Candleman (18 page)

‘I’ve borrowed Lord Wickland’s gloves, but I haven’t earned the right to be Candle Man yet. I’m no hero,’ Theo mumbled.

‘It takes courage to admit that,’ said Magnus, huddled deep in the dome.

‘Heroic
courage,’ added Sam warmly.

Theo sighed. All these years the Society of Unrelenting Vigilance had wanted a new Candle Man to help them fight their foes. Now they were determined to have one – apparently whether Theo liked it or not.

‘What’s more, I am beginning to think Theo’s theory is correct,’ Magnus murmured. His long frame was squeezed awkwardly in the boat, and his bony left elbow was jutting into Sam’s soft stomach. Theo was in the stern, perched on Magnus’s bulging backpack. ‘The Society has always assumed that the network is merely a subterranean highway used by secret groups to avoid the police and the attention of the unsuspecting populace above.
Hurrgh
!’

‘Hit him!’ Sam shouted, and Theo did his best to whack Magnus in the small of his back and get his antique inner workings back in line again.

‘Honestly,’ Sam groaned. ‘How can anyone so short of breath be so long-winded?’

Magnus gasped and spluttered a bit, then carried on. ‘But this “machine” theory of yours, Master Wickland, is rather compelling!’

The dome-boat struck some floating debris and became lodged against an archway. ‘Now we’re up the creek!’ Sam said. Theo, who was freer to move than the others, dragged a wooden post from the water, nearly tipping everyone out in the process. With all his strength he thrust the post against the wall and sent the inverted dome spinning elegantly back into the main current.

‘Candle Man to the rescue,’ cheered Sam.

‘Well, I suppose it’s just like steering a coracle,’ Theo replied, pleased with himself. ‘Page two hundred and six,
Inland Waterway Navigation: a Visual Record.
I’ve often wanted to try riding in one.’

‘We are making excellent progress,’ Magnus said, peering ahead.

‘Towards what?’ Theo asked. In the dank, steaming gloom he could hardly see a thing.

‘The centre of things,’ Magnus replied. ‘Yes, it all adds up!’ There was a spark in those sunken old eyes. ‘The original enemy of our Society, the Philanthropist, was an alchemist. It is well known that he performed some of his experiments down here. But it never occurred to me – or Mr Norrowmore – that the entire network could be one single device.’

Magnus dipped his fingers in the filmy waters and pulled them out sharply.

‘Almost boiling!’ he remarked. ‘These canals – obviously mixed with forbidden oils – complete the picture perfectly. Alchemists perform their dark miracles by combining earth, air, fire and water in secret combinations.’

Theo had to fend the dome away from the wall again as they were pushed to the side by more and more floating debris.

‘The water,’ Magnus theorised, ‘well, we’re sailing on that now. The air, of course, we are breathing. The earth – minerals – I believe are in the chemicals that Theo and Chloe saw the Society pouring into the canals last night.’

‘And the fire?’ Theo asked. But he had a horrible feeling he knew the answer already.

That was when they crashed. The coracle smashed into a sluice gate and hurled the three of them into the midst of a smoglodyte guard post.

My deeds will go down in smoglodyte history,
Skun reflected as he crawled upside down along the tunnel roof, towards the Inner Sentry Station. This guarded the way up to the Well Chamber – where Dr Saint was.

Given the almost impossible task of tracking one lost boy in a London that had swollen to dizzying size, he had found Theo twice. This time, the boy was right here, in the network. All he had to do was explain his mission to the guards, then report directly to Dr Saint. At last his task would be over, his fame assured.

‘I’m back,’ he cried out, dropping lightly to the floor. He grimaced as the landing hurt his shrivelled leg. ‘Skun – the hero!’ He winced bravely.

The other smogs gathered round him eagerly. ‘What’s the news, Skun? What have you done?’

Skun took a deep breath – but suddenly all hell broke loose.

‘Attack! We’re under attack!’ screeched a voice through the mists. From over by the sluice gate, the smoglodyte guards had started screaming. There was a series of explosions and they screamed no more.

They had been caught completely by surprise. The enemy had penetrated almost to the Well Chamber by cunning use of the canal system. In a brilliant attack they had launched three desperate agents from a fast-moving craft that had smashed into the sluice gate under the cover of the hot mists.

‘Human scum!’ shrieked Lurk, a wrinkly old smog. The battle was drawing closer. Skun could already see figures darting here and there through the vapours. He ducked to avoid the flying bits as someone he vaguely knew burst into a ball of gas and giblets.

‘There’s three of them!’ Lurk screamed. ‘And they’ve got a special weapon!’

Three
of them, Skun realised with a sinking heart. It was
them.
The humans were trying to escape him again!

‘Get back!’ he cried to his tribesmen. He couldn’t believe his rotten smoglodyte luck.

‘It’s the Candlehand!’ old Lurk suddenly wailed. ‘The hour of doom is nigh!’

Skun shrank into a crevice in the rock. The Candlehand? Was that the answer? Was that why his triumphant hunt had ended in such disaster? Was the boy they had been seeking really their most terrifying myth come back to life?

‘Back to the Well Chamber!’ Skun cried, leaping towards the stairway. But his injury slowed him down. ‘We must warn the masters!’

Crack!
A blast of buckshot pierced his hide, and he flew out of control like a deflating balloon and slapped into the stone wall.

‘But we don’t want you warning
anyone,’
croaked a tall, ancient human, stepping forward and lowering an enormous gun.

‘They’ve retreated!’ Magnus shouted.

Theo glanced around nervously, his hands still glowing. Being hurled out of the coracle had shaken him up a bit, but he was determined no harm would come to his friends. Now he watched with relief as the remaining smoglodytes scattered in the gloom.

‘They’ve returned to the –
hurrghh
– foul elements that spawned them!’ Magnus crowed. Then, flushed with triumph, the cemetery keeper leant on the blunderbuss, laughing and gasping for breath at the same time.

Completely mad,
thought Theo. He frowned at Sam, who was dancing some kind of jig.

‘We did it!’ Sam said. ‘We won!’

‘Just like the old days!’ cried Magnus, reloading the gun with trembling fingers.

Theo was not celebrating. He felt afraid. Every victory took him closer to an encounter with Dr Saint, the man who had lied to him, imprisoned him, controlled him all his life. Hundreds of people were at his command; supernatural creatures did his bidding, and he had the power to influence the police and the government. How could you beat a man like that?

Then there was Mr Nicely. The so-called best friend who had laughed and grinned and twirled his umbrella while Theo’s life was wasted, strangled, betrayed every single day of his existence. Would Theo’s hands glow when the jolly-faced butler came into view? Could Theo use his powers against the only people he had ever really known?

Magnus had reloaded his museum-piece and handed the backpack to Sam. They walked ahead, side by side, through the abandoned sentry post, towards Dr Saint’s secret centre of operations.

‘This is it,’ Magnus whispered. ‘The reason we’ve been vigilant all these years. To stop the enemy returning and winning the war. To restore the Candle Man, so there will always be a light to dispel the darkness of the underworld.’

Theo had hardly been paying attention. He followed them like a sleepwalker. He was listening to the distant booms, the surging of vapours in hidden pipes, the seething of energy that echoed all around them. He suddenly knew what it reminded him of.

The network,
he told himself,
is a giant Mercy Tube.

I
t was beyond anything they had expected. They emerged from the tunnel on to an iron gantry that ran all the way round an enormous circular chamber. In the middle was a dark tower, rising from a gulf of mists like a mountainous stalagmite. Bright lights glittered at its peak. Four narrow iron bridges linked the tower to the surrounding chamber, and below them was a drop that seemed to go down forever.

‘Your monitors never showed us this,’ Sam breathed.

‘No,’ confessed Magnus, his eyes streaming with tears from the stinging vapours. ‘We never got a spy-camera in here. It’s the Philanthropist’s old centre of operations. Legend calls this place the Well Chamber. We are the first Vigilance agents ever to set foot in here –
hurrgh!
’ Magnus paused to gasp for breath. ‘It looks like the evacuation has left it almost deserted – except for whoever is in the control tower at the top.’

‘Look,’ Theo said, his keen eyes picking out a fragile framework that rose from the top of the tower, disappearing into the darkness overhead. ‘Some sort of Otis shaft.’

‘Normal people call them lifts,’ said Sam.

‘I’ve never seen a lift before,’ Theo replied, ‘or a normal person for that matter.’

‘It would appear,’ Magnus said, ‘that Dr Saint has his own express elevator into the heart of this place.’

‘Yeah – and out of it,’ noted Sam.

Behind them, the rising waters had churned up through the tunnel and were now spilling over the gantry, threatening to wash the three of them over the edge.

‘We’ve got to move,’ Magnus said. ‘Dangerous or not, that tower is now the safest place to be! To the bridge!’ he cried, his walking stick skidding on the slippery iron surface.

Sam was about to step on to the bridge when he was hit by a flying black blur. A final smoglodyte guard, hidden by the vapours, sprang straight at his throat, its spidery hands seeking a death hold on the soft flesh. But it was the smoglodyte that didn’t have a chance. Theo reached out and exploded the astonished creature with one swift touch. A small, foul drizzle spattered Sam, and a little dark cloud spread out across the paler mists of the chamber.

‘Yuck,’ said Sam, smearing the smog-stains off his cheek and on to his shirt. ‘Thanks for the save, Candle Man!’

Theo avoided Sam’s gaze as he stepped on to the narrow bridge, still awkward at the faint hint of hero worship. But he couldn’t deny he felt different now. He wasn’t just a bewildered escapee – as he had been at first – or a generally useless passenger, as he had felt with Chloe. Now he was part of a team and, looking at the sagging, bony Magnus and the red-faced, anxious Sam, he began to feel like he might have to emerge as the leader.

They continued the crossing in silence. Clouds rose from the depths below and drifted around them like enormous phantoms. Theo hoped that the very vapours created by Dr Saint would be his undoing – enabling a small group of determined enemies to creep into the heart of operations unseen.

Suddenly an ear-splitting
bang
made them jump.

‘What was that?’ Sam yelped.

Bang, bang
– all around the chamber, the jarring sounds rang out. The trio froze, uncertain. Then the bridge began to tremble. Suddenly they heard a rapid
clack, clack, clack
– as if an invisible train were approaching.

‘Move!’ Magnus shouted. ‘That way!’ He pointed towards the tower.

Theo glanced backwards to see a shocking sight. The metal bridge was retracting. It no longer reached the gantry behind them. It had been automatically released and was being reeled in.
Clack, clack, clack
– the grey slats vanished into each other.

‘Faster!’ Theo cried as they raced towards the control tower, the bridge disappearing under their feet. He didn’t dare glance back – or down.

‘Go!’ With a desperate cry, Sam actually shoved his grandad over the last few yards, leaving himself and Theo to make a wild leap for the tower.

‘Made it!’ Sam gasped. They had landed in a heap on an iron balcony, just as the last slats of the bridge rattled into the wall. They crouched in the dark, listening for any sounds of alarm.

‘It would seem the retraction of the bridge was automatic,’ Magnus wheezed, sitting up and trying to recover his dignity. The bulging veins in his neck and forehead were pulsing as if ready to burst. ‘I don’t think anyone in the tower has spotted us.’ They crouched in the dark, looking to the right and left, but no guards appeared.

‘It seems their plans hold all their attention,’ Magnus said. He nodded upwards, where lights were blinking and the whirring of machines could be heard. A metal staircase led up from the balcony, inviting them to make the final ascent. Magnus gave his blunderbuss to Sam and grabbed the ladder with both gnarled hands.

Theo peeled his gloves off and looped the gauntlets to his belt. His hands were glowing – that meant at least one murderer was nearby. Exhausted in every muscle, he followed the others up.

They clambered to the top of an abandoned observation post. From there, they could look down on the main platform, from which Dr Saint appeared to be controlling operations. The three crouched behind an iron barrier and caught their breath.

Sam nudged Theo forwards to take a peek, as he was the ‘luckiest’. Peering around the barrier, at first Theo could make out nothing, but soon the fitful mists dispersed enough to reveal the scene.

In the centre of the platform was the main control station – a semicircular array of great iron wheels, valves and levers, all under a metal storm-hood to protect it from the very forces it could unleash. In front of the main array, several dark figures moved. Theo spotted two guards in grey uniforms. Then a narrow, erect form stepped back from a central screen and shouted into a Victorian-style speaking tube. Immediately a second, portly man appeared from a stairway below and gave a slight bow. Unmistakably, it was Dr Saint and Mr Nicely. Theo felt an almost physical pang of dismay at seeing them.

Dr Saint stood over the controls like a captain at the wheel of a ship. From time to time he shouted orders at two huge Foundlings, both muscular powerhouses stripped to the waist. Their hulking bodies were covered with tattoos. These human titans, glistening with sweat, were easily the scariest people Theo had ever seen. They were using all their might to turn massive control wheels.