bubbles away to nothing. But that makes no difference. I still exist. I still hear, think and feel. The noise squeezes my soul. Pain that’s indescribable. No way to scream or release the pressure. A universe of agony.
Then, suddenly, the noise stops. I come to rest. The pain disappears. Delicious, soothing silence. Broken abruptly by a girl’s delighted laugh.
A SECOND CHANCE
At first I think the world and universe have been utterly destroyed and I’m just imagining the laughter. But then the blackness clears slightly. I realise I have eyes again. Blinking, I look around, but can’t make out much. It’s night and I’m in the middle of a cluster of trees. It’s not especially dark—the gleam of a full moon seeps through the branches of the trees—but it’s hard to adjust or focus. My mind’s spinning crazily in a bewildered whir.
“What happened?” Beranabus croaks, rising from a spot nearby. Kernel lies at the magician’s feet, groaning, cradling his head in his hands. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. My ears are searching for something. I’m not sure what it is, until after a few seconds it sinks in—the girl’s voice has gone.
Kernel mutters something, then bolts upright, screaming. “My eyes!” he howls. “The maggots! My eyes! I can’t—”
Beranabus covers his assistant’s mouth and whispers words of magic, a spell to ease the pain. Kernel thrashes wildly, then regains control and stops struggling, though his chest continues to rise and fall rapidly.
Beranabus removes his hand. “Are you going to be all right?”
“My eyes…” Kernel moans.
“Gone,” Beranabus says bluntly.
“But… we must… there has to be some way…”
“No. They’re ruined. But don’t worry—magic will compensate. You won’t be entirely helpless.” Beranabus squeezes the back of Kernel’s neck. “We might even be able to knock together a pair of replacements when we return to the demon universe. If the gods are truly with us, you’ll still be able to see the patches of light and create windows.”
“Like I give a damn about that!” Kernel snaps sourly, but Beranabus ignores the hostility.
“Peace for a few minutes,” the magician says. “I need to determine where we are.”
He turns in a slow circle, eyes closed, breathing softly, trying to pinpoint our position. I know I should keep silent and wait for him to finish, but I can’t. “What did she do to us? The ground breaking apart and rising… the sky and funnel… the lights and windows… the noise and pain. What was all that about?”
“How should I know?” Beranabus growls. “Maybe she was trying to destroy the demons and the spell got out of hand.”
“But the sky! Did you see it? How did she do that? What—”
“Quiet!” Beranabus barks, opening an eye to glare at me. “How can I concentrate with you throwing stupid questions at me?”
“But she tore up the ground!” I shout. “She reversed gravity and brought the sky crashing down. And then she sent us… where? Is this Earth? A demon world? Are we dead?”
“I don’t know,” Beranabus sighs. “I don’t know where this is or how she sent us here— teleportation, I suppose, but I’ve never seen it done that way before. But I know
“I told the Disciples that if we collapsed the walls of the tunnel, victory would be ours. The demons would be sucked back to their own universe. That’s how it happened in the past. I assumed the rules would apply the same way in the present.
“Bec told me they wouldn’t.”
“You mean, even if we’d succeeded, we wouldn’t have got rid of the demons?” I ask quietly.
“We’d have stopped others from crossing,” he says. “And those here would have lost much of their power. But the world has changed. There’s less magic in the air. My spells wouldn’t have dislodged the demons. The masters would have remained and even weakened they’d have had enough strength to crush humanity. I don’t think all of the Demonata were aware of that—they certainly didn’t act like they were—but Bec knew we were doomed. To spare us, she worked a spell with you and Kernel to get us out, so we could regroup and try again.”
“What’s there to try?” I sob. “If we couldn’t send them back this time, with all the Disciples to back us up… if destroying the tunnel won’t work…”
“There must be a way,” Beranabus mutters. “That’s why I have to focus. Time’s precious. Bec gave the demons a taste of their own hellish magic, but there’s no guarantee that those sucked up into the sky are dead. Even if they are, the tunnel’s still open. More can cross. We need to return and block their way. So be quiet and let me get my bearings. You can ask all the questions you want after that.”
He closes his eyes and turns again, reaching out with all his senses. Kernel has dragged himself away to sit against a tree. He’s exploring the empty sockets of his eyes with trembling fingers, picking out some dead maggots caught in the corners. I hobble over to check on him, to help if I can, to comfort him if he’ll let me.
Then I see the rocks.
My eyes have adjusted and the light from the moon is strong, even under the cover of the trees. I can’t miss the rocks. They lie scattered everywhere, but a lot are piled up on my left in a large mound. They can’t be real. It isn’t possible. I must be imagining them. Except I’m not. The magic inside me says they’re genuine. It’s smug. Confident. Triumphant.
“Beranabus.”
“Grubbs!” he yells angrily. “I told you not to—”
“I know where we are.”
He opens his eyes a fraction, suspiciously. “Where?”
“You don’t need magic. Just look.” I point to the rocks.
Beranabus frowns. Then he realises he’s seen the mound before and his jaw drops. “No,” he croaks. “It can’t be. This is a trick. Or somewhere that looks like…”
“No.” I walk across, pick up one of the smaller rocks, then lob it down the hole on the other side of the mound—the mouth of an all too familiar cave. “We haven’t gone anywhere. We’re still in Carcery Vale.”
Beranabus is striding around the hole, squinting at it, studying it from every possible angle. Every so often he stops, mumbles to himself, shuffles towards the hole, then starts marching again.
I’m with Kernel. I’ve wiped away the worst of the muck from around his eyes, using leaves and forest water. “How are you feeling?” I ask.
“There’s not much pain,” he says, “but there will be. You can delay it in circumstances like these, but not indefinitely. I’ll need hospital treatment when the spell wears off. Assuming any hospitals are left…” His head turns left, then right. “Is it day or night?”
“Night.”
“I thought so. But it was day when we attacked. I didn’t think I’d been unconscious that long.”
“You weren’t.”
“Then…” He leaves the question hanging.
“We don’t know,” I tell him. “Beranabus is trying to figure it out.”
Kernel nods slowly. “How do I look?” he asks.
I stare into the vacant pits where his eyes once were. They’re peppered with dead maggots. A few are only half visible, their heads and upper bodies buried in the dark flesh and bone of his sockets. “Fine,” I lie.
Beranabus begins to laugh. I think he’s laughing at my lie and I turn on him angrily. But then I see that he didn’t even hear what I said.
“Of course,” he chortles. “It’s the only answer. There’s just one way she could have channelled that much power, to such an effect. You and Bec are the other two pieces. That’s the only thing that makes…”
