Timelock

by R. G. Knighton

  Tyler continued to impress as he led the ladies through private doorways and roped off areas showing them parts of the house that only the privileged get to see. He allowed Chelsea to sit on the same bed that Queen Elizabeth I, slept in when she visited on her last tour of the country and he permitted Marion to handle some of the priceless Orpington crystal collection that is usually kept locked behind security glass. When they surveyed the paintings that hung in the great hall, everyone thought it uncanny the family resemblance Tyler had to the formal posed portraits that hung in abundance along the walls charting his entire family back to the thirteenth century.

  Instantly recognisable to all was the drawing room that was used by the B.B.C., to film an adaptation of Jane Austen, but the most fascinating exhibition was a collection of ancient artefacts unearthed during drainage work in the shadow of the Tor at Glastonbury. The land belonged to the family so the collection was displayed in Gisborne’s museum. The fascinating display included earthenware pots and jugs, coins, arrowheads; a small golden sickle with a broken tip and a scaled reconstruction of a burial pit containing more than two dozen adult headless skeletons, which on closer observation of the bone fragments proved that the heads were hacked off by a thin curved metal blade, possibly the sickle found nearby. Most impressive of all was a small circular golden amulet about the size of an adult male palm. It was almost a quarter of an inch thick around its hollow outer ring, that was embossed along both sides of its inside rim with an ancient and as yet un-deciphered and unknown text. Both faces of the amulet consisted of a large raised pentagram surrounding a beautiful polished emerald set in a hole in the centre. When held at the correct angle, the precious stone caught the sunlight, focusing its rays into a narrow laser thin beam.

  Mary stared silently, so transfixed by its presence and beauty she had to support herself visibly as she listened avidly to Tyler’s description and possible use in ancient ceremonies.

  “If you want to hold it you will need cotton gloves. I believe there may be some in the bottom drawer over there.”

  Tyler pointed to the far wall as he addressed Mary, noticing her intense interest. She immediately followed instructions and soon suitably attired Mary took possession of the piece and gasped in wonder, caressing the inscription with the tips of her fingers.

  “Are you ok?”

  Asked Marion, noticing Marys laboured breathing and flushed complexion.

  “I’m fine thanks.”

  Mary replied, instantly snapping out of her trance like state. When Tyler held out his hand for its return it took all her will power not to turn and run as she handed it back and watched frustrated as the piece was returned, the display case locked and the alarm reset.

  Tyler stood back, took a modest bow, doffed an imaginary cap then said,

  “This concludes the grand tour ladies, and if you would like to follow me down to the kitchens to meet cook I’m sure she will provide us all with tea and scones that we can all enjoy in the conservatory; which by my calculations should now be empty as the last guided public tour will be very near completion.

  Mrs Peckham bustled and fussed around the trio of young women and almost burst with pride when Tyler described her as part of the family and the best cook in England.

  “He’s single you know, would make a fine catch for one of you ladies.”

  She effused, clutching him tightly to her ample bosom.

  “If only I were twenty years younger, I’d snap him up me self.”

  The group smiled indulgently then bid their goodbyes as they made their way to the conservatory. A massive glass and ornate cast iron construction containing a vast array of exotic plants from around the globe. The moist atmosphere was a little oppressive but welcome as the temperature outside dropped with the setting of the sun. Sitting around a beautiful white ornate table laden with a bone china tea service, dishes of clotted cream, homemade jam, and plates full of scones still warm from the oven, the problems of the gathering seemed a million miles away until the idyll shattered when one of the servants entered and informed Tyler of a telephone call for him. Tyler made his excuses then reluctantly marched away to reach the nearest telephone to answer his call.

  “Must get hold of one of those new mobile phones,”

  He muttered to himself as he traipsed along endless corridors to the nearest receiver.

  “Hello Tyler Morgan speaking.”

  “It’s Carl, listen Henry and me have been studying the file all day and we have come up with a possible solution, so we ran it by the professor an hour ago and he agrees. The problem is the police have set up a mobile incident room on the campus car park and they’re questioning every single person going to and from the university. We feel it will be impossible to attempt anything tonight and hopefully they will all be gone tomorrow. Problem is, Marion. If you bring her back and she starts to ask the wrong questions we could all be in bother.”

  Tyler thought for a second then came up with a solution.

  “If you want, I can invite them to stay the night with the possibility of a day exploring the grounds tomorrow, would that help?”

  Tyler proffered, relishing the thought of keeping his female companions and his chance to be a bon vivant for the evening.

  “Excellent, tell them we’ve gone on a stag do. Call me if you have any problems.”

  Carl replied then ended the call without another word. Tyler walked slowly back to rejoin his group giving him time to come up with a suitable plan.

  “Ladies I have just spoken To Carl and Henry and they have informed me that they have been invited to a men only birthday party which probably means a glorified pub crawl ending with a chicken Vindaloo in some back street curry house. So in my infinite wisdom I would like to invite you all to a ladies night, present company excepted of course. I promise you will not be disappointed.”

  “I don’t have a toothbrush.”

  Chelsea said, stating what the other two were thinking and Tyler was ready with an answer.

  “Everything will be taken care of; the guest rooms are fully equipped for most eventualities, including toothbrushes, and if there is anything else you require all you have to do is ask.”

  A few questions later, Tyler concluded the matter and when afternoon tea was over he showed the three excited ladies to their rooms. Chelsea and Mary graciously accepted their accommodation without any fuss but Marion was amazed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, this is bigger than my parents' house, are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Any friend of George is a friend of mine, well fiancée actually, that is Georges fiancée not mine.”

  Tyler stumbled over his words embarrassed at the gratitude and blushed yet again when Marion gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  George Harding sat alone and terrified in the dark. When he dived through the portal to escape from the villagers he expected to land on the floor of the book vault, instead he found himself in complete darkness. Not the turn off the light and let your eyes focus on hazy shapes in the gloom at bedtime, this was jet black, no light at all. He could not even see his hand when he held it up close to his eyes and that just added to his fear. What else could be out there? For all he knew anything at all could be standing right next to him and he would not even know it and that is what made it worse. His memory flashed back to when as a boy on holiday with his uncle they went sea fishing. In his excitement at landing a mackerel he stood up, lost his balance and fell into the water. Being sensible his uncle had made sure George wore a life jacket, so he was in no apparent danger, but when he tried to swing the boat around and pick George up he could not start the engine and within a few minutes they had drifted a hundred yards apart. It was then George began to panic. It was not fear of drowning but what else was in there with him, sharks to sea monsters flashed through his mind as he frantically tried to swim closer to the boat but no matter how hard he tried; the distance remained the same. Fifteen long minutes late
r George’s uncle started the boat, headed back and scooped George screaming from the water, seaweed had wrapped its self around his legs and he believed something was trying to pull him under. Since that day George has avoided all forms of transport on water and now a similar terror gripped his psyche and he sat on the floor, eyes tightly closed and hugging his knees to his chest; praying silently for release.

  In a bid to calm his fears George tried to put logic into his predicament. First he considered that he may be in a coma and this was his conscious mind trapped inside a body that refused to function or perhaps he was actually dead and waiting for his turn in purgatory. After careful deliberation he finally decided that he must be trapped between two periods in time. When he followed Henry and Professor Appleyard back into the portal, the images of his friends disappeared as they crossed back into their own time, as did the villagers when he looked back. The portal shivered and collapsed leaving him suspended in limbo.

  Eventually George calmed down and natural curiosity took over. First he waved out his hands in all directions but felt nothing, so he crawled slowly on all fours feeling his way with finger tips hoping to find something, anything at all, but the smooth cold floor seemed endless, no lumps or scratches it was like a perfect sheet of glass. Not wanting to wander far in case the portal reopened every number of steps he took were reversed then repeated along another point of the compass until every direction had been tested. Apart from the lack of visible light, the place was also void of sound, and when he shouted for help his words faded into silence, any noise he tried to make seemed mute, a total vacuum. Eventually George gave up exhausted and lay down using his jacket as a pillow hoping to fall asleep and wake up from his living nightmare. He had just settled into twilight when suddenly there was a noise, the loudest sound he had ever heard, like the roar of a jet engine in a tunnel. George screamed in fear and pain, clamping the palms of his hands over his ears in an attempt to ease his suffering but it was no use, the sound seemed to emanate from everywhere at once, even inside his own head. The floor on which he lay vibrated so violently he had to open his mouth to stop his clenched teeth from shattering and he staggered to his feet to ease the pain from the oscillation. Something inside the top of his nose popped from the extreme pressure of sound waves as they resonated through his skull and a trickle of warm blood ran out, down his shirt and dripped onto the floor. Screaming at the top of his voice George begged and pleaded for it to stop as his balance failed him and he fell back to the floor, thrashing about in torment. Just as he thought he was going to die in pain the volume mercifully decreased and so did the pitch which varied like a piano being tuned, it screeched and whined until unexpectedly George could hear a man’s voice. The speech was garbled at first but it cleared rapidly until the words became coherent. The voice he could hear was reminiscent of a radio announcement that broadcast during the Second World War.

  “Ladies and Gentleman the next boat will arrive shortly please board immediately as soon as it stops and remain seated during the entire journey, Thank you.”

  George stood up dazed and confused. His ears were still ringing in protest and the tip of his tongue tasted blood when he licked his lips. Far into the distance, a pinprick of light pierced the darkness and George focused intently, hypnotised by the only visual sense he was proffered. Slowly the light intensified as it closed in on George’s position and a shape emerged from the darkness. It resembled the prow of a Viking long boat silently gliding through an envelope of mist and as the vapour cleared and the rest of the vessel came into view allowing him to see the source of its luminosity. It was a glowing faceless angel standing at the stern of the boat propelling it forwards with the soft beat of its wings. As the craft approached the angel ceased its gentle flutter and the boat slowed, then stopped alongside George who followed instructions and stepped aboard the passenger free vessel and sat down on a bench seat near the back, the angel unfurled his wings and with a gentle beat propelled them off into the darkness.

  As their journey progressed the craft stopped several times to pick up more passengers. They were dressed in all manner of clothing dating from many periods through history. George worked out that each stop was aligned to a specific historical period. It seemed that time here was not linear as it is in the living world and also the people that boarded the craft appeared to be from all locations of the world. A woman sat at his side wearing the attire of a Native American squaw and the man in front was a Roman soldier still steaming with sweat from the heat of battle. He carried his own severed arm on his lap and George could see blooded flesh and bone sticking out from under his armour. He looked very peaceful and fortunately did not appear to be in any pain. Everyone remained silent, seemingly lost in their own thoughts and George thought it rude to interfere by trying to start a conversation. Several more stops later the craft was pretty full and reminiscent of a Hollywood back lot that contained actors in all manner of costumes being ferried to different locations. One of the last to board was an angel which came across as unusual, until George noticed a small roll of cloth cradled in his arms that was previously hidden by his wings. Inside the bundle was a newborn baby, still wet from birth. It looked serenely into the angel's face and sucked gently on its thumb making George feel great sadness for the grieving parents, but happy that the child was in good hands. Before long a small wooden jetty appeared on the port side and as the boat slowed then docked, everyone stood up to disembark. On the benches where they had been seated each traveller placed a token or coin in payment before leaving, the angel carrying the baby put down one of his own white feathers then departed silently with the others walking in single file to the shore with George bringing up the rear. As he attempted to step out of the boat he found his way blocked by the outstretched wing of the faceless angel who pointed to where George had been sitting. Realising his mistake he rummaged through his pockets but all he could find was a supermarket trolley token. Carefully placing it where he had just left seemed to placate the angel who stood aside and let him pass. As soon as he stepped onto the jetty, the angel powered craft glided away circling around on its cushion of mist to return the way it came and slowly fade from view. Walking along the wooded walkway to the dockside, George noticed how his fellow passengers had fanned out, heading in all different directions towards one of many pairs of huge golden gates that lined the horizon, once again leaving George alone.

  Unsure what to do next he decided to wait and see if any more instructions would boom through the ether but nothing came. Two more boats arrived and discharged their passengers who walked by George without giving him a second glance and he watched them all fade into the distance. This time he spied a figure walking towards him through the crowds and the mist. It was a tall old man with long grey hair and matching wispy beard. His dress, not too dissimilar to that of a Druid, was of a floor length white robe with sandaled feet. He carried a raft of scrolls in a cloth pouch that hung across his left shoulder and resting on his right hip, as he moved closer George noted the man’s piercing blue eyes which belayed the age of the rest of his facial features that were heavily lined with time but friendly to the eye leaving George at his ease for the first time since diving through the portal. He waited silently for quite a while as man studied him. Furrowing his brow in puzzlement and stroking his long beard until he finally cleared his throat and started to speak. The problem was that George could not understand a word he said so he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. The old man looked annoyed and tried again in another language, but the result was the same. This continued until the seventh or eighth try, and George smiled when he finally understood what the old man had to say.

  “I am the Guardian, protector and deliverer of souls, you do not yet belong in this realm, who are you?”

  George apologised then explained all of what had happened and how he now ended up apparently at the gates of purgatory. The Guardian listened intently, frowning deeply when he heard the use of the book of ‘Libro Mortuorum’ and ho
w it had been used to access this twilight world.

  “You have no right to use this heresy, your curiosities into the realms of the hereafter are forbidden to the living world, and your association with evil will deliver dire consequences. You must realise the contents of this book are extremely powerful and date back thousands of years. They were last used by an evil Roman sorceress named Toomak who seeks the power from an ancient amulet. She was executed during the reign of Pharaoh Memnon around a time you would call 200 B.C. The last thing she vowed before death was to wipe out religious beliefs by unlocking the gates of the underworld to release the dammed therefore raising Hell on Earth. Her soul has roamed this realm ever since, refusing to pass through the gates for cleansing and evading capture at every attempt until recently when she disappeared along with a few other lost souls, probably back into your world using a living body as a host. All this occurred when you interfered and opened the portal. You must return and cleanse all the people that attended your gathering by repeating the ritual and adding these lines when the portal opens, I will be waiting and will aid you in separating any lost souls from their host and return them back into this realm where they belong.

  The Guardian rummaged around in his bag before finding a small blank scroll, which he unrolled, and using George’s back as a desk wrote a few words using the point of a feathered quill before handing it to George who stood horrified at the thought of what had happened, but he was determined to make amends and put everything back in its rightful place.

  “Now go back whence you came before it’s too late”

  The Guardian escorted George back down the jetty where he waited and watched as another boat load of souls disembarked before he retook his place. The Guardian also stepped aboard and exchanged a few words with the angel who nodded his agreement, and as the Guardian stepped ashore, the angel unfurled his wings, and they sped away into the darkness. George sat silently reading the letters on the scroll; trying to decipher the strange words and before he knew it, the boat stopped abruptly jolting him from his studies and the angel pointed to a spot where George guessed he had started. Rummaging around in his pockets for a second time, all George could find was a stick of chewing gum so he sheepishly placed it on the bench and was relieved that the angel allowed him to disembark. Stepping ashore, he turned and watched as the boat glided silently away then looked around in the renewed inky blackness for what he hoped would be an exit. It was not long before the recognisable green glow of the portal reappeared and George could see the empty floor of the book vault. He wondered why the place was empty, but did not really care, he was just glad to go home and without further ado he stepped through, back into his own world with the portal closing immediately behind him. His watch told him it had only been three hours but in reality more than a day had passed without him.