The Flames of Time (Flames of Time Series Book 1)

by Peter Knyte

  ‘Mr Robert Marlow, M’sier Jean de Gris, Dr Androushan Chukjadarian, Mr George Whitaker, Mr Peter McAndrews, and your unfortunate friend Dr Harrison Sutherland,’ she said, naming each of us as she looked at us. ‘You have lead us upon a merry dance, as you English would put it, demanding far more of our attention and time than anyone in quite some while.

  ‘But your journey is now over gentlemen, and I must insist that you persevere in your little… hobby no more.’

  ‘Madame, you seem to have us at a disadvantage,’ replied Jean, with a soft charm in his voice and steel in his eyes.

  ‘My name M’sier de Gris is of no consequence,’ she replied with perfect equanimity. ‘All that is of importance, is the care of your injured companion and the relinquishment of those artefacts that you have worked so hard to recover.’

  She’d assessed the situation perfectly. She knew she neither needed to demand nor threaten, she had us exactly where she wanted us.

  I didn’t dare look at Marlow as she said this, instead diverting my attention to poor Harry, as he lay on the ground with Peter attempted to do his best for him.

  But it was Marlow that spoke next, and with a depth of feeling that surprised me, and caused me to turn back toward him.

  ‘Do you even know what these things represent,’ he asked, stepping toward her almost menacingly. ‘Do you care that these artefacts could rewrite history as we know it, or that they may contain a knowledge that could transform our world… our very existence or nature as human beings.’

  ‘Do I know what these things represent,’ she responded with equal force. ‘How arrogant you are! I think perhaps I have a better understanding than you do yourself Mr Marlow. Mine after all, is not the interest of an idle sportsman like yourself, grown bored of his privilege and leisure. Mine is a life of devotion. A life Mr Marlow, not a season or whim. So yes, I do understand what these artefacts represent. For you they represent the life of your friend and your ability to get him to a hospital before it is too late. For me they represent chaos and turmoil, knowledge that it is not our lot to possess.’

  ‘We are all acutely aware of the hold you have over us madam, or would you prefer Mother?’ chipped in Jean, ‘We are also acutely aware of the ruthlessness that your… Order, has displayed in opposing us, so you need not remind us again. As for forbidden knowledge. You will I trust forgive me if I prefer not to live under the delusion of such… primitive notions.’

  I couldn’t tell whether Jean had been genuinely irritated by something this woman had said, or whether he was just trying to provoke her for reasons of his own, but whatever the motivation, it had an effect, as I saw her posture stiffen in response to his words, and the elegant lines of her face harden into something altogether less beautiful.

  ‘So you have somehow come to know something of our order, it appears you are more perceptive than we have been careful,’ she said looking pointedly at Selene, Thea and Miriam. ‘No matter, such information has availed you little. As for the… primitive notion, that some knowledge is and should remain beyond the grasp of mankind. I do not expect you to understand such things, let alone to comprehend that there could even be a spiritual consequence to your actions. For myself and… the Order which I serve, I am content to safeguard such knowledge and to let others with greater wisdom than myself decide its fate.’

  ‘Is it really possible that you can so abdicate your responsibility?’ asked Marlow with sadness in his voice. ‘You are right, I do not fully comprehend what such knowledge may mean, either for the wider world or myself. But if I cannot see with a perfect clarity, then I can at least catch glimpses of what may be, the good and the bad, the choices that may need to be made and the decisions that may follow. And yes, I may not have the faith or devotion that you can perhaps lay claim to, but I do know that at the heart of mankind, and perhaps at the root of your own faith, the freedom of choice is paramount.

  ‘Take these things if you must?’ he said, gesturing to the box containing the tablets, scroll and all of Androus’s work. ‘and hide it away in some dark place for your masters to ignore or eventually to decide upon, and may you live to see the world grow and decide for itself, despite your prohibitions and prejudices.’

  And with that he turned his back on her and walked over to where Harry was lying, still unconscious and unmoving.

  I thought she might be about to say something else, but after a moment’s hesitation, she indicated to Selene and Thea to retrieve the box, and then instructed some of the men who attended upon her to bring forward one of the smaller cars for us to use.

  I joined Marlow and the others over beside Harry, who wasn’t looking well. I could only speculate upon why he wasn’t waking up, but at the least I expected him to have a severe concussion.

  Neither Selene nor Thea said a word as they came over to retrieve the box, but for a moment I thought I saw a genuine look of concern on Selene’s face.

  I don’t think any of us wanted to watch as they took the box away, but our eyes followed it nonetheless as they took it over to the pale-haired woman, who opened it and examined the contents, before turning back to us with a satisfied smile on her face.

  ‘A considerable amount of work. You should be complemented on your industry,’ she said, before turning and addressing herself to Selene.

  ‘Burn the scroll and the papers, take the tablets back with us.’

  It hit me like a hammer blow between the eyes. I couldn’t tell whether she was just doing this to torment us, or for some other reason known only to herself. But the idea of such wilful destruction stunned me.

  I saw Marlow and Jean start to move toward her, only to be stopped as thirty guns suddenly raised and pointed toward them.

  ‘There is no need to destroy anything,’ Marlow said through gritted teeth, ‘you’ve won your prize, why not just take it and hide it away.’

  ‘Unfortunately, you’ve proven to be just that little bit too resourceful Mr Marlow,’ she said, still smiling pleasantly, ‘With a car and your experience in this land, who knows what contacts and connections you might be able to exploit? Better to teach you your lesson now I think. The scroll and the papers will be destroyed. Should you in any way attempt to interfere with us again, before we leave this country, I will personally empty my revolver into the contents of that box to reduce these tablets to dust. Do I make myself abundantly clear?’

  As much as I hated to admit it, her reasoning was beyond doubt, and if anything I’d have been more surprised if Jean or Marlow hadn’t already been thinking along exactly those lines.

  It was agonising to watch as Selene and Thea carried the box over to the burning wreck that had been our car, and start to throw Androus’s papers and plans into the fire. I was waiting, hoping that they would somehow choose to spare the scroll, but eventually I saw Selene draw it too out of the box, and for a moment hesitate, before with a small tremor in those pale hands remove the scroll from its case.

  ‘Ms Autieri… Selene, please do not do this,’ implored Jean.

  ‘M’sier de Gris,’ broke in the pale-haired woman, ‘I have warned you about the cost of any further interference.

  ‘Now do as you were told my child,’ she said addressing Selene.

  ‘Yes Mother Agostine,’ she replied.

  We then all watched as Selene, holding the scroll, stepped a little closer to the flames and then threw it still furled deep into the fire.

  Marlow tried to take another step, but was held back by Jean who’d taken a firm grasp of his arm.

  We all watched as the papyrus caught light and began to burn brightly. For a moment or two I thought we might have been able to retrieve some portion of it, if our captors had left quickly enough. But Mother Agostine was not to be so easily fooled, and we were forced to stand and watch until the entirety of the papyrus had turned to ash.

  When all was irretrievably lost they prepared to leave us, turning all their vehicles around with the exception of the car they’d given us to transport Harry
. As they climbed into their respective vehicles, the grey-haired Mother Agostine addressed us again.

  ‘You have achieved far more than most of those with whom we have become involved,’ she began, almost complimenting us. ‘But you should not make the mistake of thinking this is an end of our… concern, or that we will tolerate your continued pursuit of these goals. We are everywhere gentlemen, watching you from this day forward. So take this warning in the spirit in which it is intended, abandon this quest of yours, seek no more of these tablets or scrolls, because next time we will be neither so tolerant, nor so lenient in our response.’

  And with that final threat she stepped into her waiting car and drove away, back toward the lodge, leaving us alone again in the night.

  We had a long way to go if we were going to get Harry any kind of help, so we quickly set about preparing the car to carry him as comfortably as possible. Unexpectedly they’d left a small medical kit on the back seat, with some drugs that might help. But as soon as he was in and we were ready to go, I noticed Marlow wasn’t getting in the car with us.

  ‘I’ll catch you all up, I need some time,’ was all he’d say.

  I could see in his eyes there would be no arguing with him, so after making sure he had a rifle and ammunition, we set off without him.

  I watched him briefly, as our car moved away. He watched us for a moment only before walking back over to the burning car, to stand and watch his own personal sunset.

  CHAPTER 25 – ASHES

  It was the end of everything. We managed to get Harry to the hospital in Nyrobi, where he was given the much needed medical attention he needed, not only for his fractured skull and broken ribs and assorted other injuries, but also for the ensuing complications that had arisen due to the delay in getting him there.

  It was much the same for the rest of us, the doctors insisting upon checking us out thoroughly, as well as treating our various and respective injuries. And all despite the insistence that we had to get back for our friend who’d stayed behind.

  Eventually though we managed to get them to contact the police, who immediately sent a car out to collect Marlow, only to find him gone, and a message left in his place.

  ‘My dear friends,’ it read.

  ‘I am most sincerely sorry to abandon you at such a time, but I need to walk for a while more in this land of broad horizons, before I think I will be ready to consider what I might do next.

  Yours in earnest

  Rob’

  I think the police were almost as concerned as I was myself when I read this note. The idea of Marlow heading off into the bush to do something foolish sprang immediately to mind.

  Jean was convinced otherwise though, and managed to persuade the police that it was not worth organising a search party, or posting a bulletin for him.

  All of which left us at a bit of dead end. We’d lost a good portion of our possessions and other personal effects, had several rather nasty injuries between us, and in many respects had lost the main reason that had kept us together.

  Harry was going to take a while to recuperate, and even when he was up and about again, the doctors were unsure how long he might take to mend properly, and with that news the last ties holding us together started to loosen and slip.

  Androus and Peter were the first two who decided to head back to their respective homes in Jerusalem and Edinburgh. It was a strangely emotional and yet numb moment when they were finally ready to leave, but came back to the hospital to say goodbye to Harry first.

  He was still quite ill, but he stirred himself when they arrived, and managed several minutes worth of conversation and goodbyes before once more succumbing to tiredness and fatigue. But just as I thought he’d slipped off, he suddenly came back to us to urge us to arrange a reunion while we were still all together.

  ‘A year and a day my friends,’ he said with determination in his voice, ‘let us not part without first agreeing that we will meet again.’

  ‘Excellent!’ chimed in Jean, ‘Let it be in Paris a year and day from today. I shall arrange all, and at the very least we can drink some fine wine and speculate upon what might have been.’

  It was a nice idea, and we all readily agreed to the appointment.

  I was hoping we might have heard something more from Marlow before we all finally separated, Jean back to his home in Paris, me to Shropshire, and Harry via boat back to New England. But it was not to be, and before too long I found myself back in England again, and the house in which I’d grown up.

  It didn’t seem as dark or as dreary as it had done when I’d left, though the soil was too dark and the horizon too close, and the domestic issues that demanded my attention far too numerous. For a while I almost enjoyed being back, and looking out over that rolling and verdant landscape from the tiny window in my father’s old room. But it was only almost. I had a bit too much of Africa in my blood now, and Jerusalem, and even Corinth.

  A year and a day would pass quickly, though perhaps not quickly enough for my liking.

  The story continues in

  ‘The Embers of Time’

  If you’ve enjoyed reading this book please visit my website and sign up for my newsletter, or just have a look around and find out a bit more about my writing, my research and my inspirations.

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  www.knytewrytng.com

  All comments and feedback are welcome and all polite emails, even critical ones will be replied to in person by me the author.

  I’d also appreciate it enormously if you could leave a review with whichever website or bookseller you bought this book from, or if it was a gift with whichever bookseller you like to use.

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  Thank you for reading this book.

  Peter Knyte

  And finally:

  In the next few pages you’ll find a taster of one of my other stories also set in the 1930s ‘Through Glass Darkly’.

  Here’s the back page blurb, followed by a sample chapter.

  ‘On the brink of destruction a once elegant airship of unknown design appears in the storm riven night sky above New York.

  But this is not the city or the world that it left, and these are not the people that dispatched their best and bravest on a desperate mission to stop an enemy of unimaginable strength and ferocity.

  How can the crew get back to their own world in time, when the mighty airship that has been their home now lies in ruins, and when the enemy that has nearly destroyed their own world appears to have followed them to the city that has taken them in.’

  THROUGH GLASS DARKLY

  CHAPTER 1 – ARRIVAL

  A storm plays over New York, the booming rolls of thunder echoing off the tall buildings before escaping out past Liberty Island to the Atlantic. Strangely coloured flashes of lightening streak across the night sky in well-choreographed time with the thunder, striking first one building then another on their way to earth.

  Between these flashes a great airship suddenly appears. Its nose tilted at a crazed angle toward the ground as though in some steep dive. But the craft simply hangs in the air, poised like a great dagger above the city’s heart. Only the countless cables and wires which hang down from its sides seem to move as they are pushed and pulled by the gusting wind.

  The rain washes down the length of this wallowing hulk before cascading from its sides and back into the night air. But the city is looking down, the faces of its citizens buried beneath umbrellas, hats and high collars, as everyone thinks only of sanctuary from the storm.

  And then a body is falling along with the rain. A sodden rag doll, dressed in a strange uniform that nobody would recognise and with a strangely ornate set of lenses and other mechanical devices partly obscuring her attractive but lifeless face.

  Nobody sees the silent descent. The gracef
ul tumble of elegant limbs that almost gives the fragile form the illusion of flight, until it crashes into the road between the gleaming rows of water bejewelled cars. The young woman’s body cracking the road where it first impacts, then bounces to the height of a man before landing a second final time a broken and battered shell.

  In a world where airships have not been seen in the skies for decades it is difficult to imagine what the members of that unsuspecting public may have thought when they finally turned their eyes toward the skies, and saw the six thousand tonnes of steel, bronze and glass hanging above their heads, itself a broken and battered shell lying against the cracked night sky.

  Perhaps more difficult still though, for those countless masses of tiny figures which now gathered beneath that great floating wreck, was the idea that this massive and unexpected mass might still contain some flickering traces of life. Of people like themselves, but different. From a world so very like their own, yet so distinctly not their own.

  How we survived to appear above that tallest of cities I cannot begin to imagine but somehow we did. And somehow as those countless wonder and horror filled eyes gazed upward, some of us still clung to life, a faint and faltering pulse within so giant a craft.

  But just as there could be no mistaking the ruined and distressed nature of the Khan, our ship, there could also be no mistaking the weapons and armour which clearly adorned her elegant bronze frame. Strange arcane designs unlike any they could’ve seen before, yet unmistakably deadly none the less.

  I’d been aware of the rolling thunder and drumming rain for what could’ve been an age before I realised it was also tinged with the distant wail of sirens, a sound that was so uniquely mundane it helped to bring my mind back through the toxic fog in which it was surrounded, until I was again aware of the room around me. I thought I was still confused for another minute or two before I realised the shadows and angles within the room which seemed wrong, were wrong and that the ship was actually tilted at a dangerous angle. All the while the sirens grew louder, until, as I dragged myself up what had been the floor of my cabin, to the door, to the port hole window set within it, I could hear them clearly, with their familiar welcoming wail. It was dark outside, but at least it wasn’t the sickening darkness of the Expanse, it was the welcoming half-darkness of a city, beneath a storm-cloud filled night sky.