13

A PAIR OF JABBITS

It was the darkest part of the night and I was on the move. Drops of rain plopped on me as I hurried along, my head down, my heart full of dread.

I had never been to Stacks at night. Now I had no choice. I had to get the book back before it was discovered. I knew it hadn’t been, otherwise I’d be in Valhall already.

I stopped about twenty yards away from my destination. Stacks rose up out of the darkness like some imperious demon waiting for prey.

There was a side door hidden behind a pile of old, decaying equipment that had been sitting there probably since my grandfather was my age. As a storm raged overhead, there seemed to be a thousand eyes in that metal pile, and all of them were fixed on me. Just waiting to strike.

The door was solid wood with a large, ancient lock. I slipped my slender tools into the mouth of the lock and did my little bit of magic – the door clicked open. I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could.

Using my lantern I moved slowly along, peering ahead. A few slivers later, I opened the door to the locker room and slipped inside. There were no true locks on the lockers, just simple latches. I slowly opened the door of my locker, and that’s when something fell out and hit me.

I dropped my lantern and nearly shrieked. I stood there hunched over, trying to keep the meagre dinner I had eaten at the Loons inside of me rather than on the floor. I reached down and picked up the lantern and the book. It was only the book that had fallen out and hit me on the arm. I relit my lantern and leafed through the pages. It was all there. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

I stopped thinking that when I heard the noise. I put the book in the pocket of my cloak and turned my lantern down as low as the flame would go while still allowing me to see in front of me. I stood still, listening as hard as I could.

OK, I thought with an involuntary shudder, that was the sound of something large and swift. I knew of several creatures that would make sounds like that. None of them should have ever been in Stacks.

After one more sliver frozen, I sprinted down the hall of the locker room, away from the door I came in. This turned out to be a good idea, because that door crashed to the floor. The sound was clearer now. It was not the clop of hooves, or the scratching of claws on wood. That ruled out a frek, garm or amaroc. That left basically one creature.

My fears were confirmed when I heard the hissing. We had been told about these vile beasts in Learning. I had never desired to see one for real.

They could move incredibly fast, faster than I could. To my knowledge, three Wugs had been killed by them when they had ventured too close to the Quag. I did not want to be the fourth.

I kicked open the other door and shot through it like I was being propelled from a morta. But the sounds were growing closer still. When I made it to the back hall, I could go one of two ways. The left would take me out of here by the side door from which I had entered.

The only problem was, I saw eyes that way. Big, staring eyes that locked on me. There were about five hundred of them, if I had time to count, which I didn’t. My worst fear had just been confirmed and then doubled.

There was a pair of them after me.

I went to the right. That would take me up the stairs. Up the stairs was forbidden. Anyone working at Stacks who tried to go up the stairs would have his or her head cut off by Ladon-Tosh and thrown in the furnace with the rest of their body parts. But Ladon-Tosh wasn’t here at night. And even if he were, I would take my chances with him over what was coming after me now.

I flew up the steps, hit the top landing and sped off to the right. I glanced back once and saw the innumerable eyes barely thirty feet behind me. I told myself I was never going to look back again.

Something occurred to me as I ran down the upper corridor. These things might be the guardians of Stacks, but only at night. You did not keep these creatures around as pets.

And that meant someone in Wormwood could do the unthinkable. Someone could control them, when we had always been told they were wildly uncontrollable. Not even Duf would ever attempt to train one.

I reached the only door on the hall. It was at the very end and it was locked. Of course it was locked. I grabbed the tools from my cloak, my fingers shaking so badly that I nearly dropped them. The creatures were coming closer now; they sounded like the rush of a waterfall. The screeches from all those awful mouths were so high-pitched that I felt my brain would burst with the terror of it all. It was said that the screech was always the last thing you heard before they struck.

As I inserted the tools in the lock and worked away frantically, all I could think of was John. What he would do without me.

They were right on top of me now.

The screech is the last thing you hear before they strike.

The screech is the last thing you hear before they strike.

I didn’t know whether I was brave to keep my back turned in the face of their charge, or else the biggest coward in Wormwood. As the door opened, I assumed it was bravery.

I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it. I ran my fingers over the wood, hoping it was thick enough. I was knocked down when they hit it. One of the fangs actually came through the boards and nearly impaled my shoulder. I propelled back along the floor and crashed into the far wall, knocking something over. Metal clanged down all around me.

I looked over at the door as it took another blow. More fangs split the wood.

Then one of the heads broke through. A pair of eyes stared at me, barely six yards away. The hole was too small for the rest of the bulk to get through, but either the hole would grow, or the door would come down. Either way, I was dead.

I groped around in the dark. That was when I noticed the tiny door behind the big metal thing that had fallen. The door was barely three feet tall and the knob was curious. I looked more closely. It was the face of a Wug screaming, cast in brass.

There came another smash against the door. I just had time to look back as it collapsed inwards and the beasts sprang through the opening. Now I could see them both fully. I wished I couldn’t.

Jabbits were massive serpents with one key difference. There were at least two hundred and fifty heads growing out of the one body along its full length. And all of them had fangs full of enough poison that one bite would drop a fully grown creta. All of those terrible mouths made the screech. And all of them were charging right at me.

They were a thousand nightmares rolled into a massive, thunderous wall of murderous devilry. And their breath smelt like dung on fire. I was not speculating now. The foul odour made me gag when I needed all the air I had to flee.

I grabbed the screaming-face knob, turned it and threw myself through the opening, kicking the door shut behind me. But this door, tiny and thin, had no chance to stop the relentless juggernauts that are jabbits after prey. It was said that nothing could stop them once they were on the blood scent. I stood and backed away. I drew the small knife I had brought with me and waited, my heart thumping, my lungs heaving.

I promised myself I would strike at least one blow before they killed me. It was said they lingered over their prey. I had also heard rumours that it was possible the poison didn’t kill but merely paralysed, allowing you to stay alive until they were halfway through devouring you. No one knew for sure. No one who had been attacked by a jabbit had lived to tell about it.

‘Goodbye, John,’ I said between tortured breaths. ‘Please don’t forget me.’

Every Wugmort had a time to die. This was surely mine. I stood there, my pitiful knife held in some ridiculous semblance of defence and my gaze on the little door, waiting for it to collapse inwards with my death to surely follow.

Yet the little door didn’t come crashing down. There was silence on the other side. I still didn’t move. All I could think was the jabbits were being tricky, perhaps waiting for me to let my guard down before attacking. Reason quickly dispelled this idea. I couldn’t possibly defend myself against them. They just had to knock down the door and eat me.

Finally, my breath started to level off and my chest stopped heaving. I very slowly lowered the knife, though I kept staring at the little door. I strained to hear anything. But it was as if sound from out there could not reach in here.

I put my knife away. For some reason, it was not completely dark. I could make out things, so I slowly turned in all directions. Because the door was small, I had expected the room to be as well. But it wasn’t. It was a vast cavern with walls of rock. I could not even see the ceiling, so high was it. And then my gaze fixed on one wall.

There was a drawing on it. I drew a quick breath when I saw what it was – three hooks attached as one. The same design as on my grandfather’s hand and on his ring found in Quentin Herms’s cottage.

As I stared around at the other walls, they were suddenly awash in different lights and sounds. I jumped back as I saw what looked to be a flying slep with a rider astride it, soaring across the rock. The rider threw a spear and there was an explosion so loud and real that I covered my ears and dropped to the floor. A million images seemed to flow across the stone as I watched in disbelief, my eyes unable to keep up with them. It was like watching a great battle unfold in front of me. Screams and moans and cries mingled with bursts of light and the sounds and visions of blows landing and bodies falling. And then the images faded and something else took their place. And that something else was even more terrifying.

It was blood. Blood that looked as if it had just been spilled. As I watched, it started pouring down the cavern’s walls.

If I’d had enough breath in my lungs, I would have screamed. But all that came out was a low, pitiable moan. Then another sound came to push my panicked thoughts in a new direction: a roar that was nearly deafening.

I turned to my right. Where there had been a solid wall was now the opening of a long tunnel. Something massive was heading towards me, but I couldn’t see what it was yet. I could only hear the sound. I stood rooted to the spot. A moment later a wall of blood exploded out of the tunnel and engulfed me.

I managed to flip over so I was facing the direction from which the blood was thrusting me. Up ahead, the tunnel ended. I was hurtling towards a sheer wall and my thought was that I would be smashed against it and die instantly. The roar became so loud I could barely think. And I suddenly saw why. The blood was cascading downward at the end of the tunnel. It just dropped off. If the roar I was hearing was any indication, the blood was falling a long, long way. And I was about to plummet over this edge with it.

I tried to swim against the flow. That turned out to be completely and utterly useless. The current was far too strong. I was maybe fifty yards from the edge, mists of red spray rising up from the abyss, when I saw it – something suspended across the end of the tunnel. I didn’t know what it was. But I did know what it could be. My way out of this nightmare. My only way out, in fact.

If I missed, I was going to die. But if I didn’t try, I was certainly going to die. There was an outcrop of rock to the left, just below the suspended object and just before the drop-off.

I timed my jump as best I could. I would not get a second chance. I leaped, pushing with my feet off the outcrop of rock, my arms and fingers stretching as far as they could. Only I swiftly realized it was not going to be enough. I hadn’t pushed hard enough or jumped high enough. I kicked with my feet as if I were swimming and angled my left shoulder lower and my right higher. I stretched until I believed my arm had popped out of its socket. The abyss seemed to scream at me. I heard the blood crashing on what I supposed were masses of rocks at the bottom.

My hand closed around what turned out to be a chain. The links were small and shiny, and at first I was afraid they would not be strong enough to hold me. Yet they did. But only for one quick breath.

Then I fell, screaming, into that awful chasm. When I thought my situation could not get any more terrible, I felt something truly horrible.

The chain was wrapping itself around me, link by link, until I was completely immobile. Now I had no chance of attempting to swim, even if I survived the drop. I closed my eyes and waited for the end to come.