The Infernal Aether (First Draft)

Chapter 34 - An Unwanted Delay

We travelled, not because we had a plan but more because we could think of little else to do. Every minute, every hour, every mile took us closer to London and Andras' Apocalypse. We had long ago ceased discussing what we would do to prevent the end of the world, for the reality was too depressing for words. We were but ants, trying to stop an oncoming steam train.

I tried to distract myself by focusing on the scenery on our route, but even that was scarce consolation. The world was changing rapidly as a result of the malign influence of Andras' portal to the Aether and everything served to remind me of the normality that we would soon lose forever. A couple of times I managed to lose myself in the banality of the normal, a well-ploughed field or a line of trees, only to be wrenched back into darker thoughts by a half-glimpsed image in the background, which I fancied to be a Demon or other such fiend.

My companions seemed to be affected by the same malaise. Maxwell was brooding in the way that only a scientist can when he has neither books nor equipment to distract him. Kate, usually the most talkative and boisterous of us -- often indecently so -- was completely silent, a state which was alien enough to add to my own feelings of unease. She caught me looking at her and offered me a smile which began and ended with her lips. I smiled back, hoping I did not let on the desolation I felt.

The carriage bumped to a halt and the driver opened the door. "All out!" he yelled.

We stepped out of the carriage, blinking and looking around in confusion. "Where are we?" I asked the driver.

He pointed at the tavern in front of us, a rather ramshackle affair with a crowd of horses and carriages outside it. The building was literally in the middle of nowhere, the only sign of civilisation on the long road which twisted from one horizon to the other.

"Our stop for the night," said the driver, tethering the horses to a post.

"But our agreement was that you would take us to London as quickly as possible."

"That's right. But not at night. We rest here, start again in the morning."

"I am willing to pay extra," said Maxwell. "But we really cannot afford to linger anywhere; why, we are not even past Manchester yet."

"You can pay as much as you want," said the driver. "But I'm not going anywhere until the sun comes back up."

"But why not?" I said.

He looked at us, frowning suspiciously. "It's not safe at night any more. You get caught out of doors once the sun goes down; you're as good as dead." He shook his head. "You must have seen them: the ghouls, wraiths, Revenants. I always thought they were scare stories to tell the kids." He turned toward the tavern. "We'll be safe here, and you can carry on your way in the morning."

* * *

We were not the only ones with that idea; by the time the sun set the tavern was filled to bursting, with every available table, chair and floor space occupied. All of the bedrooms had been sold long before we arrived and so we satisfied ourselves with a corner of the room in which to squat, nursing cups of tepid ale and cold broth. The happiest person in the building was the landlord, who was keen to let in all who demanded sanctuary and more than happy to fleece them when they were within.

We spent a few hours in quiet contemplation and then I decided that it was time for some fraternisation with our fellow prisoners. For that was what we were in reality: unable to escape and confined to highly restricted accommodations.

"So, it is bad down here too, then?" I said to a man sat next to us. He was a rather nervous-looking creature, with a shrew of a wife and two demanding daughters in tow.