The Feaster From The Stars (Blackwood and Harrington) (25 page)

The castle emerged from out of the gloom like the fossil of some vast submarine entity that should never have existed on this or any other world in the sane universe. As he gazed down at it, Blackwood thought he could discern remnants of the castle’s original form: a few crenellations here and there, a vague smattering of recognisable masonry, misshapen openings which might once have been windows – although what manner of being now looked through them he couldn’t begin to imagine. But these were merely memories of what had once been, for the vast majority of the building (if it could truly be called that) was a hideous tangle of twisted towers and warped buttresses, of bulging walls which collided with each other at strange angles and led the eye in directions the brain was reluctant to follow. The confusion stretched away into the gloom, the bizarre outrages of the castle’s malformed architecture eventually becoming lost in the depths of the green-black waters.

‘So this is the Castle of Demhe,’ said Blackwood.

‘It is,’ replied Oberon. ‘It once belonged to the Royal Family of Carcosa. It was here that Queen Cassilda composed her Song, before she was forced to flee into exile when the King in Yellow took up residence.’

‘Does she live still?’

Oberon shook his head. ‘She and her family are long dead, as are the great majority of the Carcosan people. Those few who remain now huddle together in the last cities of Alar, Hastur and Yhtill on the shores of Hali, awaiting their final doom.’

‘But at least,’ said Sophia, ‘we may save them, for when we have vanquished the King in Yellow, will they not be able to rebuild their world once it is theirs again?’

Oberon glanced at her and smiled. ‘
When
we have vanquished him? I admire your optimism, Sophia. In any event, there is precious little of this world left to rebuild.’

‘How many are there?’ asked Blackwood. ‘How many remain alive on Carcosa?’

‘A few thousand; a mere handful compared to the millions who once called this benighted place their home.’

‘Hmm,’ Blackwood said. Sophia glanced at him, but he did not return her look.

The
Aurelius
continued on its course above the warped and smeared form of the castle, propelled by the great paddle wheel at its stern. Looking down upon the vastness of its repulsive form from their vantage point upon the faerie ship’s main deck, Sophia wondered aloud if it had originally been this huge.

‘Not according to the Planetary Angels of Carcosa,’ Oberon replied. ‘They told me that Queen Cassilda’s castle was large and impressive, its elegant spires rising majestically from a verdant island in the lake. But its size was nothing compared to this, for when the King in Yellow took it for his own, forcing the island to the bottom of the lake, his very presence transformed its fabric, altering its structure and bloating its size, so that it spread upon the lakebed like a tumour ravaging a living body. In fact, I sense that it is growing still.’

As Sophia looked down again, she thought she caught a slight movement in one of the misshapen buttresses strung tendon-like across the castle’s surface – although whether this was merely the result of the murky water’s distorting effects, she couldn’t tell.

‘Where are the Planetary Angels?’ Blackwood asked. ‘Couldn’t they lend us a hand in this business?’

‘Time was when they could indeed have offered us great aid in our mission,’ the Faerie King replied. ‘But this world is far older than Earth, and their powers have waned, just as a man’s strength and vitality wane with age. But in truth they have already offered us much, for they have divined the way through the castle to the throne room of the King in Yellow, and have shared this information with me. It will save us a great deal of time.’

‘How much time?’ asked Castaigne. ‘I mean, how long do you think it will take to clear the way for us?’

‘I am uncertain… it depends on what we find in there.’

A few moments later, Oberon pointed to a large opening which bore an unsettling resemblance to a screaming mouth. ‘There! That is where my men and I shall enter, and where you shall too, once you receive word from us that you may do so.’

Blackwood grimaced as he looked down into the ghastly maw. ‘Good luck to you, my friend,’ he said. ‘Good luck to us all…’

Midnight in the West End.

Queen Titania sat by herself on one bench in the back of the speeding police carriage and looked across at the five Templar Police opposite her. They were bunched uncomfortably together, like commuters on a crowded omnibus, but found this preferable to sharing a seat with the fabulously beautiful and powerful being who sat smiling before them.

Such was their gallantry, and, truth be told, such was their fear.

Even Detective Gerhard de Chardin, who found little to intimidate him in the world, considered it preferable to stand at the front of the carriage, his head bowed awkwardly beneath the ceiling, his arms reaching out to steady himself, than to share a seat with the Faerie Queen, which he felt would be somehow inappropriate.

Titania was dressed in a suit of armour fashioned from the leaves of the great apple tree, as large as a human city, where she and Oberon had their home in the Realm of Faerie. The leaves were cut and interlaced to form a garment which hugged her body so perfectly that it was easy to imagine her completely naked, which was another reason why the chivalrous Templar Knights chose to look anywhere but at her.

She held in her lap a branch-like faerie carbine, its petalled muzzle glowing softly with a faint ruby hue. Every so often, a Templar cast a quick glance at the curious weapon, unsure as to just how useful it would be in a firefight. Titania caught these furtive looks, and smiled; they would find out soon enough.

The Templars carried their own weapons: each man had a revolver in his hip holster and a recoil-powered Maxim machine gun slung across his shoulders. Beneath their overcoats, they also wore cuirasses of polished steel upon which the cross pattée was etched.

There were five other police carriages behind them, each packed with Templar Knights. As they turned into Bond Street, their wheels clattering loudly on the cobbles, Titania reflected that a faerie detachment would have been so much more elegant and understated in the raid which they were about to mount. She sighed. At least, she thought, what the humans lacked in subtlety they made up for in enthusiasm.

In fact, she had suggested to Oberon that she lead a platoon of faeries into the Void Chamber to neutralise the threat quickly, quietly and effectively, but her husband had gently rebuffed the idea, reminding her that their involvement had to be kept to an absolute minimum. The humans would have to find and destroy the London Anti-Prism; those of the Faerie Realm could not do it for them. For his own part, Oberon was providing transportation to Carcosa for Blackwood, Sophia and Castaigne, and would find and destroy any madness-inducing entities inhabiting the Castle of Demhe, but the destruction of the Anti-Prism on that sad and dying world would likewise have to be effected by humans.

The Earth was under human stewardship now; its protection was a human duty.

The carriage came to a juddering halt outside Bond Street Tube Station, and the Templar sitting closest to the rear door stood and opened it, glancing back at Titania as he did so.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ the Faerie Queen replied as she moved past him and stepped lithely down to the street.

The metropolis never slept, and even at this late hour there were many people around – late-night strollers, returnees from theatres and restaurants – many of whom cast curious glances at the open entrance to the Tube Station and the two Templar Police who stood guard there, awaiting the arrival of de Chardin and his men.

When they saw Titania emerge from the lead carriage, the passersby stopped and gaped at the exquisite vision, bathed in soft lilac light, which had suddenly appeared before them. They stared open-mouthed at her perfect form, and the glittering dragonfly wings emerging from between her shoulder blades, murmuring to each other in shock, excitement and fear. Even the policemen guarding the entrance to the station forgot themselves and gawped at her, so that it was left to de Chardin to send the people on their way.

‘Move along now,’ he barked. ‘There’s nothing to see here. Come on, move along!’

‘Nothing to see?’ muttered more than one passerby. ‘He’s joking!’

De Chardin approached one of the policemen standing guard. ‘Constable Zafón, your report.’

‘We opened the gate five minutes ago, sir,’ Constable Zafón replied, consulting his fob watch, ‘just as you ordered. We’ve also apprehended the station’s night staff, who are now in custody.’

‘Good. We’ll question them later, when this business is attended to – although I doubt they’re in on Exeter’s plan.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Zafón said, his gaze constantly straying over de Chardin’s shoulder towards Titania.

The detective glanced at her, smiled briefly and clapped the constable on the shoulder. ‘Good work, Zafón. Carry on.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The occupants of the other police carriages had alighted, and fifty Templar Knights now followed de Chardin and Titania into the station.

‘You all know the plan,’ said the detective over his shoulder as they crossed the ticketing hall towards the escalators, which had been switched off for the night. The station’s gaslights were on low and cast a minimal glow, lending the station the look of a vast sepulchre. ‘We’re anticipating that the Void Chamber will be well protected by Exeter’s men, so it’ll be a tough job getting along the new tunnel. We’ll have to make full use of the boltholes and entrances to maintenance tunnels along the way. Once we gain the chamber, our orders are simple: find the Anti-Prism and destroy it.’

‘Sir,’ said a tall, powerfully built man at de Chardin’s shoulder.

‘You have a question, Sergeant Clairvaux?’

‘Yes, sir. The creature… the thing that drove that train driver mad. Please don’t misunderstand me, sir – I’ll have at it given the chance… but what defence do we have against a thing that can drive a man insane at a single glance?’

By way of answer, de Chardin glanced at Titania, who was strolling along beside him. Although not nearly as tall as her burly companions, the Faerie Queen somehow seemed to be keeping up with them with minimal effort. ‘Your Majesty?’ he said.

‘Do not be concerned, Sergeant Clairvaux,’ she replied. ‘Your part will be to get us into the Void Chamber and destroy the Anti-Prism;
my
part will be to engage the Servitor.’

‘But, begging your pardon, Your Majesty,’ the sergeant persisted, ‘once we’re inside the Void Chamber, if the thing is there…’

‘You must look away from it,’ said Titania, ‘even while fighting Exeter’s men, if any remain.’

‘That will be difficult.’

‘Yes. You will be at a serious disadvantage, but you have no choice, for to look upon the Servitor for any length of time will be the end of your sanity.’

‘I see,’ said Clairvaux.

‘Hopefully, however,’ Titania continued, ‘that situation will not prevail for long: once the Servitor has discharged its contents into the Anti-Prism, I will destroy it. Then, the only threat you will face will be that posed by your fellow humans.’

‘Got it, Clairvaux?’ said de Chardin.

‘Yes, sir!’

‘That damned thing,’ said de Chardin under his breath to Titania. ‘When I think of what it’s done to all those poor souls who lingered here, how it’s…
consumed
them. I’d like to take that wretch Exeter and feed
him
to the devil!’

‘I doubt you’ll get the chance to do that, Detective de Chardin,’ Titania replied. ‘And in any event, that’s not what we have come here to do.’

‘I understand, Your Majesty…’ He was about to say more but then merely shook his head.

Titania glanced at him and said, ‘What really bothers you is that our plan calls for us to allow the souls to be fed to the Anti-Prism. Isn’t that right?’

De Chardin nodded stiffly. ‘That’s right, Your Majesty. It seems a terribly callous thing. I don’t see why we can’t just destroy the Anti-Prism before the Servitor has discharged the souls into it. That would put paid to the King in Yellow’s plan to come to the Earth.’

‘It would. But you are forgetting two things: one, that the King in Yellow is unthinkably ancient and has seeded countless worlds with Anti-Prisms. If his way to Earth were blocked while he was still on Carcosa, he would simply pick another world to feed upon and continue his depredations in this universe for aeons to come, perhaps for all eternity. And two, the souls which the Servitor has gathered cannot now be saved; they are already lost.’

‘What do you mean? Would they not be released upon the Servitor’s destruction?’

‘They would. But have you given thought to the
manner
of their subsequent existence? If the human mind can be driven to madness merely by looking at the Servitor, what effect would being
inside
the creature have on it?’

De Chardin cast Titania an appalled glance. ‘I… don’t know.’

‘Nor can you begin to imagine. Believe me, Detective, once they have been discharged into the Anti-Prism, their suffering will be at a merciful end.’