Kernel’s playing with invisible lights when I return. His eyes were stabbed out in Carcery Vale. I thought he’d be blind for life, but you can work all sorts of miracles in this universe. Using magic, he eventually pieced together a new pair. They look a lot like his original set, only the blue’s a shade brighter and tiny flickers of different colours play across them all the time.
The flickers are shadows of hidden patches of light. Apparently, the universes are full of them. When a mage or demon opens a window between realms, the mysterious lights cluster together to create the fissure. But only Kernel can see the patches. He can also manipulate them with his hands, allowing him to open windows faster than any other human or demon.
Beranabus was worried that Kernel might not be able to see the lights when he rebuilt his eyes, but actually his vision has improved. He can see patches he never saw before, small, shimmering lights which constantly change shape. He can’t control the newly revealed patches. He’s spent a lot of time fiddling with them, without any success.
I sit and watch Kernel’s hands making shapes in the air. His eyes are focused, his expression intense, like he’s under hypnosis. There are goose bumps on his chocolate-coloured skin. Beads of sweat roll down his bald head, but turn to steam as they trickle close to his eyes. He freaks me out when he’s like this. He doesn’t look human.
Of course he’s
I’m constantly aware of the Kah-Gash within me. It’s a separate part of myself, forever swirling beneath the surface of my skin and thoughts. It used to speak to me but it hasn’t said anything since that night in the cave. I often try to question it, to find out more about the weapon’s powers and intentions. But the Kah-Gash is keeping quiet. No matter what I say, it doesn’t respond.
Maybe if Kernel, Bec and I experimented as a team, we could unearth its secrets. But Beranabus is wary of uniting us. We couldn’t control the Kah-Gash when we first got together. It took a direction of its own. It worked in our favour on that occasion, but he’s afraid it might just as easily work against us next time. The old magician has spent more than a thousand years searching for the scattered pieces of the Kah-Gash, but now that he’s reassembled them, he’s afraid to test the all-destructive weapon.
I miss the voice of the Kah-Gash. I was never truly alone when it was there, and loneliness is something I’m feeling a lot of now. I miss my half-brother, Bill-E, taken from me forever that night in the cave. I miss school, my friends, Loch’s sister Reni. I miss the world, the life I knew, TV, music—even the weather!
But most of all I miss Dervish. My uncle was like a father to me since my real dad died. In an odd way I love him more than I loved my parents. I took them for granted and assumed they’d always be around. I knew they’d die at some point, but I thought it would be years ahead, when they were old. Having learnt my lesson the hard way, I made the most of every day with Dervish, going to bed thankful every night that he was still alive and with me.
I could tell Dervish about the demons, the dullness, the loneliness. He’d listen politely, then make some dry, cutting comment that would make it all seem fine. Time wouldn’t drag if I had Dervish to chat with between battles.
I wonder what he’s doing, how he’s coping without me, how much time has passed in my world. Time operates differently in this universe. Depending on where you are, it can pass slower or quicker than on Earth. Kernel told me that when he first came here with Beranabus, he thought he’d only spent a few weeks, but he returned home to find that seven years had passed.
We’ve been trying to stick to zones where time passes at the same rate as on Earth, so that we can respond swiftly if there’s a large-scale assault or if Bec gets into trouble. But Beranabus is elderly and fuzzy-headed. If not for the emergence of the Shadow, I think he’d have shuffled off after the fight in the cave to see out his last few years in peace and quiet. Kernel has absolute faith in him but I wouldn’t be shocked if we returned to Earth only to find that a hundred years have passed and everyone we knew is pushing up daisies.
As if reacting to my thoughts, Beranabus groans and rolls on to his back. He blinks at the darkness, then lets his eyelids flutter shut, drifting into sleep. His long, shaggy hair is almost fully grey. His old suit is torn in many places, stained with different shades of demon blood. The flower in the top buttonhole of his jacket, which he wears in memory of Bec, is drooping and has shed most of its petals. His skin is wrinkled and splotchy, caked with filth. His toenails are like dirty, jagged claws. Only his hands are clean and carefully kept, as always.
Kernel mutters a frustrated curse.
“No joy?” I ask.
“I can’t get near them,” he snaps. “They dart away from my touch. I wish I knew what they were. They’re bugging the hell out of me.”
“Maybe they’re illusions,” I suggest. “Imaginary blobs of light. The result of a misconnection between your new eyes and your brain.”
“No,” Kernel growls. “They’re real, I’m sure of it. I just don’t know what…”
He starts fiddling again. He needs to lighten up. It can’t be healthy, wasting his time on a load of lights that might not even be real. Not that I’ve done a lot more than him in my quieter moments. I wish I had a computer, a TV, a CD player. Hell, I’d even read a book—that’s how low I’ve sunk!
I’m thinking of asking Kernel to open a window back to Earth, so I can nip through and pick up something to distract me, when Beranabus stirs again.
“Was I asleep for long?” he asks.
“A few minutes,” I tell him.
He scowls. “I thought I’d been out for hours. That’s the trouble with this damn universe—you can’t get any decent sleep.”
Beranabus stands and stretches. He looks around with his small, blue-grey eyes and yawns. This is about the only time you can see his mouth properly. Mostly it’s hidden behind a thick, bushy beard. All our hair was burnt away when we travelled through time, but it’s grown back. I think he looked better without the beard, but he likes it. I grew my ginger hair the same way as before too. I guess you always go with what you’re used to.
“I suppose we’d better—” Beranabus begins.
“Quiet!” Kernel hisses, cocking his head. This is a new tic of his. Several times recently he’s shushed us. He says he can hear muted whispers, hints of sounds which seem to come from the patches of light.
A few minutes pass. Kernel listens intently while Beranabus and I keep our peace. Finally he relaxes and shakes his head.
“Could you make out anything?” Beranabus asks.
“No,” Kernel sighs. “I’m not even sure it’s speech. Maybe it’s just white noise.”
“Or maybe you’re going crazy,” I throw in.
“Maybe,” Kernel agrees.
“I was joking,” I tell him.
“I wasn’t,” he replies.
“Well, whatever it is, it can wait,” Beranabus says. “We’ve had enough rest. Open another window and we’ll go find a few more demons.”
Kernel sighs, then concentrates. Roll on the next round of inquisitions and torture.
TO THE RESCUE
We’re chasing a flock of terrified sheep demons. Each one is covered with hundreds of small, woolly heads. No eyes or ears, just big mouths full of sharp demon teeth. All the better to eat you with, my dear.
Beranabus thinks the sheep might know something about the Shadow. Stronger demons prey on these weak creatures. He’s hoping they might have heard something useful if any of the Shadow’s army struck their flock recently. It’s a long shot, but Beranabus has devoted his life to long shots.
As we close in on the frantic demons, Kernel stops and stares at a spot close by.
