The creature: part 11

Showdown at Westminster

The Triverse is
Mid-Earth, an alternate 1970s London
Max-Earth, a vision of the 26th century
Palinor, where magic is real

Previously: A kengto, a ravenous beast from a neighbouring dimension, is rampaging around London. The SDC are in way over their heads and their last hope is drafting in a group of monster hunters from Palinor called The Six Blades. Pursuing the creature via airship, they are now approaching Mid-Earth’s Westminster clock towers…

Night shift
On duty: All officers

London.
1973. February.

The cold night air whipped through Lola’s hair, involuntary tears forming in the corners of her eyes as the life boat dropped in pursuit of the kengto. She gripped the rails, knuckles white, fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. There was no scenario in which she was going to vomit in the presence of the Six Blades.

“Whatever happens,” Ellenbrin said, “stay back and stay behind us. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Hey, I’m the one that pushed you out of the way of the thing back at the museum,” Lola said. “Just before it munched you.” She was still replaying that moment in her mind.

Ellenbrin stared at her disapprovingly. “Yes, you stopped me from firing my last shot, which is why we’re in this situation now. Don’t interfere.”

Lola felt her confidence drip away, her shoulder slumping.

Probably noticing her reaction, Ellenbrin grinned and slapped her on the shoulder. “It was still brave, greenhorn. Don’t take it personally. But we’re professionals.”

“So am I,” Lola said, pointlessly, feeling and sounding pathetic. She regretted saying it immediately.

“Not at this, Lola,” Ellenbrin said.

“Coming up on target!” Halbad shouted. He grabbed the pilot. “Can you bring us in fast? Circle around the towers?”

The officer nodded and Lola felt the boat shift under her feet subtly. The twin towers of Westminster were becoming rapidly larger in her vision as they approached, the kengto clearly visible clinging to the side of one. The HMS George V was out of sight, either hidden in the cloud and smog layers or obscured by their own balloon.

“Alright, fellas,” Halbad said, apparently unconcerned about there being three women on board, “Ngarkh and Ellenbrin, you do your tandem flying thing. Stay airborne as long as you can, especially if the kengto is grounded. Erik, enchant her arrows as best you can.”

Erik shook his head. “Can’t enchant on this stupid planet.”

“Fuck it,” Halbad said, “I still can’t get my head around that, even though it’s affecting me, too. OK, do what you can with your poisons. Throw everything you’ve got at it, don’t hold anything back for later.” He looked at his sister. “Same goes for you and me. All in. It’s wounded, it can’t fly, it’s half blind. Trophy’s ours.”

Seline grunted. “Thing’s still bigger than all of us put together.”

Ngarkh beat his chest. “Ain’t as pretty, though, right?”

Lola looked at each of them, five of the most remarkable people she’d ever met. They were grander than anyone on Mid-Earth. Palinor brought out a grandeur and epic scale in its people, represented in each of the Six Blades. She still didn’t know what had happened to the sixth member. Perhaps she’d need to go to Palinor to find out. Hell, Clarke had managed to wangle his way to Max-Earth without even wanting to. There had to be a way.

“I’m here,” she said, “so I may as well do something to help.”

Halbad raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in her direction. “What are you good at, then, detective?”

Her brain scrabbled for something, anything. “I’ve been to the Westminster towers before,” she said. “I know the layout, the interior.”

“That does sound useful,” Halbad said, smiling. “What do we need to know?”

“They’re both bell towers. Huge arrays of bells just behind the clock faces. Inside the towers the floors are mostly walkways running around the inner walls, with stairs going all the way down to the ground. The top halves of the towers are essentially hollow, other than the machinery driving the clocks.”

“Bells,” Ellenbrin said. She ran a hand along the shaved side of her head. “That could be useful.”

Erik nodded. “Kengtos don’t like noise.”

“They do not.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Halbad said, nudging his sister in the ribs. “Detective, once you’re off the boat take Erik and show him how the bells work. Get them ringing in both towers. I’m guessing you’ll need to take one each.”

Crossing his arms, Erik harrumphed. “I’m just a bell ringer, now?”

“You’re more than welcome to go up against the kengto without your magic,” Halbad said, laughing, “but I wouldn’t recommend it. I promise you can have first kill when we get back to Palinor.”

Lola and Erik leapt from the boat and onto the bridge connecting the towers to each other. The towers and the bridge were neo-gothic constructions designed to one-up the single clock tower on Max-Earth; the Joining two hundred years prior had given Mid-Earthers many opportunities to learn from what would have otherwise been their future. It made Lola’s head hurt.

The wind circled around the towers as if caught in a vortex, making Lola very glad for the chest-high guard rail running the length of the bridge. The kengto was on the southern tower, near the spire, its claws raking the brickwork and shattering the glass clock face with each step. It was so far preoccupied with volleys of arrows shot by Ellenbrin, who was clutched to Ngarkh’s back as they flew in spiralling arcs, keeping their distance. The kengto was now covered in long, thick spines like an unusually dangerous and large porcupine. She gasped as one of the spines ejected from the kengto’s back, flying with speed towards the hunters. Ngarkh was too fast, weaving away from the projectile.

“The others will get the kengto into position,” Erik said. “Our job is to get those bells ringing. It’ll disorient it enough for us to take it down.”

Lola led him towards the door into the southern tower, acutely aware of the kengto high above. The door was locked, of course. She took the pistol she’d been issued with from its holster and aimed it at the lock. One shot and the door swung lazily open.

Inside the clock tower was a complex maze of gears and pulleys, everything oversized and ornately designed. A wooden staircase led up the side of one wall toward the bells. They raced up and reached the top floor, the white glass of the clock face covered by the silhouette of the kengto on the other side.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t realise we’re in here,” Erik said quietly.

Once, long ago, Lola had visited the clock towers on a school trip. She still remembered the layout of the building and the function of the bells, one of the many pieces of useless information she’d stored in her brain as a young girl - though apparently not quite as useless as she’d always assumed. She instructed Erik on which ropes controlled which bells and how to operate the levers that released the swinging mechanism.

“Remember,” Erik said, a hand on her arm, “wait until the others force the kengto onto the bridge, or at least get it positioned between the towers.”

“Then we ring the bells.”

He nodded. “Then we ring the bells.” He smiled appreciatively. “You’re brave, Detective Styles. For a Mid-Earther.”

“We have our moments!” she said, already halfway down the stairs. Darting back out through the door and onto the bridge, she glanced up to check the position of the kengto. She could only see its tail, flicking angrily from the side of the tower. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her nerves - or tried to, at least - and then began the run towards the north tower, the length of the bridge suddenly feeling very long. She felt hideously exposed out in the open, the back of her neck prickling at the thought of the kengto on the tower behind her. It was only a small assurance that the others would be keeping it busy.

It was a misplaced assurance, she realised, in the moment when a searing pain shot up her leg and she felt herself dragged to the floor and across the bridge, slamming into the guard rail. Entirely confused and feeling as if a knife was being run up the back of her calf, she forced her body to turn over onto its back, which is when she saw the kengto quill embedded in her lower right leg. It was as long as he arm and had speared all the way through, one end now bloodied.

Her blood.

She remembered the bodies they’d seen at the start of the case, remembered reading about the kengto’s natural poisons, and Erik’s warnings of its venom. She wondered if the concoction he’d given each of them back on the airship would be enough to counter whatever was in the tip of the quill. Taking hold of one end, she tried to pull it out, but the lancing pain caused her to black out momentarily. Deciding not to try that again, she instead attempted to stand, but her leg was no longer cooperating. On the southern tower she could see Halbad and Seline still aboard the life boat, the pilot getting them as close as he could to the kengto, while Ngarkh and Ellenbrin swooped past at a distance, firing arrow after arrow. The kengto was moving, claws crunching into stone and metal, attempting to get the tower between it and the attackers. It would soon be where they needed it, and there was no way she would be able to get to the bells in the northern tower.

A memory jumped into view, of her applying for the detective exams. Of requesting assigning to the Specialist Dimensional Command. The excitement of joining the department, of her first arrival at the offices on Stamford and Coin. Meeting Clarke for the first time. She wondered at all the decisions that had led to her lying injured on the bridge of the Palace of Westminster towers, speared by a quill from a creature from another dimension. The pain arced up her leg, spreading this time to her back, and she wondered what precisely the effects of kengto poison might be.

“Get up,” came Clarke’s voice in her ear, which evidently made no sense. She might already be hallucinating. Something grabbed her under her arms, strong hands pulling at her.

Kaminski ran into her view, crouching down beside where she lay. “Come on, Lola,” he said, also taking hold of her and pulling her up. The quill vibrated, each movement like being stabbed again and again.

Looking about her, bewildered, she also found Chakraborty, gun drawn, looking up at the tower. “Come the fuck on, get moving,” she shouted.

Clarke and Kaminski half-dragged, half-carried her along the bridge towards the north tower. That was when she noticed the second life boat, hovering next to the bridge and keeping pace with them as they made their way. “Where’d you come from?” she asked, discovering that her voice was slightly slurred.

“You’re not the only one who can make stupid decisions,” Clarke said. He banged on the north tower’s door, which didn’t budge.

“Shooting it works quite well,” Lola said.

Kaminski drew his weapon and shot at the hinges of the door, until it fell inwards with a crash.

“I meant shoot the lock.”

“Oh.”

The interior of the tower was identical to where she’d left Erik. They set her down on the floor and she shook her head. “We have to get up to the bells. When the kengto is on the bridge, we have to ring the bells.”

Clarke squinted through the doorway at the bridge, illuminated against the night sky. “Won’t it know we’re here?”

“The wizard guy is going to ring the other bells. At the same time. Apparently it won’t like it.”

“Christ, I hope you’re right.” Clarke looked at the upper floors. “OK, Chakraborty come with me, Kaminski you stay here with her.”

Clarke had never been inside Westminster towers before. He’d always dismissed them as a naff tourist attraction. Besides, you could see them from the river and halfway across town - paying to go inside hadn’t seemed worthwhile. He had to admit that the mechanism driving the clocks was impressive, as was the size of the bells that hung suspended.

“I’ve always loved coming here,” Chakraborty said. She immediately crossed to a series of levers and swung them down, the bells rocking slightly in response. “We can take a couple of ropes each,” she said, pointing.

Inside the tower it was impossible to know what was happening outside. Clarke moved around the narrow walkway to the giant clock facing south. He took his pistol and smashed at the painted glass, until he had a window to peer through.

Chakraborty looked incensed. “You can’t do that!”

“They can send me the repair bill,” Clarke snapped. Across the bridge the kengto was lower on the tower and was being harried by the Palinese hunters. Each time the kengto moved a clawed foot it dislodged part of the tower’s masonry. “Maybe not, actually.”

He watched as the koth and its aen’fa rider came into view, dropping onto the kengto’s back and knocking it down to the bridge. The impact reverberated through the tower. The aen’fa jumped and rolled ahead of the creature and was back on her feet in an instant, firing arrows and running towards the north tower, the beast in pursuit while also attempting to dislodge the koth. The kengto was clearly injured and was stuck with arrows in a dozen places. It was angry but lacked the ferocity it had displayed at the museum and on the airship.

The other life boat came around the side of the other tower and the two big humans jumped onto the bridge, weapons in hand. Halbad’s sword was considerably bigger than Clarke’s leg, to the point that he had no idea how the big man was able to hold it aloft.

Clarke waved a hand at Chakraborty and grabbed at the ropes closest to him. “Do it now!” He pulled on them, throwing all of his weight into the motion. For a moment it seemed the bells wouldn’t budge, then they shifted and rang out, the clanging echoing between Clarke’s ears. He pulled again, making sure that the bell he controlled would keep moving, then put his face back to the gap in the glass.

The kengto was flailing, confused, unable to concentrate. It missed every attempt to reach at the hunters, who piled on top of it with a fury Clarke had not expected. They hacked and impaled and tore, Halbad delivering the final blow. The kengto’s head did not come away easily, but eventually it was severed and flopped to the floor while the body thrashed unintelligently. Clarke looked at the creature’s bloodied head, suddenly inert, surrounded by the hunters that had killed it. The koth kicked at it, as if to make sure.

Realising that he didn’t remember the last time he’d taken a breath, Clarke felt his body relax for what seemed the first time in days.

---

Phewf. That was a long old story! There are a few loose ends to wrap up yet, but next week we’ll begin a brand new storyline that will have the SDC back to doing more typical detecting. Still, this won’t be the last time they find themselves pulled in unexpected directions.

Thanks as ever for reading. Especially big thanks to those of you who are paying subscribers.