by EH Walter
Chapter 9: Spain, 1034
If I had ruby slippers at that moment I would have clicked my heels together pronto. As it was, as my eyes closed tightly the last thing I saw was the blade of that ugly axe glinting under candle light two inches from my face. The sounds all blurred and dimmed, I went from being icy cold to being warm again.
I didn't feel any pain. Maybe that was because it was a sharp axe. I could but hope.
It was like waking up from a dream. My consciousness came back and I was simply aware of being. I took a moment. As I became more aware I realised I did not know where I was, like when you wake up after sleeping somewhere new for the first time. My brain registered that I was lying down and that my hands were on something warm and soft. I felt with my fingers and it appeared to be a grainy substance. I felt a little bruised on the posterior, as if I had fallen and it had softened my fall. I knew my big arse would be good for something.
My eyes opened and then closed again. It was bright. Slowly I sat up and breathed in, the air was warm and clean and pure - almost overloaded with oxygen. Shielding my eyes with my hand I opened my eyes again, it took a while for them to get used to the light. After blinking several times I began to make out some shapes on the far left. The view ahead of me looked barren of feature. I looked down to my feet, I was still in my slippers, and sand was all around me - fine, white sand. I turned three hundred and sixty degrees. To my left were verdant green trees, behind me what looked like mountains on the horizon and in front of me what appeared to be a flat desert landscape.
The sun was high in the sky and beating down viciously so I instinctively sought the shelter of the trees. I was tired so I sat down and leant my back against the trunk of the tree. It was not an English species and it was definitely not October.
"I don't think we're in Barnet anymore Toto." I said to myself. I really did need to get a dog.
I really didn't know what to think - I knew which scenario Sherlock Holmes would say was the most likely - after all, an axe had just been about to split open my head like a watermelon.
I spared a thought for Bob and Trevor. Well, Bob really. Trevor had brought this on himself so good luck to him. Bob I worried about. He was the one they wanted. What would they do with him? Once they had the ring he would... he would be of no use and would be killed. A lump rose in my throat and I tried to suppress the small feeling of despair that was rising in me. What use would that be now?
My eyes closed and I began to relax. It was amazing how tiring it was fending off demons and fairies. At least I was beyond them now - how's that for looking on the bright side?
I must have fallen asleep because when I came to later, the light was beginning to fade. It was the end of the day. In the distance I heard a strange sound, when I listened more carefully I realised it was the beautiful Muslim call to prayer. Somehow it felt better to be somewhere where people believed in God - even if it was not my God (and I had yet to decide whether I actually had a 'God'). Where was I?
Aching a little I stood up and flexed my muscles. Nothing seemed to make sense. I did not have a single idea as to what I should do. I suppose I could walk towards the sound coming from the mosque, but to what end? Why were things not clear?
"Hello sweetie," came a voice from behind some trees.
I looked to the direction of the voice and saw my father walking through the undergrowth. He looked the same as always, he was even in the same clothes, but was carrying a white paper bag. Take-out. He had brought me take-out in the middle of nowhere.
"Happy birthday sweetie."
I stood dumfounded.
"I got us Indian," he went on to say, "from that place near you that you like so much - the Blue Ginger? They told me what you ordered most often so I'm hopeful I got you something you like."
"You got me an Indian take away? On my birthday?"
"Shall we eat?"
He sat down on the ground and began to pull foil trays out of the bag. "Chilli paneer, mushroom rice."
My stomach growled. It had been deprived of pizza. It was not happy and all those thoughts of watermelons had merely teased it.
"Chana masala. Sit down and join your old dad for your birthday."
"I've never really celebrated it." But my stomach was quite strong willed so I sat down anyway and took the foil tray he passed me. It was very hot so it must have been fresh out of the restaurant which seemed slightly incredulous at this present moment and location. I put it down on the sandy earth in front of me and took the other trays and a plastic fork from my father. I'd never, ever celebrated my birthday with him before so this was becoming even more of a novel day. That and the attempted hit by the fairies and bad assed demons.
"Am I dead?" I asked him as I took the cardboard lid off the mushroom rice.
"Oh no," he said tucking into something that looked like tikka masala, "you're not dead."
"Then where am I?"
"Spain, 1034."
"Spain? Ten thirty four? It must only be six in the evening at the latest. The sun is only just going down."
"Not 1034 pm, 1034 AD."
I paused with a fork full of rice. "1034 AD?"
"Just outside Andalucía if I'm right. A beautiful part of the world. The moors are just under half way through their residency and they have done wonderful things with the country - picking up where the Romans left off."
I waved the fork at him. "You're seriously expecting me to believe this is Spain in 1034 AD? That I am sat out here in the wilderness of Andalucía with my errant father and a curry from the best Indian restaurant in north London in 1034 AD?"
"Well, when you've eliminated the improbable..."
"I know the quote."
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter if you don't believe me. Enjoy your curry."
"So I'm not dead?"
"No. Would a dead person eat a curry?"
"I don't know, I've never been dead before."
We ate in silence as I considered what he had told me. It sounded ridiculous but if the past few days had taught me anything it was not to dismiss the ridiculous. The curry tasted good, as always, so I was at least convinced I was not dead. Surely a dead person couldn't enjoy curry this much? Dang it was good.
"So, if I'm not dead what on earth is going on?"
"Ah, that is a big question and one that is not simple to answer in the time we have."
"Why do you always bang on about time?"
"I have no choice. Time is important to people like us."
"Time is important to all of us." He really was the most tiresome of men, "Come on then, how did I get here then?"
"You made it happen," he bit a corner off a samosa, "I doubt you had control over it though - otherwise you wouldn't have picked this place or this time. It is a little - random."
"Are you telling me I just willed us here? Made a wish and whoosh - bienvenido a España?"
"Not me, I just followed you. You decided where to go."
"Ridiculous, I would've chosen some time much more interesting. The glamorous nineteen twenties or the swinging sixties. I could've gone to the grassy knoll in sixty three."
"You wouldn't have been the first. Anyway, it's not a bad result - there's a lot to be said for Islamic Spain. So much never made it into the history books. Such a shame. It was a fascinating time."
"You sound like you've been here before."
"Once or twice. I spent most of my time here with the Romans. They were an interesting bunch too."
"Oh yeah, what are you - some kind of immortal? Hey - does that mean I'm immortal too?"
"No and no."
"Well - how did you get to see all of that then?"
"It was my... job, before I met your mother."
I looked at him carefully. I had a pretty good bullshit detector and it refused to go off despite the ridiculous nature of what he was telling me. My eyes narrowed. "What - professional time traveller?"
"No, I w
orked for the ultimate high order. I did His bidding."
"Huh?"
He sighed as if he knew he was going to tell me something he knew I was going to find ridiculous. "I was an angel."
I laughed so hard a grain of rice left my mouth with the force of a V2 bomber and collided with a tree. "Sure dad, sure."
He shrugged and looked off into the peachy coloured sunset. "I knew you wouldn't believe me, it's why I never told you."
"Okay then - who shot Kennedy? Did they land on the moon? Do aliens exist? Who was Jack the Ripper?"
He shook his head, "These are not my secrets to tell. If you want the knowledge of the world you really do need to go see a lobster called Harold. He's the Keeper. All I can tell you, is what is mine to tell. I was an angel on this earth. I lived through all times at all times. Angels have to be anywhere at the first breath of a prayer so we must be able to access all times and places. Time does not work the same way for us."
"So, you're saying I've got a bit of angel in me?"
He shrugged again, "I wouldn't have thought so, I had to become mortal to marry your mother, but it seems - yes. When I became mortal I abandoned my life as an angel and all the skills I had to fulfil that role. The ability to shift through time should have left me as well."
"Cool."
His eyes narrowed and his face grew serious. "It's not cool Leo, it's very dangerous. Very dangerous indeed, in many ways. For example, what if you had willed yourself somewhere dangerous - arrived in the middle of an elephant stampede in Africa for example?"
"Well I was about to get my head sliced off by a demon, so hey!"
He knotted his fingers together, in and out, in and out. "I'm serious Leo. If I could have been around more I could have guided you - prepared you."
It was my turn to frown at him. "Well you weren't."
He let that comment wash over him. "I don't know what you have inherited from me, but from your mother you have inherited The Sight. She was the last Seer born upon the earth before your birth. You will be the last until you have a child."
"I might not want a child."
"You have no choice. The Seer line must continue, the worlds must have an intermediary. You are that intermediary. Anyway, in my time stream you are already married - already a mother - already a grandmother. I've seen it all."
For one second I entertained the idea of asking him for the name of my husband and then rejected it. Spoilers. Besides the feminist in me was busy ranting at the part of me that had sighed in relief at hearing someone would eventually marry me and I wouldn't be the mad woman with too many cats. "But the future can't be set, right?"
"True, it moves like the waters on a pond. Fundamentally it stays the same but there are small shifts and shimmers."
"So I might not marry?"
"If you set all your energies against it I'm sure you could fight it for a while. Most things go the predetermined way in the end though. Besides, your life has more already determined than most. Believe me, if I could change some of it for you I would."
That didn't sound good. "What about Bob and Trevor? Are they okay? I left them hours ago about to get mashed up by demons and fairies. I mean, Trevor had it coming, but not Bob."
"It wasn't hours ago - it hasn't happened yet remember. With training you would be able to go to any precise moment you needed."
"Could you train me?"
"Even if I knew how it works with a mortal body I don't have time."
"How do you do it?"
"Thought and will. But don't forget I had millennia of experience to draw upon. I didn't have to think about how it worked then - it just did."
"That's really helpful dad."
"I can only think that something kicked in - you knew you needed a way out and your subconscious fired the ability up somehow."
Think of all the moments in my life I could change, I could go back to the bridge and turn my phone off, get Bob out of the flat before the bad guys came, stop my mother from dying. I frowned, there must be a reason why Doctor Who couldn't travel in his own time stream. Was it wise to travel within your own life? Well, the chances of my ever perfecting such a skill were slim, especially as the one person I knew who could do it didn't know how he did it! Why on earth had I ended up in Spain of all places and why such an obscure era?
"Well, dad I'm not sure I want any of this. I don't want to be part ex-angel, I don't want to be a Seer. Perhaps if I was meant to be these things someone should have prepared me for it, taught me what it was about when I was young and when I cared. I want to help Bob, I feel responsible for him, but I really can do without the rest of this shit."
"Very well, when you have finished eating we will see what we can do about Bob. And perhaps I will show you why we need you."
I pushed the foil trays aside. That would be an interesting one for future archaeologists to ponder I'm sure. "I'm done. Can we go now?"
He leant over and touched the top of my hand. A cold current of pure energy flooded through me and I was conscious that I was no longer sitting on the sandy ground of Andalucía, I was on a cold, stone surface. I looked around. I was sitting on High Barnet high street, my father beside me. Shoppers were stepping around me and cars whizzing past. The effect of the noise of London was over powering and a real shock to the system after the tranquillity of medieval Spain.
My father got to his feet quicker than I, obviously used to this kind of thing, and put his hand out to me. I took it and ungracefully climbed up. A few people afforded us odd looks, but this was London and anything goes, so no one made anything of it - two people sitting on the pavement on a busy shopping street. One of them still in her slippers.
It was evening and cold after my previous stop. I pulled my dressing gown tightly around me. Oh great, I still had my dressing gown on over my jogging pants and t shirt from when I had got cold earlier... later. I must look like a right hobo.
"Pass me your phone," he ordered.
I half expected it to be lost, but it was still tucked under my bra strap as I was wont to do when I wore something with no pockets. I obeyed him, curious to see where this led. He took the phone from me, pressed some buttons and passed it back to me.
"Listen."
I put it to my ear and listened.
"Hi, you're through to Leo at Paranormal Investigations - please leave your number and I'll return your call."
It beeped at me and I looked at him. He waved a hand at me. He wanted me to leave a message on my own phone?
"Er... Come to Spain," I faltered, "a gorgeous country with timeshares available now!"
My father took my phone out of my hand, ended the call and then redialled. He looked at me as he spoke.
"Hello Leo - happy birthday! Speak soon, dad." He looked down at the phone to end the call and then looked back at me. "I told you we'd speak soon."
My mouth opened and closed like a guppy.
"This... this is the night I got that message from you? You've brought me back into my own time stream, why? Isn't it dangerous? Doctor Who would never do that."
He shrugged, "That you is at Princess Park Manor. It's safe enough for this you."
"But why? Why would you bring me here?"
"To prove it to you."
"Okay, I'll do my best with this, I will. However, it seems pretty useless without you holding my hand. If I can't do it myself, I mean."
"I'm hoping it might rub off."
"Where to next? Oughtn't I be getting back?"
"Why? Thought you didn't care about the goat man?"
"His name is Bob..." I said indignantly and then stopped myself - he had caught me out. "Okay, you knew I would grow fond of him and 'do my duty'. Heck - you're the time traveller here - it's a little bit of an unfair advantage."
"I haven't travelled in your time stream much. All the times you saw me have already passed for you."
"Okay, there's obviously some law of physic
s that I don't get because that makes no sense to me. Can we stick to the Ladybird Book version please."
"Where do you want to go? What can I show you to make this easier? Do you want to go and see your mother?"
Panic thundered in me. A blank wall opened up. No. No I did not.
I shook my head. "Can you tell me anything that will help me? Why the fairies want this ring for example?"
He leant closer and touched my hand. It was a much less pleasant experience when standing as my stomach tried to fall out my feet.
It was another evening when I rocked to. Fairly early, as it was only just growing dim. I looked around. I recognised this street. Tourists pushed past me and I slunk back against a wall.
"Got it yet?" Dad asked.
I did another three sixty. "Outside the British Museum."
He nodded, then I was distracted by a familiar figure. I opened my mouth to call out his name, but my father steadied me with his hand.
"He doesn't know you yet. Wait."
True and Bob wasn't even Bob then... now.
"Shouldn't I follow him?"
He shook his head and then gestured with his eyes across the road. Someone was paying very close attention to Bob's movements. I couldn't see him very well - I couldn't tell if he was wearing a hooded cloak or he was blurry. No one else was looking at him, but seemed to instinctively move around him as if on some level they knew he was there.
I rubbed my eyes. "Why is he all blurry?"
"Strong magic. I can barely see him at all, you are the Seer. You can see beyond these things."
"Not very well. I mean, fat lot of use that is if all I get is the white noise channel."
"It is a very powerful enchantment. One of the best. You will get stronger. Watch him."
I did so and as I did the figure turned and began to walk away.
We followed.
It was hard to keep sight of him as he blurred in and out of the shadows, when in doubt I followed where people suddenly moved aside for what appeared to be no good reason. I guessed they wouldn't even know why they moved - it was probably just an irrational urge that had to be obeyed.
The crowds thinned out as we went off the tourist route and into a large square, one of those with large and grand houses around a centralised garden. Blue plaques covered the houses and it was sad to see most were broken up into flats now. They were far too large for any family without a huge body of servants.
I stopped suddenly outside one of the houses. It had one set of steps going up to the main door and another going down to the basement entrance. A dusty window peeked out at us.
"I think he went in," I said to my father, "what do we do now?"
He touched my hand and with another whoosh we appeared to be in the basement. I looked to my left - there was the dusty window outside of which I had just been stood.
"Beam me up Scotty," I said to myself.
There were voices coming from upstairs. I tiptoed closer to the stairs, my father sat down on a box. He didn't look so good - I was about to ask him if he was okay when a voice spoke upstairs. I cautiously climbed the stairs and put my ear to the basement door.
"He's stolen it," a deep voice rasped, "I followed him to the gates my lord. It will be in his possession now."
"Did they tell him who it was for?" a second voice asked.
"No my lord, he is one of their usual playthings. He does their bidding."
"And they know what to do with him when he hands it over?"
"They do."
"It is good they cannot wield it, they need us. Their greed would make them uncontrollable."
"And they know the plans? To try it on humans first?"
"Yes - and then we will know if the legends were true and then they will have their chance. Their race will be great in number again."
The voices grew quieter, I surmised they had walked off.
I descended the steps back down to the basement.
"What did you find out?" my father asked.
"Just what I already knew: Bob was meant to hand it over to the fairies and then they were going to kill him."
"Nothing more?"
"Well, they did say they were glad 'they couldn't wield it' and I presume that means the fairies can't use it themselves. Oh, and it was to be tested on humans before fairies - kind of a test run, but I got the feeling they were really interested in how it turns out. They also said something about a legend."
"The ring is an ancient one."
"How ancient?"
"I'll show you."
He touched the back of my hand again and we were off. I was starting to feel like Ebenezeer Scrooge on Christmas night now.
Our next destination was cold and dark. A wind whipped around my ankles and the splatter of water dripping echoed. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark.
"Is he dead?" a young man's voice asked.
I followed the voice, my fingertips touching a wall as it was so dark I didn't want to injure myself by tripping over or losing my way. The wall was bumpy, damp and a little slimy. I bet trolls would like it. Around a bend there seemed to be a glimmer of golden light. I looked around the curve of the wall, but not enough to be in the light and be seen. I stayed firmly in the shadows. It was an open chamber in a cave, candles were ablaze on shelves of rock and in the middle of the chamber stood a stone table on which a man lay. He was quite, quite motionless. At his feet stood a man in what I would have described as dressed like an old fashioned knight who had seen battle. He wore some kind of chainmail over which a colourful tabard, ripped at one end and with a slash mark cut across the chest, was fastened. The dark marks upon his clothes and skin looked very much like chocolate sauce in this light, but it seemed more rational to suppose they were blood stains. He was blond and not very old. He looked worried. The other man stood by a natural stone shelf on which a book and some jars stood. He was older, with long grey hair and a grey beard, he was not knight - his robe was long and fastened modestly with a piece of old rope.
"To the people outside he will never be dead." the old man said, fiddling with the contents of a jar.
"But..."
"The king is sleeping. That is what you will tell them."
"But they won't believe me."
"They won't want to believe you if you tell them otherwise. Tell them he is sleeping and will come again in their time of greatest need."
"That is a lie."
"In part. He is dead now, but I will preserve his flesh so he may come back one day."
"How?"
The old man smiled. "That is where you come in Bedivere. You must start the legend. The once and future king will keep this isle secure."
"But how will he come back?"
The old man held something out between his fingers, it was too far away from me and the light too dim for me to see in any detail.
"This ring is ancient. Older than you can imagine there being time enough in the world. It was passed to me from its last guardian. There is a whole line of ancient kings waiting in a valley for this ring. It can be used to bring the fallen back to life with the words of the ancients." He paused and then spoke in a strange tongue that somehow I understood the meaning of - arise and be with us again. "You Bedivere are to be guardian of the ring. Find the last of the druids and lead them to safety. Be their leader and keep this ring safe."
"Can't you keep it safe?" he said in such a sulky way he made me think him a sullen teenager.
"Alas, I have my own sins to pay for and must attend to them." He passed the ring to the blond knight who didn't look like he wanted to take it. I'm sure he had other plans for his life that did not involve leading an order of druids and babysitting a ring.
"What if it falls into the wrong hands?"
The old man smiled, he knew exactly what a burden he was placing on the young man. "It is your job to protect the ring of resurrection and ensure it does not fall into the wrong hands. It
would be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands."
"But if it does?"
"The only way to control this ring of resurrection is to make it no longer a ring of resurrection - change its purpose and keep it in that purpose. It must be a strong bond on sanctified ground."
A hand touched my shoulder. I turned. My father had looked at his watch again.
"Sweetie, it's time to go. We need to go back to your time. You have things to do."
This time he didn't just touch the back of my hand, he took my hand in his own and we left together.