Theatre of the Gods (62 page)

‘Good work, Roberto,’ said Lenore. ‘Just another minute, please.’ But more guards were circling and the boy was almost out of tricks. That’s when the children each felt a giant hand upon their shoulders. Roberto spun round, ready to deliver a blue bolt of death, and froze in amazement.

‘Welcome back, my friend,’ said Lenore.

The possessor of the giant hands leaned down and whispered in her ear, ‘Hello, little peach. You’ll have all the time you need. At least if I’m to have a say.’

MY MASTER THE MONSTER

Of course, you know that when a person is close to death – as so many of our friends are right now – the events of their life flash through their mind at a phenomenal speed. It happens as their mind scans its database for information, playing their life back like a high-speed cine play, searching among the flickering moments for an experience that might offer a way out of their predicament. Can you imagine what that’s like for Roberto, whose mind was filled with a universe of information? Or for Bosun Quickhatch, whose memories from birth to death were mostly, though not entirely, terrifying?

Jacob Quickhatch had been grabbed around the legs by the Makatax and tossed against the cave wall like a broken puppet. He’d woken on his back in the monster’s den, astonished to find he’d not yet been eaten. He’d watched red shadows sway drunkenly on the walls. He’d quickly pieced together the events of the past few hours: the cannibals, the slide, the all-too-brief encounter with the Makatax. He’d known he didn’t have much time; monsters seldom leave their den for long. He’d heard a voice: ‘Go back. Go back on the pile. There’s a good thing. Back on the pile. With the bones and worms. My Master Makatax will soon return.’ Bones, worms, he’d felt them wriggling under his back, the fat, maggoty worms. The smell was fierce, the kind so bad that you can taste it. ‘It’s a miracle you survived.’ The voice, high-pitched and dull. ‘No one has ever survived his attention. But you’re hurt badly.’ The red glow-worms hung in
clumps, they shone like coals. He had tried to lift his head. Pain. Nearby he’d seen Albert the Worm lying, eyes open, neck at a whimsical angle. Jacob had struggled to all fours, wobbled, heard a laugh from the shadows. ‘Don’t try to move or I’ll call my master the monster. He comes when I call.’

So that was who the voice belonged to: the monster’s servant. Helping the beast in return for treasures pilfered from victims, perhaps. ‘If you help me escape I’ll give you a treasure,’ said the bosun. It hurt to speak. ‘It’s true silver.’

‘I am sure it is!’ said the voice in the shadows. Quickhatch saw a gleaming moon swinging in the dimness. ‘I stole your watch while you were sleeping. You have nothing to bargain with, giant.’

‘That is not the treasure I was speaking of, devil. That is the watch my father gave me. It is more precious to me than anything in the universe, but worthless to you. It isn’t even true silver.’ The bosun dangled a sacred silver circle on its chain in his bloody, trembling fingers. ‘But this is.’

‘What is that?’ the voice had said. ‘What have you hid from me?’

‘It’s a Holy Circle, given me by the Pope the day I joined his guards. It’s silver from the Church’s mines – the purest there is.’ A circle: because in life all paths lead back to the Pope. ‘This object, and anyone who has it, is blessed.’

‘You are a priest?’

‘I was drafted. But I escaped.’

‘Lie! No one escapes the Pope’s mercies.’

‘I did, after they went to pillage my home. They burned our villages, killed many of my old friends. So I escaped. I escaped and went off into space alone. And the Pope, you’ll find, has no mercy.’

Silence. The bosun waited. He could see two glinting eyes in the darkness, moving back and forward in time with the swinging silver circle.

‘Give it me then,’ said the voice.

‘I’ll swap it for the watch and the way out. It’s a good trade. The
watch has only sentimental value. Show me the way out and I’ll give it you.’

‘But my master will be angry. He is already furious you stole those children from him. That is why he’s gone away to brood.’ The voice was moving around the clearing, thinking, pondering. ‘I could take the circle.’

‘Come close and see if you can take it.’

‘I can wait for the master to kill you.’

‘I’ll swallow it, the beast swallows me, the circle is vanished.’

Silence.

‘Show me the path. Then the circle is yours. You can have the prize and your master’s love.’

‘He loves no one. Except inside his belly.’

‘It’s true, but what can you do? We serve who we serve.’

Silence for a while. Then, ‘Even if I show you the way out of my master’s caves you’ll still be in too deep. This whole world is a monster. I know it! I came from the outside. And the Makatax is just a gnat compared to the worm we live within. There’s no hope for you. Foolish giant!’

‘There’s always hope.’ By now Jacob’s eyes had adjusted, and his accomplice had come shyly from out of the shadows. He could see that he was a very small man who spoke with a fine voice – or an average-sized girl who spoke with a normal voice, perhaps. Yes. She had a slender shape, doleful eyes. ‘The way out is impossible, giant. You’re better off here. Perhaps I can look after you, my enormous friend. Yes.’ The eyes of this creature were big, black, imploring.

‘Show me a way out and I’ll give you the circle.’

The eyes blinked twice, retreated into the shadows.

*

Jacob Quickhatch fashioned himself a crude crutch from a branch. He felt his brain clouding with the smell of rotting flesh, and every
crutch-step the pain grew worse. But he never minded pain. What disturbed him was the raw, intestinal darkness he was walking into as he set off through the caves of the Makatax, searching for the way out. ‘Wait, where are you going, giant? You’ll be lost if you go that way.’ The monster’s servant was following behind. ‘You’re doing it all wrong.’

‘Then show me the way and you’ll get your treasure.’

‘It’s this way, fool, you’re going to hell that way.’

‘Don’t try to trick me. I smell fresher air this way. This is the way I came in.’

‘Yes, the way you came in, but ho! What! You want to go back to the cannibals, the giant slugs? To get out from the great worm you must go deeper. You can only escape through the back passage. Come, I will do it for your silver circle, and perhaps … a kiss.’ Jacob hesitated. In the dimness he saw now that his companion wore a white apron, of sorts, a little like a surgeon or a butcher, and it was stained with blood, and she had furry skin, and floppy ears like a rabbit – could that be right? His mind could be playing tricks.

‘What? Are you afraid? Come, come!’ said the creature. She stood trembling at the junction of the tunnel leading back into the domain of the Makatax. Over the apron she wore coat-tails – surely – and she skipped away, saying, ‘Come on, come on, you’re not dreaming this, the Makatax is coming.’

On cue, they heard the monster. His throaty roar came barrelling down the tunnels and made Jacob’s eyeballs tremble.

‘He is returning! Too soon! We must hurry! The back passage isn’t far.’

Hobbling and hopping after his tiny guide, Jacob swallowed his fear and reasoned that this strange nightmare could only end in death or waking. ‘You’re getting weak, giant. Give me the circle now – for keeping!’

‘No!’ Jacob’s throat was raw. He needed water, medicine, rest; he felt blood oozing at his side. ‘How much further?’

‘Right here. The back passage. It is the passage which leads to the world outside. Now give me your circle.’

‘You’ve led me to a trap.’

‘No, no, use your brain. Feel that new air rushing up. That is the outside. You only need to crawl towards the light. It is risky. You might drown in the waste fluids, or be crushed by the walls of the beast’s bowels. And it won’t be an easy landing when you get outside, but it’s better than in here, no? The treasure?’

‘My watch.’

‘No watch. You can’t have the watch. Your life is plenty. The circle, or I’ll cry out. And, perhaps, my kiss.’ The beast roared, closer. ‘Hurry now.’

‘I will put the circle upon the end of my crutch. Then pass it to you.’ The bosun began to fuss about his stick.

‘What’s taking you so long? Just hang it from the end. Can’t you hear my husband coming?!’

Husband?

‘It is slimy with blood – the talisman won’t stay,’ the bosun said as he rushed to fashion the snare from the reed he’d pulled from the ground, leaning over his work so the creature wouldn’t see. ‘Here, it’s done.’ He held out the stick with the talisman hanging from the end, saw her hesitate.

‘It’s a trick. You’re trying to make me grab it, then you’ll have me.’

‘No trick. Don’t you want the silver?’ He saw the rabbit grind her teeth, then lunge forward to make the grab, then howl, ‘I’m caught! I’m caught! Husband, help!’ The beast roared from back down the tunnels. He was just a few bends away now. Jacob drew his prey close, took her by the throat. ‘You are caught in a snare. The more you struggle the tighter it gets. See?’ He raised the creature’s skinny wrist towards her button nose to show the trick. He had one hand around her neck. ‘Let’s not have any more yelling. My watch.’

‘Here, here, take the watch, just please release me!’

‘Why certainly.’ The giant broke the snare with a finger. Then he
put another finger beneath her chin and lifted her to eye level, so close their lips were almost touching, and her whiskers, twitching madly with fear, were tickling at his face. ‘I could snap your neck now. But I won’t. It’s clear you’re already in hell.’ Then Jacob Quickhatch kissed her softly; her whiskers slackened. Then he snatched his watch up sharply in his fingers and hobbled away.

‘Your talisman, giant!’ The circle lay on the ground by the creature’s feet.

‘You keep it. It means nothing to me,’ said the bosun as he flung his battered frame into the oozy passage.

*

Jacob Quickhatch had fallen down through the passage, been nearly crushed by the muscled walls which pressed together tight in places, nearly drowned swimming through bladders filled with rancid liquids, finally come out the end of the giant worm’s slimy back passage in a slurry of half-decomposed matter and into a jungle flattened beneath the beast’s bulk. He’d been stunned by the sudden brightness of this new world. He’d watched in amazement as the monster rode on towards a gleaming city near some mountains in the distance. The rabbit lady had been right: the Makatax was a gnat compared to this monster. He’d lain there, unable to move, for half a day. He was stumbled over by a jungle tribe hunting smaller serpents drawn to the surface by the vibrations of the giant worm. (The hunters were surprised to see him. They thought he was a baby god laid by the worm.) They’d taken him to their village, nursed him, tended to his injuries, tested their medicine by making him fight their strongest warrior. Then, convinced that he was at least a quarter god, they’d agreed to guide him to the city. Once at the battlements, Jacob had disguised himself as a washerwoman and entered the city of Diemendääs through the eastern gate. He had witnessed the occupation of the city, the plight of his friends. He’d knocked out a
papal guard, stolen his clothes, made his way aboard the ships he had worked so hard to escape. If you could talk to Jacob Quickhatch – and sadly you cannot – he’d tell you kindly, but firmly, that there is not an ounce of bravery in standing up for the weak. He’d stood among the beasts he hated most – far more than any flesh-eating plants, or worm-loving ogre – as they boasted about how they would slit and gut this small green girl and her mute friend as though they were fishies in the sea. Then, when the time was right, he’d stepped forward and raised his great fists for his friends, and for true good.

GIANT

‘Come on then!’ said the bosun. ‘Let’s see if your gods are home!’

The priests fell upon him, black arms swinging. ‘Is that all you have?’ cried the bosun as he took a punch from a priest. ‘You punch like a small girl. No offence, little one.’

Lenore said nothing. She was lost in a kind of trance. She had managed to reach a friend, one who had something which belonged to her. She was running through the dark corridors, through clouds of acrid steam. The bosun threw off a pair of priests and hit the third with a single blow that sent him skidding over the deck. ‘Give me everything you’ve got! Can none of you fight?’

‘Fight?’ said another priest as he picked up a length of steel from the deck. ‘Well, see how you fight with your skull spli—’
Klang!
The priest was collected by the flaming engine of a fighter craft and taken spinning into the Glory Hole. Two more guards crabbed forward. Cautiously.

‘How goes it, little one?’ said the bosun as he smashed a priest with each of his fists.

He took a quick glance up at the girl, and quickly stole another. Lenore was now enveloped in a sparkling blue electric haze. The bosun saw a chunk of metal glance off it. He traced the source of the energy from the haze, down a thin tendril, to Roberto. The boy was over at a maintenance panel on the deck of the platform. He was trying to divert enough power to the engines to stop the palace
from sliding into the black hole while also keeping magnetic bubbles around himself and his friend. A guard raised a steel bar and brought it down on Roberto’s bubble, but it bounced off as if it were made of rubber and the guard went stumbling back.

A great fist struck Jacob in the jaw. A steel bar landed on his broad shoulders and dropped him to all fours, then a rain of kicks and punches fell upon him.

Lenore caught a whiff of his blood and terror, woke briefly from her trance to say: ‘Bosun! What is happening? Are you hurt?’

‘Not me, lovely,’ said the bosun before the breath was kicked from his lungs. His arms quaked as he drew breath. ‘This is a Sunday walk for me, my sweet, my pretty green treat.’

‘So you side with devils instead of us,’ said a guard. ‘You’ll answer for that in hell.’

Jacob took another steely blow across his back, fell to the floor and felt the blood trickle from his nose.

The terrible blows continued before finally the Pope’s goons, thinking the watchmaker’s son finally dead, stepped back and threw away their steel bars, clapped each other on the shoulder and roared with laughter. ‘Let’s kill the children and be done,’ said one. ‘I have me a powerful thirst.’