The Chronicles of Jonathon Postlethwaite: The Seed of Corruption (10 page)

Now he feared that his nemesis would come to deny him his right, his ambitions. His dreams warned him.

There was only one thing to do.

                            Flax knew that the boy, now a man and a roof top flyer, lived seemingly out of the reach of the Tans and his High Hats on roofs of the Leper Castle near the banks of the dark, stinking river. He would  make  every  effort, use all the resources at his disposal to ensure that the 'boy' died before the `door' was fully open again.

                            Despite his growing excitement and fear, Flax remained organized and methodical in his planning, he had his High Hats to reorganise prior to commencing his tasks in this new dimension he would shortly enter.

Soon an extraordinary and highly secret meeting of the most eminent of the High Hats was called to his private hall and he revealed his plans to them. Reorganization was called for in his absence. The Chief of Flax's assassins, Edgar Morrel, would assume the position of High Hat leader and run all the business enterprises in the city, as well as day to day discipline, in the ranks.

                            Morrell was ruthlessly efficient and intensely loyal, Flax knew he would accept no compromises in service from the High Hats. He was also handed a list of Tans who knew to much about Flax's latest venture. They had been useful, but now was a crucial time in his planning; Morrel would ensure their silence.

                            Flax would take two companions with him to the other dimension. One was  Pinky  Makepeace,  a plump scholar from the forgotten libraries of the Upper City, who would observe the law and custom of the alien world they would enter, advising Flax on how they would  remain  unnoticed amongst strangers.

                            He knew that the  place  they  would  briefly inhabit would be very different from Dubh and did not intend to draw attention to himself through some innocent activity frowned upon there, he did not  need  the attention of the rulers of this world for the three days he would have there, at least not yet and not that type of interest. Along with Makepeace he would take a bodyguard and personal assistant, an assassin named Ivor Scoggins, a man Flax admired for his dedicated service in the past. Scoggins  would be useful in many ways, as well as an expert in  dealing  death  he  was also a masochist, and  Flax's desire to inflict pain might be somewhat restricted  in  the  realm  beyond.  Young Ivor would make  the  perfect  travelling  companion. Flax's arrangements were nearly complete. There was only one detail left - how to deal with the 'boy'.

                            Flax     decided     to     delegate     the     task     of  locating Jonathon to another loyal assassin, Amaril Caldecott, a man who had never failed him. As the day of the portals opening approached Amaril was summoned to Flax's private residence and filled with anticipation.

                            The small, hunched, sharp featured man was intensely excited, he knew that something big was in the offing, promotions were rife he had heard, perhaps advancement  was  a  prospect  for   him   too.   He entered Flax's hall and approached his master, eyes upon the ground and  humbled  by  his  master's presence. Flax indicated that he sit and he  did,  but Amaril never dared look at him.

                            Flax spoke, looking at the flaky, bald patch on the top of Caldecott’s otherwise dreadlocked head.

“There is my Amaril, a young man in this city who threatens our very existence, our future. He lives, I am told, on top of the Castle of Lepers. There are others there too, but I only want him, the others can die, this boy has eluded my pleasure before - I want him here, alive. Look at me Amaril!"

Amaril raised his eyes nervously to Flax. The assassin grinned. Flax's stared at him and the grin vanished.

“Do you understand me Amaril? Not dead in a sack in pieces. A-L-I-V-E. Do you understand me? "

Amaril hesitated, this was abduction, not a killing, it was not his usual  work and he was slightly confused. Finally he answered.

" Alive..........Alive not dead, not dead. Seek and return.... alive."

Flax nodded as Amaril scratched the black, hairy mole on the end of his sharp, rodent-like nose. He decided to repeat the order for good measure; Amaril was good as an assassin but a little dim generally.

“Alive Amaril. If he's dead then I'll kill YOU and eat you myself or perhaps I'll not bother with the killing part. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!"

Amaril nodded vigorously.

“Alive.  Alive,  your  mightiness"  he  squeaked, forgetting  how              he              should              properly              address              Dubh's future              emperor and knowing that Flax's last statement was a promise, not a mere threat.

                            The rat of a man began to vocally run over the novel idea of finding someone and returning them alive instead of killing them. He concentrated hard on the idea, staring at Flax's boots.

“Alive, boy, Leper Castle by the river. ” he sort of chanted. Flax nodded.

“It will be difficult, I know Amaril, the Tans gave up on the roof dwellers years ago. But I know you are a resourceful man and the reward will be great. Complete this mission Amaril and I will not forget you."

                            For a moment Silus Flax smiled, but quickly it faded, his intense, bottomless eyes drilling into his faithful servant. Amaril giggled like some manic child, his eyes shining with glee, overcome with excitement.

“Reward will be great. Never forget me." he slobbered.

                            For a moment Flax's felt his confidence in Amaril Caldecott seemed to be in error. He seemed like a complete idiot now, but looks were deceptive Flax reassured himself, he had never failed him before. He laughed with Amaril, who relaxed and bounced up and down like a five year old, on his seat. Abruptly Flax ceased laughing, his cold, iron gaze paralysing Amaril Caldecott.

“Start today imbecile!" he howled. Amaril Caldecott scuttled quickly from Flax's presence.

                            Flax sighed and leaned  back  in  his  great  chair as the  doors  closed  behind  Caldecott   and   studied the  dimension   door’s   increasing   width.   Just   a three days, he  thought. The door would be fully open and the 'boy' in his hands to become part of his own personal celebrations before the next and crucial stage of his plans. When he had obtained the weapons technology he knew was there beyond this dimension door, he could sweep the Tans out of existence. Then the Tallmen.

                            The latter  might  be  difficult,  he  was  not  entirely sure  of  what  weaponry  they  possessed.   Difficult, but not impossible, after all his High Hats already did business in the Towers, it would not be difficult to ensure the goods he was  now  supplying  to   the   Tallmen made   fighting   undesirable or physically impossible.

                            They might have their great, lean fingers on the key to Dubh’s very existence now, but they would soon give it up to him, one way or another. But first he had to have the power to get to them, and obtaining that would be his immediate task, once the door was fully open.

Chapter Eight

Jonathon's abhorrence of the city grew with the more he saw of it. Since his battle with the malignant soul of the city on the roof tops, he had endeavoured to find some island of  goodness  in  the  foul,  disgusting  sea of inhumanity which seethed around him.

He  travelled  the  undulating  roof  landscapes  of

brick, tile and mortar of the Lower City watching and listening in the vain hope that somewhere, someone might have  escaped  or  resisted  corruption's  grasp. But  it  seemed  to  be  everywhere.

The people of Dubh were devoid of any virtue or

emotion that he deemed to be pure, their free time seemingly devoted to the pursuing the insatiable desire to fulfil  appetites  of  sexual  depravity  bordering  on  animal desperation.

                            He descended to street level to observe their exploits, but was forced to return to his roof top sanctuary when the daily routine of the depraved threatened to spiritually suffocate him. He ventured across the great, stagnant black river into the Upper City, to the ordered society of the Caste of the Skilled seeking out some moral or ethical sanity, only to be severely disappointed.

                            The Meks were just the same if not worse. Their antics were confined to the private parlours of their more civilised dwellings, but there they exercised their corruption to a more extreme and vile extent. The  worse  thing  about  the   Meks,  Jonathon realised, was that they preyed on the Lower City for their pleasure. The Tans shipped in prostitutes and slaves of all sexes   that the Meks might extract their pleasure from those not of their caste or class. Jonathon  had secretively  watched,  through  half  closed  curtains and barred windows, the abominable acts which took place during  their hours of leisure time. Perversion and sadism beyond his wildest nightmares caused Jonathon to flee the Upper City.

              If there was any difference between the two cities it was that nothing, no practise at all, was taboo to the Meks when abusing the unfortunates supplied from the Lower City, Jonathon had soon seen enough of the Caste of the Skilled. Their leisure time skills, it seemed, easily surpassing and more darkly imaginative than their engineering prowess.

                            Those who sought to ply their trades from the Lower City unknowingly bought themselves one-way tickets to a hell they could have never imagined. Yet Jonathon had not seen all he wished to see in this part of the city, the Towers of the Tallmen were his final destination and a last hope. Perhaps they, the Tallmen, had avoided the spiritual infection that had spawned  itself  in  human the culture of Dubh. Afterall, they were not entirely human. But the fact remained that they had allowed all this to happen and  for  this  reason  Jonathon  had already condemned them as bad as the human overlords, the Tans and the Meks of the Upper and Lower, who dominated the two halves of city respectively.

                            If Jonathon had had any doubts about his self-imposed oaths against the city and Flax, his exploration of the Dubh over the  past  years  had pushed him far beyond the threshold  of  that  doubt and  reinforced  his  beliefs in his own moral codes.

He would find a way to destroy it all, he knew that the creators of this realm would now how to undo it. His answers lay with the Tallmen.

                            Jonathon made his way up onto the huge domes of the Halls of Machines. The very roofs here vibrated in harmony with the  rumbling  symphony  of  the  multitude of  engines  below  and  from  where   Jonathon   stood the brightly lit towers were clearly  visible,  blazing beacons in the manufactured twilight, gigantic needles blazing with energy, illuminating the great  paved expanse   that   surrounded them.

                            The area between the Halls and the Towers had been cleared and paved to create a killing zone, to provide the Tallmen with a clear view of who came and went from their domain. Jonathon studied the area with great interest from the edge of the domes, it was brighter than day out there and any movement could be detected with ease and the giant pavement stretched as far as  he could see in both directions.

                            Despite his knowledge of the lore of the Whisperers and the phenomenal athleticism now built into his physique, the distance was far beyond his abilities. Each paved slab below him was the height of a man square and he counted fifty slabs between the domes and the nearest sentry tower.

                            He sighed in dismay, he could never cross that killing zone and survive. Apart from blindly running across the floodlit area, he could see no way that he could cross it undetected. He knew that unseen eyes surveyed the area. He felt the gaze of many tall beings directed down from their posts at the top of their towers.

                            The Tallmen were wary of what they had accidentally created around them and waited and watched for violations of their security. Jonathon could feel their presence, cold calculating and unnerving minds of great age   and   wisdom,   unlike   any   beings   he    had ever   encountered in Dubh before.

Jonathon let his mind drift towards one of these minds who studied the domes from a tower high to his left. He made what he thought was a discreet contact and thoughts and emotions from the Tallman filled his own mind.

                            He realised that this Tallman was far from happy. He was angry, frustrated at his predicament. He disliked his own race and was disgusted by the corruption in the human city beyond his towers. The Tallman hated himself for allowing himself to get into the predicament he was in. He felt caged and trapped like an animal, with no solution evident to him. He was more though, he was hiding something and feared discovery.  Jonathon  was intrigued and probed his mind deeper.

                            Abruptly the subject's mind recoiled in shock. He had felt Jonathon's presence. Quickly the Tallman recovered and he swept his own mind outwards following Jonathon's probe, attempting to ensnare him. Words filtered weakly into Jonathon's mind, strange words he could not understand, an alien language that was full of fear and excitement. Slowly the Tallman gained control of the transmission and the words changed to the language Jonathon understood, yet still he could feel that the Tallman was disturbed by Jonathon's presence.