Atticus And The Orb Of Time

by M K Drake

  “He must mean the one we encountered,” Elric whispers to Geoffrey.

  “No my Lord, he ventured toward the Manor, I have not seen him since. I fear he became too foolish,” says the Screamer who retrieved the sack.

  “Indeed, he may have been more than foolish, he may have alerted them to our mission; perhaps ambition was a step too far in your evolution?” The hooded figure beckons to the other Screamers, “Come, gather, we must return before we are discovered, this portal will be useless shortly, we may have starved it, until we know the level of which we can travel, we should be careful.”

  The Screamers begin to head towards the portal when a large branch is flung into their path. They halt as they see two giant great oaks move towards them.

  Elric and Geoffrey, still in their tree guises, rip through the soft ground towards the now perplexed Screamer pack. The hooded figure dives for cover. With their branches the two trees pummel the demons.

  Geoffrey has recently learnt the art of juggling, and decides to see how many Screamer demons he can keep in the air at any one time. Elric, on the other hand, is a little more direct and hammers the skulls of each Screamer demon that crosses his path. It is over in a matter of moments. The Screamers lie broken in a heap in front of the portal.

  The hooded figure stands, “Not bad for a pair of inanimate objects. Show yourselves!”

  Elric steps forward, “You are not welcome here, remove your hood, the forest does not invite strangers from realms unknown,” he says, stubbornly sticking to his tree form.

  The figure removes its hood to reveal a bald, human-like face; its eyes are a pure white, spoilt only by a pair of red pupils strikingly matching the colour of its lashless eyelids. The tiny slits on its smooth, straight nose open and close rapidly, sniffing the air around it. The creature opens its mouth, stretching its slightly pocked and scarred face before speaking, “I am Lord Alvarez, servant to the Demon King. Your actions will anger him!”

  “I think not,” replies Elric, “We know only too well who you are. Your master knows our law, and he must follow, he cannot enter here. The rules apply to him and his minions. This portal is forbidden − and unless your master has power over this realm, which, I should tell you, he will never get… he cannot enter. And nor can you stay.”

  “This I know,” Alvarez snipes with evil laughter “but who are you to stop us?”

  Both Geoffrey and Elric quickly transform back to their human forms, and look towards Alvarez menacingly.

  Alvarez’s demeanour changes to a worrying stance as he looks upon his foes.

  “Leave this place Alvarez, while you still can − and this muddy bag of yours... I think we’ll be taking that, thank you,” demands Elric.

  Alvarez puts down the sack and slowly steps away from it, “You don’t really want that, it’s merely a few rocks and sticks, nothing to interest you at all,” Alvarez creeps slowly back towards the sack, cowering, he reaches a hand towards it, trying his luck...

  “Tut tut, I think not, Lord Alvarez,” Elric taunts mockingly, he stamps his staff into the ground forcing a shower of light to fire upwards, “I think we will be the judge of that. Now be gone with you!” he stamps his staff again, shooting a beam of light at Alvarez, throwing him into the air and back through the portal with his screams fading through it as he falls into the dark void behind him.

  Geoffrey approaches the portal and touches the outer ring. The colour changes from red to blue, and the vortex within closes in on itself with a fizz, a final blue flash, and a dance of light signalling that the portal is sealed, “Well, that was interesting, sending his number two with a light guard. And he didn’t even put up a fight, but was eager to return home as quickly as possible. And what did he mean by ‘starving’ the portal?”

  “Still asking questions Geoffrey? Well, for once, I don’t have the answers; not all of them, at least, although I do have my suspicions,” Elric replies before he picks up the sack. “Maybe this will bring us something more concrete. We will need to monitor the forest for any more portals, but I doubt they will return here.”

  “I guess you want our little team to decipher this?” asks Geoffrey.

  “It would be a good test old friend,” replies Elric.

  Elric walks over to some of the final pieces of broken branches and damaged foliage left after the fight and begins to heal them, “Come Geoffrey, apologise to the trees, we have much more to discuss, and you need to be ready for tomorrow,” and with that, both Elric and Geoffrey disappear back to the Manor… after Geoffrey apologises to the trees, of course.

  “Elric,” says Geoffrey, “it’s been another interesting night with your good self, but, I’m wondering if you felt it, too?”

  “The presence?” responds Elric.

  “Yes.”

  Elric turns towards his companion, “I did indeed; in fact, it, or, more importantly he, is still here,” he holds a hand high in the air and snaps his fingers loudly. A flash of blue light appears and then…

  # # #

  BEEP… BEEP!!

  Atticus wakes with a start, his bedcovers all over the place, dripping over the side of the bed towards the floor. He shakes his head to wake himself and wipes the sleep from his eyes, “Well, that was an interesting dream,” he mutters to himself. He turns off his watch alarm and double-checks the time. Only a few minutes remain before he needs to leave for school, “But it felt so real.”

  He squints his eyes and puts on his glasses, still feeling tired. He knows he has a big day today, because one thing is definitely true from his overnight experience; his meeting with Professor Sprocking.

  Chapter 3

  The Problem with Bradley

  Little Proudwater is a small town to the west of London. Forests and many lakes, with only a few main roads allowing escape to the capital, surround it. Some would say it is quite isolated for a town so close to the main city, others – mainly its inhabitants − think it isn’t isolated enough. The isolation does have its benefits. The landscape is full of sweeping, unspoilt views with many hilltops. One hilltop in particular is very special. It sits overlooking the grounds of a regal, but ominous mansion.

  Wysardian Manor stands tall, overpowering the horizon. The mansion, now used as a school for those with unique talents, is alive with activity. Silhouettes rush past windows, the grounds are filled with children playing, talking, running. The four towers encompass the school like rooks on a chessboard, their shadows observing the building like kings observing their lands. The leading wall contains an arch so tall it almost overshadows the four towers; in the centre of the structure is a statue of a giant sword and shield, as tall as the highest walls themselves.

  The hillside behind the building is awash with a thousand shades of green and uneven slopes that all bow to Wysardian Manor. The only blemish is the arrival of a regular visitor.

  Atticus sighs, knowing he will need to return to school before the bell sounds. It is a place where most of the other inhabitants appear not to welcome him, but also a place where he feels a connection, almost as if the building itself wants him there.

  A bird settles a few feet in front of him, catching Atticus’ attention, a robin red breast, picking at the ground. Atticus smiles, “At least you don’t hate me,” he whispers under his breath as the robin pecks at the ground once more before looking at Atticus; and then as quickly as it came, it flies away.

  Atticus follows the robin’s flight path, watching as it bobs in the air and then swoops down further up the hill. For a moment he wonders what it would be like to feel that sensation, the freedom of wings enabling him to fly through the air, cutting through clouds, and soaring into the deep blue sky.

  Checking the time on his watch, Atticus begins to make his way down the hills towards the school. The main gates, represented by their tall, large iron bars, are the first things seen. They are embedded with circles in the middle of each. On one gate the circle contains the engraving of a griffin, and the other, what can only be describe
d as the face of a dragon. The grounds empty quickly as Atticus walks through the main gates; students are rushing into the mansion as the bell begins to sound.

  Atticus walks up a flight of steps that precede the main doors into the mansion, each tip-tap step echoing around the marble pillars that encircle the spiral stairs. As he reaches the top, he hears voices behind him; one in particular he knows all too well. Atticus runs to the main door, catching his school cloak on the door, tearing it slightly. He darts inside, spots the nearest pillar and waits silently behind it. The voices get closer, and Atticus breathes a quiet sigh of relief “Not today Bradley, not today.”

  Bradley Burrows is an old-fashioned school bully, stocky in stature, spiky crew cut hair, a little taller than the average 15-year old, and not the brightest in a not-so-bright group of likeminded individuals who relish each and every opportunity to make the lives of those around them utterly miserable. Their main target of the moment appears to be Atticus.

  “It’s nice being in charge of this place,” boasts Bradley to the others who nod in agreement, in awe of their ‘leader’, “the food everyone brings in is lovely,” his minions laugh out loud at Bradley’s comments, with the knowledge that if they didn’t, they would be outcast from the group and become one of those they mock and hurt on a daily basis. They continue laughing as they disappear out of view.

  Atticus cautiously steps out of his hiding place checks his timetable, and works out where he needs to be this period, “Maths, then ugh, P.E.”

  Physical Education is his least favourite subject. He loathes the teacher and the fact that he just isn’t very good at sport − utterly hopeless, in fact − a point well-noted by his classmates. Atticus still remembers the bruises from last year’s rugby sessions and tends to be the ball when playing football. There is one exception though. Fencing is the one sport that Atticus actually excels at, so much so that he is genuinely pleased to attend P.E. during athletics season. The fact that it also includes general swordplay is a huge bonus in Atticus’ eyes, and those sessions are very much to his liking. He has also built a strong bond with the fencing tutor, Mr Callan.

  Mr Callan has often given Atticus extra tutoring, which skips around the standard fencing practices, and includes lessons about movement and attack with a variety of sword types. Mr Callan has become not only a tutor but also a friend to Atticus, one of only a few he would regard in that manner.

  As Atticus walks through the school to his math class, he soaks in the familiar architecture of the corridors on the way. Wysardian Manor is no normal school; it was commissioned by a private syndicate to coach and teach problem children, those that had a different outlook on life or garnered certain unique abilities. Its publicity darkened somewhat after one journalist wrote about the institution teaching Para sciences, and dark arts. Unfortunately, more often than not, problem children were enrolled, rather than those with unique perspectives or abilities.

  Atticus remembers his own school interview, a panel of eight judges, each firing questions at him in an indiscriminate manner. The questions were rather odd, Atticus thought at the time. They asked about Para-dimensions and mythical creatures, things an average 11 year-old boy would never really have a formed opinion on, but Atticus was no average 11 year-old when he was first interviewed. It was he who instigated the application to Wysardian Manor. Atticus remembers the very day the prospectus was delivered to his door, wrapped in what could only be described as charred feathers hammered into some form of papyrus with his name stamped onto a rectangular leather fastener.

  He recalls the judges who were asking questions, but also remembers another, who stood further away in the shadows. Atticus remembers some of the judges showing an odd twitch at some of his answers, some were excited, and others glanced backwards towards the man in the shadows in a manner that was somewhat portentous.

  His life at the school since has been somewhat normal by comparison; now 15, Atticus is busy thinking about what the school calls Para-class Qualification exams, a non-standard certification which contains a syllabus only those that qualify are able to see, and are forbidden to disclose its contents to anyone. Even the PQ exams themselves are only offered to a select few, and they are also sworn to secrecy. Atticus received his invite through the post in the same manner the prospectus was delivered to him. It contained a handwritten letter in the form of rolled parchment:

  Atticus Jones

  You have been cordially invited to take part in the honour that is the PQE (Para-class Qualification Exam). Sharing knowledge of this invitation is strictly forbidden. On Tuesday the 12th of September at 2pm, you have an appointment with Professor Sprocking, he will instruct you on the literature you need to be familiar with for these examinations. Should you qualify, you will be given a new syllabus to study. Only a select few are chosen for this honour, and your studious nature along with your performance at your panel induction impressed us enough to bestow this honour on you.

  Should you disclose knowledge of the PQE or this invitation to anyone, you will be expelled and barred from entering the premises of Wysardian Manor forever.

  Yours Sincerely

  Elric Griffin

  Apart from his strange dream last night, Atticus only heard the name Elric Griffin once before, during a conversation between two senior Professors when one quietly whispered his name and Atticus in the same sentence, while he was unknowingly in ear shot. One of the professors was Professor Sprocking.

  All attempts at trying to source more information of Elric Griffin were thwarted in the most unusual manner. One search on the Internet came up with the scrambled words ‘Prukulia gringlegott praa praa,’ a search on that took him to an interesting site with instructions on how to make a prune like juice from apples. Another search in the library, in the book of ‘Who’s Who?’, revealed the name ‘Blueberry Baboons Bottom,’ with a description of bright blue baboons with bottoms that look like blueberries, right where the entry for Elric Griffin should have been.

  Atticus even approached one of the junior professors once to ask whom Elric Griffin was, and was promptly surprised when he was given detention for calling the professor a ‘girly-faced spotty slug.’ At that point Atticus decided to give up on trying to find out who Elric Griffin was, and resigned himself to probably never finding out − that is, until the invitation to the PQE arrived.

  His latest dreams have also thrown more questions into the air. They seem more real each time, and last night’s episode, with him watching through the eyes of a spider, was probably the strangest one. Well, it was until he remembered later that same night when he was dreaming about trees fighting demon-doggies.

  Today is the 11th of September, and Atticus is looking forward to finding out what exactly the PQE will entail.

  “You’re late again Jones!” a voice suddenly bellows through the corridors.

  Professor Morgan, Atticus’ math teacher, a portly fellow with round glasses and a thin beard around his chin and cheeks.

  “Sorry sir,” says Atticus apologetically, trying to think of an excuse.

  “Stop jabbering and get into the classroom!” says the Professor.

  Atticus goes in and quickly grabs a chair at the back of the class.

  “Right,” says the Professor as he closes the door, “Turn to page 154, chapter 12. Today we are going to learn about balancing complex equations in relation to mechanics.”

  The class look around a little perplexed, apart from Atticus, math being one of his strongest subjects, along with Chemistry, he had already prepared for the class and sat attentively, soaking in every word that Professor Morgan was saying.

  By the end of the lesson the rest of the students are eager to escape Professor Morgan’s clutches and rush to the next class.

  “OK class,” says Professor Morgan, “homework for tomorrow is to complete the exercises in this chapter, and read the next so you actually understand what I’m talking about next time. Dismissed!”

  The students quickly get up
and begin to rush out.

  Professor Morgan waits for most of the class to leave before looking at Atticus, “Except you, Jones. I need to have a word with you.”

  Atticus doesn’t mind too much as his next lesson is P.E., and apart from his occasional lack of punctuality, Atticus enjoys a pleasant relationship with Professor Morgan. Although stern and authoritative, Professor Morgan is always fair in his judgement.

  “I hear you have an appointment with Professor Sprocking tomorrow?” asks the professor.

  Atticus looks a little confused, wondering if he should acknowledge the question after what is written in the invitation; maybe this is a test of some sort?

  “Don’t worry Mr Jones, I know all about the PQE’s; in fact, I’ve studied for them myself,” says the Professor.

  Atticus breathes a sigh of relief and nods at Professor Morgan who continues.

  “Good, well, I would just like to say that whatever happens in your meeting tomorrow with Professor Sprocking, you must remember to keep it a secret. There are many things in this world that are hidden from those that are not lucky enough to see it all, and the ones that are unable to see or understand these things… are not meant to.”

  A confused look returns to Atticus Jones’s face, his eyebrows have literally rolled up into a ball at this point.

  The professor spots the scrunching of eyebrows and tries to reassure him, “Don’t worry Jones, all will be revealed tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ve taken it upon myself to give you these.”

  The Professor reaches under his desk. He pulls out a medium-sized rucksack and hands it to Atticus.

  “What are these, Sir?” asks Atticus.

  The professor chuckles, “Have a read of these tonight; they may very well become useful in the future,” he gestures to the door, indicating that it is time for Atticus to leave for his next lesson.