The Chronicles of Jonathon Postlethwaite: The Seed of Corruption (30 page)

                            The light from a smoky, oil soaked brazier extenuated the man's unusual features; his narrow crescent lidded eyes, his high cheekbones, small flattened nose and perfectly white and shining teeth. But the man's bronzed and weathered skin gave away more of his identity. He was a Tan. An intruder like Jonathon. Jonathon stepped out into the light and the Tan whirled around to face him.

                            He stood frozen for an instant and then drew a large curved dagger from beneath his cloak before leaping down the steps towards Jonathon. Managing to dodge the sweeping blade he caught his assailant's arm as it came down and threw the Tan intruder onto the steps onto the next landing.

The man staggered to his feet, bruised and winded, frantically searching for his dagger. A glint of flame on metal  informed  him  that  his  intended  victim   was now  armed with his weapon.

                            The Tan smiled and advanced slowly back up the steps towards Jonathon. The panting Tan was tensed ready for Jonathon's attack, but it never came. His antagonist smiled and tossed the dagger back to him. The Tan studied Jonathon with puzzlement for a while and then slowly thrust his dagger back into its sheath.

Jonathon sat down on the steps and looked down at the Tan who gazed back at him, then spoke in a whisper.

“It seems I am not the only intruder here today. Since we both share no love for Silus Flax or his High Hats I see no reason why we should become enemies, do you?"

The Tan did not reply, but Jonathon had noticed the Tan raise his eyebrows at the mention of Flax's name. Jonathon tried again to induce some vocal response.

“Am I right Tan, do we share a dislike of this man Flax or perhaps your superiors do, is there any reason why we should not become allies here today?"

Again the Tan did not speak.

                            He stared at Jonathon for a while then motioned him to follow him down the stairway and the next landing and the light of a brazier. Jonathon joined him and the  small Tan opened his mouth and indicated that     Jonathon looked in. Warily he looked into his mouth.

                            An impressive set of teeth  greeted  him, but  the Tan's tongue was missing. It had been  recently severed, its cut edge still ragged and sealed with a hot iron it seemed. The Tan smiled wearily and grunted, then pointed to Jonathon's top hat and drew a cross in the air as he shook his head. Jonathon did not understand. The dumb Tan smiled and sighed and rummaged through his pockets before producing detailed drawing of a man's face. A beak-like nose set on a square, pock marked face a large mouth with teeththat seemed to big for it, were sufficient to reveal the identity. The small, black, bottlemless staring eyes put it beyond doubt. It was Silus Flax. The bearer of Flax's image took out his knife and drew it across in front of his own throat. Jonathon realised that this Tan was here to kill Flax, he would deprive Jonathon of his destiny. He smiled and nodded in comprehension.

“Where is he?" he asked.

                            The Tan assassin shook his head and waved his hands in front of his head in a confused manner, indicating that he did not know - that Flax had gone. He had been here, but now was not. Jonathon looked into the Tan's mind. Flax had gone. The Tan knew that he had been here, but now he had gone, but not by the normal exits. He could not find him. His superiors had instructed him  to find the High Hat leader and kill him, but Flax had disappeared into thin air.

                            The Tan had asked questions regarding his whereabouts, but no-one seemed to know, that was why he had attacked Jonathon. He had hoped to overpower him and torture the information out of a High Hat Captain, who seemed to be intent on important business rather than waiting for something to happen as most here seemed to be doing.

                            That something, the waiting, was what had disturbed the Tans  leadership. They had  suffered Flax long enough, now many more men had been recruited into the ranks of his organisation  than  ever  before  and his usefulness had been outgrown. He was up to something and they had sent Chan into their midst to find out what. Chan made no attempt to resist Jonathon's mental intrusion, in fact he seemed used to it, and gave up all that Jonathon wanted to know. Jonathon continued his mental probing.

                            Chan the Tan was a spy and assassin. Arguments concerning Flax's fate were high on the agenda in the Tan hierarchy. Certain leaders wanted him dead for no other reason than they feared him. Others, on Flax's payroll, pressed for more information first, while planning to inform him of the dangers in the meantime.

                            Some argued that he was no threat at all to the might of the Tans, his High Hats were hopelessly outnumbered despite the recent increases in their ranks. He was useful too, since he was the only source of skilled labour, since with the use of threats and bribery, the Black Gaffer pulled the strings in all the Machine Halls now.

                            In the end they had sent Chan to find out what Flax was up to and if he planned any action against the Tans, he was be killed. Chan had carried out the first part of the operation half-heartedly, he  had  been  here to kill Flax regardless of what Flax intended to do. A bribe he had received from those  who  feared  Flax and wanted him dead,  was  all  the  motivation  he needed to find anf kill  him.  Chan  was  a  simple man. He would carry out orders and if those orders carried reward, those orders, rather  than  any  others,  would be carried out.

                            Jonathon's gesture of returning his dagger, when Chan was at his mercy, convinced him that Jonathon was an ally in that they were alone together amongst enemies. He questioned Jonathon's motives no further.

                            From amongst the information he had gleaned from the Tan, Jonathon knew that he had been here in their stronghold for days, watching their comings and goings. If he had been watching their activities then surely he would have noted Milly's arrival and that of Amaril Caldecott. “Have you seen a man called Amaril Caldecott” he asked hopefully.  Chan  nodded  the  affirmative  and  Jonathon's heart skipped a beat. He grasped the Tan's shoulders and peered expectantly into his narrow black eyes.

“Did he bring anyone with him, a prisoner perhaps?”

                            The  Tan  paused  for  thought,  slightly  taken  aback  by Jonathon's intensity. He had been watching for Flax, but had noted the arrival of a strangely attired prisoner and the triumphant entry of the distinctive character of Amaril Caldecott. He nodded again and Jonathon felt a wave  of triumph and reflief surge through his body.

                            His obvious pleasure seemed to excite the Tan and he smiled broadly in unison. Jonathon could hardly contain himself. She was here!

“Where  did  he  take  her!"  he  shouted.  The  Tan  spy indicated  that  his  excited  ally  should  follow  him.  With Jonathon in tow, the Tan led his unlikely companion deep into the High Hat headquarters. They moved cautiously through  deeper  and  deeper  street  levels  that    were  crowded with High Hats who just seemed to be waiting for something to happen.

                            They passed through large and hastily organised dormitories they had been set up  in  the  streets amongst the ale and whorehouses, until at last they reached a huge hall and moved slowly around the balcony  which  ran  around its entire circumference.

                            The old Victorian music hall, which served as a great outer chamber to Flax's apartments, was almost empty, only a couple of guards were posted to  the doors which led to Edgar Morrell's hall of temporary rule.

As  the  two  intruders  peered  down  two  muffled

musket shots rang out from the inner hall. The guards outside raised their weapons as the doors swung outwards. A pair of High Hats carried the body  of another High Hat between them and then threw it to the ground before returning to the chamber and closing the heavy doors behind them.

Chan nudged Jonathon as the two crouched low on the balcony and mouthed words.

" Cal-de-cott." Chan mouthed. " Am-a-ril Cal-de-cott." He repeated it and jabbed a finger at the corpse which lay in an ever widening pool of blood. Jonathon leapt to his feet, fearing that Milly was behind the door too.

Fear and desperation drove him along the balcony until he reached a sweeping stairway which brought him out the opposite side of the hall and the doors from where Amaril Caldecott's corpse had been carried.

                            He did not stop. He charged across the floor of the auditorium toward the bemused guards who looked up to see the figure of  a  High  Hat  Captain  hurtling towards them.

This  caused  them  no  alarm  until  he  was  close

enough for them to see his wide eyes and bared teeth. By then it was too late. One guard raised the barrel of his musket in his general direction, but did not have time to aim properly. Jonathon felt the musket ball whiz past his head, and then half collided,  half charged  the  man  with  the  musket  at  full  speed.

                            The guard went down and stayed down, his nose broken and bleeding where his assailant's head had hit his face. Jonathon was slightly dazed and staggered to his feet as the other guard drew his short sword and raised it above his head.

                            The sword flashed down towards Jonathon who stepped backwards and fell over the prostrate body of the other guard, his backward fall helping him to avoid the High Hat's wild slash at his head. Jonathon flailed around on the floor desperately grasping for a weapon as the guard stepped forward again. His hand grasped the barrel of the fallen man's musket and, struggling upright, swung it wildly towards his attacker. The musket butt struck the guard in the right temple. There was a loud crack of breaking bone and he crumpled onto his knees with a moan, attempted to rise again, and then fell heavily to the floor.

                            By this time Chan had reached the bottom of the stairway and had begun to run across the hall towards Jonathon. The two heavy doors opened and the guards emerged from inside to investigate the noise. They sighted the intruder sprinting towards them and aimed their weapons at him.

Chan saw them and began a ducking and zigzagging run in a effort to confuse their efforts to make him an easy target. In an explosion of smoke and flame the two guards fired simultaneously, their shots echoing around the auditorium.

                            The Tan assassin screamed out loud, but whether it was in pain or some battle cry Jonathon never knew. The little man's course straightened out now as the guards hastily attempted to reload their muskets, their ramrods sliding hastily into barrels, but Chan had produced two pistols and fired them at the two guards.

                            Both of them fell together and Chan whooped again, in what was obviously a tongue less victory cry, as he leapt over their bodies and sped into the hall beyond.

Jonathon struggled to maintain his balance as he staggered into the inner hall behind the Tan, carrying the sword which he had taken from his own felled assailant. A fight was already taking place inside. A huge muscular man swung a sword at Chan who rolled  away  from   the   slashing   blade.   The   Chief of Assassins was alone in the room,  his  two  guards dead outside. Chan had hoped to find Flax here, but finding the Chief of his Assassins was enough to make up for his disappointment.

                                          Edgar  Morrell  was  a  large   man,   but   was not hindered by his bulk. He  moved  swiftly  and efficiently and the agility of the Tan assassin was tested to the limit in avoiding the blows of his sword.  Chan circled the huge Morrell now, his discharged pistols discarded in favour of his curved dagger.

                            Morrell laughed and lunged again at his weaving antagonist who rolled athletically away from the deadly sweep of slashing blade. The Chief of Assassins grinned at Chan, enjoying the contest and swept into the attack again.

                            Jonathon edged around the two combatants, slipping into the shadows which clung to the ante- chamber's walls. Behind Morrell's he noticed an iron clad, barred and padlocked door. If Milly was anywhere she was behind that door he decided.

                            Moving around the ante-chamber close to its cold, damp stone walls, he paused beneath a dimly, flickering oil lamp. He realised that Milly was not behind the door. He had hoped she was, but knew that she was not. He

had known since he entered the auditorium and been consciously afraid to use his psychic powers, because if they had revealed nothing he would have been thrown into the pits of despair. Yet, for an instant during the fight outside he had done so, unconsciously, perhaps because if he had died outside these doors he would have known whether or not he had died in vain.

                            Now he knew. Now he accepted what his powers had told him in that instant that Milly was not here, but he used his powers again and realised that she  had been here and, more importantly, had not died in this place. He found her fear etched into the stone of the damp walls like a shadow, she had suffered here yet still lived. The walls had recorded a thousand such and worse events as prisoners had been brought before Silus Flax for his judgement. Jonathon could now see it all, he had tapped into this reservoir of despair unknowingly in a desperate attempt to find out her fate; and the Ghosts in the Stone spoke to him.