The Shadow Project (23 page)

M
ichael found himself back in the courtyard of his father's clinic, his stomach knotted with dread. It was morning time, but the lines of sick people had already formed, some standing, some squatting, all waiting patiently. Michael saw the young woman and the blind boy, just where he remembered them that day so long ago. Suleiman was there as well, standing by Michael's side. “There he is now,” Suleiman said.

Mansa Konkon looked just as he remembered too—small, thin, sinister, unsmiling. There was the same sudden silence as he walked into the yard.

“Are you ready?” Suleiman asked, as if it mattered whether Michael was ready or not. His time had come now, and there was no escape.

Michael thought it might happen as it happened before, but instead of walking to the boy, Konkon walked directly toward Michael. “I have come for you,” Konkon
said. He reached out and gripped Michael's arm at the wrist. His fingers looked like the talons of a bird.

The young woman screamed.

Michael's insides turned to water. He wanted to pull away and run, but could not work his body. “Father,” he whispered, his voice no more than a croak.

“Your father can't help you now,” the Tuareg Suleiman told him.

From the transistor radio, the voice of Papa Konare said, “Nothing can help you now.”

“Except…,” Suleiman added. He stared casually upward into the cloudless sky.

As happened before, Michael's father, Abégé Potolo, strode from the building. “Stop that!” he commanded. “Stop that at once!
Ce garçon est mon fils.
”

Michael felt a flooding of relief.
This boy is my son.
His father would rescue him whatever Suleiman said. But Konkon was shaking his head. “Not yours,” he said, “but mine.”

“Ah,” said Michael's father, and walked away.

“You must kill Konkon yourself,” said Suleiman matter-of-factly.

“I can't,” Michael whispered. He had never, ever felt so afraid.

“You can't,” Konkon confirmed. He smiled then for the first time, and Michael could see that he had filed
his teeth to points so that they were like the fangs of a serpent. Konkon pulled his sorcerer's bone from his pocket.

“You must kill him before he kills you,” Suleiman said.

“I can't,” Michael repeated. His body was still paralyzed by fear.

Strangely, it was Konkon who said, “You must conquer your fear.” Or perhaps it was the voice of Papa Konare or Uncle Hector or his father.

None of them understood, of course. They thought he was afraid of Konkon. But Michael wasn't afraid of Konkon: he was afraid of what he had to do to defeat Konkon.

“If you don't do it,” said Suleiman, “you will die.”

As Michael's father reached the door of his clinic, he called back over his shoulder, “If you don't do it, Opal may die too.”

Konkon smiled his serpent's smile and raised the bone.

From somewhere a woman's voice shouted a long drawn-out
“Noooonnn!”

The thought of Opal dying turned Michael's blood to ice. Somehow he fought his fear and raised his right hand as if warding off a blow. Konkon shrieked once, dropped the bone, and slapped his neck to swat the
creature that appeared there. Then the little sorcerer slid down to the ground, spasmed, and lay still.

“You are
sohanti,
” Suleiman whispered triumphantly in Michael's ear as the sun began to darken and the scene around them faded.

O
pal glanced at Dorothy, then stepped into the cave.

Michael was squatting on the floor of the cavern, a wary look on his face. Opal glanced around, but there was no sign of the spear they'd come for, no sign of guards, no sign of anybody except Michael and herself. “Are you all right?” she asked at once.

“I thought before we did anything else,” Michael said, “I should tell you why I couldn't take you to the ball.”

Silence hung between them like a cloud. Opal began to feel strangely frightened. As the silence lengthened, her fear grew. Eventually she asked, “What was the reason, Michael?” Her voice was barely audible.

Michael said coolly, “Because you're so ugly.”

Opal's throat tightened and her heart began to race. “What?”

“I could not bear to be seen with you,” Michael said.
“It was as simple as that.” He shrugged, then added, “Sorry.”

“I'm not—” Opal began.

“You're not really all that fanciable,” Michael said. “Quite a nice figure, I suppose, but nothing special.” He shrugged again. “Perhaps ugly is too strong a word. Perhaps I should just have said
plain.
”

The fear was almost overwhelming now, but beyond it tears were welling up into her eyes. “Why are you talking like that, Michael?” she whispered. She felt as if her heart was being ripped from her chest.

“Because it's
true
,” Michael said. “See for yourself.”

He must have learned that trick Dorothy did, for she found herself looking into a full-length mirror. Her breasts were too small and her legs were too short and her bottom looked fat. But he was right about her face as well. She really did look plain, with limp blond hair and a mouth that was too wide and eyes too far apart. It was astonishing that she'd ever thought someone as handsome as Michael might be persuaded to like her.

The fear was tearing her apart. It wasn't just Michael. No boy would want her, not now, not ever. She was too plain, too…nothing! She felt overwhelmed by her lack of—

“Better go now,” Michael said. “I just thought you should know.” He strode away.

Opal couldn't tear herself away from the mirror, couldn't stop examining her miserable face and frumpy figure. She was loathsome. She had grown too fat, her skin was dry and flaking, her eyes dull and lifeless. What she saw frightened her, disgusted her. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, but she still couldn't tear herself away.

A figure appeared behind her in the gloomy depths of the mirror, dark and very indistinct. A voice said, “You must conquer your fear.” Dorothy must have come in. Or perhaps it was her own voice.

But Opal couldn't conquer her fear. All she could do was stand there and stare into the mirror. All she could think was how plain and flat-chested and fat she'd become. In the mirror, her face was changing.

It was now no longer plain but—just as Michael said at first—positively ugly. She felt herself slide toward the floor, sobbing as if her heart would break.

D
anny walked into a bedroom.

Somehow his Nan had managed to get there before him, for she was lying in the bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were very large and he didn't like the look of her face. The skin was pale and translucent, stretched tightly across the bones of her skull. Her lips had thinned and cracked, probably as a result of swimming in the fiery lake. Even though it hadn't burned them, it was dry and hot and Dorothy was getting on a bit. Funny thing was, she looked as old as he remembered her in their own world. The young, fit body she'd had on the astral plane seemed to have disappeared.

“What are you doing, Nan?” he asked. The large eyes turned toward him, and suddenly he felt very much afraid.

“I'm dying, Danny,” his Nan said. Her breathing was
labored, and her voice wheezed and crackled when she spoke.

“No you aren't, Nan,” Danny said a little desperately. “Tough as old boots you are.”

“I'm dying,” Dorothy repeated. “I didn't tell you what this place does for you.” She pushed down the covers and he saw that her body was not simply wasted, but rotted. The bare arms, protruding sticklike from her nightdress, looked as if they might crumble away at any moment. The huge, pain-filled eyes locked onto his own. “I'm dying,” she said, “and it's all your fault!”

Danny looked around. The other two, Opal and Michael, were nowhere to be seen, even though they'd both walked in before him and—as far as he could see—there was no other way out. He felt frightened to the point of panic. His Nan couldn't be dying, not now when they needed her most—but through it all he kept remembering something she'd told him over and over when he was growing up: the only thing to do with fear is face it.

“You have to leave, Danny,” Dorothy said. “It's the only thing that will save me. You have to forget all about this business and go home. You have to do it now.”

“Can't do that, Nan,” Danny said. He couldn't, either. Opal and Michael had gone on. They were relying on him to make up the triangle.

“You
must
,” Dorothy insisted. “I thought at first you could hack it, but now I know you can't. You have to go back.”

Danny stared at her, and suddenly the fear that was knotting his stomach started to drain away. “You're not Nan.”

“You're not up to it, Danny,” said the thing in the bed. “All you're really good for is a bit of thieving. Can't even face the thought of Cambridge, can you?”

“Shut up,” Danny said.

“Hit a nerve, have I? You can pretend all you like you aren't going because of me—that's noble, that is. But the real reason is you're not up to it. Oh, you're bright enough, I'll grant you that, but not university standard. And you don't have the breeding. You go to Cambridge and they'll soon show you up.”

This was definitely not his Nan, nothing remotely like his Nan. “Tricky,” she'd said when she was talking about the astral plane, and this was as tricky as it got. Because what Farrakhan had done was set this place up to show you your own fears.

Who knew what Opal and Michael must have faced, but what Danny was looking at was his Nan's death, all mixed up with the heap of guilt he had about not looking after her well enough. That and the way he always felt he wasn't really good enough. Not for
Cambridge, not for anything.

Only thing to do with fear was face it.

“I'm off now,” Danny said abruptly. “Onward and upward.” As he walked forward, his environment dissolved, starting with the Nan-thing lying on the bed.

B
oth Opal and Michael were waiting for him near the mouth of a cavern. “What did you get?” Danny asked.

Michael seemed to understand at once. “
Sohanti,”
he said. “I've always been afraid I might be
sohanti
like my father.” He paused and looked at them. “Afraid I might kill people and then kill myself.”

“What about you, Opal?”

“I'm not sure I want to talk about it,” Opal said.

Danny shrugged. “That's cool.” He wasn't keen to talk about his own experience, either.

But Michael pushed, “What fears did you face, Danny?”

Danny took a shuddering breath and said, “Been frightened Nan might die.” He hesitated, then added, “Bit of trouble with self-confidence as well.”

Opal's eyes opened wide in astonishment. “
You?
Lacking confidence?”

Danny grinned self-consciously. “The way I come across is mostly bluff.”

Opal stared at him for a long time, then said abruptly, “It was my looks.”

“What was?”

Opal said, “It's a stupid girl thing. I was afraid I wasn't…” She seemed painfully embarrassed. “You know…pretty.”

Danny said spontaneously, “But you're gorgeous.”

Opal smiled. “Thank you, Danny. I'm not sure you don't need glasses, but thank you all the same.”

Danny shrugged. “Not just me. Michael thinks so too—see that from the way he looks at you.”

Now Michael was looking mortified. He turned his head so he wouldn't have to meet Opal's eye. All the same he said, “I think you are very beautiful, Opal.”

Opal said, “It's a girl thing. I know that. Most girls think there's something wrong with the way they look.” She was staring at Michael. “I also know it's not true, sort of, but that doesn't stop me from feeling afraid. It's stupid.”

“Most of our fears are stupid,” Michael said. “Even imaginary.” He frowned. “But how clever of Farrakhan to use them against us.”

Danny said, “So what happens now? Is this the
real
Shenlu Chamber?”

They turned to look at the dark entrance of the cavern. “I assume so,” said Michael.

“You don't think there are any more traps or guards or anything of that sort?” Opal asked.

“Difficult to say.”

“So…” Danny said. “We just walk in, do we?”

“I think we should hold hands.” The two boys turned to look at Opal in amazement, and she flushed. “I don't know if the fighting is over, but I think we should present a united front.”

“Works for me.” Danny reached out and took one of her hands. After a moment, Michael took the other. Together, the three of them walked into the darkness.

They saw the creature at once, hung from a massive wooden cross in the gloom at the back of the cavern. It was pinned to the structure by a spear that pierced its abdomen. It looked for all the world like a giant bear, but with curiously human features. It stared at them with huge, dark, soulful eyes and whimpered.

“What is it?” Danny whispered.

Opal said, “I think that's our Devourer.”

It was nothing like the demon he'd seen in Farrakhan's ritual. “That's not what I saw,” Danny said. He couldn't take his eyes off the beast. The pain it must be suffering
was indescribable. He wanted to set it free.

“Poor thing,” Opal said, as if echoing his thought.

“I think Opal's right—that is the Devourer. Things look different here,” Michael said.

“I don't care if it is the Devourer,” Danny said. “We can't leave it there—it's hurt.”

Opal nodded. “We have to take the spear out. It's in so much pain.”

“If I'm right, it may attack us,” Michael said.

Michael had a point there, Danny thought. Even if the creature
wasn't
the Devourer, it must be half crazy with pain. It would attack the moment it was free. Any injured animal would. All the same, he couldn't just leave it there to suffer.

“I think this is how Farrakhan controls the Devourer,” Opal said suddenly. She glanced at Danny. “This is what it's really like, but before he calls it into our world, he tortures it on the astral plane so it's savage and wants to kill people.”

“That's why he needed the Spear of Destiny,” Michael said. “It's the only thing powerful enough.”

“So we
have to
take the spear out,” Opal said, then hesitated. “Even if it does attack us.”

Danny looked up at the massive body. Despite the impaling spear, it gave the impression of almost boundless strength and power. Suddenly he felt very much
afraid. “It won't just attack, it will kill us.” There was no way they could pull out the spear and get away before the creature savaged them.

Opal said, “I'll do it—the poor thing must be in agony.”

Michael said quickly, “It's all right—I'll do it. You two leave now, and I'll release it when you've gone.” A trickle of sweat rolled down his temple, and Danny realized Michael was just as frightened as he was. Danny felt a surge of admiration.

“I don't want you to do it,” Opal said firmly. Of the three of them she seemed the least frightened; or if she was, it didn't show. “I'll do it,” she repeated. “I'm very fast. I'm sure I can get away before it attacks me.”

Would it really be possible to pull the spear out, then make a run for it?
Danny wondered. He fought down his fear and shrugged fatalistically. “I'll pull the spear out.” He grinned at Opal. “I've got more experience than you of running away. Usually from coppers. But it's a good idea that the two of you get away first.”

“I don't think anybody's going anywhere,” Opal said. “The spear's right through into the wood. I think it will take the three of us to pull it out.”

They looked at one another. Hanging above them, the beast on the cross moaned slightly. Its eyes were closed now, as if it was barely conscious. Perhaps it
would be too weak to attack them, Danny thought. But he knew that was nonsense. Helpless though it looked, this thing was the inner essence of the towering demon figure he'd seen Farrakhan conjure in the cellar. It had all the demon's power, all the demon's rage. Once it was no longer pierced by the Spear of Destiny, it would be on them like an express train.
How did I get myself into this?
Danny wondered.

Then Opal stepped forward to grip the shaft of the spear. She glanced at Michael, who moved without hesitation to overlap his hands across hers.
Now's the time to get out of here,
Danny thought. But he didn't. Instead, he joined his hands with the others on the shaft.

Despite Opal's doubts, the spear withdrew easily from the creature's flesh.