Phyllis Wong and the Waking of the Wizard

by Geoffrey McSkimming

  ‘If we don’t see him immediately, I’ll give my signal—a single blast from my whistle—and we’ll light up the field with the spotlights. Flood the ground with light first; if he’s not there, we’ll move up into the stands. We’ll find him—we’ll pick him out like low-life vermin about to face his final skulking. We’ll have him dancing like a startled lobster in the pale moonlight.’

  Detective Chatterton led the other officers through the wrecked gates and they split up, spreading out silently to their designated positions around the playing field. Like shadows of the night, they melted into their surroundings.

  Phyllis could feel herself tingling—whenever the Chief Inspector took command of a situation like this, it always felt as if things were wavering on the fine edge of a knife.

  Clement smirked—he thought it weird that the police were going to be whistling at each other in there.

  In Phyllis’s bag, Daisy rolled herself into a ball and nestled closer against Phyllis’s hip. She could sense the tension building outside, and she knew it was best to stay still.

  Myrddin’s eyes were filling with more miniature lightning bolts. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we must go in. I feel it is Time . . . the man draws me to him . . .’

  ‘He’s drawing you to him?’ Phyllis asked.

  ‘Aye, Phyllis Wong.’ Myrddin closed his eyes, concentrating. ‘It is as though he has reversed the shield that he had set in place, when he wanted me to stay away. He has inverted it, and the energy that kept me away is now wanting me to come to him . . .’

  ‘We’ll give the others a moment to take up their positions,’ Barry said, drawing out his pistol. ‘And, Miss Wong and Clement?’

  ‘Yes, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Yes, Ba—Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Stay close. Understood? Keep behind me unless I tell you otherwise.’

  ‘Will do,’ said Phyllis, and Clement said, ‘You got it.’

  While they were waiting, Clement looked up—something had caught his eye in the night sky. ‘Man!’ he exclaimed loudly.

  ‘Shhh!’ Phyllis shushed him, and Barry gave him an I wish you were some other place entirely glance.

  ‘But look,’ Clement whispered. ‘Up there, above the stadium!’

  High over the centre of the stadium, twinkling and hovering and moving ever-so-slightly back and forth against the stars, was a huge satellite.

  Myrddin, too, observed the object hanging in the air. ‘Ah,’ he murmured. Phyllis asked Barry, ‘Is that part of the Mantle?’ ‘Has to be. I’ve never seen a satellite that size anywhere above the city before. There’ll be thousands placed up there, all above the planet, ready to be switched on tomorrow morning.’

  Clement was impressed. His head was spinning at the idea of how fast he’d be able to battle zombies with his friends all over the world.

  ‘Are you ready, Mr Myrddin?’ asked Barry.

  ‘Aye. Let me face the blackguard. Let me retrieve what is mine!’

  ‘Then it’s time,’ Barry said. ‘Remember, Miss Wong, Clement: stay behind me—’

  ‘Unless you say otherwise,’ said Phyllis.

  Barry crept forward, through the wreckage of the gates, Myrddin by his side and Phyllis and Clement behind him.

  They moved noiselessly down the wide entrance path leading onto the playing field. On each side of them, stands of seats flanked the path. Ahead, the field was dark and still.

  When Barry got to the end of the path he stopped, putting his hand up to signal the others to do likewise. Phyllis could only just make out Barry’s silhouetted hand against the blackness all around.

  They stayed there for what seemed like an eternity. Phyllis scrunched up her eyes, peering over to the eastern and western sides of the field, trying to pick out the other officers. But she couldn’t see a thing—the night was all-smothering, all-dense. All-still.

  A soft, chill breeze blew. Somewhere far away there was a scurrying sound, tiny, scrabbly. In Phyllis’s bag, Daisy stirred, and the conjuror patted her down again. She knew it had only been a rat or mouse going about its nocturnal business.

  Barry asked Myrddin, ‘Is he here?’

  The wizard shut his eyes. ‘I feel malevolence,’ he replied after a moment. ‘There is the undeniable slummage of wickedness emanating from somewhere.’ He opened his eyes. ‘But where that place is, I cannot exactly define. It is as if the man has partially concealed himself. But he is here; that I know.’

  Then Barry said, quietly, without turning, ‘Miss Wong, go out into the centre of the field.’

  Phyllis blinked. She wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but she wasn’t about to argue right now with the Chief Inspector.

  ‘Run!’ urged Barry.

  She blinked again. Then, quick as a flash, she darted around the side of Barry and Myrddin and took off, full-pelt towards the centre of the stadium.

  Barry exploded. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he yelled after her.

  ‘You told her to run out there,’ said Clement.

  ‘I did nothing of the—’

  ‘I heard you,’ Clement said, as Phyllis ran.

  ‘It wasn’t me!’ said Barry, his eyes wide.

  ‘Sturdy,’ hissed Myrddin. ‘He threw his voice to sound like you. He’s here! He’s close!’

  Barry gulped, then he took his whistle and blew on it until he felt his cheeks about to burst. The shrill noise shot into the stadium like shattering glass. Instantly, all the other officers switched on their powerful spotlights, and the centre of the field was awash in light.

  Phyllis stopped, panting.

  ‘Miss Wong! Don’t move!’

  She turned, shielding her eyes from the intensity of the spotlights. Through the shadow from her hand across her eyes she could see the outlines of Barry, Myrddin and Clem.

  Barry shouted, ‘Everyone, move in, slowly. Scan the entire perimeter!’

  From the sides of the field the officers began advancing into the centre, steadily, watchfully.

  ‘Let us go, too,’ said Myrddin. ‘I feel he wants us closer to Phyllis Wong . . .’

  ‘C’mon, Clem,’ Barry said, tightening his grip on his pistol as he ushered Clement to walk next to him.

  ‘Did you really say that?’ asked Clement, warily. ‘You really want me to come with you?’

  ‘Read my lips. Come on!’ Barry took Clement by the shoulder and together they advanced with Myrddin.

  Phyllis remained where she’d stopped. Something inside her was telling her she shouldn’t move . . . she was sensing something, as though a wave of heaviness was rolling across the field, coming her way . . .

  Suddenly, Pinkie Chatterton’s high voice lashed out into the night: ‘What the—?’

  The officers around him also cried out, as did the officers coming in from the eastern perimeter—the air was filled with shouts of astonished fear.

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Help! No!’

  ‘This can’t be!’

  ‘Stop it! No!’

  Clusters of bright, glowing purple shafts of light—like the bars of a prison cell—had speared upwards from under the ground, encircling each of the officers.

  ‘We’re in cages!’ shouted Pinkie Chatterton. ‘We’re trapped!’

  The shafts of light twinkled brightly as they completely enclosed each of the detectives.

  ‘Evil sorcerer!’ exclaimed Myrddin. ‘He knows more magic than I realised.’

  ‘Can you destroy the cages?’ Barry asked.

  Myrddin went totally still, his eyes widening, his face changing. Clement, watching him, thought he was trying to obliterate them with his mind. ‘No,’ Myrddin said after a moment of deep concentration. ‘He has cast some cold, powerful magic that I cannot infiltrate.’

  Barry shouted to Chatterton and the others: ‘Can you get through the gaps between those beams of light?’

  Chatterton put a hand through the thin space between two of the glowing beams. He quickly with
drew it with a loud yelp, shaking his hand vigorously. ‘It’s cold!’ he yelled back. ‘Burning cold, like dry ice!’

  ‘Good lord,’ Barry muttered. He scanned the field. ‘Miss Wong,’ he called again, ‘don’t move!’

  ‘I . . . I’m not going anywhere,’ she answered, shakily.

  ‘Man, this is bad,’ said Clement, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  ‘And now,’ came a hard, sneering voice, filling the whole stadium, ‘the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the end of civilisation as we know it!’

  Barry, with Clement at his side, took a step forward.

  There was a swift whooshing sound, and the both of them were instantaneously caged, encircled by more glowing, icy purple beams that had shot up from underground.

  Barry Inglis’s blood flowed colder than the beams of light. He shouted to his colleagues, ‘Officers! Under no account fire any weapon out of those cages. This is beyond our understanding, and gunfire may easily backfire onto us!’ He’d had experience of firearms malfunctioning in different Times before, and even though there hadn’t been any Transiting here, he didn’t want to take any chances.

  ‘A wise decision,’ Myrddin said.

  Now, only the wizard and Phyllis and Daisy were unimprisoned by the glowing, icy cages.

  Myrddin strode forward, his robe billowing about him. He withdrew his twig-wand and raised it high. With a sweep across the icy cages, he immobilised Pinkie Chatterton and the other detectives, but not Barry or Clement.

  ‘They are suspended for the next few minutes,’ Myrddin said to Phyllis, Barry and Clem. ‘They cannot see or hear beyond their icy prisons. For them, for the moment, Time has stopped. It is best they do not know what is to happen, for secrets may be divulged here tonight, secrets that should not be known by those who are not privy . . .’

  ‘Where’s Sturdy?’ Phyllis asked the wizard, who was now close to her.

  ‘Show yourself, Sturdy!’ Myrddin commanded, his voice thunder-rumbling. ‘Bring forth my property!’

  ‘It’s about time you got here,’ came Sturdy’s sneering voice behind Myrddin.

  Myrrdin spun round. The tall ventriloquist was standing a few strides away from him, clutching the crocodile-skin bag under his arm.

  ‘You felon,’ Myrddin greeted him. ‘You will give me my Jasper. Return him to me NOW!’

  Myrddin stabbed at the air with his wand, but Sturdy was quick: with a flourish of his hand, he knocked the wand out of Myrddin’s grasp and sent it high into the air. Phyllis watched it as it sailed up, up, up, finally becoming invisible against the satellite lights directly overhead.

  Sturdy smiled—a scowling, cruel smile that made his ginger beard bristle. ‘You want him back? You must do my bidding first!’

  ‘Why did you take him?’ Myrddin asked. ‘What possessed you to steal that which is so very dear to my heart?’

  Sturdy put the bag down on the grass. He placed one of his large feet on top of the bag and regarded Myrddin and Phyllis with a dark, baleful glare. ‘Your heartless actions,’ he replied. ‘And the heartless, selfish actions of humanity!’

  Phyllis felt her skin crawl; it was as if the venom that Sturdy was starting to spew was thick, like a fog being shot out into the cold air.

  ‘Let me tell you why I got you here,’ Sturdy continued, loudly enough for Barry and Clement in their icy cage to hear, along with Phyllis and Myrddin. ‘It’s not because you lost me my spot at the Froux-Froux Levité. That was the beginning of the heartlessness. That was but the tip of the iceberg, the icing on the cake, the snout on the wild beast of my unstoppable destruction! In fact, when I think about it—and I have had lots of Time to dwell on that fateful performance you gave—you actually did me a great favour.’

  ‘Favour?’ Myrddin repeated, his eyes fixed on the crocodile-skin bag.

  ‘You alerted me to the terrible dangers of something slowly destroying the world. Slowly ruining all the Times across which we Transit, thanks to the routes you have set up for us . . .’

  ‘The routes are not for evil!’ Myrddin said, his anger rising. ‘I did not invent Transiting for the likes of you, but for the discoverers, the curious, those who are intrigued by the mysteries of Time and all—’

  ‘I have not FINISHED!’ bellowed Sturdy. ‘Curtail your rudeness, old man!’

  Myrddin fell silent, his eyes flashing.

  Phyllis took a deep breath. ‘What is it you say is slowly destroying the world?’ she asked Sturdy.

  Sturdy’s eyes slid across to her, like a lizard who has just had its first glimpse of prey. ‘And here is one of the Wongs,’ he sneered. ‘Wallace’s little follower.’

  Barry Inglis’s voice carried across the field: ‘You lay one hand on her and you’ll never know daylight again, Sturdy!’

  Alexander Sturdy ignored the threat. ‘Let me tell you what it is,’ he said to Phyllis and Myrddin. He spewed the next word as if he were spitting out poison: ‘Technology.’

  ‘Technology?’ repeated Phyllis.

  ‘You heard me.’

  ‘Oh, man,’ moaned Clement.

  ‘How is technology destroying the world?’ Phyllis asked.

  Great disgust filled Sturdy’s face. ‘Have you looked around this modern day and age?’ he spat. ‘Have you seen the way people no longer talk with each other, face to face? How they send piddly little messages on their phones, over and over and over? Have you observed that people are no longer able to hold a simple, uncomplicated conversation? Have you seen how people use the internet to show off and bully each other and pontificate and spread all manner of dire, unoriginal ideas? People are shrivelling, young Wong. They are totally reliant on quick, shallow ways of expressing themselves. They are devolving into brain-dead masses of waste!’

  ‘Is that why you’ve been pushing people under buses and trains and all the rest?’ said Phyllis.

  ‘They were of little consequence,’ seethed the ventriloquist. ‘Morons are of no use.’ He looked up at the ever-so-slightly shifting satellite. ‘And now, this,’ he spat. ‘This, and all the others that those oh-so-clever scientists have set around the skies, to give us their crowning achievement—their Mantle!’ He said the word as if he were vomiting bile from his mouth. ‘Imagine a world where instant communication can be at everyone’s fingertips—nay, not even their fingertips. A glimmer of their shadows, a movement through the light, and they will be able to access information, and to intrude into each other’s paltry lives, quicker than blinking! What vile world will come about with this . . . Mantle . . . crowning everything?’

  Phyllis said, ‘But think what good it could do. It might mean that illness could be contained more quickly, or people could learn things they couldn’t otherwise have—’

  ‘It must be DESTROYED!’ bellowed Sturdy, his hands shaking with fury. ‘Destroyed before it has begun! Oh, I have long desired to accelerate the Great Whimpering of the world, but until they announced the Mantle, I didn’t know how to go about it. As soon as I heard of the Mantle, I knew it was the way. And that, wizard Myrddin, is why I beckoned you forth. When I knew of the Mantle, I Transited back to the theatre and left the note to entice you here. It was time to bring you forth. I do not have the power to obliterate something so vast and all-reaching as this Mantle. It is beyond my magic. But you, you who have created much and who know secrets about the skies which others of us are not privy to, you can bring the Mantle down!’

  ‘If I bring it down,’ Myrddin said, ‘you bring forth the Great Whimpering. You will destroy all of the communication networks that humankind has developed—the world wide web, hospitals’ technologies, telephones, information-sharing systems, military defence strategies of entire nations, countless libraries’ records, the whole of it. You will plunge humanity into a darkness it has not seen in centuries!’

  ‘So many people will be totally helpless,’ Phyllis said. ‘People rely on their phones and computers. For some people it’s all they have to connect with t
heir friends and—’

  ‘What do I CARE?’ Sturdy snarled. He leered, as an idea came to him. ‘Maybe all these helpless people might go back to the theatres? Heaven forbid! Maybe they might go and see a show? Maybe—’

  Phyllis said boldly, ‘You thought that Jasper was some sort of technological invention, didn’t you? That’s why you stole him. But there’s more to him than that, isn’t there?’

  Myrddin regarded her shrewdly.

  Alexander Sturdy snorted. ‘Oh, you’re a clever one, aren’t you? I should have finished you off back at the Froux-Froux Levité when I had the chance! Yes. At first I did think Jasper was some sort of newfangled mechanical marvel, a brilliantly designed robot or automaton. When Perkus first appeared, I had no idea who he really was. It wasn’t until later, when I had brought the dummy back here to this Time, that I realised that Jasper wasn’t a product of technology—that there was something else inside the wooden carcass.’

  ‘But you couldn’t open it, could you?’ said Myrddin. ‘You couldn’t work out how to get what was inside my Jasper!’

  ‘No, I have not been able to open it,’ said Sturdy. ‘I have tried, but to no avail. But what I have glimpsed inside Jasper led me to believe that the dummy could only belong to one who had the powers of a wizard. That was when I realised that the wizard was you, Myrddin.’

  What he glimpsed inside, thought Phyllis. Her mind went back to that night at the opera house. Something darkish, something glistening . . . the memory of it began to get clearer now, in Phyllis’s mind . . .

  ‘And finally,’ Sturdy continued sinisterly, ‘all the Timing has worked out. I kept myself hidden from you, in case you came searching for me and Jasper. Until now. I was waiting for the optimum Time to get you here. Now, with the creation of the Mantle, the Time was right. You destroy it for me, and you’ll get Jasper, and whatever is inside him that you so covet!’

  Myrddin’s face grew red and started to change, becoming long and wider, before reverting to its natural form. ‘But in order to destroy all those satellites,’ he said, ‘I would have to bring forth my greatest creation.’

  ‘Precisely!’ thundered Sturdy. ‘Only you can do it, Myrddin! Do it now! Bring forth your crowning achievement, your greatest phenomenon, bring them forth to fill every inch of the universe above the whole of the Earth! Bring them, gather them, to meet, to OBLITERATE the satellites of the Mantle! Bring forth, en masse, the Auroras of the world!’