by James Erith
A passing thought struck him. He wondered whether he should ask the de Lowe children to come along to the party. Make a bit of a fuss of them. Perhaps they could help the catering staff with their chores. He nodded at the thought. Isabella was his most gifted pupil, a prize-winning scholar, and Daisy their greatest athlete. He could make a show of them, and introduce them to his guests.
Archie could look after the coats. Then again, he’d probably lose them.
He walked over to the gramophone and turned over the record. It was a sterling idea. He’d ask the children after the football match, as a surprise. A consolation prize, or maybe even as a reward for Daisy? The gesture would also show Isabella that he took her seriously.
Solomon smiled as he bowed to the music, clapped his hands, and, with one arm in the air, spun and hopped his portly frame around the room until the music ran its course.
After dinner, there was a disco.
What better way to get everyone going, than by having a few of the youth around to start the dancing? Rumour had it that Daisy was a very energetic dancer, particularly, he’d heard, at a type of movement called “rave”.
He pondered this thought as he selected another disc from his collection, ‘Disco Hits of the Seventies’. A cracker, if he recalled.
The music came on. Solomon nodded his bald head in time with the beat.
Feeling his body come alive, Solomon thrust a hand high into the air, and gyrated his hips.
‘Daisy de Lowe,’ he said, as he jived with the music, ‘will be second fiddle to these kinds of shapes!’
Twenty-Two
Cain Offers A Plan
The boy—this Heirs of Eden—has absolutely no idea what is going to happen, Cain thought, as he hovered into the middle of the room. He has found no meaning in his dreams. Do these people now ignore visions? If so, these Heirs of Eden will never survive the storm, let alone find the cave of riddles, the one place they must reach that shows the secrets to gaining the tablets that lead to the Garden of Eden.
It is time to execute the plan.
He floated back to Archie’s bedside. ‘There is another way,’ he crowed.
Archie didn’t move a muscle, the leadenness of sleep preventing him.
‘I want you to consider joining me, physically, as my flesh and blood.’
Archie yawned. ‘Join you?’
‘Not right now of course,’ Cain continued. ‘I’d like you to think about it. But bonding with me will save your life.’
Archie stretched his arms out wide. ‘Save my life,’ he repeated, involuntarily closing his eyes. ‘Sure it will.’
‘Good-good. I’m thrilled... delighted,’ Cain said, feeling the weight of his coat on his frame. ‘About the knife,’ he continued. ‘I don’t have time to explain things in depth, so occasionally it pays to use other means.’
‘But, Mister... sir,’ Archie said, summoning his energy and his courage. ‘If I did this bonding thing, what’s in it for me?’
‘For you? Ah yes!’ the ghost crowed. ‘What’s in it for you, aside from saving your existence on this planet?’
The spirit drew himself up as best he could.
‘I hold the secrets of ages past, boy. I will give you strength and courage, so that you are feared and respected. You will have the power of a horse and the courage of a lion. I give you my word. All you have to do is meet me tomorrow morning. Somewhere safe. Then, I will show you what will happens and when you know the facts, you will choose to join me freely.’
His voice turned darker.
‘A terrible time is coming, boy. You have seen the prophecy and, deep down, you know it is a hopeless situation. I offer you salvation.’
‘The prophecy,’ Archie stammered. ‘That’s the nightmare, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ the ghost crowed. ‘Meet with me in no more than nine of your hours, and no less than eight, before the sun rises to its highest point. Tell me a place where no one will see us.’
Archie tried to think. ‘Er... there’s a back alleyway above the bank above the football field by the school,’ he said, trying to swallow a yawn. ‘You’ll know you’ve found it when you see two houses leaning in on each other, sort of head-butting each other. It’s usually pretty quiet.’
‘Excellent,’ the ghost gushed. ‘Wear a long overcoat, like mine, and a scarf. Do you have a scarf?’
Archie didn’t, but he lied and said he did.
‘And do you like sweet treats, boy?’
‘A bit, I suppose,’ Archie replied, thinking what a strange question it was. ‘Old Man Wood’s the sucker for sweet things in our house. He’s always dipping his fingers in the sugar bowl, and getting told off by Mrs Pye.’
The ghost chuckled. ‘Is that so?’
A groan from the bed nearby signalled that Daisy was stirring.
‘I must leave. We meet before noon in the alleyway,’ the ghost whispered, drifting to the door. ‘Tonight’s chat, young man, is our own little secret. Any tongue-wagging and our deal is off.’
Cain stopped, as if an idea had popped into his head. ‘Tell me your name, boy?’
‘Archie de Lowe.’
‘I will save you, Archie de Lowe.’
Archie caught a glimpse of the knife.
As the ghost reached the door, he turned. ‘Be in no doubt that your life will change forever in a few hours from now. The strength of a horse and the courage of a lion! You will never regret it.’
Archie nodded. ‘What... what’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Ah, yes. The finer details.’ His eye sockets bored into Archie, who felt as though his heart was briefly being sucked out. ‘I am the ghost of Cain, Frozen Lord of Havilah, Son of the Ancient Woman. Do you have a cup of water, boy?’
Archie pointed to the table just behind him.
Cain hovered to it and dropped something in the cup. ‘You will need this. Drink. It may give you strength.’
And with those words, Cain slipped quietly out of the door.
Archie fell back on his pillows, rubbing his eyes. What the heck was that about?
He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t anymore. He knew, though, that there was no way he was going to turn up at this meeting with the ghost, whatever powers had been offered to him in return.
Lions and horses! Twaddle.
He studied the clock. Three-thirty-five.
He did a quick calculation. Eight hours from now and it would be… bang in the middle of the football match. Nine hours and the game would just be finishing.
Another classic Archie timetable cock-up.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Problem sorted; he wasn’t missing the game, certainly not for a knife-wielding ghost, whatever the cost.
Relieved, Archie closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
Gaia raced across the air to the boy.
Cain, forever banned from leaving Havilah, had discovered a way to the Heirs of Eden only hours after the last part of the Tripodean Dream had been given! This was beyond comprehension.
Gaia anchored her legs either side of Archie’s head, and spun a hazy-styled dream.
With any luck, as the sun rose and humans readied themselves for a new day, the meeting with Cain might feel as if it had never happened.
Twenty-Three
Havilarian Toadstool Powder
Talking to Archie, an idea so simple, and yet so brilliant, had popped into Cain’s head.
Cain pulled a small jar out of his pocket and examined it, smiling.
Havilarian toadstool powder; a lethal poison, with the power to kill those who came from the Garden of Eden. In one stroke, he’d reduce the old man to a spirit. Just like him.
Adam’s value would be nullified, not that he had much worth anyway. But why not take the chance, while he had it?
Cain reached the hallway. No signs of Asgard. Good, he thought, better the dreamspinner doesn’t know.
The ghost cursed. Wearing a coat for such a long time had drained his strength. He let th
e garment cascade to the floor as he searched the room, sensing vibrations. In no time he had created a map in his mind’s eye.
He headed down a corridor, and came to an open door. He slipped through and instantly sized up the energy in the room. Before long, the outlines of a table and chairs, and the vibrations of plants and foodstuffs came to him, hanging off the easy-to-identify metal hooks clasped onto the beams of the ceiling.
Turning to his left, he discovered the strong vibrations of a smouldering fire—a cooker. Good.
He thought about sweet foods, like honey or, how did the boy say it, sugary-things?
Yes! There, near the cooker, in a small container. Sweet granules, exactly as he hoped.
It’s easy to see, he thought, when one has aeons of time. It’s easy to understand how energy spins, fires and vibrates around every single thing.
Cain cursed. His strength sapped by the coat, he found that pouring the Havilarian toadstool powder into the bowl was more of an effort than he’d bargained for. As he did, tiny squeals emanated.
Perfect. The fungi are alive.
Cain drifted out of the room, along the corridor, into the living room, and back to the fireplace.
He felt for the aura of the dreamspinner.
Nothing.
Above him, he could hear yawns. The old man stirring. Feet padding on the ceiling above.
Come on, Asgard, where are you?
A moment later, the stairs groaned with a heavy footstep.
Cain didn’t want to hang about. Even though he knew he couldn’t be seen, he certainly didn’t want to be found in the house of his father, the home of his greatest enemy.
As the footsteps neared, a small vibration squeaked out. ‘Master, it is Asgard. Dive straight ahead. Do nothing else.’
‘About time,’ Cain snapped.
Without waiting to be prompted, Cain knelt down and sprang towards the dreamspinner, hoping like mad it was the right place. As he left, he heard a small cough as Old Man Wood entered the room.
Twenty-Four
Similar Dreams
Archie stretched his arms and thrust out his chin. As he did so, he felt the sting of a fresh cut. He froze. Cloudy images of the previous night rushed in. He dashed into the bathroom and stared back at his reflection.
A small incision, just as he expected, mirroring the cut from the night before.
Archie couldn’t believe it.
And why were the words "horse" and "lion" swimming in his head?
‘The weight of a horse and the looks of a lion? Nah,’ he said aloud to his reflection, shaking his head. The head of a horse and the body of a lion?
Archie sprayed water on his face. The bite of a lion and the kick of a horse? No, no. Deep in thought, he headed towards the kitchen, letting the water spill onto the floor as he went.
Mrs Pye looked up as Archie came sloping in. ‘You taking an elephant for a walk?’ she said.
‘Elephant?’ he repeated, before realising what she meant. He tried not to break into a smile.
‘What is the matter with you lot?’ Mrs Pye complained. ‘Slumping and skulking and screaming in the night.’
Archie coughed. ‘Oh. Isabella and Daisy had a bad night again. I think they’re talking about some, er..., girlie things. You know...’ Archie mumbled.
‘Periods?’ Mrs Pye squealed. ‘Daisy’s becoming a woman now, is she? About time, I suppose.’
Girlie things? Archie went bright red. Oh dear. This was absolutely the last thing on his mind.
He changed the subject, fast. ‘My throat’s sore, Mrs P, and my head hurts. It’s like someone’s tightened a clip around my neck.’
‘Come here and I’ll take a look.’
Archie sidled over to the sink, and Mrs Pye took his head gently in her hands. ‘What are these cuts on your chin? Have you been playing with your knives again?’
‘Of course, I haven’t,’ Archie said, weakly. ‘Caught my face on something.’
Mrs Pye looked at Archie suspiciously. ‘I won’t tell anyone about your knife throwing, you know that. I know you like to sneak off to that old potting shed and practice, though heavens only knows why.’
She took his hand, before feeling his forehead and the back of his neck. ‘It’s your big sister who doesn’t approve.’
Mrs Pye finished her medical. ‘Well, you is a bit sweaty, young man. Could be a fever coming on.’
She rubbed her chin, thinking about what might be the best cure. ‘I reckon you need a couple of...’
‘Apples?’ Archie suggested.
Mrs Pye raised her eyebrows. ‘How did you know?’
Archie smiled. Mrs Pye’s medical knowledge was virtually non-existent and Old Man Wood’s extraordinary variety of apples in the orchard just happened to be her number one cure for everything.
After an unexpectedly large breakfast they returned to their room. Archie felt it was time to question his sister. ‘Daisy,’ he began quietly, ‘last night you called out, "Tripodean Dream" several times. Why?’
A shadow fell over her face. ‘Another nightmare,’ she began. ‘I’ve had three, each one utterly disturbing, but this dream was the best... and the worst... and the weirdest.’
She turned to her sister for support. ‘They’ve been so real. I could smell things, and understand everything. Birds, trees, and plants talked to me. Talked, Archie! It’s so... so complicated and bonkers and confusing. I don’t know where to begin.’
Daisy scrunched her face up and ran a hand through her hair, trapping a finger on a knot. ‘One minute, there’s this knackered old woman telling me about a wonderful, beautiful place. The next minute I’m in a terrifying storm, like an endless hurricane, and the storm is chasing me. Lightning, mudslides, and tonnes of water coming after me, beating me to death…’ She tailed off, scratching the back of her neck.
‘What is it, Daisy?’ Isabella asked.
‘I dreamt I reached a sanctuary. It was only then that I was safe from the storm. Kind of like heaven, but with pictures on the walls.’
She shook her head. ‘I still don’t know what it’s supposed to mean.’
Isabella set her books down on the table and pulled up a chair.
‘Daisy, in your nightmare, what happened to this Ancient Woman?’
‘Well, I’m pretty confident this haggard old woman kept trying to tell us something,’ Daisy said. ‘But each time she did, she died.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah,’ Daisy said, her eyes wide. ‘A violent, horrible death, different every time. And it was like being there, standing next to her. I could feel myself screaming.’
She took the stunned silence from the others as a green light to continue. ‘Look, I know it sounds nuts, but this Ancient Woman knew about us... she knew everything about us, even though I think we were on an entirely different planet.’
Her eyes searched her elder sister’s face, urging her to believe. Daisy’s bottom lip began to tremble, and tears moistened in her eyes. ‘I’ve tried to blot it out, but I think I’m going crazy.’
Without warning, a teardrop spilled from Isabella‘s eye.
‘Oh, no. Not you as well!’ Archie said.
‘Yes. Me, too!’ Isabella cried, lines of water now streaming down her cheeks. ‘Same, exactly.’
Archie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘But this is madness—’
‘I know.’
Archie was confused. ‘You’re sure it was just like Daisy’s dream? You’re not making it up?’
‘Yes! I’m positive. It’s the truth,’ Isabella insisted. ‘I swear. Three intense, clear dreams like Daisy described, except I was in a hall of mirrors. I’ve never been so amazed or happy or terrified, and, just as Daisy said, the dreams ended the same. In death.’
She clenched her hand. ‘I kept seeing lightning and rain. Torrential, terrible rain. You know how I’ve been going on about this deluge, it’s terrifying me. It’s as if this stupid storm wants to target us, alone, until we make it to th
is weird cave, just as you said.’
They both nodded.
‘And, Bells, you saw this Ancient Woman?’ Daisy asked. ‘What did you think?’
Isabella thought for a moment. ‘She’d been stuck. Abandoned someplace, I think. She’s pathetic, desperate, waiting. Waiting for...’
‘For what?’
Isabella shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Us, perhaps?’
‘But her eyes had been gouged out, so she didn’t know where she was,’ Daisy said.
‘Exactly! You’re right.’
‘No eyes, but she had a gentleness; an aura of kindness and love,’ Daisy continued. ‘She was disgusting to look at, though. All shrivelled up, like one of Old Man Wood’s prunes.’
‘Probably even more withered,’ Isabella added with a thin smile. ‘I don’t know how she’s still alive. It was as if she held the key to something...’
Archie had become noticeably quiet over the past few minutes. As if by instinct, the girls noticed.
‘What about you, Archie?’ they said.
Archie swivelled and faced the girls, his face ashen.
‘Yeah,’ he said, shakily. ‘I’ve dreamt of this storm and this Ancient Woman on three occasions—just like you.’
The girls gasped.
Archie stared at them, his eyes red and brimming with tears.
He dropped his head.
‘The thing is, in each of my dreams, it’s me who kills her.’
Twenty-Five
Overcoat
Eventually, Isabella spoke. ‘Look. I know it’s odd, but these are only dreams, you know. They’re just our minds worrying about things. Dreams aren’t real, however much they appear to be.’
‘If you don’t think there’s any truth in them,’ Archie said, ‘why did you go to such lengths to make a barometer and a storm glass? You must have thought there was something to it.’