Cabal: Johannes Cabal, the Detective Part 22

"'Bullets don't hurt him,' I said somewhat hopelessly.

"'No, they don't. It would be a salutary lesson to those vermin that violence doesn't always get them what they want. Of course, it helps to be alive after a lesson to appreciate the nuances.'

"His flippancy was starting to irritate me, and he saw it. 'Look at the bright side,' he added. 'I think I have a plan.'

"'Yes? What is it?'

"'Can't tell you. In the first place, there will be a lot of improvisation. In the second, I don't have time for explanations if we're to keep up with Ktharl. We mustn't lose him. Come on!' He threw the disa.s.sembled revolver aside and, having seen that devil's imperviousness to bullets, I made to do the same with my rifle, but Cabal stopped me. 'It might not kill him, but it can certainly attract his attention. Hold on to it.'

"We moved quickly but cautiously back up the pa.s.sage to the entrance cave and happened upon the remains of some of the hapless bandits.

"No two of them had died in the same fas.h.i.+on: one body lay unwounded but gelatinous beside a pile of steaming bones that I took to be his skeleton; another sat upright leaning against a stalagmite, his head brilliantly alight, the flame consuming his flesh as a candlewick does the wax; yet another lay sprawled on his back, having apparently vomited up his heart. These were men who only minutes earlier I would willingly have killed myself, yet at least I would have offered them a quick and humane death. This, however, was far, far beyond the pale.

"'Why?' I asked Cabal. 'Why has he done this? Surely he has it within his power to kill quickly and painlessly? Why these ... these monstrous acts?'

"'Fear. With his power, he can vanquish an army. With his reputation, he can conquer the earth. And he's probably rather out of practice anyway, I should think. These are the equivalent of piano exercises to him.' Cabal looked at a human arm protruding from the cave's wall, a victim it would take pickaxes to extract. 'These are simple party tricks for somebody like Umtak Ktharl. He's still working the cricks out. We must catch up with him before he gets back into his stride.'

"Another scream from outside showed that he hadn't got far. From the shadows of the entrance, we watched as the last of the bandits was dangled by his ankles from a tree at the edge of the clearing. For a moment, I thought Ktharl had somehow bound him there when, with a sick sense of horror, I realised that even the trees were doing his bidding. The bandit wasn't tied to the branch-the branch was actually wrapped around his ankles like a black snake. The tree leaned slightly, making a ponderous creaking, and then, with unbelievable rapidity, swung the terrified man at the trunk of a neighbour. His screaming stopped the instant his brains were dashed out.

"'Your plan, Cabal,' I whispered, still shaken by what I'd seen. 'Quickly, what is my role?'

"'Are you good at thinking on your feet?'

"'As good as any, better than most.'

"'Good. Get to those bushes over there. Act when you see my signal.'

"'What signal?'

"'You'll know when you see it.' With this, he walked once more straight towards his enemy.

"Umtak Ktharl saw him coming and turned to watch, mildly interested. He raised a hand to make one of the lazy gestures I now a.s.sociated with an ugly death, and then Cabal did the most remarkable thing. He threw himself prostrate before the warlock and started babbling at him in some odd tongue. Ugol, I suppose. An obviously educated man-and a European to boot-grovelling in such a way before an Oriental was a demeaning sight, and it seemed to take even Umtak Ktharl aback slightly. He lowered his hand and listened to what Cabal had to say. Then he spoke back-a question, by the sound of it-in a strange high voice, thin and complex, like birdsong. It was fascinating and I could have watched for some time, but I remembered Cabal's plan, such as it was, and crawled on my belly to the cover of the bushes, my rifle held firmly in my hands for instant action. Reaching them, I climbed to my knees and furtively parted the leaves to see how Cabal was getting on.

"He appeared to be making some headway, as he was now on his knees with his head bowed. There seemed to be some sort of question-and-answer session going on. I guessed that this was the first part of Cabal's plan, to gain the monstrous lich's confidence. Then what, I had no idea, nor could I guess my part in it.

"As it happened, I didn't have to wait long. Cabal had somehow ingratiated himself in the s.p.a.ce of fifteen or twenty minutes that he was allowed to rise to his feet, although he had to maintain a respectful distance and his head stayed bowed. He was speaking quite loudly and fervently, and reminded me of adherents of those religions less civilised than our own.

"Then suddenly, unbelievably, he pointed straight at my hiding place. I was stunned for a moment, and then the true import of Cabal's 'plan' struck me. There had never been any intention to stop Ktharl, only to save his own neck in the apocalypse that he knew was coming. And I was to be the first sacrifice to his survival.

"Swearing bitterly, I brought my rifle up, aimed straight at Cabal, and fired. I'm a good shot and my aim was true, but the bullet never arrived. That accursed Ktharl, that disgusting abomination that should have been dead seven hundred years ago, simply reached out and plucked the ball from the air. He studied it, lying in his palm for a second or two-eminently unimpressed by the best modern science had to throw at him-and then he raised his hand to his mouth and blew gently. Some instinct made me dive to one side, but not fast enough to avoid being winged by that selfsame bullet as it shot back at me as fast as from any rifle barrel.

"It was plain that I couldn't fight him. My only chance was to escape from him and his new cur, Cabal, in the forest, get back to civilisation, and try to convince the authorities of this incredible story. I slung the rifle over my shoulder and started running. I risked a look back and saw Umtak Ktharl sweeping after me across the leaf litter as if he were gliding across ice, Cabal running doggedly in his wake.

"My only advantage was speed, but even that would be lost if I became exhausted. Ktharl was inexorable, his steady progress indefatigable. I considered my options and decided to forget about losing them amidst the trees, and instead try to find a dwelling with, I hoped, a horse. I finally understood why it had been so important in Cabal's plan for me to leave the cave, because in doing so I had also left behind any chance of reaching the horses stabled there. Furious with myself for trusting him, I ran and ran and ran. My path was along and down the side of the hill in the direction I guessed the Senzan border lay. On reaching the base, I struck out across the forest floor and hoped for the best.

"Every time I looked back, Umtak Ktharl was there. I don't know why he didn't just kill me there and then; it must certainly have been within his power. Perhaps he had another use for me and that was something I didn't wish to think about, and which spurred me onwards with still more desperation. It was a nightmarish situation, one that I hope never to repeat and, G.o.d willing, never will except within nightmares. My wounded arm bled steadily, my headlong flight preventing any hope of its closing. As the seconds of running turned into minutes, I had the unappealing thought that Umtak Ktharl was somehow tracking me by the drops of blood I left in my wake, that he could smell them, perfumed with my fear.

"It was by the merest good luck that, when I found the gorge, I didn't fall headlong into it, so harried was I. It was more than deep enough to kill a man, perhaps eighty feet into a fast-moving torrent with sharp rocks on either side. Scaling the side was impossible without equipment and the time needed for the descent. I had no choice but to run alongside it. The ground started to angle upwards, and I began to fear for my endurance again as every step became a torment in itself. The incline wasn't great, but in my exhausted state it was the last thing I needed. Then, thank G.o.d, I saw the bridge.

"The bridge was a rope affair, obviously not meant for carts or horses or other beasts. Even to a man, the crossing of sixty feet or so across the ferocious drop would have been a little daunting. Anything, however, anything was better than staying on the same side of the river as Umtak Ktharl, and I quickly crossed, the bridge swinging and twisting beneath my feet as I firmly gripped the rails and ran like a tightrope walker with the Devil on his coattails.

"This was a double hope for me. Perhaps Umtak Ktharl would not be able to cross the bridge, what with his weakness for running water. Perhaps, like a vampire, he wouldn't be able to pa.s.s over it. Second, even if he could, it would be my delight and my privilege to cut the guy ropes loose when he and, I hoped, Cabal were halfway across. I enjoyed the prospect of the pair of them tumbling into the angry white waters below. I fear I may even have been laughing a little hysterically by the time I reached the far side.

"Barely had I attained a hiding place by the mooring posts when Umtak Ktharl swept majestically into view and, without even a pause, moved onto the bridge. It would seem that my first hope was to be confounded. The sight of Cabal staggering exhaustedly up to the mooring posts on the other side and leaning on them while he wheezed unhappily reminded me of the second. I reached into my pocket for my clasp knife with murder in my heart. My hand found nothing but an old receipt and the stub of a pencil. The knife wasn't there.

"I almost cried out loud with frustration. Of course, it wasn't. Those d.a.m.nable and d.a.m.ned bandits had stolen it from my 'corpse' back when they'd also relieved me of all my other belongings and my horse.

"I looked behind me; the path rose in a sharp zigzag up a very steep forested slope. I couldn't hope to get far. My reserves were gone and the jig was up, but I was d.a.m.ned if I was going to go down without a fight. Anger making my thinking clear, I unlimbered my rifle from my shoulder and took careful aim at the approaching sorcerer. I breathed gently and, just as my breath was on its cusp, squeezed the trigger.

"My first shot caught him square in the chest, but made him pause only momentarily, as if he'd forgotten something and then decided it was not important.

"The second bullet struck him in the face; I think I had some vague thought of puncturing one of those eyes in the hope they were where his power lay. That is how desperate I had become. I heard the bullet ricochet off him as if it had struck rock. He shook his head, as if bothered by an insect, and advanced.

"I was down to my last bullet and all hope had run out. Umtak Ktharl was clearly utterly invulnerable to mundane weapons. On the other hand, I doubted the same could be said of that turncoat Cabal; I decided to let him have the last shot.

"I was grateful that the bandit whose rifle it had been had shown more concern with the maintenance of his weapon than with his personal hygiene. Every shot I had so far fired had gone exactly where I placed it. Despite the bandit's peripatetic lifestyle, the barrel was well maintained, the action was reliable, and the sights were perfect. I trusted them implicitly as I placed foresight 'twixt back leaf and centred the whole upon Cabal. I aimed at his head with the expectation of the bullet's trajectory taking it into either his throat or his upper chest. Either would be satisfactory. He was still wheezing pathetically, his whole frame heaving with the effort of drawing breath, as he stood half slumped against the mooring post. Then I paused. There was something peculiar here, something odd in the way he was moving. I lowered my sights and was delighted and ashamed by what I saw. His body wasn't heaving with exhaustion at all but with exertion ... exertion as he sawed fiercely through the guy supporting one side of the bridge with a small pocketknife. The whole thing had truly been a ruse; Cabal had been looking for such an opportunity, and had now taken it with both hands.

"Without a further second's hesitation, I brought my rifle back up to the target and fired.

"It wasn't a clean shot, I'm embarra.s.sed to admit; I can only plead unfamiliarity with the weapon at that range. But still, it clipped the second guy rope nicely, severing a good half of its strands. Cabal almost dropped his knife with surprise, but saw what I had tried to do and waved at me. He redoubled his efforts, and the rope he was working on parted with a woody snap. The bridge leaned crazily to that side and Umtak Ktharl showed more emotion than I'd seen up to now; he actually seemed quite angry. The weight of the bridge was too much for the rope I'd damaged and, with a musical tw.a.n.g, that gave way, too. Now anch.o.r.ed only on my side of the gorge, it fell and swung to smash against the cliff wall. Bits of wood and debris rained into the stream to be instantly carried away.

"Umtak Ktharl, however, was not amongst them. With a countenance of utter fury, he hung in the air in the middle of the gorge, defying both gravity and our fondest hopes.

"I was at my wits' end and had been for some time. Cabal was not, and that is something we should all be grateful for. He reached into his breast pocket and threw something at that remorseless monster. 'Umtak Ktharl!' he shouted, as whatever it was glittered and shone in its arc. 'Catch!'

"I like to think it was Ktharl's utter arrogance, his total belief in his invulnerability, that proved his downfall. He should have done almost anything except catch what had been thrown to him. I think Cabal, in his brief acquaintances.h.i.+p with Umtak Ktharl, had seen it in his character and played upon it. What is it they say comes before a fall?

"At any rate, Umtak Ktharl caught it. The object had barely been in his hand a moment when it flashed an angry cobalt blue that illuminated the warlock so strongly I had the absurd impression that I could see his bones within him. With rising hope, I realised what it was. A tiny thing ... nothing at all in the usual way of things.

"A small phial, two-thirds full of holy water.

"The water must have boiled in its tube, because it broke with the distinctive plink of fracturing gla.s.s I remembered so well from my dawdlings in chemistry as a boy. It must have been like a tube of acid shattering in his hand. Not enough to kill him or even hurt him, but more than enough to engage his full attention, to break his concentration and really, at that point, that was all that was necessary. The holy water flared and steamed like St. Elmo's fire where it splashed upon him, he made some small, pathetic effort to beat the supernatural flames from his hand and arm, and then he was falling. It took only a moment to plummet the distance, and he was gone, lost in the frothing waters.

"Cabal and I ran downstream, eager to make sure that he didn't make the bank. This time I'm sure I was laughing, laughing with sheer relief. There would be a tomorrow. It wasn't the end of everything.

"I saw Umtak Ktharl first. Just the hint of an arm waving in the turbulent water of an eddy pool. Pinned against a rock underwater, once again having his sins washed away constantly.

"'He's finished!' I shouted with delight across the roar of the river.

"'He's no such thing,' Cabal shouted back. 'He could get washed free, the water level could drop in high summer, somebody might find him, anything could happen. He's contained for the moment, but he isn't finished by a long chalk.' He started walking back upstream. 'I need to think.'

"I could barely get a word out of him for the next couple of hours as we trudged along, each on our respective side of the gorge. Then the river started to rise and the gorge to become shallow and, finally, we found another bridge, a properly metalled road bridge this time and joined our paths. It was clear that we were leaving the wild lands, and towards nightfall we reached-quite unexpectedly but very welcome, all the same-a customs post. We were on the border between Senza and Mirkarvia, actually on the Senzan side; I had crossed the border days earlier while delirious. We must have looked very disreputable as we approached the building, and a couple of officers came out to greet us. We went inside and were glad of their offer of a pot of coffee while they questioned us. About the only thing the bandits had left me with were my papers, and these the commanding officer took and studied closely.

"Satisfied, he turned to Cabal and asked to see his pa.s.sport. Cabal sighed and shrugged. 'I'm afraid my papers were lost in my escape.' Then he looked the officer in the eye and said, 'My name, however, is Gerhard Meissner. I was formerly a docket clerk, first cla.s.s, in the Mirkarvian Department of Administrative Coordination. I am claiming political asylum.' I looked at him oddly until he sent me a warning glance that made me compose and comport myself more neutrally.

"The customs officer looked at him oddly and started flicking through the sheets on his clipboard. He found what he was looking for and nodded. 'Of course, Herr Meissner, you have been expected.'

"Cabal's face was a picture. He looked utterly blank for a moment. Then he pulled himself together. 'I am? That is to say, excellent. I must admit, I was worried about the loss of my doc.u.ments.'

"'Inconsequential, signor. The Minister of the Interior will need to speak to you, of course. You must be interviewed.'

"'Of course,' replied Cabal, but I could see his confusion.

"They organised a horse and trap for us and we rode in silence for the few miles to the nearest town, Sadile. The only time Cabal-I a.s.sume his real name was Cabal-spoke was to point out the watercourse running parallel to the road. 'If that ever dries up,' he said, 'we're all in a lot of trouble.'

And that's your story, Enright?" asked Chiltern in the silence.

"That's my story," replied Enright. "At least, it's most of my story. There is a small coda. Two unusual things happened that first night in Sadile. At about two in the morning, the whole town was woken by an explosion. A distant thing it was, several miles away, but the rumble travelled through the earth and tumbled people out of their beds and tiles from the rooftops. Those who had been awake at that hour said there was a strange flash in the sky to the south, which turned to an angry cobalt glow hanging over the forest and took minutes to fade."

"Oh!" said Tompkinson excitedly. "I know what that was." He pondered for a moment and then shook his head. "No. No, I don't. Carry on."

"And the second thing?" asked Munroe.

"Well, I only found out about that the next morning. Cabal was gone, vanished into the shadows. He obviously had a few secrets he didn't want the authorities to learn. n.o.body was much concerned about his absconding nearly as much as about the outrage that had been committed the night before.

"The archbishop of Parila was visiting the parish. Shortly after midnight, a mysterious stranger had dragged him out of bed at gunpoint. The poor archbishop was forced into his robes and driven down to a small river that runs by the town. There his a.s.sailant had put a gun to his head and told him to bless the river and to keep blessing it until he was told to stop. The archbishop, quite reasonably under the circ.u.mstances, blessed the river waters for all he was worth. At about two o'clock, there was the blue flash in the sky, reflecting upwards from some sort of explosion in the forest. The archbishop's a.s.sailant seemed very pleased, said something about being able to sleep now, and left him there. The archbishop's description of the stranger sounded awfully like Cabal."

There was a respectful silence, broken by Tompkinson saying, "No, I don't understand."

"'I'll explain it to you next week," said Munroe. "I'm tired now, though, so I'll take my leave of you, gentlemen. Good night, Enright. Thank you for that fascinating story."

They broke up, and started to make their varied ways home. In the cloakroom, Kay b.u.mped into Enright putting on his overcoat. As they made their way across the foyer to the exit and the city night, Kay asked him, "Johannes Cabal. Did you ever find out who he was?"

"I made enquiries when I got home," he replied. "Turned out he's a little infamous in some circles."

"A spy?"

Enright smiled and leaned towards me confidentially. "A necromancer," he whispered. He seemed to find Kay's expression of shocked outrage still more amusing. "Look at the bright side, Kay. I'm very glad he turned out to be a necromancer rather than, say, a docket clerk, even a first-cla.s.s one. So should you. A lot of use he would have been then. Good night!"

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.

The Cabal Cabal, for their enthusiasm, and for making me feel like the cool kid-a rare experience for me.

My agents, Sam Copeland in the UK, and Christy Fletcher and Melissa Chinchillo in the US, without whom none of this would have happened. Blame them.

My editors, Alison Callahan and Cory Hunter at Doubleday, for their professionalism, humour, and lovely telephone voices.

John Betancourt, Marvin Kaye, and George H. Scithers for first unleas.h.i.+ng Cabal upon an innocent and unsuspecting world in H.P. Lovecraft's Magazine of Horror. Warrants have been issued.

Linda "Snugbat" Smith, for producing the chapter heading art, and patiently weathering the blizzard of reference pictures and tweaking requests I threw at her as I fretted about Spanish police hats and barrel tops.

Graham Bleathman, for going away with my prose descriptions and clumsy scrawls, and coming back with wonderful pictures.

My best friends, Michael and Marsha Davies, and Katharine Long, for their support and advice.

And.

Louise and Maddy, for being Louise and Maddy, which they do very well.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fict.i.tiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2010 by Jonathan L. Howard.

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

www.doubleday.com.

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