The Sorcerer's Tome

by Philip Sealey

  “You’ll know when you have them.”

  “You are my Gran.”

  Just then, the door opened, and a man and a girl entered. They shook the newly fallen snow from their cloaks and looked around. Noticing Garren, the man nodded, and the pair approached the bar. Tom recognised the man as the person whose face had appeared in Rita’s mirror earlier that day. He was very tall and very thin, his tunic and leggings were black, and as he drew near the bar, he took off his short hooded cloak.

  Like the man, the girl accompanying him had black hair which, when she threw back her hood, fell about her shoulders, long, shiny and straight. She was also thin, though a good head and shoulders shorter than her companion. Her face was drawn and grey, but from it shone the most amazing green eyes, bright and alert.

  As the man ordered the drinks, Blond’s tones rang through the bar, “Got any ID?” For a moment, the man looked at Blond in silence, and Blond’s eager face seemed to go blank. The man mumbled something that Tom could not hear then Blond said, “Thank you, sir, that’ll do nicely,” and rushed off to get the drinks.

  “Did he just pull a Jedi mind trick on that guy?” Tom said, swinging round to face Garren. But before he could answer a commotion broke out at the other end of the bar.

  “I don’t care wa’ they do. They can’t get awa’ wiv it,” said the loud voice of a man getting up from one of the bench seats. He immediately lost his balance and sat down again.

  “Hush up, Cob, keep your voice down,” said his neighbour.

  “No, I won’t,” shouted Cob. “All my missus wanted was a pheasant for the festival. That fat git up at the mostenerary grabbed the lot. All I could get wa’ a brace o wood pigees, and some beggar shot one o they wi’ an eyeball on me way’ ome.”

  “Cob, sit down, you’ve had too much ale.”

  “Some one’s got to tell ’im he can’t go roun’ takin’ all our best grub.”

  “Now then, Cob,” said the landlord, coming out of the backroom to see what the shouting was about. “I think it’s about time you went off home to your Mrs.”

  “I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Cob bawled, successfully negotiating the bench seat. “I got rights.”

  “You ain’t goin’ to have no rights if the Guardians hear you, you’ll be in jail or worse,” Ted said, lifting the bar flap.

  “We got to stick together. We got to’ oof ’im out. ‘Ee got no more right to be sat sittin’ there tellin’ the likes of us wha’ to do any more than I’ ave.” He was standing in the middle of the floor now addressing the whole tavern. His group of friends were rapidly trying to disassociate themselves from him by scurrying off to the alcove seats, where they squeezed in three to a bench and kept their heads low.

  To everyone’s horror, the door opened and in the doorway there stood two hooded figures with staffs similar to Garren’s.

  “Ere we go,” muttered the toothless woman, her knitting pins clicking faster than ever as she watched the events unfold before her.

  The two figures entered the bar. “Cob Skemersly,” said a cold, emotionless voice from under one of the hoods. “You will accompany us.”

  “Why?” asked Cob, as the seriousness of his situation dawned on him. “I ain’ done nuffin’.”

  “Attempting to incite rebellion is a crime, for which the sentence is mandatory; life imprisonment,” the cold voice calmly informed him.

  “No,” cried Cob, instantly sober. “It’s the drink talkin’. I ’ad a bad day, tha’s all. I ain’ never ’citing no rebellion, ’onest.”

  “Irrelevant, sentence has been passed. There will be no appeal.”

  The two Guardians, ignoring the frightened man’s continued protests, raised their already illuminated staffs. From them, bolts of white lightning crackled through the air, engulfing Cob in a shimmering cocoon of light. The immobilised man stood, unable to escape, but trying nonetheless, before the light flickered out as if someone had thrown a switch. The light and Cob Skemersley were gone.

  Deafening silence filled the bar.

  The Guardians looked around the room for any signs of protest, but everyone was busy trying not to be noticed.

  “Landlord,” said one of the hooded figures. “For allowing the criminal to speak out against His Excellency, you will forfeit the right to trade tomorrow.”

  “I did try to stop him,” Ted appealed.

  “But you were not successful,” the Guardians turned and left.

  When the door closed, the mumbling began, “Not fair.”

  “Tried to warn him.”

  “He were only drunk.”

  “His poor Mrs.”

  “What did they do to that man?” asked Tom quietly,

  “Don’t worry, they didn’t harm him, just teleported him to the dungeons at the monastery. Not a very nice place, but at least he is unhurt. Maybe he will walk free if we are successful.”

  “It’s never dull here, is it?” said the girl, with a grim smile as she and her friend came over. “Hello! Haven’t seen you around here before,” she said, noticing Tom.

  “Good evening, Garren,” said the tall man, eyeing Tom suspiciously.

  “Valcris Kalmar, Lyca Jinks, I’d like you to meet Thomas Knight,” said Garren standing up.

  Tom stood too and held his hand out to the tall man, who looked at it for a moment, then gingerly took it. His hand was ice cold, not just because he had come in from the wintry night, but Tom felt a chill that could only come from within. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He let go quickly, looking into the man’s dark eyes as he did so, and feeling the cold even more. He shivered, but was distracted as his now vacant hand was immediately seized and vigorously pumped up and down by the girl.

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said and sat down opposite him. Valcris took the seat next to her. “Where you from then?”

  “I’ll explain everything when everyone has arrived,” said Garren. “Did you manage to get hold of Dan?”

  “Yes,” replied Valcris. “He said he would be here. You mentioned a quest?”

  “Yes, I’ll give Dan a few more min...” began Garren, but stopped when the door flew open and a stocky fellow, a little shorter than Tom, burst in. He scanned the bar, spotted the group in the corner and rushed over, sending the old lady’s balls of wool rolling all over the floor as he did so.

  “Oi! Shut the door, it ain’t the middle of summer,” shouted Blond from behind the bar.

  The little man spun round, realised he had scattered the wool, picked up a few balls, and dumped them in the old woman’s lap as he lolloped back to the door to slam it shut. He returned to the table.

  “Sorry... I’m... late...” he panted. “Just got... questioned... by a couple of Guardians...outside.”

  “Yeah, they were in here not long ago,” said Lyca. “They just sent some poor guy to the dungeons for moaning.”

  “Oh,” said the new arrival. “Can’t we do that now then?”

  “Depends on if you do it in a public place,” she replied.

  “Good job you can still grizzle privately, or you would have to turn yourself in,” said Valcris with a smile.

  “I don’t grizzle,” said the man pulling a chair over and taking up a position at the end of the table.

  “Dan, thank you for coming,” said Garren. “This is Tom. Now we are all here we can start.

  “It appears our lord and master up at the monastery has been making excursions to another world. In fact, it is the world that old Albert and many of the immortals came from. It is also the world where Tom comes from. He became trapped in the portal Balfour was using and was transported here by accident yesterday. It would appear that the Count has been looking for something that was hidden in that world many centuries ago.”

  “You are talking about the key, are you not?” said Valcris quietly.

  Garren paused, “Yes,” he said. “You are aware of the key, then?”

  “Only that there was a key designed to unlock a great power, that wa
s hidden by the Ancients long ago. But I thought it was just a legend.”

  “It is real,” Garren went on. “It is the key that unlocks the secrets of the Dragon’s Tome. With its power, Balfour will be completely unstoppable. It took all the power of the Ancients to contain it last time, and not even they could destroy the one wielding it.”

  “So,” said Lyca, “we’ve got to find this key before he does and keep it safe, is that it?”

  “Not exactly,” Garren said awkwardly. “Finding it is not the problem, we know where it is. What we have got to do is...” he braced himself for the reaction. “... break into the monastery, steal the Tome, give it to Tom and get him back to the other world where he can hide it safely out of reach.”

  Valcris sat and stared at the cleric. Lyca snorted.

  “You have got to be joking,” she said. “I suppose old Balfour is just going to let us wander in and take it. I know, why don’t we tell him we’re on our way, and he could gift wrap it for us.”

  “It wouldn’t be much of a quest if it was easy, would it?” said Garren ignoring the sarcasm.

  “Why do we trust the Dragon’s Tome to this boy?” asked Valcris. “No offence intended.”

  “Tom,” said Garren quietly, “is the one whose coming was foretold.”

  “Which one?” asked Lyca.

  “The one,” said Garren with a nod. “The one who will lead us out of darkness.”

  “You sure?” said a surprised Lyca. “I thought that was supposed to be a great knight.” she looked at Tom, “Where’s yer’ orse?”

  “I haven’t got a horse,” said Tom, embarrassed.

  “He ain’t a proper knight if he ain’t got an ‘orse,” she said.

  “He isn’t a knight, he is called Knight. The prophecy was misread,” Garren explained.

  “What power do you have?” asked Valcris.

  “Er... None, I don’t think,” replied the boy.

  “He doesn’t look like he can lead us out of darkness,” Valcris said to Garren.

  “He don’t look like he can lead us out of the tavern,” said the girl.

  “I can assure you he is the one,” Garren stated. “Rita confirmed it this afternoon. He was tested.”

  “Where is it?” asked Dan thoughtfully.

  “Where’s what?” Garren said, trying to remember if he had missed something.

  “The key,” said Dan. “You said we know where it is.”

  “Yes,” Garren said slowly. “We know where it was hidden, and at the moment, it is still safe.”

  “Where’s it hidden?” Dan pushed.

  “Well, all I can say is that its location is constantly changing, but it is safe for now,” said Garren cagily.

  ‘Well, at least that much is true,’ Tom thought to himself.

  “I assume you and the Sage came up with a plan of some sort,” Valcris said.

  “We are going to break into the monastery, steal the book and get out again as quickly as possible without anyone seeing. We will then use the power of the Tome to open a portal back to Tom’s world and send him and the book through. Once it is on that side, there will be no way to open another gateway from this side. The Tome will then be hidden where no one knows the power it contains,” Garren explained.

  “Simple as that,” scoffed Dan. “Off we go then. Should be back before curfew.”

  “I don’t expect it to be easy for a second, but friends, that is our task.”

  “How are we going to get past the Guardians, undetected?” asked Lyca. “They can detect invisibility and obscurity spells.”

  “When I came to the monastery, many years ago, I was... Well, shall we just say I wasn’t a model student of the order? On one occasion I was trying to evade a couple of Priors, who’d discovered the kitchens had been raided for a midnight feast. Returning unnoticed to my cell with my ill-gotten gains, I happened across the opening to a network of secret passages which run throughout the monastery. I came to know them very well in the years I spent there. It appears they were incorporated into the building as a means of escape in the event of an attack. They lead eventually to a long tunnel which emerges on the western side of the mountain. Providing Balfour has not found it, we can use it to access the secret passages, find the book and take it without anyone noticing.”

  “Sounds easy enough, provided his Excellency remains unaware of its existence,” said Val.

  Beep, Beep, Beep.

  Everyone looked around, startled by the strange sound, Blond looked around to see what the noise was and even the clicking from the old woman’s knitting pins paused for a moment.

  Tom fished around inside his robe and pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket. It was flashing to say it had just received a text message.

  “What’s that?” asked Lyca, her eyes wide.

  “It’s my mobile,” Tom replied, opening the device. Then seeing blank looks, “It is a device for talking to people who are somewhere else.”

  “Ah,” said Valcris. “Like a mirror. Very handy.”

  “Yeah, sort of. But I haven’t been able to get a signal since I got here. I mean, I could not connect to anyone at home.”

  “That must mean that Balfour has opened another portal,” said Garren.

  There were three messages, Tom began to read them; they were from Matt.

  U R L8, Where R U. I coming 2 meet U.

  Tom txt me back. Urg. Worried now.

  U bin gone all nite. Dad called police, mum crying. Please tell us where U R.

  As the boy read the messages, tears welled in his eyes. He realised now how much he missed his family and how they must be out of their minds with worry. Frantically he pressed the reply button.

  Matt. I OK. Trying 2 get back.

  SEND

  As his finger hit the send key, the device beeped, and a message appeared on the screen.

  Send failed.

  No signal.

  “No!” the boy cried. “It didn’t get through.”

  Garren put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “The portal must have closed,” he said. “Take heart Tom, we’ll get you home. I promise.”

  “Yeah, don’t worry sunshine,” said Lyca taking Tom’s free hand in her gloved hand. “You got the best team in the land on your side now.”

  Tom gave a brave smile and put his phone away. His attention and everyone else’s was caught by raised voices at the bar. Two elderly gentlemen, one wearing a scarlet cloak, the other deep blue, both with white hair and very long white beards, were arguing with Blond.

  “ID,” said one of the men. “I’ll give you ID in a minute.”

  “I’m not serving you without any proof of age,” said Blond adamantly.

  “Proof of age,” said the other figure. “I’m two hundred and thirty-nine, I haven’t needed proof of age for over two centuries.”

  “You could just be saying that,” Blond retorted. “I could say I’m Poppy the Fairy Princess, couldn’t I?”

  “No, you can’t. I know Poppy, and you look nothing like her.”

  “Exactly,” said Blond triumphantly.

  “What?” said the blue man, confused.

  “Look, No ID, no drinks,” said Blond emphatically.

  “We are members of the National Joint Council of the Wizard, Witches and Warlocks Unions and as such we demand you serve us, right now or else,” growled the scarlet man.

  “Oh. Threatening me now, are you?” said Blond lifting the bar flap and coming round to confront the men. “Right, That’s it then. You’ve done it now. You’re barred.”

  “What!”

  “Go on out you go. Barred.” He grabbed an arm in each hand and marched the men to the door.

  “You are making a mistake,” shouted one of the wizards as he was pushed through the door.

  “I’m warning you, let go of me you insolent young whippersnapper,” said the other, now on the street side of the door.

  “What’s going on, now?” Ted said, carrying a crate of mixers in from the b
ack room. “Where’s Blond?”

  “Barring some wizards,” cackled the old woman with glee, from her seat beside the fire. “Should be good, this.”

  “Oh, blimey,” exclaimed Ted, dropping the crate on the bar with a clatter.

  “I warned you,” shouted a wizard.

  “And I warned you, No ID, no...”

  Flash...

  Pop...

  “...Ribbit.”

  “Come on, Roger, let’s go down the Unicorn.” Snow-muffled footsteps died away.

  Ted, halfway to the door, stopped, closed his eyes, then slowly returned to the bar shaking his head.

  “Like I said,” said Lyca. “Never dull round here.”

  “Right,” said Garren, getting back to business. “You have all heard the plan. I’m sure the importance of the matter has not escaped your notice. Who is willing to accompany us on this quest?”

  “Sounds like a laugh,” said Lyca. “Count me in.”

  “And I also,” said Valcris.

  They all looked across to Dan, who looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” he said, shifting in his seat. “It’s all a bit far-fetched if you ask me. Breaking into a fortress full of soldiers to pinch a book for a child we don’t know.”

  “Come on, Dan,” said Lyca. “You’ll love it. You’re always in the middle of a good fight.”

  “If we had a seer it would give us more of a chance,” he replied.

  “Excellent idea,” cried Valcris.

  “Let’s see if Marj wants to come,” Lyca enthused.

  Garren thought for a while. The seer had helped them out on previous forays against their overbearing master, but she was not exactly in the first throws of youth. “Alright,” he said at last. “Let’s go and see if she will help us. We’ll meet tomorrow, an hour after curfew, in the square, then go on up to Marj’s cottage. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” said Valcris.

  “Agreed,” said Lyca.

  “Dan?”

  “Agreed,” said Dan, reluctantly.

  “Excellent,” said Garren, beaming. “I suggest we leave the village straight after we have been to see Marj. Less chance of anyone getting wind of what we are about.”

  “I will go and make ready,” said Valcris rising from the table.

  “Wait for me big fella,” Lyca called. “Nice to meet you, Tom.”