by Ian Martyn
Susie held a hand out behind her. ‘No, Mother, stay back. Sarah’s the key, I know it. She’s my friend and now I know she’s also my cousin. This is not her. This is Marianne’s doing.’
By now Marianne was only a few yards away. She glared at Susie and then screamed at Connie. ‘Get her away now, or you’re all dead.’ She glared at Mephisto, Sisillius and the men with him. ‘What are you waiting for, stop her!’ Those men nearest Sarah glanced at each other and then at the ball of energy surrounding her, which seemed to be losing some of its coherence, its stability. They stepped back.
‘Cowards,’ Marianne screamed.
‘Susie!’ Connie called.
‘No, Mother. If Marianne wastes any of her energies now she fails. And she knows it, look.’ Susie pointed seaward without taking her gaze from Sarah, whose head had returned to the vertical. Her eyes had opened and appeared to be focusing on her friend. Out to sea the mist that had announced the arrival of the Viking ships and had since been dissipating was thickening again. Already those ships furthest out to sea were being gathered into its gloom, the splash of their oars and the cries of their warriors fading.
Marianne had also seen what was happening. Her uncertainty was clear as she hesitated, eyes darting between the ships and Sarah. For a few seconds she switched her attention back to the shoreline, the mist retreating once more as she focused on it. However, as she turned back to Sarah it started rolling in again. Kirby could see the panic in her eyes, the indecision, the growing fear and with it her faltering resolve. Her arms were shaking as she reached out and took a step towards Sarah. She stopped, beaten back by the forces that still seemed to consume her daughter. ‘Sarah, concentrate, we’re nearly there. It’s almost ours. We can’t lose it now.’
‘Sarah,’ Susie called, edging closer. ‘You don’t have to do this. This is not who you are. Come back to us.’
‘Stop her,’ Marianne screamed again. Several men now unsheathed their swords. Before they had taken more than two steps, they were writhing on the ground covered in a tracery of sparks. Their clothes smoked and ignited in several places. The men screamed and rolled in an attempt to put out the fires. Their discarded swords were consumed in white hot scabbards of heat which left puddles of molten metal on the ground. The others in Sisillius’s band shuffled away fearing that the same punishment would be dealt to them.
Marianne now turned her attention to Mephisto. ‘Mephisto, you coward, this is everything we’ve worked for. Do something, you miserable excuse for a man.’ Mephisto didn’t move.
Sarah gazed at her mother, wide-eyed, as if seeing her for the first time. She then focused on Susie. She raised her hands in front of her face and for a few seconds stared at the light and energy that weaved across her hands and surged from her fingertips. She flexed her fingers and her gaze followed the lightning trails arcing from them into the fabric of the stone.
‘Sarah, it’s me,’ Susie said, holding her hands out towards her cousin.
Sarah smiled in recognition and let her hands drop to her sides. The aura that had surrounded her faded. A final few sparks skittered across the ground as if looking for holes to crawl into. And then Sarah dropped to her knees, her head sagging forward. Her body was shaking and her chest heaving as it sucked in air. Susie ran forward and threw her arms around Sarah, pulling the now frail-looking girl into a protective hug. Eric followed and stood over them as if he felt he had to offer some form of protection.
‘No!’ screamed Marianne. Ignoring her daughter and Susie, she ran past them both and into the castle. The warriors who had at first formed a proud honour guard now ran in fear of their lives. They swarmed past Susie, Sarah and Eric without even a glance in their direction, following Marianne into the castle.
Cries of alarm could be heard coming from the boats. The unrestrained mist rolled over them as if resenting having been held back it was greedy to reclaim them. Ronnelfus backed out of the water. The boat in front of him, which only moments before had been disgorging terror, was sucked back out to sea. The garish and ferocious-looking carved dragon at its prow dissolved into a monochrome outline before it too was engulfed in the deadening blanket of grey. Oralf and his men backed up the shore, not wanting to get too close to the rabbit-turned-giant warrior. Finally, job done, the fog itself retreated. A seagull swooped down with a plaintive cry, skimming the surface as if reclaiming its territory. The flat sea left behind began to pulse. Swell rose and fell, and once more waves rolled up the beach.
‘Is that it?’ Shirley asked.
‘Perhaps not quite,’ Harold answered. ‘Look.’
The gloom around the castle was dissipating, and here and there patches of blue could be seen through the cloud, shafts of sunlight spotlighting the ground. However, over the castle itself a cumulus of concentrated darkness was rising, mocking the weakness of the dissolving clouds which surrounded it. Rising higher and higher its anger grew, pushing against the constraints that held it. Thunder boomed overhead and every few seconds lightning left jagged after-images in the eyes as it illuminated the ruin from within. They could hear the shouts of alarm from the men who were now trapped inside the fortress, in the eye of their very own terrible storm.
‘What the…’ Kirby started, but didn’t finish as he couldn’t find the words to express what he was seeing.
‘Susie, get out of there,’ Connie shouted. Eric picked Sarah up in his arms and he and Susie ran back to stand beside Connie.
The castle was rebuilding itself. Stones were appearing one by one as if it were a giant Lego set. Kirby half expected to see some enormous hand reaching into the earth and plucking them from the ground before placing them on the walls. The two gate towers reformed in front of his eyes. Already the one to their left was complete, even including a flag which now flew horizontal in the wind that once again shrieked around the site. Time-ravaged walls were rebuilding, wind and water scoured stones were once again pristine.
‘How?’ Kirby managed when he finally got his voice to work again.
Connie stepped beside him and gripped one of his hands in hers. ‘It’s sort of the same trick, just different.’
‘That’s clear then.’
Connie ignored Kirby’s sarcasm. ‘She’s reaching into the past. Reversing time.’
‘I thought that had failed with the ships?’
Connie shook her head. ‘That was so much more difficult: spread too wide and over water. It’s why she needed Sarah to hold it all together. This she can concentrate in one place, it’s embedded in solid ground making the connection easier. It’s earth magic and we are children of the earth.’
‘Why?’ Kirby asked, staring at the now complete and magnificent testament to the skill of those medieval builders. As if in answer, there was a deep rumble and what sounded like a great burp erupted from the earth. The castle vanished.
‘Oh.’
‘Some trick,’ Harold said.
Shirley tutted. ‘That’s torn it.’
‘Er,’ said Eric. ‘When I said that thing about David Blaine, I never imagined…’
Within seconds the dark and angry clouds lost their venom, folding in on themselves, leaving behind just wisps of white fluffiness. The sun bathed them with its late summer warmth as if nothing had happened. Sea birds called overhead and behind them the sheep were once again bleating in contentment. All was a scene of serenity and peace, except Dunstanburgh Castle which had graced the ground in front of them for nearly eight hundred years was no longer there.
Kirby walked up to where the castle had stood, while Connie helped Susie and Eric with Sarah who was still unsteady on her feet.
‘How is she?’ Kirby called back.
‘Physically OK,’ Connie said. ‘Just drained and shaken. Nothing a cup of tea and a good meal won’t cure. I’m not sure how much she understands about what’s happened. Full realisation of that might take a little longer to get over.’
‘You think she didn’t know what she was doing?’
Conni
e shook her head. ‘Some perhaps, then knowing Marianne, not the full extent. She warped her mind and shaped her thoughts.’
‘Her own daughter?’
Connie shrugged as she and Susie led Sarah away.
Kirby looked around him. All that was left was a complex of trenches he assumed went down to the bed rock, marking where the walls had been. He stood, hands on hips, scanning the site. Nothing, not a single stone. He bent down and picked up a metal box. It was a collecting box that had been set in one of the walls. It rattled with a few coins.
‘It didn’t belong,’ Harold said from behind him.
‘The castle did,’ Kirby replied, ‘here. So, where’s it gone?’
‘The other side. It’ll look quite something. No one’ll have seen anything like it.’
‘Oh well,’ Kirby said with a huff. ‘As long as someone’s happy then.’
Harold shrugged. ‘It may help to attract warriors to her cause. Or then again it may scare the hell out of them.’
Kirby shook his head. ‘Sorry, Harold. I know you, Connie, Geraldo and Roberto, er Ronnelfus, did all you could.’ As he spoke, Ronnelfus – now Roberto again – hopped across the grass towards them. Apart from a long scratch down one ear he seemed little the worse for wear. Along the beach Oralf and his men held their swords above their heads and waved a salute as they headed back towards Craster and the Whin Sill. Kirby just hoped they gave the village a wide berth. The last thing he needed was pictures of them all over social media creating more sensationalism. He glanced around and realised that when it came to sensationalism, pictures of a few hundred armed warriors on horseback were the least of his worries. He smiled. It was almost funny… almost.
Shirley bent down and started scratching Roberto between the ears, which brought a sigh of appreciation. She looked down. ‘Er, so tell me, I mean why a rabbit?’
Roberto peered up at her. ‘Suits my personality.’ It was hard to tell if a rabbit was being sarcastic or not.
‘Of course. Obviously. Silly me.’
Shirley stood up and turned a full circle, looking at where the castle wasn’t. Next to her, Roberto was on his hind legs doing the same. ‘Well at least no one got hurt, sir.’ Shirley paused. ‘Well at least not seriously. Unless you count those Vikings, some of them might have, I suppose,’ she said, again glancing down at the white rabbit next to her. ‘And in some ways they don’t count, at least not here. That’s almost a miracle in the circumstances. Got to be worth something that surely, sir?’
‘Yes, Shirley, that has to be worth something.’ Kirby stood, hands in pockets, still staring at the now empty patch of ground. He’d been here, seen it happen and was still struggling to believe it.
‘Er, sir?’
‘Yes, Constable.’
‘Forgive me for asking, sir. How are we going to explain this one?’
‘Good question, Shirley. Any thoughts?’
‘Other than I’m glad I’m not the senior officer, sir?’
‘Yes, other than that one, Constable.’
‘Earthquake?’
‘So where’s all the debris?’
‘Followed by a tsunami?’
‘Which only took away the castle, leaving no other evidence of itself behind?’
Shirley squinted out to sea where the sun was now glistening off the gently rolling water. ‘It was incredibly powerful and very localised, sir.’ She paused, scratching her nose. ‘Rare I know. Maybe even the first ever recorded.’ She smiled and nodded, pleased with her suggestion.
‘Hmm.’ Kirby pondered this for a second. ‘And when all those experts from the university arrive and start poking around, what then?’
Shirley held her arms wide to take in the castle-vacated patch of land. ‘What can they say other than it’s clearly gone? And of course there’s no such thing as magic is there, sir?’
‘True, true.’
Shirley smiled wider as another idea struck her. ‘Or perhaps the Chinese or the Russians took it?’
‘Overnight?’
‘I bet they could, sir, if they really wanted to. They brought a huge ship or ships, took the castle apart then sailed off with it.’
‘Ships that no one saw? And why?’
‘Stealth ships, sir?’ she shrugged, smile fading. ‘And because they can. I mean it’s the sort of thing people would think they might do. You know, just to prove something. Or maybe the Government secretly sold it to them?’
‘I can’t see any government owning up to that.’ Kirby laughed. ‘However, I applaud your imagination, Shirley. Come on, I could do with a cup of tea.’
‘And cake, sir?’
‘Definitely cake, Shirley.’
fifty-one
Kirby sat in front of the white-painted cottage under the clematis and rose arch. The sweet scent from the few remaining blooms drifted down, adding to his feeling of peace and contentment. The sun was doing its best to find gaps in the clouds and illuminate a final autumnal flourish of colour in the garden. It really was chocolate-box idyllic, or at least it would be if it wasn’t for one thing. Nursing his second mug of coffee, he looked out across the fields and towards the coast, still seeing what wasn’t there. It was as if his mind refused to accept what had happened and insisted on painting the castle back into the scene.
The “experts” had swarmed all over it. They’d taken measurements, prodded and probed, but after much head-scratching had failed to come up with a plausible theory. The best they could do was to say that this was the result of some, as yet, unexplained natural phenomenon. That was based on the reports and mobile videos of the storm that had raged over the castle at the time it disappeared. A local disturbance of the Earth’s magnetic field caused by, or causing, a local quake of some sort, they said. Shirley had got that far. The fact that there was no debris of any kind and that everything else was as it had been before, was ignored.
Some even postulated that the castle had never existed: that it was the result of a mass hallucination that had persisted through history as a result of peculiarities in the local geography which played with people’s minds. The only problem with that theory were the thousands of photographs.
After a few weeks the experts slunk away as if embarrassed at their inability to find any valid explanation.
The press had also turned up in force, of course. But to the chief’s and super’s relief and delight, any possible role of the Northumbria police force was way down the list of targets for theories, exposes or potential blunders. Thankfully for Kirby, there were no pictures of him or any other copper on the scene. Nor were there any of Viking ships or fur-clad warriors. At least he’d succeeded in that. Also, since there were no reports of suspicious men in a white van seen near the scene at the time, there was nothing like that for the police to be unsuccessfully looking for. And not even the press could connect the extremely localised thunder and lightning storm with any incompetence on their part.
Some newspapers went down the “taken by the Russians” route, again as speculated by Shirley. He half wondered if she’d missed her vocation. They then blamed the Government, MI5 and/or MI6 for not knowing and preventing the theft of a national treasure. Although they never explained why the Russians might want a ruined thirteenth-century castle from the Northumberland coast.
Kirby’s personal favourite was provided by The Sun with the headline “E.T. Takes Castle Home”. By linking it to aliens they were of course, unwittingly, closer than anyone else, except they were pinning it on the little green men variety. Their theory was that these aliens were collecting exhibits for some galactic theme park. The lifting of it did at least explain why there wasn’t a single stone left. The thunderstorm was apparently to hide their castle-stealing ship. Although Kirby did wonder why if you had the technology to cross half the galaxy, your chosen method of disguise was a thunder and lightning show that attracted everyone’s attention for miles around. Also why Dunstanburgh? Why not Bamburgh or Alnwick? Surely they were far superior prizes? After a few days
of speculation and producing ever more weird and wonderful experts, the press went back to their usual diet of lurid celebrity revelations.
All this had, of course, been a boon for the local B&Bs, guesthouses, pubs and the tourist industry in general. For a couple of weeks, even the smallest, dampest little room was going for five times the normal fee, even in the height of what passed for summer. And ironically, far more people were flocking to see the castle now that it wasn’t there compared to when it was. “Nowt so queer as folk,” as his grandad had been fond of saying.
Connie joined him on the seat.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,’ Kirby said.
‘I know what you mean. It was part of the landscape, solid, dependable, a reminder of the past.’
He nudged her with his shoulder. ‘Can we get it back?’
Connie shrugged. ‘It’s possible. I mean magic took it away, so I’m sure sufficient magic could bring it back. Not that I know how that would be done. I’m not sure anyone does. Perhaps not even Marianne, even if she could be persuaded, which I don’t think she could be.’
‘Really?’
‘No,’ Connie shook her head. ‘Marianne did that in a fit of rage. Rage and anger are powerful emotions, and powerful emotions can unleash powerful magic.’
‘Remind me not to make you angry then.’
Connie laughed. ‘Anyway, how would you explain it? It disappearing is bad enough. A sudden reappearance?’
‘Hmm, to borrow from Shirley’s imagination, maybe the Chinese or the Russians, who really did take it in the first place, had a change of heart. Or lots of behind-the-scenes diplomatic negotiations and all that.’
‘Yes, well don’t hold your breath on it coming back any time soon.’
Kirby nodded and drained his coffee. ‘Pity.’
Connie held out her hand. ‘Finished?’
Kirby smiled and handed her his mug. He turned back to the view as Connie went inside. The cry of a herring gull overhead caught his attention and he watched it swoop and glide on the breeze as it angled its flight over towards the Whin Sill. The birds didn’t seem to mind the castle not being there. After all, it was just a heap of stones, and life was going on quite happily without it. Yet for Kirby it was as if a piece of his childhood had been snatched away, and he suspected that feeling would echo for so many people brought up in the area; a feeling of deep, almost spiritual loss. Part of him felt he’d failed even though, as Shirley had pointed out, no one had been hurt, at least not in this world, apart perhaps from a few sheep. And who knows what havoc Marianne would have wrought in that other world if she’d succeeded? Although he suspected she wasn’t finished with her ambitions as far as that was concerned. Still, there was nothing he could do about that. That was part of the reason he was here, to try to accept everything. That he really had done all he could. That sometimes things happen that even a copper, or especially a copper, has little control over.