Qualia Read online

  ‘Come on, you.’ Raphael grabbed my shoulder and, grinning, propelled me ahead. ‘I think that I’ll bring up the rear – that way I can keep my eye on you.’ He grinned into the bag before selecting a bright pink sweet. ‘Do you eat their heads or their feet first?’ he enquired.

  I swallowed hard and put the sweets into my pocket.

  As we approached the fortress, I could finally make out a single different feature in this land of tonal changes. A huge pair of dark wooden gates vast, old and blackened dominated the scene. The wood, dried and ancient, had splits into which I could easily have plunged my fist. Huge, square headed nails, worn and dull, each the size of my head were embedded in the wood, giving it a speckled, medieval appearance. Set deep within the sand-coloured walls, they were obviously designed to catch the attention of anyone approaching. The immortal words, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here” were missing, (obviously another urban myth). However, these gates needed no negative advertising. Anybody that laid eyes on them would immediately and irreversibly abandon any false belief that they had gone to a “better” place.

  Closer now, I studied the walls. They were constructed from huge blocks of stone, each one approximately the size of a small bungalow. I wondered how they’d managed to move them into place and where they had come from. As we approached, my thoughts about the architecture were interrupted as the gates began to creak. As they swung ponderously open, I noted that they were at least 50 feet high and thicker than my body. Were they built to keep invaders out or to keep things, trying to escape, in? I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.

  Between the open gates a figure appeared. A big man, on a vast black horse, trotted over the sand toward us. He was carrying a long pole which had a vicious spike at one end and an elegant, curved axe head at the other. I’d seen one before. Carly and I had once visited a re-enactment event at Warwick Castle and, if I remembered rightly, that type of weapon was called a bardiche. I laughed, I only remembered the name because I’d been messing about and had knocked it over. As it fell, it had missed Carly by millimetres; the look on her face had been priceless.

  ‘Don’t laugh.’ Raphael frowned and nudged me. ‘This is one guy you don’t want to upset.’

  ‘What? No, I wasn’t … I was just …’ Getting my mind back on the job I stared over at our approaching escort. As he neared I squinted and tried to get my brain to confirm exactly what my eyes were seeing. ‘What the hell is that?’ I whispered to the angel.

  ‘That’s Nessus,’ Raphael said. ‘I bet you never thought you’d see one of his kind.’

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the creature striding toward us but I managed to shake my head. ‘They’re not real.’ I finally focused on Raphael who was obviously enjoying my astonishment. ‘Next you’ll be telling me that dragons and unicorns exist as well.’

  Myths and legends tell us that a centaur is merely a horse and a man joined: it’s not, nothing like.

  Standing 20 hands at his horse shoulder Nessus looked down at us from at least nine foot in the air. His hooves, unlike horses’, were cloven. Twin toes sporting shining black claws peered from beneath long white hairs like those on a shire horse. The heavily muscled legs each sported a single bone spur, which sprouted from just above the back of each fetlock. These spurs had been encased in finely worked silver which extended the natural claw and gave each a wickedly sharp tip. As thick as my wrist at the base they looked effective and brutal weapons.

  The creature was a mass of well-defined muscle which moved with a silken fluidity beneath tanned human skin or glossy black hair depending on which part of him you were studying. His shoulders and neck were solid, the hefty shaft of the weapon he carried, slung casually over one shoulder, made no indentation at all.

  I craned my neck to look at his face. Large dark eyes, as limpid and liquid as black glass, gazed out from between heavy brows and a broad nose. A forelock and long coarse mane sprouted in a straight Mohican across his head and continued on to finish midway down the massive spine. Each huge spinous and transverse process of his vertebrae pierced the skin and created twin spiked ridges down his back. I could easily believe that he was the outcome of a threesome between a body builder on steroids, an armoured carthorse and a small stegosaurus.

  The shaved sides of his head, his shoulders and back were heavily tattooed. Prehistoric animals: mammoths, deer and other, less identifiable creatures fled into the black hair that signalled his change of genus. From here, a long line of white, cryogenically branded images of stickmen shot arrows, waved weapons and chased yet more animals toward his tail. Around his waist hung a beautiful leather bag, its flap embossed with the same creatures that decorated his skin, his tall ears were pierced with gold and silver hoops as was the one eyebrow that was currently quirked toward his fringe.

  ‘Didn’t your mother tell you that it’s rude to stare?’ A deep, gravelly voice interrupted my study of his physiology.

  Forcing myself to study the toes of my boots, I muttered an apology.

  As he walked slowly toward me I noticed that there was a wonderfully heady fragrance about him – a mixture of hot horse, sweet grass and musk. There also seemed to be a faint hint of aftershave, but try as I might I couldn’t quite place the brand.

  ‘Is this an angel?’ Bending, he peered into my eyes, sniffing at my hair and face, then, with a sudden snort, he shied away. Folding his arms across his massive chest he turned to face the angels. ‘That’s human. Michael, why is that here, you know it’s forbidden?’

  Michael stepped forward to stand in front of the towering monster. ‘My apologies, Nessus, he has been sent by Metatron.’ Michael turned and gave me a look of utter disgust. ‘To observe.’

  Raphael stepped forward but a warning look from Michael stilled anything he might have been going to say.

  ‘An observer?’ Nessus stepped daintily around the archangel in front of him to confront me again. ‘Then why does it have a weapon?’

  Grabbing my hair, the huge horseman bent me forward and plucked the knife from between my shoulder blades. With a yelp he dropped it on the ground as though burnt. ‘And such a weapon.’ He cautiously kicked the knife away, using only his claws.

  There was silence for a moment as Nessus regarded me before once again turning to the angels. ‘That cannot go with you,’ he said. ‘That must stay here and wait. I would not stop the talks but that must stay with me.’ His long black tail flicked and caught me across the face. ‘You’re lucky I choose not to take this as an insult.’

  Michael grinned happily at me then turned a serious face to the dour centaur. ‘As you wish, Gate Keeper.’ He gave a small bow. ‘I would not presume to know what Metatron wanted him to observe, but I know that the talks must continue. We’ll be happy to leave him in your care.’

  With that he turned back to Raphael and the scribes. ‘Shall we?’ He gestured elegantly through the gate. As they walked away, Michael turned back to me. ‘Have fun, Joe, we won’t be long. Don’t worry, we’ll tell Metatron that you just weren’t allowed in.’ He walked away laughing, obviously very pleased with the outcome.

  Watching the angels walk away, the centaur muttered under his breath; it was only one word and it sounded suspiciously like “Arsehole”.

  Looking as innocent as I could, I attempted to sidle after Raphael. However, at the first shuffling step, Nessus’s huge arm barred my way. ‘Stand still, little human,’ he rumbled, ‘I think we can amuse ourselves until they come back.’ He didn’t look at me but continued to watch as the party moved through the gate and away down the stone passage.

  Standing in silence outside the gates of Hell, I watched as my guardian angel walked away. Just before they disappeared, Raphael turned to me with a worried look. Michael put a hand between his shoulders and moved him firmly onward. One by one they vanished into the fortress.

  Eventually, Nessus turned to me. ‘You’d better grab that.’ He pointed toward my knife that still lay, half-embedded, in the sand. ‘But
put it away and keep it under control.’ He shuddered, both types of skin rippling as though shedding a fly. He watched as I picked up the knife, relaxing only after it was safely between my shoulders once again.

  ‘Nasty piece of ironwork that.’ He turned away, his long tail raising puffs of dust as it dragged elegantly through the sand. ‘Come on.’ He looked back over one tanned shoulder. ‘We don’t have long so let’s get moving.’

  With the exit of the angels his voice and inflection had changed, becoming softer and less formal. His accent sounded suspiciously West Country. I stared around at the never-changing sand. Well, I had two choices: stand here and never know what was behind those walls, or follow a horse’s arse into Hell. I shrugged and followed the horse’s arse. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time now, would it?

  Once through the gate we turned right and entered a confusing array of passages, doors and corridors. Nessus walked with no hesitation and eventually we emerged into a large open space.

  Forgetting why I was there, I stood and stared at the hustle and bustle that paraded before me. Recognisable demons and things that might have been demons wandered past chatting and laughing. Centaurs, humans, reptiles, furry things, slimy things, big things and little things, all rubbed shoulders as they wandered and laughed together around a colourful and vibrant fayre. Each stall displayed something different: vividly coloured cloth, hot food, exotic weapons, books, toys and sweets to name but a few. One stall sold tall plants which, obviously due to some unseen stimuli, occasionally opened and puffed a small amount of brown dust into the air. Smelling of cinnamon, there was the hint of sweet grit as it settled on the tongue. Another stall held nothing but small brown paper packets. Each was sealed with wax and multicoloured ribbon. I had no idea what was in those mysterious packages but the owner was doing a brisk trade.

  Set on a slight hill, the market was spaced around the village green which snuggled between tall black and white houses. Each had a jetty-like first floor which was supported by carved wooden creatures that peered down at the bustling scene. Every stall had been carefully placed between trees or behind flower beds to form three diminishing rings. These gently herded shoppers toward a large fountain which stood, in pride of place, at the very centre of the green. Stone seats, set in a circle, formed the outer barrier to the water which, on closer inspection, contained a huge amount of coins. Some were silver, some bronze or copper; one or two appeared to be gold. From the centre of this wet wealth there reared a large block of uncut black stone, from which spewed a glittering, bubbling deluge. The water cascaded down the stone, leaping its natural peaks and troughs to land splashing and chuckling into the pool.

  All through the fayre there were crafters hard at work, their busy cacophony served as a counterpoint to the gentle melody of the fountain. A burly metalworker sang in a guttural language as he worked on a glowing metal rod. Hammering, twisting and heating he grunted as he worked. Two jewellers chatted in their own high-pitched and stuttering language as they threaded cut-glass beads into an intricate pattern. Beside them, a gaggle of older women, containing at least three different species, sat in a circle sewing and gossiping. Their frequent outbursts of ribald laughter made me smile.

  Between the stalls, jugglers and stilt walkers moved, each trying to attract the attention of a group of children who laughed and shouted as they chased a large dog puppet manipulated by two Drekavak demons. The dog would wander through the market sniffing at trees and under stall covers, occasionally it would appear to notice its little band of giggling followers and would whip around to sniff the air then pounce toward the children sending them screaming and laughing between the stalls to hide. As the hysterically screaming parade passed each stall, the stall holder would look up with a grin and shout advice either to the children or the dog. If someone had handed me a beer and made space for me between the elderly beings that smoked beautifully carved pipes while they chatted on the fountain seats, I could have sat and watched for hours.

  Carly would have loved it all. I could easily imagine her exclaiming over each stall, biting her lip and pushing her hair out of her eyes as she haggled over prices. She would have had a field day.

  ‘You coming?’ Nessus’s deep voice broke through my reverie and he peered over my shoulder trying to work out what I was looking at. ‘What are you smiling about?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I took another long look at the madly busy fayre. The fruit-smelling smoke from those sitting by the well reminded me of Christmas and made me feel oddly sad. ‘Well …’ I took a deep breath as I wondered if what I was about to say would offend him. Then plunged on anyway. ‘… I’m having problems matching this …’ I waved a hand at the folk milling around the market, ‘… with what I expected to see.’

  Nessus rumbled a laugh. ‘Let me guess.’ He reached out and turned the handle on an ancient green door set deep into a grey stone wall. He gave it a bit of a push, sighing when it didn’t budge. ‘The bottomless pit, a place of torments and sorrows, the very centre of everlasting destruction.’ His deep voice added a chill realism to the quotes he was using. ‘Where men are tormented with fire and brimstone.’ Flexing his muscles, he gave the door a good shove; it finally popped open with an anguished creak. Flakes of disintegrating green paint fluttered down to land on his back. Shaking himself with a look of irritation, he muttered, ‘The Great Abyss, where no maintenance man can ever be found.’

  So horse bum had a sense of humour? That was also unexpected. I began to relax slightly. ‘So no weeping and gnashing of teeth then?’ I followed him through the door.

  ‘Only if the market traders hike their prices too high.’ He looked over his shoulder and snorted a laugh. ‘Then the gnashing of teeth can be heard for miles.’

  As the door closed, the sounds of the market faded and I took a deep breath of the cool old air. We were in a corridor. Plain stone flags lined the floor and the walls were painted with a greenish-white lime wash. At regular intervals a door, a window or another corridor broke the monotony of the echoing, empty passageway.

  ‘So why all the bad press?’ The corridor was wide enough for us to walk abreast and, feeling particularly brave, I trotted along at his side. ‘Why do people still expect to see fire and demons with tridents? I’ve worked with angels for a long time and they still refer to Hell as a place of sorrows and the damned.’ I shrugged. ‘I’ve never heard even one of them say, “Hey, I’ve run out of tea, let’s pop to Hell and buy some more”.’

  ‘Hmmm …’ Nessus looked down at me. ‘One, I wouldn’t shout too loudly that you work for the canaries.’ He grinned ‘That’s the sort of thing that upsets people.’ He chuckled. ‘Two, they don’t know. The talks are held in a very special place. It’s been set up especially for them, if you know what I mean.’ He laughed again. ‘It’s sort of a tribute to bygone days, if you like.’

  ‘Canaries?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Nessus’s grin faded. ‘Irritating little feathered things – noisy and useless.’ He frowned. ‘But very pretty.’

  ‘So why keep them in the dark about all this?’ I had a sudden thought. ‘And aren’t you worried that I’m going to tell them?’

  ‘Keeping them in the dark is the only reason we’re still enjoying what we’ve got now.’ Nessus nodded to a well-dressed woman that was coming the other way. She acknowledged him with a smile that was just a little too wide. ‘We have a fairly good thing going on here.’ He lowered his voice slightly. ‘They’d be very upset, if they knew. Here, there’s so much space just waiting to be utilised. It really is a land of opportunity and exploration.’ He laughed. ‘It’s driving the canaries crazy, they really can’t understand why their eon-old proclamations of torture, pain and agony aren’t having an effect any more. We like it that we’ve moved with the times and they’re stuck firmly in the Dark Ages and we’d really like to keep it that way.’ He gave me a long and meaningful look. ‘I think you’re a man who knows how to keep his mouth shut.’ He turned to face me and slowly pulled one huge
cloven hoof along the stone floor. There were sparks.

  The threat was clear and I nodded quickly. A month ago I would have been delighted to tell Metatron everything, but now? Well, let’s just say that after our last illuminating “discussion” I was open to other options. ‘What did you mean about having lots of space?’ I stared over my shoulder at the woman as she disappeared down the corridor. Dragging a small, four-wheeled trolley filled, almost to overflowing, with manila files she was in constant danger of trapping her long, scaled tail beneath the wheels. To save herself from the pain of being run over she had to keep it high and out of the way. She looked like an angry cat as she stalked off into the distance. ‘You must be close to being full. How many thousands of years have you been taking in our sinners?’ I thought about the millions and millions of people that died and as the numbers became ridiculously large, I gave up and settled for “a lot”.

  Nessus peered around a corner, looked both ways and then stepped out into another hall. ‘This place is much, much bigger than you’ve been told.’ He bit his lip for a moment. ‘But I’m really not sure that now is the time for a deep and meaningful discussion of the merits and dangers of the alleged human afterlife.’ He stopped outside a tall wooden door. ‘Ah, here we are.’

  I was so completely caught up with his explanation I didn’t notice that we’d stopped walking. ‘How big?’ I persisted.

  ‘It’s complicated …’ He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. ‘It’s not just one place here.’ He frowned for a moment and then shrugged. ‘There are a lot of places all interlinked and interwoven. I suppose you would call them different worlds or “planes”. Pick a place you fancy, there are all sorts: industrial, rural or forests, anything you like.’ Nessus looked up and down the corridor then quickly opened the door. ‘Come on, we don’t have much time and you ask way too many questions.’

  I wanted to talk a lot more about this. Within six hours I had gone from being terrified to almost jealous of this place. I needed to know how it all worked. I wanted to look around the stalls, try some of the sweets and the other food. I wanted to go and sit with the old folks and hear what they had to say. I didn’t really want to carry on with my mission. I sighed; I really didn’t want to go into that room.