stones and the two leading dwarfs, running after Vulge at top speed, had no chance of seeing it. Up it came, quick and tight, and down they went, bruising themselves badly on the ground. The following pair, running further to the rear, just managed to slither to a halt in time to see what was happening, then with a cry of dismay they retreated, leaving their companions to their fate.
Vulge turned on his heel and ran back the way he had come. He leapt on the nearest dwarf and, snatching up a truncheon, began to wallop him on the head with it. While this was going on, Bingo, Orococco and Twilight crawled into the open and dealt with the other dwarf. No prisoners were taken.
The two survivors showed no inclination to join in the fight but continued their retreat. They would probably have run all the way to Swiss Cottage right there and then had not Knocker, Torreycanyon and Stonks chosen that very minute to appear dead ahead, thereby cutting off the road to safety.
With another cry of despair the two dwarfs again skidded to a stop and, seeing an open door above them they clambered up the side of the train and disappeared. Orococco and Twilight went after them.
The dwarfs had in fact taken refuge in a driver’s cab and inside it there was very little space. They made feverish attempts to open the door on the far side of the carriage and so escape that way, but in their excitement and fear they could not manage to turn the rusty handle. They would have to dig in and fight, hand to hand.
The advantages should all have been on their side. They were stronger than the two Borribles who had come to attack them and they possessed truncheons whereas Twilight and Orococco did not. The truth was however that the dwarfs had no stomach for the fight. They had seen the dead and bloody body of Ninch, their best warrior; they had seen their comrades go down in the dirt. Their courage had deserted them. They fought only in desperation and terror, lashing out wildly with foot and fist and stick.
Twilight and Orococco lashed out too but there was hardly room to land a blow. Their clothes snagged on levers and switches, tugging the controls backwards and forwards. The dwarfs scrambled up on to the control panel, their feet trampling over the scores of coloured buttons set into the dashboard. They swiped downwards with their truncheons, aiming for the heads of their enemies, and the two Borribles ducked and swore and ducked again.
At last Twilight seized one of the dwarfs by an ankle and pulled hard. The dwarf lost balance and, falling backwards, his truncheon struck the handle of the door that up until then had remained closed. Strangely it sprang open easily, and the dwarf fell through it to land, surprised but standing, on the ground by the track.
Orococco’s opponent did not hesitate. The moment he saw the slightest possibility of escape he dropped his weapon and dived over the heads of the two Borribles. He landed beside his companion and the pair of them raced away in the direction of Swiss Cottage, yelling at the tops of their voices for all dwarfs still alive to follow them.
‘Let’s go after ’em,’ said Twilight, eager in the full flush of battle.
Before Orococco could answer, Knocker’s voice came from behind. He was standing on the track, only his face visible, level with the floor of the cab. ‘There’s no one to go after,’ he said. ‘The dwarfs have had
enough, they’ve all gone. Besides, I think I’ve got a plan, so come out this side, will yer?’
The Adventurers returned to the front of the trains. There they could keep watch on the tunnel entrance and listen for the advance of the policemen who would soon come to end this, the last battle. Knocker looked at his friends as they clustered around him. Not one of them was unwounded and all of them had blood on their heads. They were covered in dirt, and exhaustion and lack of food had drained their faces of hope and energy. Knocker knew they were brave and would carry on the fight if there were no alternative, but Knocker wanted there to be an alternative; he wanted to make sure they got away and he thought he could do it.
He glanced towards the opening that led to Swiss Cottage. The real fight had not yet begun. Soon the pick of the SBG would march out from the tunnel and it would all be over. Knocker sighed. There were times when physical bravery was stupid and only cunning would do. He could see that now and he was certain that he and his companions had reached that point in their adventure. He dearly wanted to save his friends from the fate that was threatening them. He would sacrifice anything to achieve that end but to do so he would need all the cunning he could summon up from all his experience.
His thoughts went back to Spiff, Spiff the Spifflicator, and a half smile fluttered across his face. Yes, Spiff. That was the kind of cunning he needed now, and it was as if the spirit of that devious Borrible came to inspire Knocker in his hour of need. An idea burgeoned in his mind, and his voice spoke with a certainty that seemed to come from someone else.
‘We cannot fight and win,’ he began, ‘not today, but we owe it to Sam to survive and to make sure we keep on surviving too. The horse can’t be sold as catsmeat just because Sussworth says he will, and to save him we have to save ourselves. The two go together. Now listen. Sydney has found a half-bricked-up transformer room, back behind the control cabin. She’s got the horse in there already.’
Knocker glanced at the tunnel but there was no sound nor sight of the SBG. ‘You lot have to get back there, right away. She’ll need help to make the cement and that. I’m going to brick you in. You see, it’s
important that I make the mortar look old otherwise you’ll be found out. Throw dust over it from the outside.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Bingo. ‘We’ll be inside and you’ll be outside. That’s not right. Sussworth will get you.’

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