“Are you sitting comfortably?”
Julius Grimaldi peers over his half-moon spectacles.
“Not really,” mutters the girl perched on the edge of the table, “so let’s make this story quick.”
Yoshi chooses to remain on his feet. He tries to hide a smile, but that’s not easy when caught up in the glow from Livia’s aura. “You should have more chairs around the table,” he suggests.
Julius shrugs. “I share a bunker with street magicians,” he says, as if that explains everything. “Once they’ve coaxed a volunteer from the crowd, they have to seat them somewhere. Every time I order in new furniture, it always seems to vanish into thin air.”
“Oh,” says Yoshi, sounding a little baffled. “Right.”
At this, the glow shining on one side of his face seems to sharpen. Julius notices it, and finds Livia staring right at him.
“This story you have for us,” she reminds him. “I think it’s time you began.”
“Very well.” Julius clears his throat. “The seventh waypoint in the Faerie Ring lies under a Hawksmoor church that has recently become a place of worship for the arts. Despite this, the keystone within its foundations remains off limits for good reason. Not only is it practically impossible to reach, thanks to a minor earth tremor in the bedrock many moons ago, but beyond the chasm it created is said to exist a tribe of troglodytes.”
“Troglo-whats?” Yoshi looks as amused as he is intrigued.
“Underground dwellers.” This is Livia, checking her nails as she speaks. “Why do I think I might have heard this one before?”
Julius nods, like he was expecting to hear this. “Because, my dear, it’s an urban legend common to almost every major city in the world. These are the universal themes: It begins with a band of desperados, clamouring to escape some apocalyptic event in history. It’s usually fire, plague, invasion or flood, but in every case they have no choice but to go to ground . . . and stay there. Some stories will maintain these poor souls are sealed in by an unexpected calamity. Other versions claim they stay there by choice for fear of what might happen if they surface. Either way, they survive by forcing themselves to forage in the sewers and even rear what livestock happens to fall into their hands.”
“Livestock?” Livia glances at Yoshi. “Under London?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised what finds its way into the system. All that effluent and waste is rich in nutrients, after all. Anything could survive in this environment, and that’s exactly what happens to these poor unfortunates. Slowly, over time, they adapt until such inhuman conditions become second nature for them. Indeed, with interbreeding sentencing future generations to the same godforsaken existence, they don’t so much evolve as de-volve. Their eyesight becomes redundant, living as they do in near darkness, while their sense of hearing and smell is said to give them pointed ears and snout-like noses. Without sunlight, and in such damp conditions, their skin pales and thickens into a kind of leathery hide. As for their language, according to many who have told the tale that corrupts into something quite guttural. Then there’s the way they move: all that scrabbling around in cramped spaces means they learn to move freely on all fours.”
“That certainly sounds like a myth,” says Yoshi after a moment. “I’m not sure I believe a word of it.”
“Every tall story that surfaces in a city must have roots in the truth,” repeats the old man. “Here in London, the tribe’s ancestors are said to date back to the Great Fire of London, when a band of slaughtermen and their wives tried to save themselves from being burned alive. Under the circumstances, it would make sense to shelter underground”
“Well, the job title fits,” says Yoshi with a sigh. “Had you said florists or toymakers, it wouldn’t have made them sound half as scary.
Livia hops off the table now. She turns to glance at the tunnel mouth at the far end of the space, and then comes back to face Julius once again. “So have you ever seen one? I think I’d need proof of their existence before I swallowed the story.”
“Like most people who have attempted to track them down, the evidence depends on your capacity to believe. There are times, when I am close to the chasm in question, that I have heard something distinctly feral moving around on the other side. There have also been occasions when drifters have crept into the underground system in search of a quiet night’s sleep, only to come racing back up the escalators with ashen faces and a claim nobody believes.”
Yoshi considers what he has just heard. He too turns to check the tunnel mouth. One of the furthermost lantern lights flickers unexpectedly, stirred by an incoming breeze. He comes back around, forgetting to blink for a moment. “I think if I was in a tube station ticket office at the time and someone came bounding up with this tale I’d find it too good to be true. Down here is different, though. Underground, it seems that anything is possible.”
“And so it is. You really are learning fast. Had I told you at ground level that the final waypoint is lost to a subterranean tribe, you’d have dismissed me as a scaremonger. Instead,” says Julius, and levels his gaze at the boy, “I’m hoping I’ve spiked your imagination and sense of curiosity.”
Yoshi steps back at this, as if he needs the space to take in what Julius has just suggested. He points at himself next, and turns to Livia to be sure that he heard him correctly.
“You want me to go check it out?”
“Not alone, of course. We’ll come with you.”
“Wait a minute!” Livia cuts in. “What’s with the ‘we’?”
“Your aura might have attracted unwanted attention for much of your life, my dear, but down here in the darker recesses it could be invaluable to us.”
“Uh-uh.” Livia shakes her head, crossing her arms at the same time. “Light your own path.”
For a moment, the old man looks crestfallen. “But you two are my only hope. Indeed, the future of the city depends on you. Right now, someone who shares your gift has access to the seventh waypoint. What’s more, it has now revealed itself to be the key to the entire ring. If whoever has laid their hands on that keystone is aware of what power they now command, we could be faced with very dark days ahead.”
Yoshi considers what he has just said. Having once witnessed a mile-wide shadow sweep across the city rooftops, he knows that Julius isn’t making this up. The old man had directed his attention to it in a bid to prove that London really was under threat. If the protective powers of the Faerie Ring fell into the wrong hands, all manner of evil would sail unchecked into city life. The devil himself may not appear in person, according to Julius, but he would make his presence known instead through all manner of acts, from inciting riots to terrorist attacks. It would, in short, make London a hell on earth.
“Very well,” he says with some uncertainty. “Show me this chasm.”
“Good boy,” replies Julius, and rises from his chair. “We should make preparations right away. First I must find you a head torch. I keep a store of them here, should anyone ever wish to accompany me on a tour of the city underground. I do have some hard hats, although I find them rather cumbersome. So long as you keep your head down and your eyes open, we’ll get there in one piece.” He pauses there, choosing his next words carefully. “I’m afraid I can’t offer any protection against what we might encounter on arriving at our destination.”
Yoshi frowns, wondering what this is all about. “Maybe you’d like to brief us?” he suggests.
In response, as if dodging the question, Julius heads for a sea chest at the foot of one of the bookshelves, “Oh, you know,” he says on the way, a little too breezily perhaps. “There’s always a chance we might come under attack.”
“Attack?” repeats Livia. “You didn’t say these troglodytes were aggressive.”
“And we don’t know that they are for sure,” he tells them, rooting around in the chest now. “But then you will be venturing into unknown territory. As they’ve kept their existence a secret from the world above for centuries now, we have to assume they might guard their domain by any means necessary.” There, he finds what he’s looking for, and smiles.
“I’ve changed my mind,” says Yoshi, as the head torch is presented to him. “A beam of light is hardly going to protect me, after all.”
“Very wise!” agrees Livia. “You can’t send him into the unknown like that, Julius. He might never come back!”
The old man regards them both, considering what they have just said. “Very well,” he sighs after a moment, and collects the head torch from the boy. “I’ll go myself.”
“But the chasm,” says Yoshi. “You’ve just told us it’s beyond your limits.”
“And even if you are successful,” adds Livia, “what are you going to do once you’re there? The waypoint can only be activated by people with a psychic sense, and this isn’t something you possess.”
“You’re right,” agrees Julius, stretching the band that holds the head torch in place. “All I have is a sense of duty as a citizen of this city.” He straps the band around his head next. The torch is made up of two small halogen lamps. They point out from his temples, which makes him look like some kind of hi-tech insect. When he tests them, they glow like white-hot coals. “I just can’t afford to let the ring fall into the wrong hands,” he tells them. “Even if the odds are stacked against me, I have to do something. Otherwise, the future for this city will be very bleak indeed.”