Authors: Darren Shan
“He is our master,” Raz says, gazing at Beranabus adoringly. “He unites us, gives us direction, shows us the way.”
“He is an egotistical, reckless fool!” Sharmila disagrees, snorting harshly. “He does not care for any person’s life. He claims to be on a greater mission to save the world, but I have my doubts. I do not trust him and I advise you to be cautious also, Kernel.”
“But isn’t he your leader?” I ask, confused.
“Yes. But we follow him reluctantly, not out of choice.” She looks at Raz and smiles. “Well, some of us do.”
Raz and Sharmila start arguing about Beranabus’s faults and strong points. Nadia listens for a while, then shuffles away from them and nods for me to follow.
“They’re new to this,” she says quietly when we’re out of earshot. “Beranabus has always been a legendary figure to them. They haven’t spent time around him, so they’re not sure how to respond to his... peculiarities. Raz overidolizes him. Sharmila criticizes. But he doesn’t care what people say or think, as long as they obey his orders.”
“You’ve been with him a long time?” I ask, and she nods. “Is he your father or something?”
Nadia laughs. “No, he’s just.. .” She pauses and chews another fingernail. “We’ve all been where you are now. Sharmila, Raz and I led normal lives once. We sensed we were different, not completely like other people. But we had families and friends, jobs and dreams. We were ordinary. Happy. Then, one way or another, we found out about the Demonata.”
“The demons?”
“Yes. That’s their proper name — Demonata. They exist in a multiworld universe of their own. They’ve been around as long as mankind, maybe longer. Evil, murderous creatures, who revel in torment and slaughter. They try to cross over into our world all the time, but most are either too weak or too strong.”
“Too strong?” I frown.
“You stepped through a window to get here,” she explains. “Windows are the most common way of moving between universes, but they’re limited in size. Larger, stronger demons can’t squeeze through. There are other ways to cross — tunnels can be created — but they’re rare.
“Anyway, demons are real and they like nothing better than to cross into our world and murder humans. They’re usually unable to stay in our universe more than a few minutes, so they only have time to kill a handful of people. They’ve slaughtered hundreds of thousands over the centuries, but for the most part we’ve escaped pretty lightly, protected by laws of physics.”
Nadia glances at Beranabus, still working to find Cadaver. The patches of light have stopped gliding towards him, but there are lots in the air around the magician, pulsing at different speeds. As he chants spells, pieces slot together, joining in a panel forming ahead of him. It’s strange that only I can see the lights, but I don’t comment on that in case I break Nadia’s train of thought.
“Centuries ago, a few mages — people with magical talents, but not true magicians — decided to actively combat the demons,” Nadia continues. “They studied the disturbances created in advance of a demon crossing to our universe. If they could predict their coming, they could stop the beasts or fight them when they entered our world. They recruited other mages, then approached Beranabus and tried —”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupt. “You said this happened hundreds of years ago.”
“Yes.”
“But . . .” I stare at the elderly, bearded magician. He looks maybe sixty or more, but nothing like a guy in his hundreds, assuming a man could live that long — which is impossible.
“Time works differently in the Demonata’s universe,” Nadia says. “It can move more slowly or quickly, depending on where you are. But normally it’s slower. An hour here could be a day or more on Earth. A week could be a year. You could spend three or four years here and return to a brand new century. Or spend ten years here and return to a world which has only moved on by a week.
“But humans can’t survive in this universe. Even real magicians fall victim to the demon forces. Several have tried to extend their natural life span by coming here, but they’ve all been ripped to shreds by the Demonata. Except Beranabus. He’s strong enough to fight the demons as an equal, to survive among them. He’s a few hundred years old. At least.”
Raz and Sharmila have stopped arguing. Raz moves close to his master, in case he needs help. Sharmila comes to squat by Nadia and me, and listens as Nadia continues her explanations.
“The mages who wanted to fight the Demonata contacted Beranabus. He’d been fighting demons long before they came along, but usually in this universe. He saw it as his duty to prevent the stronger demons from building tunnels and crossing over. He focused on the demon masters — the ones who could destroy our world if they found a way across.”
“Have you ever fought a demon master?” Sharmila asks Nadia.
“Not yet,” she says, and a troubled expression flits across her face. She falls silent and starts chewing her nails again, biting hard. Sharmila squeezes the younger woman’s shoulder, then takes up the story. She has a soft but firm voice.
“The mages asked Beranabus to teach them his ways. They wanted to study his methods, so they could fight the stronger demons too. He told them he was not interested in being their teacher. But they were persistent. Dogged him. Begged to become his students, to learn, to help.
“Finally, because he was tired of being bothered, or because he thought they might serve some good, he agreed. He let a few travel with him through this universe, showed them how to fight, helped them understand more about their enemies. They passed that knowledge on, teaching others how to destroy windows before they were fully formed, how to fight demons who made it through. Although often, when a demon crosses, it is better not to engage them directly, just try to limit the damage.”
She pauses and shrugs stiffly. “That is not the way we like it, but it is the way it must be. There are too few of us to take risks. Better we avoid direct conflict and prevent other crossings, than fight, perish and leave the demons free to come as they please. Some disagree with that and take the fight to the Demonata, but they do not last very long.”
“
You
tried fighting when you were younger,” Nadia says, and Sharmila nods. “That’s why Beranabus recruited you. You and Raz have fought demons. He knows he can take advantage of your nobler nature.” She chuckles dryly and shoots Beranabus a dark look. I realize she doesn’t like the ancient magician. Maybe even hates him. But in that case, why does she work for him? Before I can ask, Nadia picks up the story again.
“The mages called themselves the Disciples, to honor Beranabus. He didn’t care about that, but to them it was important. It still is. Their followers have kept the name. There are never many Disciples — maybe forty or fifty at any time. They patrol the world, thwarting the plans of lesser demons, searching for other humans with powers like their own, to recruit, train and set against the Demonata.”
“Mostly we act independently of the master,” Raz says, and all our heads bob up. He’s standing over me, rubbing his hands together, smiling. “We were not properly introduced earlier. My name is Raz Warlo. This is Sharmila Mukherji. And Nadia Moore. We are — I’m sure I speak for us all — delighted to meet you, and will do all in our power to make you feel that you are among friends and allies.”
Sharmila laughs shortly. “Always the diplomat, Raz.”
“One of us needs to be.” He laughs back, then squats. “As I said, the Disciples mostly act without orders from the master. He leaves us free to operate as we see fit. Occasionally he’ll assign one of us a task, perhaps to watch for signs of demonic activity in a certain area, or to come into this universe with him to fight. But mostly we follow our own path.”
“Lucky you,” Nadia says bitterly, and shoots another harsh look at Beranabus.
“Are you his... slave?” I ask hesitantly.
“I might as well be,” she spits out, then smiles painfully. “No. Beranabus is a real son of a bitch, but I’m free to leave if I wish. I’m different from Raz, Sharmila and the rest of the Disciples — more gifted. Not necessarily more powerful, but I can.. .” She trails off and glances at Raz and Sharmila, who are staring at her curiously. They don’t know this bit either.
Nadia sniffs. “It’s not a secret. Beranabus didn’t tell you because there wasn’t time. He won’t mind if I fill you in. And I think I should, because it concerns you and Raz too. It’s the reason you’re here.”
“I have been curious about that,” Sharmila says, and though Raz says nothing, I can see that he’s intrigued also.
Nadia rubs her arms, shivering slightly. “I’ve been with Beranabus a long time, maybe seven or eight years — though it’s been a lot longer than that in the human world. When Beranabus recruited me, talking movies had just come into fashion. It was 1929.”
We gape at her. Sharmila covers her mouth with a hand. Raz blinks owlishly.
“1929?”
I echo. “But you’re so young.”
“I’ve spent most of those seven or eight years here, where — as I’ve explained — time works differently.”
“You mean you missed out on the 1930s?” Raz asks. “The second World War? Rock and roll? The Beatles?”
“Beetles?” Nadia asks innocently.
“The Beatles. The biggest band in the world. They...” He stops, not sure how to explain The Beatles to somebody from 1929.
“Poor girl,” Sharmila says, tears of pity in her eyes.
“It’s not so bad.” Nadia shrugs uncomfortably. “When we return to the human world, we stay in a cave that has been Beranabus’s base for many centuries. I haven’t seen the outside world since I joined him. I’m not jealous or regretful. Not really.”
She tries to make it sound like she honestly feels that way, but it’s clear that she’s deeply unhappy.
“Why?” Raz asks softly. “Why did the master ask this great sacrifice of you? What is your gift?”
“Fortune telling,” Nadia says with a giggle. “I was a child fortune teller. I’d dress up as a gypsy and read people’s palms, tea leaves, a crystal ball — whatever. When my parents realized I could make money doing it, they set up a special room in our house. Later they took me on the road with a traveling fair. I had a tent of my own. They billed me as Nadia Le Tarot. It was fun, but frightening sometimes — I could see people’s deaths. I was supposed to just tell them good things, but if I saw something upsetting, I couldn’t always hide it. That got me into trouble.
“I don’t know how Beranabus found me. He just turned up one night, and whisked me off into the madness of this. I was terrified. I didn’t know who he was or what he wanted. And all the demons...”
She shudders and glares at Beranabus. I try to imagine what that must have been like. It’s not difficult, since I’m in much the same boat as she was. But at least I made the decision to come here.
“In time I learned why Beranabus took me,” Nadia says. “I can sense things which have not yet happened. There are many people who claim that gift, but I’m one of the few who can really do it. Beranabus says my kind are even rarer than magicians.”
“How much can you see?” Sharmila asks, and there’s an edge to her voice. “Can you see when we will die? And by what means?”
Nadia shakes her head. “Not yet. I have to focus to gain insights like that. And I prefer not to. I don’t like knowing such details.”
“You say you can see the future before it happens,” Raz says slowly. “But if that is true, surely you can act to change it.”
“No. It’s not that specific. I might, for instance, see that you’ll die in a fire, but I won’t know when or where it will happen. My insights are never something that can be altered. If I get a glimpse of a future event, it’s because it has in some way already happened. It can’t be undone or prevented.
“But it
is
possible to use my gift to our advantage — that is, to Beranabus’s advantage.” She goes quiet, staring at her fingernails. Most are bitten down to the flesh, except the smallest nail on her left hand. Maybe she’s saving it for an especially stressful moment.
“There is a weapon,” Nadia whispers, and we have to lean in to hear. “A demonic weapon, maybe legendary, maybe real — Beranabus doesn’t know. They call it the Kah-Gash. According to the legends it’s ancient, even by the standards of the Demonata. We’re talking millions of years. It was broken up into a number of pieces eons ago, and they’ve been missing ever since.”
“How many pieces?” Raz asks.
“We don’t know. We don’t think any demon knows either. But certain demon masters have been looking for them ever since. Beranabus is searching for the pieces too. Because whatever the Kah-Gash is, the legends claim it has the power to destroy universes. They say it can wipe out either the universe of the Demonata, and every demon in it — or our own, and everyone in that.”
“What weapon could be so powerful?” Raz gasps. “Even a nuclear missile cannot destroy an entire universe.”
Nadia shrugs. “If I had the answer, I’d know more than Beranabus or any of the Demonata. But I know this much — one of the pieces
will
soon be found. I’ve seen it.” She starts chewing at the smallest nail on her left hand. “Beranabus has had me concentrating on the Kah-Gash ever since he brought me here. I spend hours of every day brooding about it, running the word through my thoughts, trying to find out where the pieces might be.
“A few days ago I had an insight. I sensed that part of the Kah-Gash was going to be discovered in the near future. I caught a glimpse of a demon — Cadaver. Words popped into my thoughts — ‘The demon thief will guide you. Find the thief.’”
Find the thief.
That’s what Mrs. Egin said when she was freaking out, and just before she exploded! I start to tell the others, but Sharmila speaks up before me.
“Cadaver stole the baby — Kernel’s brother.”
Nadia nods. “Beranabus was ecstatic when that happened. It confirmed that we were on the right track, that Cadaver was a demon thief.”
“So that’s what this is about,” Raz says, nudging my right arm. (It doesn’t hurt now. It’s been healed by magic.) “Nadia and the master came for me — having already collected Sharmila — a day or so ago. The master said he needed me, but didn’t say what he wanted me for. Now I see — it was to help search for the Kah-Gash.”