Kartofel’s flame-head had burned down to barely a flicker, and the light he gave out, once capable of lighting up Ben’s entire bedroom, barely illuminated the gloomy cell at all.
‘You look terrible,’ said Ben.
‘Thanks,’ said Kartofel. ‘I’ve been chained to a wall for the last few months so I haven’t been able to keep up with my beauty regime.’ He tried to lift himself up, but his little talon-legs buckled under the weight of the heavy stone chain that was bolting him to the wall.
‘You’ve been here three weeks tops,’ said Ben.
‘Time’s different in the Box. Why do you think we want to be out all the time?’
‘Where are the others?’
Kartofel chuckled. ‘Now that is the only good part of this whole situation.’
A sobbing sound came from a nearby wall, two pathetic gasps.
‘On the left there is what’s left of Fatso. Cries himself to sleep sometimes, but mostly doesn’t say a thing. Too much effort. It’s brilliant.’
‘I can’t see him.’
‘There’s not much to see any more.’
‘Ben?’ said Djinn. His voice was reedy and thin, and took him some effort to produce. Ben crouched down next to Kartofel, and taking hold of his collar, pushed up through his legs, like he’d seen weightlifters do.
‘Oi! Put me down, you cheeky—’ said Kartofel, his legs wriggling in mid-air. The chain was short, and Ben was only able to shift the demon slightly, but it was enough for a little of his light to be cast on Djinn.
The difference in Djinn’s appearance was drastic; he was almost completely clear, and he had lost a lot of his bulk; he looked like he had melted, his rolls of gas-fat replaced by sagging flaps of gasskin. He squinted at the light, his eyes more used to darkness. ‘H-h-have you got any food? Jus’ need a whiff of something to keep me going.’ He let out another pair of sobs.
‘I don’t,’ said Ben, ‘but once we’re out of here, we’ll go to the market. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
‘Y-y-yes,’ said Djinn, with a feeble half-smile.
‘Good. Where’s Orff?’
‘The other wall.’ Djinn tried to raise his arm to point across the room. He grimaced as he did, then dropped it in exhausted defeat before it was barely off the floor.
Ben shifted Kartofel over, and found Orff crumpled in the opposite corner. He had always been thin, but now his translucent skin was stretched tight over his brittle skeleton.
‘Orff?’
At the sound of Ben’s voice, the demon looked up. His deep black eyes were dull and unreflective. He did not react to the light, and his head tilted as if he was trying to discover where the voice was coming from.
‘He’s blind,’ said Ben. ‘Can you hear me?’
Orff moved his beak open and shut, but no sound came out bar the clicking together of his mandibles.
‘He’s mute as well,’ said Kartofel, ‘so it’s not without its benefits, this whole stuck-in-a-dungeon thing.’
‘I’ve got to get you out of here,’ said Ben. ‘Have you seen The Seraph?’
‘No. Should I have done?’
‘He got trapped here after the demon attacked us on the Orme. I’m here to get everyone out.’
Kartofel scowled. ‘Well, I reckon its fairly obvious he’s not here, what with him not crying in the corner after me rearranging his face, but if you’re here to get us out, you can start with this chain.’
‘How?’
‘I dunno. Have a look.’
The three stone links grew out of the back of the collar and into the wall. There were no lines where sections met, no cement marks. The only way it could have been possible was if the collar, the wall, and the chain had once been part of the same block, and had been carved specifically for the purpose. Ben lifted one of the links as high as he could, and let it go. It made a noise that echoed round the cell, but remained undamaged.
‘I don’t know if I can get it high enough to smash it,’ said Ben through gritted teeth. ‘It’s really . . .’
‘Aye, aye,’ interrupted Kartofel. ‘Watch out, here comes the light.’
Ben dropped the link. Poking up through a trapdoor in the floor was a green glow. It lit up the cell for the first time, revealing that the only wall that did not have a demon chained to it was in fact a massive door. It was made of the same bright red wood as the Box, and had the same four symbols carved into it. But it did not hold Ben’s attention for long. As the light rose up through the floor, the shards combined to form a huge ball. Ben stared at it, enraptured. It was like being able to look into the sun without hurting your eyes; he could see the intricate details of the burning beauty of the orb, the minute nuclear reactions on its surface. Its light warmed the room, and he felt full of love, and possibility, and confidence. He could hear Kartofel trying to drag the chain away from the light, but could not turn to look.
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘it’s wonderful. You’ve got to see this. It’s so . . . it’s just . . . wow.’ He had never felt anything like it. It was so positive, so inspiring that he wanted to be inside it forever. It was the smell of fresh bread, Christmas mornings, new Warmonger models. It was everything that had ever happened to him that was good.
And then it passed.
The light sank back into the trapdoor, spreading out into the cement between the flagstones. As it passed, it took with it all of the good feeling it had brought, and more besides. Ben sank to his knees, and crawled over to the trapdoor, hoping to find some residual warmth there, but the old wood and the round steel handle were icy cold.
‘Oh, what’s the point?’ he said.
Kartofel crept slowly out from behind one of the links, which he had been using as a makeshift shield. ‘Watch it, that’s the light talking, that is. That’s what it does. It shines, goes, and you feel rubbish.’
Ben clawed at the trapdoor. He was prepared to pull at it until his fingers were sore, if that was what it took to feel the warmth again.
‘D-d-don’t do it, Ben,’ said Djinn. ‘Down there’s the Darkness.’
Ben took hold of the handle, and tugged it open. It was a strain – the door was heavy and the hinges stiff – but he succeeded in opening it. It made a loud thwomping noise as it hit the stone. He pulled himself over to the gap, and poked his head through it.
‘You don’t wanna go in the Darkness,’ said Kartofel. ‘There’s nothing there. It’s just black.’
‘Where else can I go?’ Ben shouted. ‘This is hopeless.’ He rolled on to his back, and ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it. He wanted to cry, but even that seemed like a waste of time.
‘It’s just the light. It’ll pass,’ said Kartofel. ‘Get over it.’
Ben lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. All the rubbish of the past five weeks – of the past fifteen years – played over and over in his head. He started to groan, a world-weary lament from the bottom of his soul that went on for several minutes.
‘So what do you think of our pad?’ said Kartofel in a gap between moans.
‘Cold and depressing,’ said Ben.
‘Fair dos. Can’t say I like it much either.’
‘How do you get out? When you’re not chained to the wall?’
‘We open the lid, dummy. The big wooden wall.’
Ben got to his feet, and stumbled over to it. He lay against it, pressing his shoulder into the wood while he pushed with his feet. It held firm.
‘It’s locked.’
‘Course it’s locked,’ said Kartofel. ‘There’s no music. Must be the angel. That’s what happens when he’s mucking about with it. No music, no exit.’
Ben slid down the wall until he was sat with his back against it. Little by little, the negative thoughts were fading away, and he started to feel less helpless.
‘There’s only one thing for it,’ he said. ‘I’m going down the hatch. The Seraph isn’t here, we can’t open the lid, so there’s only one place left.’
‘N-n-no!’ said Djinn, ‘N-n-no one ever returns from the Darkness.’
‘How do you know?’ said Ben. ‘Has anyone ever gone down there?’
‘Are you mental?’ said Kartofel. ‘It’s the frickin’ Darkness.’
‘Right then,’ said Ben. ‘Here goes.’
He stared down into the Darkness. It was aptly named.
‘Tch, I hope you’re not going in there before you’ve let us out,’ said Kartofel.
‘I’ll be back,’ said Ben. He sat on the edge of the pit, his legs dangling down into the void. He closed his eyes and shuffled forward into the pitch-black hole below.
He did not fall very far, and soon felt the shock of impact as he landed on another stone floor. He opened his eyes, and then he closed them. And then he opened them again, just to be sure. It was so dark that there was no difference between the two. He started to grope around, exploring his surroundings.
‘B-B-Ben?’ said Djinn from above his head.
He looked up, and could just make out a small, slightly less black square in the ceiling. He reached up to touch it, and found that if he stood on his tiptoes he could grab the ledge.
‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I’m all right. I’m going to find The Seraph.’
‘Bet you wish you had me with you now, you git!’ yelled Kartofel.
With his arms out in front of him, Ben edged forward. The walls were covered in wooden panels, the same familiar texture as the Box. Wherever he was, it was narrow. He began to edge his way along, shuffling through the passage, hands pressed up against the walls as he made his way into the Darkness.