"Hold on there, Gorn!"
These words came from out of the shadows and the owner of the voice walked forward into the moonlight. Peter recognised him immediately, it was the smith. The watcher sauntered, nonchalantly into the light and from him there was both a sense of confidence and power.
"What are you doing here, watcher? You have no part to play in this! Go away!"
"That is true, but I do watch all comings and goings through the gateways. This moment is pivotal to the seven worlds and someone has to observe the outcome, to keep the records. So here I am!"
"Well watch away then. There will much to see. You are nothing but a distraction and I won't be distracted."
"Oh yes, I am sure there will be a great deal to witness. Get on with it then!"
Turning back to Peter, who still held the once-wolves at bay, he said, "Give me the stone Peter and I will give you your friends' lives. The time for delay is over."
"How do I know I can trust you? After all that you have done, how can I believe a word you say?"
The beasts still circled Peter at a safe distance, wary of his sword, and they also avoided getting close to the smith. Debbie was trying to move her mouth to say something, but she was still under Gorn's thrall. There was an apparent stalemate and time seemed to stop, but something had to break the impasse.
Peter shouted, "Here, have the stone!"
He threw the sword with the stone in the hilt straight towards Gorn. He was caught by surprise and so were his creatures. Gorn assumed this was an attack and dived to his left. The sword whistled past his chest, missing by only inches, and stuck point down in the soft turf. Gorn's concentration was broken for a moment and Debbie found herself free from his control. Behind, the others also sprang into life. Ravenscort drew his sword, ran forward and caught the nearest once wolves by surprise, running it through with his blade. The creature fell motionless to the ground and Ravenscort drew his blade free. Nightjar and Hardgrist similarly set about the remaining monsters.
Peter dived forward, rolled, and pulled the sword from the turf in one smooth movement. The tide was changing and Gorn realised he no longer held the upper hand. He drew his galena stone out from under his clothing and sent a blast of power towards Ravenscort. The discharge would have killed the trekker, if the smith hadn't stepped forward, anticipating the attack, and taken the full blast in his chest. For some reason, he was unharmed and the bolt of power seemed to dissipate as it struck the watcher.
"Get out of the way, watcher. You are not allowed to interfere!"
"I'm not interfering, merely observing. I can't help it if you strike me with your powers. You need to aim better!"
"You will not stop me. I will have the Moonstone and they will all die!"
Debbie and Hardgrist were proving capable warriors and surprised the beasts and their companions. They were driven to avenge their friends and colleagues and fought as if possessed. The once-wolves were now fighting for their lives and any sense of order was gone whilst Gorn was distracted. Nightjar had crept up on the necromancer from behind, whilst the others were dealing with the once-wolves.
Gorn was preoccupied with the smith and the advancing Peter Calender and Nightjar, managed to get close behind. She grabbed the arm holding the crystal and wrestled with him for possession. He was much larger and a much more powerful figure, but she was determined and desperate. She struggled to prise the stone out of his grasp, but he back-handed her with his other arm and she staggered. Gorn quickly grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground.
She began to choke and desperately gasped for air. Unable to get purchase, she struggled for only a few moments before she went still, like a rag doll in his grasp. The others had finished off most of the remaining wolves and the others backed off. The friends suddenly realised what was happening. Their attention was drawn to the necromancer as he held the limp Nightjar off the ground.
Peter was still holding his sword and as he cried out in despair, he felt the blade flair in his hands and a bolt of white light flew at Gorn striking him in the chest. The necromancer staggered under the attack, but did not let go his grip on Nightjar. Peter shot another bolt and this time Gorn fell to his knees releasing Nightjar who lay still on the grass.
From out of nowhere, a blinding white flash flew at Peter raking his face with sharp talons. Selena, seeing her master in trouble, was in for the kill, a furious bundle of feathers and claws. Peter's hands were drawn up to protect his face and he could no longer direct his attack. Gorn was stumbling to his feet when Ravenscort's hand reached out, gripping the bird by the throat. His hand plucked the bird out of the air, mid-attack. Under its thick white plumage the neck of the owl was surprisingly thin and fragile and it struggled to gain release.
"Stop, Gorn! This must stop!"
The owl continued to struggle, but Ravenscort held it away from his face so it could not reach him with either beak or claw. Gorn stared at Ravenscort with real hatred burning in his eyes.
"Put it down. It is of no consequence to me."
"Is that so?"
"Let it go!"
Gorn had backed his way towards the column. The smith was near, but made no move to intervene and just watched with an enigmatic expression on his face. The remaining once-wolves also backed towards Gorn and the column. Gorn held the galena stone before him and appeared to be waiting to regain his strength. Use of the stone drained him as it did Peter and both had used the majority of their power.
Peter was preparing himself for another attack and he was bleeding from facial wounds where the bird had raked his face.
"Let the bird free!"
"Sorry I can't do that. It's the only leverage I have."
Gorn was still backing towards the column. Peter knew that it was necromancer's means of escaping from this world. Now almost at the base of the column, Gorn was so close he could almost touch it, but he made no move to flee. The smith was standing to the side and he still had the same enigmatic smile on his face.
"So sorry you lost your girl, Peter Calender. Give me the bird and maybe we can call it quits."
"I don't think so."
"I won't lose it again!"
At that moment, Gorn let out a blast from his stone. The force sent Ravenscort reeling and his grip on the bird failed as he was driven backwards. The owl flew off, circled the group and dived towards her master. Everyone watched shocked and they failed to notice Hardgrist as he swung his sword.
Salena landed on Gorn's right shoulder whilst his left hand held the stone aloft. Unbalanced and distracted by the bird, he stumbled to his left. This small movement saved him. Hardgrist's blade swept by narrowly missing his head, but striking his wrist and severing his hand. Gorn cried out in agony and staggered backwards clutching the stump as blood pumped. As chance would have it, the smith's leg was sticking out and Gorn tripped, overbalanced and fell backwards onto the column, as his severed hand fell to the ground, stone still in its grasp.
Grim landed backwards onto the column, teetered and then fell further. The owl still on his shoulder, fell with him and both disappeared from sight. The remaining once-wolves dived after them and also vanished with their master.
The garden was silent in the moonlight. Peter regained his senses first and rushed over to Nightjar, who was lying motionless, not breathing.
"No!" he cried. "No. Nightjar! Nightjar!"
"Time is short Peter," spoke the smith. "Use your stone, before it is too late. Use your stone!"
Peter took the sword, and removed the stone from the hilt. He held it above Nightjar's face and it bathed her in its pale light. Her face was ashen and there was no sign of life. Not sure what to do, he placed the stone on the centre of her chest and prayed for her to breathe. As if in answer, the stone flared and pulsed with a brighter light. Her body became translucent and Peter could see her bones and internal organs silhouetted in the light. The stone continued to throb and began to sink into her chest. The rhythm of the pulses strengthened and the gl
ow subsided and then he saw her chest rise and fall as she started to breathe. Nightjar spluttered. Her eyes flickered and then opened.
"Peter?"
"Yes, Nightjar. You're back!"
"What happened? I don't feel the same. What happened?"
"I thought I had lost you. That's what happened, but you're back now."
Nightjar sat upright and placed her hand over the centre of her sternum. She shook her head and seemed to recover her strength as she got to her feet. The others were looking at her with wonderment.
"Nightjar, are you alright?" cried Debbie as she took the girl and held her at arm's length, staring into her face.
"Yes, I think so. Why shouldn't I be?"
It appeared that no one wanted to tell her that they thought that she had died and that some sort of miracle had happened and she had returned to them.
"I remember Gorn holding me and then everything went black and then Peter was talking to me. That's all I know, but I feel fine, maybe a little different, but that's what happens if you've been knocked out."
"I guess that's true," said Debbie, and they all left it at that for the moment.
Hardgrist walked over to where Gorn's severed hand was lying and, using his sword, parted the fingers and flicked the stone onto the grass.
"What do you want to do with this, Peter?"
Peter left Nightjar with Debbie, bent down and took the galena stone in his hand. The stone began to pulse in a similar, but somehow different way to the Moonstone. Peter could feel its power, but it seemed somehow darker than that he had experienced before. There was no sense of evil in the stone, but he felt an undercurrent that made him wary. 'Maybe it's because Gorn has used it for evil,' he thought to himself, but he said nothing to the others.
He pocketed the stone and turned to face the group. They all looked at him expectantly.
"I suppose I had better thank you," he said to the smith.
The watcher was still in the same spot where Gorn had tripped over his leg and fallen through the column.
"I did nothing, Peter Calender, as you well know, I am here to observe and not to take part. I have noted the events of the day and how Gorn, through his own actions, lost his stone and fell through the gateway. I do not see how I can be held to have intervened. They were his actions, not mine. Mind you, I am not distressed by the outcome. I am not sure where he has gone. Someone else will have observed his arrival, wherever that is. Good enough to say he is no longer here. I never cared much for him. I will stay around for a while as I wish to see your next course of action."
"As you wish. Whatever you say, it was fortuitous that you were here, so thank you."
The others gathered with him and thanked the smith. It was then that they turned to Peter.
"What are we to do now Peter?"
Ravenscort spoke for them all and they waited expectantly. Peter thought for a moment and then he addressed them.
"I have decided what I should do. I can't ask you to follow me as I know there will be great danger. I intend to enter the gate and try and restore the Moondial. If I can find the stones to the Moondial then we can return the law to the seven worlds. I will have to travel in search of other stones. I do not know if they are all missing, but if I can get to the Moondial first I can at least know what is needed."
"You're not going anywhere without me!" cried Nightjar and she ran and threw her arms around Peter.
"I never thought you would let me, but I couldn't just expect it of you. I am glad you will stay with me. I need someone to watch over me."
A smile spread across his face and was matched by a similar one on Nightjar's.
"It goes without saying, I will be there!" added Ravenscort. "I have nothing else planned at the moment and you will need someone to get you out of tricky messes."
"I am honoured that you will stay. I feel safer already, with you at my back."
"Don't forget us!" cried Debbie Mathers and Hardgrist.
"I have nothing left here to stay for. My life will never be the same. What's more, I reckon there will be trouble with the police when they discover what was going off at the castle. They will wonder how I was the only one to escape the destruction and it will be more that my creative skills are capable of to offer an acceptable explanation. So it looks like you're stuck with me."
"Delighted to have you with us," said Ravenscort, and then he looked a little embarrassed by his enthusiasm. It was noticeable that Debbie didn't seem upset by his endorsement.
"I have nothing really keeping me here," said Hardgrist. "My business was hardly life-changing. I have never had such excitement and adventure before and I find it quite addictive. I am sure I can be of some use if you will have me!"
Peter was quite emotional at the support from his companions and their willingness to follow him into danger.
"I couldn't ask it of you, but I am very glad that you will be with me. I didn't want to go alone."
"So you are going to find the Moondial?" asked the smith.
"Yes. That seems the best option. If we can find the Moondial and learn what we have to do to restore it, to renew the laws over the worlds, then it will at least be the first step."
He led Peter away from the others to speak confidentially and quietly.
"That means going back to Demeter then."
"I suppose it does. Will we be able to get there through the column?"
"That I cannot say. The gates seem to have a will of their own, which is partially why we watch them. There is nothing certain in this life. To make matters more complicated, Peter, you now carry the galena stone and Nightjar now carries the Moonstone. The stone beats in her chest and keeps her alive. This was not seen in the prophesies and may change everything. As a watcher, I have made note of these changes. The other watchers will soon be aware. I think this is a knife-edge, Peter. The balance has shifted. Take care of your friends. You will all need each other in the future and the future is no longer written. The laws have been broken and what was seen before may no longer occur. I would also advise that you do not forget Gorn. He was wounded, but he is still powerful and still out there."
The two returned to the others.
"Well! Now seems as good a time as any. I think we should hold hands as we enter the column. I don't want any of us ending up on their own somewhere else."
A slightly nervous farewell to the smith was followed by a linking of hands. Peter approached the column and looked down into its fathomless depths. He glanced around the garden for a final memory. The night was fading and the sunlight was just breaking over the horizon. Another day was starting. Questions filled his mind. What was he doing? Was it right? What had happened to Nightjar? Was she the same? Was he still the same? Clearly he had changed since he entered the garden and travelled through the column the first time.
He knew that if he hesitated much longer, he may lose the will to continue. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and fell into oblivion.
Chapter 16 - Watching
A world away, in a tower chamber, a figure was staring into a ball of rock crystal. He had been observing, with more than a passing interest, the happenings in Lightholm and Chadwell Castle. The room was lit by the crystal ball and a candelabra on the mantelpiece. There was no fire in the grate to give the room warmth and there was no warmth in the mood of the watcher.
Short, rather plump, balding, with a face that was plain, he was a most unremarkable man. He was the sort who could easily be underestimated and he liked it that way. In his childhood, and yes he had once, long ago, been a child, he had created havoc in his village. He had started with animals. He found that he liked pain. Not for himself of course, but he liked inflicting it on others. Then he went beyond this to killing. He liked to see that moment when, in a heartbeat, life left; to gaze in their eyes at the end, when hope had gone. That was somehow addictive.
Atrocities had occurred through the village and the authorities had descended to find the culprit. Victims were an almost dail
y event. There seemed no pattern and it was agreed that it must be the work of a very powerful man. Oh, how he had laughed, as they accused the usual suspects. The strong, the violent, the mad, the ugly. The gibbet had been well used during those months, until he became bored. He had decided to leave the village to move to richer pastures and the town had offered much scope. Again he had enjoyed months of mayhem, but once again he had become bored by it all. Now he had come a long way. A world was his and soon all of the seven worlds would be his plaything. 'Would that be enough for him?' He was not sure, but he would have time to find out.
He had been monitoring events from the moment he felt one of the stones cross from Demeter to Earth. He knew of Gorn, of course, but he hadn't realised the full ambition of the necromancer.
Long had he observed Gorn's talents develop and he admired his tenacity and the fact that he would stop at nothing to gain power. He understood this. There was much about Gorn that mirrored himself, but there was one major difference. Gorn was a fool. He acted too quickly, on impulse, and that was something he would never do. He had waited lifetimes to find the right moment and when he acted, he never failed.
He had been looking for the stones from the Moondial since they were scattered across the seven worlds. He had found the rock crystal long ago and he had learnt how to use it to watch events, both on Demeter and beyond. He suspected Gorn was in possession of one, but he had learnt, only recently, of the other. He knew the Moonstone was on Demeter and he had discovered, too late, that the girl Nightjar possessed it. His Arnn rider had only just missed catching it, before it was taken through the gate and arrived on Earth. Still the rider had failed. Failure was not something Fell took too kindly to, usually.
He had thought this a setback, but his patience had paid off. Gorn had relinquished his stone and now Peter Calender was in possession of two stones. This did make him very dangerous, but he was new to power. In fact, he had no desire for it. Fell Craven could not understand how any would be prepared to give power away, but he had observed this. The boy had no thirst for the stones, which was for the good as he, Fell Craven, did!
The Moonchild (The Moondial Book 1) Page 17