Darren Shan - The Demonata 6-10

A sudden pounding noise. Three blows, a pause, then three more. Beranabus and Kernel jump nervously at the first sound, then relax.

“I forgot,” I say quietly, madness receding temporarily, confident of taking me whenever it chooses. “Those noises have been coming for the last week. I went up the ladder to find out what was making them, but I couldn’t get out.”

“The entrance is protected by spells,” Beranabus says. “Only Kernel and I can open it.” He nods at Kernel, who heads for the ladder. “Be careful,” Beranabus calls after him. “It might not be one of ours.”

A short while later, Kernel returns. An elderly Indian woman in a light blue sari comes after him, limping but making good speed. She has a kind face, but it’s twisted with worry. At first I don’t know where I recognise her from. Then I remember — she was in a dream I had in Slawter last year.

“Sharmila,” Beranabus greets her, smiling wanly.

“Master, there has been a tragic–” the woman begins in a rush.

“I know,” Beranabus sighs. “The Demonata have crossed. I just found out. I’m going to Carcery Vale shortly, but perhaps you can flesh out the details before I leave.”

The woman stares at Beranabus blankly. “You are going there?”

“I think I should,” Beranabus says. “A stand must be made, aye?”

“But there are so many of them,” the woman wheezes.

Beranabus frowns, then tilts his head at me. “This is Sharmila Mukherji, one of my Disciples. Sharmila, this is Grubitsch Grady — though I believe he prefers the name of Grubbs. He’s Dervish’s nephew.”

Sharmila looks at me with surprising anger. “Dervish! He was on watch. He was supposed to make sure the tunnel was never reopened. He failed. He–”

“I don’t believe in finger-pointing,” Beranabus interrupts curtly, conveniently forgetting that he himself was pointing a finger at me not so long ago. “I trusted Dervish as much as I trust any of you. I’m sure he did all that anyone could. Now tell me how the situation stands. Quickly.”

“There is no point,” Sharmila snaps. “We have lost. They…” She stops and looks around the cave. Smiles briefly when she spots Kernel. Frowns when she faces Beranabus again. “I have been waiting in the upper cave for many days, incapable of contacting you. I told you years ago that you should share the access spells with us, so we could reach you swiftly in case of an emergency. It was probably too late even then, but if I had been able to find you directly…”

“It’s easy to be wise in retrospect,” Beranabus sniffs. “I made that call a long time ago and I stick by it, even now. It was essential that I remain protected from…” He trails off into silence, then growls to himself. “This is getting us nowhere. Tell me what’s happening. Please.”

“I am not up to date with the latest developments,” Sharmila replies sourly. “I was in contact with Shark until four days ago, but he broke the lines of communication. I suspect he lost patience and went into battle without you. He was never the most…”

She shrugs, then straightens her shoulders and speaks quickly. “The Demonata crossed three weeks ago in great numbers. They worked like soldiers, coordinated, attacking set targets, establishing control of the area around the cave. They have fractured since then, individuals branching off by themselves, spreading in chaotic directions. But they were organised to begin with. We did not expect that. They have never banded together in that way before. Who could have commanded them? Who has the power to unite so many monsters for even a short period of time?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Beranabus says. “The investigation can come later. Tell me more about the invasion. They were able to operate by day as well as night?”

“Most of them,” Sharmila says. “There were some weaker demons, but most in the first wave were beasts of great strength. The sun meant nothing to them.”

“Strange,” Beranabus frowns. “They can’t have massed in advance — I would have received word of such a build-up long ago. They must have been summoned when the cave was reactivated. But for so many to gather so quickly… You’re right. This was no ordinary attack. There was a leader working behind the scenes, establishing contacts, making allies, forging secret links, priming them to await a call, so they could respond immediately.”

He shudders. “It’s our worst fear come true. The disorderly division between the Demonata has always been our strongest card. But if they’ve finally found a figurehead to unite and lead them…” He puts the thought aside and nods sharply at Sharmila to continue.

“They established control of Carcery Vale and the nearby regions within a day,” Sharmila says. “They expanded steadily over the next few days and nights, conquering neighbouring towns and villages, establishing bases. Most people had fled their homes by then, but the demons did not care. They were more interested in boundaries than victims — again, very undemonlike behaviour.”

“Did anyone survive?” I ask, not wanting to interrupt but having to. “In Carcery Vale, were any spared?”

Sharmila laughs brutally. “Do not be ridiculous! It was a bloodbath. They kept a few alive to torture, but most were slaughtered that first day.”

“But not all,” I whisper, a faint ray of hope forming, forcing the madness back, giving me a ghost of a reason to stay sane. “Lord Loss hates Dervish and Bill-E. He wouldn’t want to kill them quickly. Maybe he spared them, so he could torment them at his leisure.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Beranabus says gruffly. “Alive or dead, it makes no difference, not when an army of demons separates us from them. Finish your report, Sharmila.”

The Indian lady shrugs. “The rest should be obvious. Public shock, confusion and denial to begin with. We live in scientific, enlightened times. People do not believe in demons. Even when the film crews went in and the first pictures emerged, most refused to accept it. They thought the pictures were computer generated, the work of a prankster, maybe an especially cunning film producer trying to generate interest in their next movie. There was talk of Davida Haym faking her death a year earlier in order to set this up. Quite ironic, no? But as the days went by, realisation sunk in. There were too many confirmed deaths, a never-ending series of reports and no government denials.”

“Bless the governments,” Kernel snorts. “How did our great leaders respond?”

“Slowly,” Sharmila says. “We warned them of the threat of the Demonata many times in the past, even though Beranabus told us not to bother.”

“I’ve never met a politician who didn’t deserve to be tossed into a pit full of Kallin,” Beranabus grunts.

“Nobody heeded our warnings,” Sharmila continues. “Despite all the evidence we presented, and our predictions of what would happen if a prolonged invasion ever came to pass, we were treated as cranks. We have always had a number of supporters in various high-ranking corners of the globe, but not enough to make a difference.

“Most governments spent the initial week in a blind panic. First they had to confirm the reports were genuine — that took a few days. Then they debated the meaning of it, what the demons might want, how they could placate them, what their response should be if the demons refused to negotiate. A few acted quickly and sent troops in – mostly from nearby countries, who could see they were next on the agenda – but it was the second week before the war began for real.”

“War,” Beranabus murmurs, face crinkling. “Most humans know nothing of true warfare. They wage their silly territorial battles, kill each other ruthlessly and freely, and consider themselves experts on war and suffering. But the real war has always been ahead of them, unseen, unimagined. Enemies who can’t be killed by normal weapons, who have their base in an alternate universe, who are interested only in slaughtering every living being on the face of the planet.”