Furnace 5 - Execution (25 page)

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

I thought at first that there were people riding this beast, their forms strapped to its side with some kind of harness. When I looked more closely, however, I realised that those figures were
part
of it. Limbs grew from its flesh like buds on a plant, dozens of deformed arms and legs bristling on all sides. And there were faces too, beneath its skin. I could see them pressing outwards, their mouths opening and closing as if they were calling to us, pleading to let them out.

I heard a low, desperate moan, a cry of utter terror, and it didn’t take me long to realise that it was coming from me.

The creature stomped forward, sniffing the air, snorting from the twin scars of its nostrils. Then it reared, ready to bring its huge legs down on us – no, not legs, I realised, but hands – ready to pound us into the forest floor. I forced myself to concentrate, to close my eyes. I had been able to control the other berserkers, maybe I could give this freak orders too. It was a long shot, but what else could I do? Even stabbing my bladed hand into that thing would have been like trying to bring down a rhinoceros with a butter knife.

I blasted out a message, picturing the monster retreating into the forest, leaving us alone. In those few seconds I must have imagined it a dozen times, silently screaming my commands at it. I felt the ground shake as it slammed its fists down, opening my eyes to see it backing clumsily away. It shook its head, as if trying to dislodge a fly from inside its skull, never taking its eyes off me. The forms beneath its skin writhed.

I got to my feet, the nectar a storm, making every cell sing.

Lead us to him
, I growled inside my head.
Take us to Furnace
.

I pictured the mansion, the beast showing us the way. It opened its mouth again, its bellow like that of a cow being led to slaughter. But it had no choice in the matter. I was its general, and it would obey. With another shake of its head, one that knocked man-sized branches to the ground, it set off along the path.

‘What the hell is that thing?’ asked Lucy as we set off after it. ‘It had … people in it.’

‘Just another monster, forget it,’ said Zee. He turned to me. ‘What did you say to it? Is it going to lead us to Furnace?’

‘I guess we’re about to find out,’ I said.

After a couple of minutes the berserker burst out of the forest, shedding leaves and twigs behind it. We followed the trail into a vast, open clearing, the size of a football pitch. The ground here was rocky and uneven, full of craters and crevices. It could have been the surface of the moon if it wasn’t for the mansion that sat at the other end of it. It rose from the island as if it had grown here, built from the same dark stone, its walls and its towers so random that they looked organic. The berserker was charging towards it with purpose, its folds of fat and its surplus limbs bouncing up and down as it negotiated the rough terrain.

And it wasn’t alone.

There were other creatures out here, dozens of them, teeming from the crevices in the rock like ants. Some actually resembled giant insects, their bodies hardened by the nectar, their skin the colour and texture of a beetle’s carapace, their lips twisted into crude mandibles. Others were closer to the children they had once been, still made of flesh. Their faces were broken but they were unmistakably human. That was where the resemblance ended, though. Their bodies were a cruel joke, as though they had been moulded from plasticine by a bored child, then left to wilt in the sun.

Each one was unique, and they scuttled and bounded and limped over the rock to get a better look at us. They called out to each other as they moved, some sounding like toddlers wailing, others like pigs squealing. There were words in there too, but nothing which made any sense. These berserkers were too far gone to remember how to speak.

I realised that some of the freaks were closing in, their faces warped by curiosity, or maybe anger. Near the cliff edge two were fighting, their massive arms taking chunks out of each other until one backed away with a whimper.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We should keep moving.’

‘Can’t you control them?’ Lucy asked.

This close to Furnace, I doubted it. Two or three of them, maybe, but thirty, forty, maybe even fifty all at once with their master’s voice coming from the mansion? There was no way. We started moving again, slowly, afraid that any sudden movements might start a stampede. It was tough going. Some of the cracks in the rock must have cut right through the heart of the island because I could hear the sea down there, pummelling the rock. The sound reminded me of being back inside the prison, inside the chipping room after we’d blown the floor, about to jump into the river.

‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Zee asked, and I could see by the look on his face that I was. ‘At least we’ve got an escape route if those things decide they don’t like us.’

I vaulted a narrow crevice, hearing the sonic boom of
the waves down below. We wouldn’t last a second down there if we jumped. The river beneath the prison had nearly killed us, and the ocean was a million times more powerful.

The closer we got to the mansion, the weirder it seemed. Two wide, three-storey wings sat on either side of a central tower, with a number of smaller turrets and spires reaching up from various other parts. I counted seven in all, each more elaborate than the last. At least twenty dark windows watched us approach. The berserker from the woods was trying to squeeze into the open front door, its bulk preventing it from entering. It heard us coming, pulling its head free and looking at me sadly.

‘This place must have been the barracks or something,’ said Zee as the mansion loomed over us. ‘They probably stationed a whole naval division out here, to keep a lookout for—’

‘You hear that?’ interrupted Lucy. I cocked my head, trying to hear anything over the roar of the ocean. And sure enough, there it was, that faint pulse of a helicopter. Simon bolted along the front of the building to the edge of the cliff fifty metres away, peering over, his hand shielding his eyes even though the sun was still masked by clouds. He turned, cupping his mouth and yelling through the wind.

‘Boats!’

‘Panettierre,’ I said. I ran to Simon, careful not to get too close to the cliff edge. Sure enough maybe two dozen navy ships of different shapes and sizes were
heading this way, churning the ocean into a rage. Maybe half as many helicopters mirrored them in the sky.

‘How’d they get here so quickly?’ asked Lucy who had run to my side, clinging on to my elbow to stop her blowing off the edge.

‘Must have been ready to roll,’ Zee answered as he arrived, panting. ‘They were probably just waiting for coordinates from Panettierre. There’s a base up the coast from here, right? Suttermouth. No, Colvermouth, that’s it. They would have bypassed Furnace’s troops if they’d come from there. Jesus, it’s like Normandy or some-thing. There are loads of them.’

There were, all packed with troops. They weren’t having a free ride, though. One boat was already sinking, smoke billowing from its engine. Two more had collided with each other and I saw a shape through a windscreen, a corpse-faced beast which was going to work on the crew. The leviathans were doing their job well, but they wouldn’t be able to stop them all.

‘Jesus,’ muttered Zee. ‘The army out here, Furnace in there, talk about being between a rock and a hard place.’

I jogged back to the mansion door, everybody else following. The berserker towered over us, watching curiously. It leant down as I passed, trying to push itself through, the way I had commanded it to. I sent out a message for it to stand back and it did so. It kept its head level with mine, bracing its weight on its immense fists. Its knuckled eyes blinked at me, and it uttered gentle whimpers from its throat. I reached out with my good hand, resting my fingers on its cheek. It seemed to relish
the touch, pushing against it. It could have been a massive dog if it wasn’t for those extra heads that stretched its skin, opening and closing their mouths in silent screams; if its face, as gnarled and deformed as it was, didn’t so clearly belong to a child.

‘Thank you,’ I said to it.

Then I stepped through the door into the cool, dark interior of the mansion. My eyes barely had time to adjust to the dark – seeing a large reception room, decked in old furniture and paintings, grand staircases mirroring each other on both sides – before I heard the berserker utter a deafening howl behind me. I spun round to see that it had positioned itself outside the door, its corpulent body cutting out all but a trickle of light.

‘Hey!’ I shouted.

‘Alex?’ yelled Zee from the other side, his voice muted. ‘Make it move, we can’t get in.’

I tried to concentrate, ordering the creature to get out of the way, picturing it standing clear of the door. Nothing happened, even when I tried again, mentally screaming at it to obey.

‘Move!’ I shouted, slapping the berserker with my left hand. It bent its head and glared in at me, another banshee wail blasting from its gaping jaw, but still it didn’t unblock the door. I went to slap it again but before I could I heard Furnace’s voice erupt inside my head, loud enough to shatter my thoughts to splinters.

You must make this final journey alone, Alex
.

I realised that the words had knocked me to my knees,
stealing my breath and my voice. I struggled up, feeling like I’d been hit by a freight train. Nectar trickled from my nose, its foul taste in my mouth, and I spat it out.

‘Wait for me here,’ I wheezed to the others, the words nothing more than a whisper. I clawed in a breath, said it again.

‘Alex, you can’t go by yourself, he’ll kill you!’ I couldn’t tell who had spoken: the berserker’s body muffled the sound and the ringing in my ears was just too loud. I put my left hand against the doorframe, saying a silent goodbye to my friends, praying for them to stay safe, praying that I’d live to see them again. Then I made my way into the building.

From now on there was only me.

Me and Alfred Furnace.

The mansion was a warren of rooms and corridors, but I knew exactly where to go.

I walked through the reception hall, between the staircases and through a set of double doors. It looked as if nobody had been here in years, decades even, everything covered in a layer of dust. The paintings on the walls were all of military leaders through the centuries, their medals muted by grime, their eyes following me. A massive chandelier swung from the ceiling as if something had just disturbed it, but mine were the only footprints on the filthy floor.

A long corridor stretched out from the lobby, doors on either side standing open. I peered into a couple of the rooms but they were mostly empty, a few containing just scraps of old machinery and the occasional desk. One was packed with bunk beds, the same kind as had been used in Furnace, the sheets fluttering in the breeze from a broken window.

I thought about going back to the front door, telling Zee, Simon and Lucy that there was another way in. But
what was the point? If Furnace wanted me here alone then that’s what was going to happen. There would be no arguing with him, not in his own house.

I reached the end of the corridor, pushing through another pair of doors to find myself at the rear of the mansion. A staircase led down to the basement, the tiles cracked and stained. There was a window beside them, and through the crusted glass I could see the ocean far below and the battle taking place in it. Once the soldiers got past the leviathans then it wouldn’t take them long to find their way onto the island. If I wanted to keep Panettierre’s filthy hands off my friends then I was going to have to be quick.

My footsteps rang hollow as I ran down the steps, the echoes seeming to last for far longer than they had any right to – as if the house had been quiet for so many years it didn’t quite know how to handle noise. At the foot of the staircase was another corridor, lit only by the sickly glow that seeped down from above. There were no rooms here, but halfway along the passageway was an alcove with a wooden bench. Propped up against the cracked white tiles was a plastic doll wearing a floral dress, one set of eyelashes missing. Next to it was a gas mask, covered in filth, its tube draped over the doll’s legs.

I moved on, reaching another set of stairs leading down, these ones narrower. They led deep into the heart of the island, plunging me into such depths of gloom that even my silver eyes struggled to work out where they came to an end. Eventually I saw the outline of another
double door, the light through the cracks so bright after the darkness that it was as if a fire raged beyond them.

I hesitated, my bladed hand ready. I didn’t know what Alfred Furnace was now, what kind of powers he possessed. He had been alive for so long that he couldn’t still be human. I thought about the warden, when I had fought him in the tower. I thought about what he had become when he had drunk the new nectar – a being which lived right on the edge of reality, half real and half dream, something that could bend physics to its own will.

But I had defeated the warden, I had brought him to his knees then let the wheezers slaughter him. And if he could die, then so could his boss. There weren’t many creatures that could survive being stabbed through the heart. No matter what Furnace said, what kind of twisted lies he would attempt to tell me, what offers of power he made, I
would
kill him.