The Kings of Eternity (18 page)

“Its blue phase,” I replied, “was probably a process of generating sufficient energy to open the portal from its source point to its destination. As for the shadowy figures...”

“Perhaps they were the equivalent of engineers?” Jasper put in from up ahead.

“The big question,” Vaughan said, “is where the deuce did the portal come from, or lead to, whichever you prefer?”

“The moons in the sky seemed to preclude a future planet Earth,” I said.

“Then how about Mars?” Charles offered. “That planet has two moons.”

“But one orange and the other red?” Vaughan said.

“It’s a possibility we cannot discount,” Jasper said. “Who would have thought of it, the red planet...?”

Like this, with much banter and speculation back and forth, we made the last leg of the journey towards the lighted library of the Grange.

Within ten minutes we were dragging the craft through the French windows and across the carpet. Charles opened up the cockpit and peered inside. “He appears to be unconscious,” he reported, “which is not surprising. Will someone help me ease him from the craft and onto the chesterfield?”

I took the creature’s shoulders, its thick flesh clammy and cold to my touch, and when Charles had a grip on its legs we carefully lifted the manikin from the vessel.

Seen in light of the open fire, its true difference to a human being was apparent. It was perhaps the height of a ten year old child, but thick of torso and limb; its flesh reminded me in hue of nothing so much as a potato fresh from the ground.

It was unconscious, and for some reason I found this reassuring. Its face was as ugly as the rest of its body, with no nose but a hideous vertical slit where a nose should be, and beneath this a much longer, horizontal slit which I took to be its mouth. Its eyes were not lidless, as I had formerly supposed, but covered with a thin, flickering membrane. I gained the impression that, conscious, the being would have presented an even more hideous aspect.

Charles began a quick inspection of the creature’s injuries, then stood. “We’ll need a plentiful supply of boiling water, Jasper. Jonathon, can you get me a clean sheet or two? Vaughan, you’ll find my medical bag in my room - it should provide me with the basics I need to treat our patient.” I had never seen Charles less hesitant than now, as he took on the authority of his profession and gave us our orders.

Five minutes later, his bidding done, we gathered again in the library and convened around the alien figure.

Charles injected the manikin with a small dose of morphine, then with swabs of alcohol cleaned the wound in its torso as best as he was able. “The danger of performing the wrong procedure upon an alien physiology is always present,” he said. “I can but treat the creature as I would a human, and hope for the best.”

He cut away flaps and shards of dead flesh from around the wound, so as to counter infection, then set about investigating the broken bones therein. I saw enough to assure me that the manikin’s anatomy in no way resembled a human’s: instead of ribs, it seemed to have broad plates of bone about its chest, like the slats of a barrel.

At last, unable to watch any longer for fear of emptying my stomach of its last meal, I made myself absent and poured a round of brandies for my friends.

The tear-drop craft caught my attention. I walked around the vehicle, marvelling that but hours ago it had been sailing through the skies of some far distant world. Quite how it might power itself was a mystery. I could see no propulsion unit or engine, inside or out. Inspecting the fuselage, I saw before the pilot’s sling a smooth dashboard, for want of a better description, marked with studs and alien hieroglyphs.

I took from the craft the creature’s weapon, perhaps thinking it might at some point be required. Then my eye fell upon the devices and instruments I had seen upon my first inspection of the vessel in the wood. They were arranged haphazardly to the front and rear of the sling, as if thrown in higgledy-piggledy at the last second before departure. I reached in and pulled out these oddments.

The first was what appeared to be a blue ovoid, the size of an ostrich’s egg, and very lightweight. As to its purpose, I had no idea, other than it might be some kind of ornament. Next I produced a circular plinth about the size of a halved keg; this was girdled with silver spars, upon which was yet another array of spidery hieroglyphs. I reached in again, like a child at a lucky-dip stall, and pulled out a circular stone as black as obsidian attached to a length of shiny material, like ribbon. The last object from the fuselage was a silver container, not unlike a bread box, but with an opening at its front and a series of marked lines within that formed a grid.

I ranked these gee-gaws before the craft and studied them again one by one, but at the end of the process was no wiser as to their utility.

I finished my brandy and poured another round. Charles was working industriously upon the manikin. I saw a needle and thread being pressed into service, and a scalpel flash once or twice. For all its ugliness, I felt a sudden compassion for the dwarfish creature, in such a state of grievous injury and so far from home.

At last Charles stood back and dashed off his brandy. The creature lay upon its back, its body enwrapped in bandages. Naked but for tight undershorts and bulbous boots, it appeared as comical as it did pathetic.

“Well,” Jasper enquired. “Do you think it’ll pull through?”

Charles drew an armchair to the fire and collapsed into it. “Impossible to tell, quite impossible. If it were human, then I would put its chances at no greater than fifty-fifty. But who knows the tenacity and strength of creatures such as these? I’ve done the best I could with the resources available to me. We can but hope that infection doesn’t set in.”

“Perhaps,” Jasper suggested, “if we could get it to hospital...?”

Charles shook his head. “There’s not a hospital within twenty miles that could do more than this, and the trauma of transportation might see him off.”

“And besides,” Vaughan said, “how we might explain a creature of such singular aspect?”

I looked at him. “Do you think it wise to keep what happened to ourselves?”

Vaughan glanced around the group. “What do you think? The last time we spoke on this matter, the consensus was that we should consider what might eventuate before calling in the authorities, if at all. I think that to inform others of our discovery would be a grave mistake.”

Jasper nodded. “I’m of the same opinion. The leaders of men befoul whatever they touch!”

Charles said, “But if these beings - either those allied to our friend here, or the reptilian characters - prove to harbour hostile intentions, then a recourse to the authorities might be the only option.” He was plucking at his Adam’s apple again.

I nodded. “We cannot entirely veto the option,” I said.

“But until such time as we learn the intentions of the creatures one way or the other,” Vaughan responded, “then I think we should say nothing to anyone.” He looked around the group. “Agreed?”

One by one we gave assent, then fell silent as we regarded the patient.

Jasper slipped from the room, and I was heartened to see him return five minutes later bearing a tray of bread and cheese, a joint of beef and a jar of pickled onions. At the sight of the food, I realised how famished I was.

We pulled a sofa to the fire and fell to eating as our alien guest slept beside us - and only when writing this now, a year later, can I see what a strange tableau we would have presented to any prying eyes: four men partaking ravenously of bread and meat, a gargoyle asleep beside them on a chesterfield and, at the back of the room, a sleek, futuristic craft standing upon the carpet in a puddle of melted snow.

I stopped eating, a wedge of cheddar halted before my mouth, and stared across at Vaughan. A thought had occurred to me. “What if,” I said, “the reptile creatures decide to pursue our friend further? After all, he did account for two of their kind.”

Jasper looked up from his brandy. “It’s an eventuality we cannot discount.”

“We must assume that they can open the portal at will,” I said. “In that case we might be in danger.”

Vaughan was shaking his head. “There are too many imponderables in the equation to be sure of anything,” he said. “For all we know the feud between the homunculus and the reptiles might have been a local affair, about which the operators of the portal care nothing. We just cannot be sure.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “the manikin destroyed the portal when he shot at it, rendering it useless?”

Vaughan nodded. “A possibility,” he said.

But Jasper was on his feet. “To be on the safe side, gentlemen, I think we had better arm ourselves. If the portal was not destroyed, and the reptiles come a-hunting...” And so saying he dashed from the room and returned minutes later bearing four pistols and ammunition.

He distributed them amongst us, ignoring my protests that I’d never fired a gun in my life.

“And little good these pea-shooters would be against the reptile’s light-beam weapons,” Vaughan said good-naturedly.

“Better these than our bare fists,” Jasper declared.

“What about the creature’s own light-beam weapon,” I said, gesturing across the room.

“Good idea,” Jasper said. “In the hands of the manikin it was certainly effective.”

He opened another bottle of brandy, and we settled in for a night of conversation while beside us our alien patient slept in silence.

Towards dawn I could stay awake no longer, and slipped into a doze. By some miracle, considering the events of the night, I did not dream. It was midday when I awoke, stretched out on a settee; Vaughan was dozing in a nearby armchair, his leonine mane somewhat dishevelled. Of Jasper there was no sign; Charles, for his part, was attending to the manikin’s injuries.

He looked up when he saw that I was awake. “Jonathon, if you could lend a hand for a minute.”

I assisted him in the process of cutting away the old dressing and discarding it on the fire. As Charles peeled away the last of the lint from the wound, I saw his expression change to one of incredulity.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Look,” he said, gesturing at the wound with a pair of tweezers. “I’ve never known such a rapid process of healing.”

Indeed, where before the wound had been red raw and bloody, now a great deal of it was scabbed over. The broken bones, or plates, were entirely covered with what looked like a new growth of skin.

Vaughan awoke and joined us, peering down at the manikin as Charles detailed the specifics of the recovery. “In a human, this sort of progress might be expected after a week or more of intensive care. I do believe that the bony plates around his chest have knitted. This is most remarkable.”

He re-dressed the wound and the manikin slept on with hardly a murmur.

A little later, Jasper appeared with a trolley bearing the makings of a fine breakfast, bacon and devilled kidneys, scrambled eggs and fresh brown bread.

“Cook thinks I’ve taken leave of my senses,” he reported. “She usually serves breakfast in the dining room, but I insisted. I’ve given her a few days off, told her that we’re going away for the week.” He gazed at the injured creature on the chesterfield and shook his head. “Heavens knows how she might react if she clapped eyes on our friend here.”

Over breakfast we discussed what might become of the manikin, should he survive his injuries.

“In that eventuality,” Charles said, “and at his present rate of progress, I see no reason why he might not fully recover. Then we might have to inform the authorities of our discovery.”

Vaughan frowned. “The poor devil will become a circus freak,” he said. “Either that, or the government will impound him and subject him to a series of medical experiments.”

“Perhaps,” Jasper said, “if he does pull through, then we should attempt to ascertain how he desires to proceed?”

I considered the events of the night before. “It is possible,” I said at last, “that he intended expressly to come here. I mean, the portal was opened upon our world, and the manikin in his carriage made a bee-line for the interface. Perhaps he has an errand here?”

“An errand,” Jasper said, “that the reptiles were intent on him not achieving.”

We contemplated that possibility for a while.

Our silence was interrupted by a sound from the manikin himself. He groaned, then gave vent to a soft, sibilant hiss.

We gathered around the chesterfield and watched as he regained consciousness. His membranous eye-lids fluttered open to reveal large, protuberant eyes: they were jet black, without any white at all, but with a vertical amber slit at the centre of each. His gaze was disconcerting, to say the least - all the more so for the fact that he did not once blink as he turned his head slowly on the cushion to regard us one by one.

His lipless slot of a mouth opened minimally. “
Goksan, ne-sah... Raksa
.” The words came with an obvious effort, and with long seconds between each sibilant pronouncement.

He fell silent, his mouth slot turning down as if in pain. Charles reached out tentatively, took the creature’s stubby fingers in his, and squeezed.

The manikin responded. As we stared, we saw his plump, dun digits tighten around Charles’ hand. “We’re doing all we can for you, old chap,” he said. “Our medical methods might be primitive by your own standards, but you seem to possess a remarkable constitution that more than makes up for the lack.”

The manikin lifted its free hand and pointed, feebly. I followed the direction of its trembling finger. “The craft,” I said.

His hand fell back to the chesterfield, as if the effort of pointing had exhausted him.

“I wonder if he wants to be returned to his vessel?” Vaughan said. He moved into the line of the manikin’s sight, and pointed first to the manikin, and then to the craft. He repeated the signal, then mimed carrying the manikin over to the craft and laying him in the sling.

Vaughan returned and knelt beside the chesterfield. The manikin regarded him. “
Tah
,” it said. Once again it lifted a finger and pointed across the room.