The Chronicles of Jonathon Postlethwaite: The Seed of Corruption (45 page)

                            Screams erupted from the High Hats who fell dying in front of Flax, the echoes of the short burst of fire gave the impression to the High Hats that they were under attack from half a dozen different positions.

                            They began to fire indiscriminately in confusion and panic, swinging the beams of their arc-lamps around in an effort to isolate their ghostly attackers. They shot at their own shadows, at each other and at the arc-lamps themselves, thinking that the enemy would have less chance of hitting them in the dark, but forgetting in the chaos to just switch them off and disastrously ignorant of why the mass of rats around them kept their distance.

                            The two Tallmen technicians at the rear of the party saw their chance and threw off their robes to reveal the mirror  armour  of  Tallmen  warriors.They  had              been instructed by their Elders to kill Flax at the first opportunity and  their  laser  batons  began  to  cut  down  the panic  stricken High Hats as they fumbled in the shadows  with empty weapons and magazines.

                            Flax  whirled  around  and,  realising  the  Elders' treachery, directed his fire at the advancing giant warriors. The din of the battle around him drowned out his angry howls as laser fire seared the air around him, filling the street with a storm of flashing light. Arc-lamps went out or fell to the ground sending beams out into the darkness or

up into the air, everywhere but where they were needed.

                            The High Hats were in complete disarray now. Either dead or dying, fleeing or still shooting at phantoms or  one  another.  Rislo  saw   his   chance   to   flee   in the mayhem too. Flax had dropped his leash to dispose of the would be Tallman assassins and Rislo  took  a pace forward, only to stumble as a volley of misdirected bullets thudded into his back.

He dropped to his knees and, as he did so, his eyes caught sight of a hunched lump of shadow which detached itself from the cover of the buildings on the right and hurtled toward the fray.

                            It crouched low, but sped forward at great pace, its steel jaws and long incisors reflecting the explosions of light around him. Rislo  whimpered as he attempted to crawl away from the Turkanschoner as it made a bee-line for him, but found his way blocked by fallen High Hats and the mass of gleefully snapping rodents which now surged noisily forward.

Rislo closed his eyes and begged for another life terminating bullet before the beast reached him.

Chapter Thirty Five

                            Jonathon overcame the shock of the violence that hit him as he emerged from the gate. He stood still as stared as he realised that now was the time, his moment. Anger began to boil in his blood as he wrenched

away part of the heavily chewed door frame he stood in. Grasping              the make              shift              club              in              both              hands              he threw              caution  to  the  wind  and  sprinted  towards  the unmistakable figure of Silus Flax, silhouetted against the flaring  bloody  light  of  the  combat  which took place in

the Underworld, the only one which filled his vision now.

He had seen the Turkanschoner ripping into the fight, he had seen Rislo fall in a hail of bullets. He imagined Milly there. He focussed on Flax.

                            Kicking his way frantically through the swarming rats, Jonathon advanced rapidly upon him. This was his opportunity to settle his score and this time his courage did not fail him. He gritted his teeth and sprinted hard, hurdling the sprawled bodies of High Hats to bear down on him adversary, who with his back to Jonathon, despatched the last of the Tallmen assassins.

                            Flax turned to find his High Hats totally submerged in the undulating tide of razor toothed rodents. A familiar scent hit his nose and he began to slobber and grin like a lunatic. He turned to face its source him and raised the muzzle of his weapon toward Jonathon.

He roared with laughter." My boy! My beautiful, beautiful boy! Where have you been!"

                            He pulled the trigger. The automatic rifle clicked unimpressively. Flax's sneer of triumph turned to a look of abject horror as Jonathon hurtled into him, one blow from the make shift club sending Flax into a dark void of unconsciousness and crushing top hat flat.

                            Jonathon panted breathlessly as he stood astride the now helpless man who had tormented and destroyed his life and many of those he loved. Images of those he had loved and Flax had ruined flashed through his mind. His Mother, his Father, his Grandfather, Dale and Tefkin, all had died because of this monsters evil aspirations.

                            With  just  one  well  aimed  blow  he  could  now discharge the oath he had sworn against this evil creature and avenge all those from whom Jonathon had been torn by death. Jonathon took the club in both hands and raised it slowly above Flax's skull. Just one well aimed blow.

Flax moaned, rolled his eyes and raised himself upon one arm then fell back unconscious. Jonathon spat on his upturned face and threw away the club in disgust at himself. He would not, even for a few seconds, become all he despised in Flax.

                            To kill a helpless man, even one like Flax, in this manner was not the way he would release himself from his oath. No, Flax would perish with this foul city and remained entombed here, death would release his spirit and escape was perhaps possible. Flax and its putrid corrupting spirit would fall together into the Power Reservoir of Rislo's Field Imploder. It was were they belonged, together, lost in the eternity of nothingness.

                            Jonathon became aware of the brooding silence that had arisen around him. The sound of gunfire ceased. The sound of the rats feverish feeding had halted, the wailing of the City's anguished soul had abated too.

                            The  wind  which  had  arisen  so  strangely  had dropped to no more than a hushed whisper around him. The arc-lamps which where still functioning cast there beams upward towards the ceiling above, the drifting dust captured within them sparkling brightly as it spiralled toward the battlefield of the cobbled street, contrasting with the grey columns of smoke which rose up from the laser scorched bodies of unfortunate High Hats.

Time seemed to standstill.

                            Jonathon stared around him at the millions of pairs of rubies which burned in the half light, a blanket which spread as far as he could see in all directions, filled every ledge, lined every door frame, every vantage  point, filled with the bloody luminescent eyes of the rats.Millions of pairs of eyes. But only one mind looked through them. They watched him as if paralysed. Watched as if helpless, as if stunned. The rats sat immobile as Jonathon walked between them toward the Turkanschoner and the wounded Rislo.

Jonathon trembled in the silence which had become like a pressure around him. He turned and looked at the helpless Flax who had begun to crawl around in a concussed state.

                            Jonathon's hatred of Flax rose in him again.  A voice began to chant in his head.

“Kill him, kill him, kill him, kill him.Kill him, kill him, kill him, kill him” He gasped as he began to move back towards Flax, he was losing control now. He knew what was happening; it was the same as on the roof tops many years ago. Here they came again, the corrupted spirits of the dead had joined the malignant soul of the city, a great gathering of evil wraiths had invaded the bodies of the rats and now implored him to kill, to taint himself, to become one with them.

Yes,  he had killed  here  in  Dubh,  but out of compassion and virtue, never in the cold blood as they, and corruption itself, now demanded.

A strong arm fell on his shoulder.

“Bad,  bad,  bad."  a  voice  growled  “Leave  here quick.”  Jonathon turned away shaking his head to clear his mind of the murmur of voices which had arisen to beseech him to kill Flax.

He held his head in his hands and the voices grew in volume and intensity. Sweating, shaking almost uncontrollable he whirled around and screamed;

" NO! "

                            As    Jonathon's    voice    reverberated    around the Dubhian underworld and the voices inside of him, his anger and desire to kill Flax fled. From somewhere and everywhere a  dull  boom  sounded  and,  then above and below ground level the mournful howl of the City's  corrupt  soul  rose  again  with  a  desperate vigour, and from somewhere deep in the bowls of the earth the dark wind rose into a fury, roaring upwards and striking Jonathon and his comrades so hard  they were thrown from their feet. The ruins around them trembled as powerful shocks hit Dubh and the rats now fled in terror towards the liquid darkness that advanced upon Jonathon.

                            The Turkanschoner lifted Rislo's limp form gently onto his shoulder and urged his master into retreat. Jonathon looked uneasily at the motionless giant and feared the worst.

                            Sprinting across the street, fighting against the rising gale, Jonathon followed the Turkanschoner to the ruin where the Field Imploder was positioned. In the doorway a figure appeared, it was Milly Jonathon realised. A surge of cleansing emotion filled him and exorcised the remnants of corruption which still bit into his soul. Tears of joy ran down his cheeks.

                            He  had  feared  he  would  never  see  her  again despite the Turkanschoner's casual confidence in finding her. When he had emerged back into the Underworld he had imagined her dead in the fray. He flew towards her  embraced her tightly.

" Yes! " he screeched. Here was power which would defeat the corruption which now flowed and howled in dark rivers in the city streets above and plummeted downwards in a last desperate attempt to rid itself of Jonathon and all it despised in him.

                            Another powerful  tremor  tore  threw  Dubh shaking Jonathon back to the task in hand. Milly grabbed his arm and pulled him through a door way through which the Turkanschoner had taken Rislo.

                            As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light of the hovel, Jonathon's eyes came to rest on the glittering network of tubes and pipes that been constructed in the ruined building. It was as he had seen it before in Rislo's hide-away, only the top of the construction was incomplete, a shallow dish-like space clearly visible amongst incomplete glasswork. A few pieces of remaining tubes lay an the floor beside the machine. Milly looked apologetically at her companions.

“It was so easy to start with but grew harder with every piece instead of easier” she sighed in dismay and Jonathon threw an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

                            Rislo  moaned  and  the  Turkanschoner  laid  him gently  beside  his  machine.  He  coughed  painfully  and opened his eyes gazing at his machine with affection. “Only the power reservoir and you would take me to the peace I seek." he smiled and caressed the glittering tubes of his construction with blood stained hands. Jonathon  crouched  down  beside  his  weakening comrade and looked into his eyes.

“But the final pieces, how do they fit?" he whispered gently. Rislo's eyes widened in shock at Jonathon, he had not expected to see the person he had planned to desert again. The giant stared painfully at him.

“Forgive  me"  he  wept.  “Forgive  me,  I  would  have sacrificed you all." he coughed raggedly. Jonathon shook his head.

"It does not matter now my friend. This city corrupts all in its midst eventually, there is nothing to forgive."

                            Rislo's eyes  rolled, threatening unconsciousness, but Jonathon gripped his shoulders and shook him gently back. He continued, guilty that he was not allowing the giant to slip gently away into the peace he so desired, but he still needed the Tallman's help.

“The final pieces Rislo? How do we assemble them ….and where is the power reservoir? "

                            The dying Tallman shook his head.

“The final pieces ... no importance." he said glancing over the machine. “The machine ...will work...Field  Walls ... so unstable,  so  drained ...they cannot resist, already they moan,  have  heard  them."  he croaked his  breathing  becoming shallower and more strained with each painful intake of air. He shook his head in dismay. “All that is needed ...power reservoir, but you do not have time.... to find it now." his breathing exploded into a spasm of coughing which brought fresh blood to his greying lips.

                            Rislo's  eyes  brightened  for  a  moment  and he  smiled at Jonathon. “So near, yet so far, my friend...I'm so sorry..." he sniffed tearfully, before his breath rattled in  his throat  and he slumped against the machine.

                            Rislo had gone. He had  found  his  freedom; the weakened walls of Dubh could not hold  his  soul now. Jonathon held his Rislo's head in his hands, but had no time for the grief which was rising in him. So near so far! He had hoped, above all hope, that Rislo was not right. Had they really run out of time? What now then? The Field Walls still held, but they would not hold for much longer.