The garghoul clawed at the creatures upon him – he even flew straight into a wall to crush them between his body and the ancient stonework. Still the teratorn raked at his skin, blotted out his sight with their numbers, tormented him with cruel beaks.
And yet they did not really try to kill him.
‘This is all delay and distraction,’ Tristus told himself, ‘a tactic to separate me from my charge.’
‘Theo!’ he suddenly cried aloud. In a desperate manoeuvre, he swooped downwards. Closing his eyes, he plunged into the raging fires that only he could survive, igniting the feathered creatures upon him like fireworks. Trailing sparks, he soared upward.
When Tristus landed back on the stairway he saw the astonishing sight of Theo raising a hand in a parting wave to the Dodo, who, with his wounded and silent creatures, passed silently away into the shadows.
‘Who are you?’ Theo asked. He was still deep in the network, fires raging below, the surface a long way above. But now, in the presence of the garghoul who had rescued him twice, he felt he must be close to safety at last.
Seeing the creature clearly for the first time, Theo was struck by how much like a man it was in appearance. Despite its horned brow, leathery wings and stony skin, it still looked and felt very close to human.
Silently the garghoul bent down to study the unconscious Mr Nicely. The creature checked that the human was in no immediate danger of death, then turned to Theo. The exhausted teenager was sitting on the steps, his head bent low, his dark hair wild, a slight smile on his lips.
‘I mean, guardian angels don’t exist, do they? And you don’t look much like a fairy godmother.’
Tristus looked grim. His eyes flashed pure blue for an instant, then his face cracked into an unexpected and beautiful smile.
‘My name is Tristus,’ he said. ‘I am an asraghoul, a noble garghoul, one of the high race from the time of the First Moon – an era long before your civilisation. I do not usually wish to befriend humans, but you are an exception,’ he added. ‘Come.’
Tristus gathered Theo and Mr Nicely up, beat his wings and took to the air. The smoke was thick about them, and it was time to get away.
‘But how – I mean, why are you here?’ Theo asked. ‘Have you been following me?’
Tristus sighed. ‘First – tell me quickly, what happened below?’ The garghoul listened in wonder as Theo related Dr Saint’s downfall. At the end he said nothing, but his smile told Theo that he was deeply glad at the way this day had gone.
‘We have been lucky today,’ he said finally. ‘Now I suppose I must tell you a little.’ They were flying steadily up the main shaft, through the levels of the network. Theo was grateful to see the long stairway slip away below him.
‘A hundred years ago,’ Tristus said, ‘I was the first garghoul to be awoken by the Philanthropist. He found me sleeping among the ancient carvings deep in the network. He thought I would be grateful – an eternal ally! But I had been happy in my stone dream. I never forgave him for awakening me. He sought my help in his war with your ancestor. I, however, chose to side with Lord Wickland.’
They had arrived at the top platform. Tristus set Theo and Mr Nicely down. The butler suddenly coughed, his body jerked to life, and he rolled over on to his side.
‘Good,’ whispered Tristus. ‘This one is coming back from the brink.’
Theo sat on a fungus globe, his throat parched, his eyes sore. He still had so much to ask and was terrified that the garghoul would flit away.
‘Why did you side with Lord Wickland?’ asked Theo. ‘Were you friends?’ Theo had heard such dreadful things about his ancestor that he longed to believe he was a wonderful figure, lord of ancient mysteries, ally of garghouls.
Tristus pondered long before he spoke. It seemed to Theo that there was a dark cloud on the garghoul’s brow.
‘Now is not the moment to tell the tale of those times – times so dark I hope you never know their like. But I will tell you this much. The power that Lord Wickland carried – and the power you now hold – is sacred to my people.’
Theo frowned. He had seen the horrific effects of his rare gift. This remark from Tristus was, to say the least, unexpected.
‘Sacred?’ he echoed.
‘Yes,’ the garghoul replied. ‘It was recognised in the Beginning Time and called tripudon.’
‘That’s what we call it!’ Theo said.
‘Because you are using our language when you do,’ Tristus retorted. ‘It is the energy of the jump – the power to change things. It is the force that brings life to a stagnant world.’ The creature’s beautiful eyes glimmered brightly and seemed to fill the dark tunnel with starlight.
‘In this cold universe it is the difference between yes and no, the reason life takes its chance over the barrenness of death. Theo, you have scarcely begun to understand your power. It is precious, and will grow with you as your wisdom grows. Use it well.’
Theo noticed that Tristus had grown gloomy again, his head hung low. He wondered what made Tristus so sad. Was it because he didn’t have the power? Did he miss his old friend, the original Candle Man?
‘Lord Wickland was a hero, wasn’t he?’ Theo asked.
‘Yes, he was,’ said Tristus. ‘And he was also terrible. Exactly what was needed in his time.’
Theo must have looked dismayed, for Tristus lay a consoling hand on his shoulder.
‘Your ancestor was a great man, Theo,’ the garghoul said. ‘You have a proud history to live up to.’
Theo smiled. He had always believed there would be something good about his terrible destiny. He had known it in his heart all along.
‘And you want to help me, because I’m the new Candle Man,’ Theo said, comforted.
But the garghoul’s eyes darkened to midnight blue. ‘It is not as simple as that,’ he replied.
‘Then why –’
Tristus interrupted. ‘Just because you can ask a question, it doesn’t guarantee that it has a good answer,’ he said mysteriously. ‘Or an answer that you would like to hear. Now, enough questions!’
Tristus supported Mr Nicely and helped the delirious butler to stagger along the passage. They were heading slowly upwards now. Theo felt he could almost smell the surface air.
They had reached the hatch. Memories began to flood back – of the last time Theo had stood at this secret doorway, and who he had been with, before the terrible events of the last day. He drove these thoughts away and, like an old campaigner, hit the central plaque lightly, tip tap tip.
‘This is as far as I go,’ Tristus said, helping Theo support Mr Nicely on his own young shoulders.
‘So, will I see you again?’ Theo asked. ‘There’s so much more I want to know –’
The garghoul rose into the air.
‘If you are lucky, you will never see me again,’ Tristus said. ‘For that will mean you never have need of such a – a friend.’ The garghoul flitted away into the shadows, and it seemed to Theo that the creature had been striving to conceal tears in his voice.
Theo was left in the vault beneath the cathedral, carrying Mr Nicely towards the world outside.
As he staggered towards the open cathedral door, Theo heard sirens, shouting voices, a distant helicopter. In the surface world it was three o’clock in the morning, and a damp, dismal night. Unnoticed, Theo half-fell out of the doorway and saw a courtyard filled with policemen, Foundlings under armed guard, someone carrying a dead condor.
And he saw Sam – though Sam didn’t see him – standing by an ambulance. Next to him was Magnus, lying on a stretcher, with an oxygen mask over his face. Theo collapsed to his knees and let Mr Nicely roll off his arm on to the freezing ground.
Then Theo heard someone call his name. At first he didn’t recognise the voice. It seemed to come to him out of a dream, from behind a door that should be forever closed. Then he saw someone running towards him, a big happy smile on a familiar, wonderful face. Beyond all hope, he fell into the arms of Chloe.