Extraordinaires 1 (25 page)

K
ingsley had never been as glad to see a band of Neanderthals as he was when two dozen of them thundered into the Immortals' unfinished lair. A diversion was what Kingsley and Evadne needed and a band of well-armed, pugnacious brutes filled the vacancy to perfection.

Instantly, the enormous space became a battleground. Spawn everywhere abandoned their construction work and hurled themselves at the intruders. The Immortals themselves waved their pudgy hands and shrieked orders that lacked tactical subtlety, but left no question that they wanted the Neanderthals chopped up and removed immediately.

The Neanderthals produced a bizarre assortment of firearms and set about laying waste to the charging Spawn. The hail of metal shredded the creatures mid-advance.

‘The Neanderthals must want us badly,' he said. He peered at the mayhem. He recognised the foremost Neanderthal as the leader of the band that had ambushed them in Deptford.

Evadne touched her satchel. ‘They must be desperate for this phlogiston.'

‘Or they have another reason.'

‘It doesn't matter. Let's go.'

Evadne hurried off, bent nearly double, and Kingsley slapped himself on the forehead.
A diversion is worthless if you don't use it,
Kingsley!
What magician wouldn't lift a dozen watches and purloin a handful of spectacles from an audience if a brawl broke out in the front row, only to dazzle the owners some time later with their return?

Evadne made the most of the building debris and tools that had been abandoned by the Spawn. She flitted from scaffold to wheelbarrow to workbench to coils of rope, waiting each time for Kingsley to join her before she advanced to the next milestone. The barrels of paint were the last before a dangerous open stretch and they paused a moment, judging the best time to go.

The Neanderthals had pressed close. Only a triple line of Spawn stood between them and the Immortals. The battle was awesome in its violence. The clubs of the Neanderthals swung with enough power to puncture metal, but the Spawn didn't back away. From all sides, they charged at the Neanderthal advance, seeking a weak spot, a way in, a misstep, but the juggernaut pushed on, snarling in a way that Kingsley couldn't help but respond to. His wild side was equally excited and appalled. It wanted to join the Neanderthals and to run away from them.

Kingsley's wildness was diverted, however, when the throne of the Immortals began to shake. It dislodged Spawn from its bottom step like a dog ridding itself of fleas, then it rose. When it was forty feet above the floor, the rotating cube sprang into life, bathing its alcove in bright green light.

A bolt of green lightning flashed, joining the cube and the throne for a split-second and rending the air in the chamber with an ear-punishing
crack
. The Spawn and the Neanderthals were bowled over like dolls.

When Kingsley's vision had cleared, the Immortals and their throne were gone.

‘That is a truly splendid escape act,' he said, and he wondered if this were the moment the Immortals decided India was a more hospitable place for their particular needs.

E
vadne was looking up with an expression of frustrated disappointment. ‘Don't take my hand,' she said to Kingsley. ‘We can run faster if we don't.'

‘Yes. Good point. Ready?'

She rolled her eyes and then she was gone. He had to sprint to catch up to her.

For a moment, Kingsley had the hope that they might be getting away unnoticed, but then a shout went up. He increased his efforts and leaped into the alcove to join Evadne. She was crouching and examining the rotating pyramid.

Kingsley left her to it. He positioned himself on the second stair of the alcove, between Evadne and the three Neanderthals who were running towards them. ‘Soon would be best,' he called over his shoulder.

‘I'm doing the best that I . . . Oh!'

Kingsley didn't like the sound of that. He liked even less the flare of warm light that rolled over his back, briefly illuminating the hall and making the trio of approaching Neanderthals stop dead.

He risked a glance over his shoulder. Evadne was standing there, staring at her open hand. ‘I had a vial of phlogiston. It ate it.'

‘Now it's rotating faster.' Kingsley turned back to see the Neanderthals had resumed their advance, but they were more cautious, even hesitant, spreading out as they neared.

Another flare of light washed over him, then another. The satisfied ‘Aha!' from behind made him look over his shoulder again, and while he took in the fact that the tetrahedron was whirling much faster now, it also gave the Neanderthal on his left time to charge.

Kingsley thought he'd been hit by an omnibus. Two omnibuses. The entire London fleet of omnibuses. He landed with the Neanderthal on top of him. As well as having all of the air driven out of his lungs, his head cracked hard on the marble plinth.

It was as if he'd taken a step sideways from the universe, which had then had all of the colour shaken from it, while all of the sounds had been passed through layers of wool to make them familiar in shape but utterly meaningless. Bright lights hung in his vision, which he vaguely thought appropriate. He saw more Neanderthals rushing and leaping over him. Four backed Evadne against the wall of the alcove. Her sabre flashed. More flaring light. A giant bell was tolling at the back of his skull and had been for some time.

He closed his eyes and it all went away.

‘We're back home.'

Kingsley found he was lying down. He went to sit up, but he was made of rubber and couldn't. He made an effort to show he was coherent by repeating part of what Evadne said, but chose poorly: ‘We're?'

Evadne loomed over him. She'd lost her coat, he noticed, but he did like the way it showed off her dove grey dress with the red ruching. Her arm snaked under his shoulders. ‘Here, drink this.'

He sipped at the water and had a feeling he should admire the mug, which was made of gold, but he couldn't raise the energy. She studied him with concern. She looked tired, but determined and entirely, inappropriately fetching.

He was about to ask the standard orientating question when he took in the glazed blue bricks.
They haven't invented a prison I couldn't break out of
, he thought,
but I can't stop them putting me back in it.

‘You're going to feel nauseated, I'm sure. That was quite a knock on the head.'

It came back to him. He touched the back of his head and regretted it, but his astonishment and relief made the pain bearable. ‘It worked? The Time Manipulator?'

‘In a manner of speaking. Two Neanderthals tried to take me, but one of them put his hand on the tetrahedron. He vanished.'

‘He activated the machine?'

She grimaced, an altogether wonderful sight. Kingsley wondered if she'd ever had her portrait done. ‘It stopped glowing after he disappeared, so it would seem. But I have no idea where he went. I couldn't see any way to calibrate it, no controls to set, nothing. It's frustrating.'

‘I imagine that's how our missing Neanderthal must feel. He's probably sitting around in the Renaissance thinking what he'd do if he had his time over again. So to speak.' He sat up, gingerly. ‘So we've travelled back in time a few hundred years, then forward in time by the same amount. Quite an achievement. And then there's freeing a company of abducted children and avoiding the clutches of the Immortals.'

‘I'd love to be in a position to marvel over our achievements,' Evadne said. ‘I have a few people I'd like to consult about the mechanics of our time travelling. However, we have more pressing issues. Escaping from here, for one.'

‘Wait. You said we didn't use the Time Manipulator. How did we get back here if we didn't?'

‘We were taken through time in the not so gentle embrace of the Neanderthals.'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘The sparkling belts they wore weren't fashionable accoutrements. They were part of their time travel equipment. One of them slung you over his shoulder and one held me tightly. The others surrounded us in a ring, then they linked their belts with fine chains so they were all connected. The black-bearded one took out two brass marbles. He fitted one into a slot on his belt, and as soon as he inserted the other into a different slot, we snapped out of 1666 and ended up here.' She gave a small laugh. ‘Our arrival did some damage to their machine, I'm pleased to say.'

‘What? How?'

‘The argument was about someone forgetting to allow for the fact that you and I had temporal potential energy as well as our captors.' Absently, she made juggling motions with her hands. ‘We snapped back with too much force and the dampeners hadn't been set to compensate, apparently. We've burned out some sensitive bits and pieces. They'll need remanufacturing.'

‘I suppose they took your satchel.'

‘Most greedily. And my sabre and pistol.' She cocked her head. ‘Are you all right? You don't have a fractured skull, do you? Let me look at your eyes.'

‘I don't think so. Just a bump and a nasty headache.'

She let go of the sides of his head. ‘Your eyes look well enough. Your concussion must be minor.'

‘You have medical training – no, don't tell me.' He held out a hand in the manner of a traffic policeman. ‘Clarence has. He's an amateur brain surgeon.'

She opened her mouth, closed it again, reconsidered, then said: ‘I note your heavy-handed irony and I'll endeavour, in future, not to bore you with Clarence's achievements.'

‘He isn't, is he?'

‘A brain surgeon? No, not amateur nor otherwise. He has worked on a voluntary basis, however, with doctors treating the poor and indigent.'

‘I find it hard to believe.'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘Achieving so much in one lifetime. Extraordinary chap.'

She looked at him closely. ‘He's very busy.'

‘So it would seem.' He stretched. ‘We're in the Neanderthals' prison, aren't we?'

‘Freshly dusted for our convenience. What is it?'

‘What is what?'

‘What is it you've just thought of? You went all squidgy there.'

‘Squidgy?'

‘You drew in your cheeks, narrowed your eyes, and moved your jaw from side to side. Something awkward or embarrassing has just occurred to you.'

Kingsley put a hand to his chin. ‘I did all that?'

‘You did.'

‘And you noticed and you have a name for it?'

Evadne hesitated and nipped around the question in an expert flanking manoeuvre. ‘What was it?'

‘I don't think we're going to be here long. Otherwise they would have put us in two cells.'

‘Ah.' She looked around. ‘I'm not sure if the Neanderthals think like that.'

‘You're right. I'm not sure what Neanderthals think at all.' He hesitated. ‘Have you ever talked with one?'

‘Kingsley, until the last few days I'd never even seen one. They're among the most elusive of Demimonders.' She poured herself a cup of water and drank it all. ‘You're right, of course. I have no idea what they're thinking, apart from that they want to wipe us out or possibly eat us. And what we've just been through has shown that they can do what they're planning. I'd say they simply don't have enough power yet.'

‘If we can stop their plans to destroy humanity, I'd like to see what makes them tick.'

‘What makes a tiger tick?'

‘They're people, not animals.' Even as he said it, he wondered if perhaps the Neanderthals were closer to the wild than Sapiens were – and if perhaps this could shed some light on his particular halfway state.

‘Are they? Are they any different?'

Kingsley shrugged. ‘You're different. I'm different.'

Evadne stared at him. She blinked, then stared again. Finally, she sat back and crossed her arms on her chest. ‘You, Kingsley Ward, have done something very rare: you've made me change my mind.'

‘I have?'

‘Do you know how many people have tried to make me change my mind? Grown men have given up in tears, professors have taken up holy orders, judges have become hermits.'

‘I realise that you're strong-minded.'

‘My mind has had plenty of exercise. Of course it's strong.'

‘But it's also flexible.'

‘True. I see your point. I'm not sure where it gets us, but I see your point.'

‘Most people are different from ourselves,' he said, ‘so difference actually makes us all the same, if you see what I mean.'

‘Now you're just being confusing.' She lifted her forefinger and tapped it up and down on her arm. ‘But if you're saying that these Neanderthals are just as human as anyone else, I might agree. It's just that anyone else, in this case, is a dangerous maniac.'

‘That's fair. I'm not saying that they're likely to be saints, no more than we are.'

‘Speak for yourself.'

‘I beg your pardon. I mean to say that I'd still like to know how they think.'

‘So that you can see how mass murder can be justified? No need to ask the Neanderthals. Look at history. The Crusades. Genghis Khan. The Inquisition.'

‘Now it's your turn to be correct: it's easy to find justification for mass murder, as long as you're convinced you're right.' Kingsley put his chin in his hand. ‘Say what you like. I want to stop these Neanderthals, but I can't bring myself to hate them.'

She paused and studied him again. ‘As a project, Kingsley Ward, you are by far my most interesting.' Evadne reached behind her. ‘Would you like something to eat? We have fruit, bread, cheese.'

‘They've provided food for their prisoners? How very human.'

Later that day, when the six burly Neanderthals came to the cell door, Kingsley briefly amused himself by wondering if there was any other type.

It'd do me good to see a lanky Neanderthal with pipe cleaner arms.

One of the six was the black-bearded leader of the team who had pursued them across seventeenth-century London. Without a word they were marched to a room near the main workshop. Of course, this made it somewhat near the workshop that held the time machine, but Kingsley accepted that this was a moot point, guarded as they were.