“But it is solid rock,” Tom said. “Where do the passages meet?”
“Up there,” Garren said, pointing up.
They all looked up and were just able to make out a ledge, about twenty feet up, which disappeared into a hole in the rock.
“How are we getting up there?” Tom said.
“Val can go and secure the rope, and we climb up,” said the cleric.
“Oh, not again,” Maya said, somewhat disturbed at the prospect of dangling off another piece of rope.”
“Don’t fret, Maya,” Garren said. “I’ll climb up first, and you can tie the rope around yourself. We’ll pull you up.”
Maya groaned, but there was nothing else for it. Val took the remaining rope and tied it off. Garren climbed up. Quite sprightly, he was too, Tom thought. He helped Maya tie the rope around herself and advised her to lean back and walk up the rock wall as they pulled. Then it was Tom’s turn. He tied the rope around his waist and was off up the wall like a rat up a drainpipe. In no time he was at the top with a big grin on his face.
“Impressive,” Val said.
“I’ve had lots of practice on the climbing wall at Mosely Street sports centre,” he beamed.
“We will have to take care from here on in,” Garren warned. “Once we get into this passage, we will be below the cellars and may be heard by those inside. It is not much further then before we get into the monastery properly.”
“How will we find the book when we get into the monastery,” Tom asked. “It looks like a big place to me.”
“It is on a lectern in the Well Chamber, next to the well itself,” Maya said, distantly.
“There we go then,” Garren said. “There are several passages that lead to the Well Chamber.” He strode off up the path.
“Did you remember that one?” Tom whispered to Maya.
“What one?” she said.
“Oh,” said Tom.
Garren led the way through the faintly glowing passage to a stone stairway leading upwards. At the top of the steps, the walls on either side changed from the rough stone of the mountain’s roots to carved stone blocks cemented together with mortar. Every now and then they came across an opening in the stonework, covered by wooden panelling, or the back of a bookcase, or a fireplace, or a door, hidden from the other side. They carried on for some time, turning left here and right there and left again, up some more steps. The place was a rabbit warren of secret passages.
Finally, Garren stopped and signalled the others to keep very quiet and gather round.
“We should be on the left-hand wall of the Well Chamber,” Garren whispered. “There are no spy holes because these passages were meant for escaping, not sneaking in, so we don’t know if there is anyone in the hall.”
“There is one guard inside the room, not far from where we are now,” Maya informed them. She looked at Tom, and at once he knew she meant she remembered what she had said this time. He smiled at her.
“I should be able to have him purring like a kitten if I can get close enough,” Valcris said.
“I hope I can get this panelling open without making too much noise,” Garren said. “These hinges have seen no oil for many years.” Gingerly he felt for the catch that released a section of wooden panelling that swung inwards like a door, revealing the chamber.
Val was in front of the door, ready to spring out on the unsuspecting guard. He looked towards the well and saw the large, leather-bound book sitting closed on the lectern beside it. He pointed it out to Garren, who nodded his acknowledgement. The vampire then lifted an inch off the ground and glided silently and spookily into the chamber where, just a few feet away, with his back to him, was a robed and hooded Guardian. Valcris positioned himself to the side of the hooded figure and cleared his throat to get his attention. The guardian spun round, staff in hand, but before he could utter a sound the vampire’s mesmerising stare caught him off guard and he just stood there with a glazed expression, totally oblivious to what was happening around him.
“Go and sit by the door, there’s a good fellow,” Valcris said to him.
Obediently, the guardian walked over to a wooden bench near the main doors and sat down.
“All clear,” hissed Valcris.
Cautiously Garren and Tom stepped out, with Maya following a little way behind. Val went over to join them, and they turned their attention to the Tome.
“There it is,” Garren said. “Let’s get it and get back to the passages before anyone finds us.”
“It’s a little late for that,” said a voice behind them.
They were struck with a chill that ran through their bodies like ice water, already knowing who had spoken before they turned around. But turn they did, to see the Guardian Valcris had hypnotised standing in front of the doors, his hooded robe on the floor at his side.
“Do forgive the theatrics,” Balfour said. “It was too good an opportunity to resist. I’m sorry, Mr Vampire, but your hypnotic gaze will not work on one as powerful as I.”
Garren edged forward and stole a quick look at the opening in the panel work, wondering if they could make it there before Balfour could stop them, but the glance did not go unnoticed.
“You would never make it,” Balfour spat. “However, it would be tiresome if you tried so let’s just put a stop to any ideas of escape shall we?” He drew his wand out of his sleeve and sent a hex flying across the room. Before the companions could get more than two paces towards the passage, it hit them, knocking them backwards several yards, landing in a heap in front of the balustrade. Every one of them unconscious.
Chapter 15
Metamorphosis
Matt was screaming. He was shouting Tom’s name over and over, begging him for help. He was held by one of the Sen-Trees, the vines wrapping themselves around his body and crushing the breath out of him as they pulled tighter and tighter around his chest and neck. His face turned scarlet through lack of air to his lungs. Struggle though he might, he could not move. The strong green tendrils tightly bound his arms and legs. And then the shouting stopped. One of the vines snaked its way into his open mouth, gagging him. His lips were turning blue.
Tom shouted to him, “I’m coming, Matt. Hold on!” But as he tried to run to his brother’s aid, a single vine from a Sen-Tree behind him wrapped itself around his wrist and try as he might, he could not get to Matt. Matt had stopped struggling now. He was limp.
“No!” Tom screamed, tears streaming down his face.
Then he heard someone else call him. He moved to the other side of the tree that held him, straining against his leash.
The sight that met his eyes filled his very soul with horror. All his family were there. Mum, Dad, James, Alice, even Jack and Ollie were there all tied to the dreadful Sen-Trees and, like Matt, they were having the life crushed out of them by the creeping, squeezing vines.
Tom fought against his captor, but the vine was like a steel rope. Nothing he did would make it release its hold.
“Mum,” he called. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault,” he sobbed as his sister went limp, followed by dad.
Then he stopped fighting. He stood and looked at the dreadful sight. Now James stopped struggling, as did Jack.
“No, this isn’t right,” he said. “You can’t all be here? You should all be safe back in Marsham.”
“I was in the monastery. There was Maya and Garren and Balfour. That’s right; we were hit by a spell. This isn’t real at all,” he reasoned.
The boy stood still and closed his eyes, doing his best to ignore the vines as they began to wrap themselves around his ankles and free wrist. “It’s not real. It’s not real,” he said, concentrating hard. Through closed eyelids, he could see a familiar light. He still had his pendant under his sweatshirt. It was focussing his thoughts. He opened his eyes just as the outdoor scene of the trees and his tortured family and friends faded to the interior of the Well Chamber, where he stood in the chancel, facing the well with the lectern and the Dragon’s Tome behi
nd.
He felt strange. His arms were free now he had left the hallucination behind, but he was still unable to move his legs. He looked down and what he saw made him catch his breath with shock. His legs were quite normal down to the knees, but below, they were fused into a single trunk. The blue denim of his jeans faded to brown at the shins, and the material became rough like bark. His feet were gone completely, and roots had taken their place, burying themselves into the stone floor. He was quite literally rooted to the spot.
On his left Garren and Val were also there, held captive in the same manner as he was and still unconscious, though both were whimpering and crying, obviously being subjected to the same torturous images of friends and family that Tom had. But he had realised what they were, surely Garren and Val were sensible enough to understand too. He noticed that Maya was not with them. He looked around the chamber anxiously.
“How can you be awake?” said a surprised Balfour. “You should still be enjoying my little show. How are your family by the way?”
“Fine,” Tom said, defiantly. “Safe in my world where they belong.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?” Balfour asked, mischievously.
“Positive,” Tom answered with malice.
“Smart boy,” Balfour smiled. “I’m glad you’re back with us, I wanted to have a nice friendly little chat,”
“What have you done with Maya?” Tom demanded. “If you have hurt her you’ll pay.”
“Oh, splendid,” said Balfour, delighted. “You seem to have taken a shine to young Maya. I am so glad you got on so well. You will be relieved to hear that she is safe and well and just over there with her dear mother.”
Tom looked towards the rear of the chamber where Balfour indicated. Sure enough, there, on the floor behind the wooden benches was Maya, holding an older woman who was tied to one of the pillars. She was sobbing quietly while being comforted by the woman.
“You see all safe,” Balfour said. “I would never have been able to capture you without her help. She has kept me informed of your actions every step of the way. That is how I knew who was with you and what traps to set. By the way, I must congratulate you on your ingenuity in getting out of them all unscathed.”
“You’re a liar,” Tom shouted.
“No, it’s quite true, I assure you,” said Balfour, enjoying the boy’s reaction. “Maya has been an invaluable asset to me. I may even consider rewarding her by letting her mother go.”
Maya looked hopefully at the tyrant.
“Then again, I may not,” he said, revelling in the renewed tears that streamed from the girl’s face.”
Tom stared at the girl in disbelief. “Maya?” he started.
“Enough of this,” Balfour said sternly. “Now, I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
“How do you work that out?” Tom said. “It was hidden so that people like you wouldn’t get their hands on it.”
“Good, you are not wasting precious time by denying all knowledge of the key,” Balfour answered calmly. “The key belongs with the book. The book belongs to me. Therefore the key also belongs to me. Give it to me.”
“You should have taken it that night you barged me out of the way at Sam’s,” Tom snarled.
“You mean that awful place with all those nasty children and that terrible din?” Balfour said cringing as he remembered. “That was you? I knew I was close. The Orb of Casther was going wild.”
“You could have just taken it then, but now I know what it is, I’ll never let you have it.”
“Give it to me NOW.”
“Do you think I would bring it here?” Tom lied.
“Hmm, let’s see shall we.” Taking his wand, he pointed it at the sobbing girl. Instantly Maya went silent and limp and rose into the air, hovering about ten feet or so, rotating slowly. “Seer, tell me the truth.”
“The key is here,” said the woman, never taking her eyes off her beloved daughter.
“There, you see,” the man said, gently lowering the girl to the ground. “We mustn’t tell lies, lest we be found out. Now be a good boy and give me my key.”
“Why is it so important to you?” asked Tom.
“It will unlock the secret power of the book and allow me to take the place destined to be mine since the Ancient Ones defeated Baphomet. I will be Emperor of this realm, Ruler of all who dwell here and Master of the great Illemborn, bringer of magic. Now give me my key.”
“I can’t,” Tom hissed through gritted teeth.
“Look,” said Balfour calmly. “I know you don’t belong here, I don’t know how you got here, but I do know how you yearn for home. The politics of this world are no concern of yours. Why should they be? You have a life and a family in your own land of metal vehicles and flying chariots and lightboxes that you enjoy looking at for hours on end. What possible interest could a backward, primitive little place like this be to you?
“I could help you, you know. I could use my book and that silly little key, which is after all, of no use to you at all, and with it, I could open the gateway to send you back to your loved ones. Just think, in ten short minutes you could be running into your mother’s welcoming arms. How worried she must be, wondering what has happened to you.”
Thomas Knight considered Balfour’s proposal. All he had wanted since being deposited in this world against his will, was to go home. He had gone through so much, and now he was being offered just that. All he had to do was help this man unlock the secrets of his book, and he could go home and enjoy Christmas with his family, meet his friends at Sam’s on the day after Boxing Day and get back to a normal life. He could do that, couldn’t he?
“Get knotted,” he said and concentrated every ounce of strength he had in freeing his legs. Once again, his pendant radiated light. Gradually his jeans parted at the knees, and the roots withdrew from the stone floor, receding into his feet.
Balfour saw what was happening and pointing his wand, reinforced the holding spell. The roots stopped receding. Tom turned red with renewed effort. On the lectern, the book burst open and the pages fluttered in a gust of wind that came from nowhere, coming to rest on an indecipherable spell. The roots began to shrink again and rapidly disappeared into Tom’s white trainers. He was free.
“You have power, boy,” Balfour said. “Or is it just my key that gives you strength?”
Raising his wand before Tom had a chance to dive behind the wall of the well, Balfour lifted him off the ground and sent him flying into the wall at the rear of the chancel. As he was about to pick himself up, he felt the force of Balfour’s magic lift him off the floor again, bringing him smashing into the wall behind his two unconscious friends.”
“I can continue to do this all day,” Balfour shouted. “Give me my key.”
“No,” screamed Tom.
Again he felt himself thrown into the air, landing hard against the base of the lectern. The force of his landing shook the wooden frame, knocking the ancient book to the ground.
“Give it to me!” Balfour shouted, watching with concern as his precious book slid to the edge of the raised dais. He picked it up with his free hand.
Again he received the same answer, and again the boy shot up into the air, banging his head hard on the ceiling where the invisible force left him, and he fell back to the ground, bleeding and bruised, only to rise again and hover in the air.
Through the ringing in his ears, Tom heard another sound. A familiar sound. Was he losing consciousness again? No, Balfour could hear it too, that’s why he held Tom in the air instead of bouncing him off the walls. They were both hearing the rhythmic chuffing of a steam engine. He must be dreaming, surely.
In, what seemed to Tom, like slow motion, the big wooden doors of the Well Chamber exploded sending splinters of wood flying into the air as the big metal tank of Albert Proles’ steam car rammed them and puffed into the chamber. Balfour jumped back as the machine came smashing through the wooden benches towards him. Tom fell to the floor as the m
an turned his attention and his power to the steam engine, producing a shimmering wall of magical energy that slammed into it sending it sliding on its new tyres into the wall just in front of Maya and her mother. The magical barrier held the occupants of the vehicle’s cab in place, despite their protests.
“You!” spat Balfour as he saw Albert standing in the wreckage, pushing at the invisible wall like a mime artist trapped in his imaginary box. Sat beside him, in a purple coat with a green fur collar, was Rita, the elderly witch.
Balfour tried to pick Tom up again, but the strain of holding the barrier around the steam engine was taking its toll. He could only get the battered boy a few feet off the floor before dropping him. He changed his tactic. “Last chance boy,” he snarled. “Give me the key now, or I will take it from your body.”
Tom felt invisible hands around his neck choking him. He spluttered, unable to take a breath. He fell to his knees, clutching at his throat, his face purple.
“You let him go you rotten git,” shouted Rita. “I’ll ’ave you when I get out of here you big bully.” She began muttering a counter charm to disperse the field that held her and Albert.
Maya had regained consciousness after being used to coerce her mother and saw Tom struggling for air on the floor. She jumped to her feet and ran at the evil man. He was concentrating intensely on his many spells, commanding them with his wand like the conductor of an orchestra. She leapt at him, landing on his back, knocking him sideways into the wooden panelling.
“Leave him alone,” she screamed. “He can’t give you the key. He is the key.”
Balfour thrust his elbow into the girl’s stomach, sending her to the ground winded and gasping for breath. Then he regained his composure and swiftly scanned around to see his spells were all still intact. The vampire and the cleric were still bound and whimpering, the boy was still choking, and the barrier was still around the vehicle. Or so he thought. Maya’s little distraction had allowed Rita to punch a small hole in the magical field, near the floor at the rear of the metal contraption. Unnoticed by everyone, something small and dark shot from it and into the shadows.
The Sorcerer's Tome Page 19