Sanctuary (Order of the Ring Book 1)

by Phil Maxey

  Soon he was at the base of stone steps which led up to a large black solid door. A weighty-looking brass eagle’s head that belonged in a different century sat below a strange symbol etched into the wood and partially covered in frost. Something about the symbol called out to him, and he started to chip away at the ice.

  The door opened pulling it from his fingers. A small middle-aged woman, with her hair in a bun, and glasses that hung around her wide neck stood a few feet away, looking past him.

  “Ah, there is Shakespeare.” As she spoke, the cat he had just rescued ran past his feet and into the orange brown surroundings of the entrance hall beyond.

  Justin suddenly had the feeling that he was invisible and that the door to his salvation was about to close. “Ahem, you are a bed and breakfast?”

  The woman looked up at him like it was a strange thing to ask. “Yes?”

  “I need a room for the night, do you have any?” He wondered why he was still having this conversation on the step and not inside the inviting hall.

  “We have many rooms young man, but we are quite expensive.”

  Justin felt like he was being judged and straightened his back. “I just need one night, I’m sure I can affo—”

  The woman backed off, beckoning him inside. “Yes, yes if you found the place I'm sure you have a reason to be here, come in.”

  The difference in temperature was night and day, as a wall of heat washed over him as soon as he crossed the threshold. The floor of the hall was a black and white check pattern, broken up by various rugs. The walls were still panelled as they must have been when the house was originally constructed and paintings hung in the space between the frames. In front of them a staircase the like of which he had only seen in movies, rose and twisted to the left to the second floor with closed doors either side of him. It was then he noticed a tiny counter in front of the wall to his left, which the woman was now standing behind.

  He approached her, trying to absorb the warm air around him, so he could better use his face.

  The woman continued looking at him.

  “So, err, yeah, a room?” he said.

  “Single or double?”

  He thought it an odd question, seeing he was obviously alone. “Single, please.”

  “That will be two hundred and fifty pounds for the night,” she said, without blinking.

  He tried not to let her see him gulping at the cost, instead smiled, and reached inside for his wallet and credit card. He thought he just about had that much left on it.

  “Oh no, we only take cash or the equivalent in gemstones, gold, precious metals, or if they’re particularly rare, scrolls or grimoire.”

  Instantly the thought of going back out into the storm made him weak, then he realized how odd the latter part of her statement had been. At most he had twenty pounds swilling around somewhere in his black leather wallet.

  “I saved your cat!” The words came out with more vigor than he expected.

  The woman frowned. “What?”

  “Your cat, Shakespeare, he was about to be run over, when I ran into the road and picked him up and well, now he’s here.”

  “I find that very hard to believe, nobody gets within half a league of him unless he wants them too. But you say you saw him just lying there? Like he was waiting?”

  “Well I don't know if he was waiting—”

  She looked down to her left at the jet-black cat with cobalt blue eyes that was sitting watching them both, then back at Justin. “What did you say your name was?” The cat sat motionless.

  Justin started to get frustrated at how her questions seemed not to have any relevance to what he was trying to achieve. “I'm Justin Pendridge, Look, hold onto my credit card overnight, then first thing in the morning, I’ll head out with the card and pull the cash out and return.”

  The woman just stared.

  Another interview I’m failing.

  He knew it was a long shot and was about to turn away, when Shakespeare meowed and the woman's expression changed.

  “Hmm, well it is a bad storm out there. I guess I could hold onto the card. But first thing in the morning? OK? And I’ll need your address and phone number.”

  The tension flowed from him. “Yes, of course, thank you so much.”

  She produced a small notepad and pen which she handed to him. “Usually I read people well, and you seem an honest type. I just hope I’m right! I’m Miss Toper.”

  He smiled, while writing. “Thank you, Miss Toper.” It felt odd addressing her with her surname, but soon his mind switched to the surroundings which looked like they hadn’t changed for over a hundred years.

  “Right, well as you can expect we are quite full because of the storm outside. I’ll take you to your room.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Kat sat on the sofa in the living room, trying to ignore the brightly coloured lights and glittering metallic strips that hung from the Christmas tree. They did not reflect her mood.

  Three hours earlier, after just returning, she had learned something that shook her. Not because of the crazy dream she had just a few moments before, but because of the overwhelming feeling she had lost someone that she was intimately connected to, but never realized it until a few days earlier.

  Soon after being told the news, the old age peoples home called again, saying her mother should pay them a visit as soon as she could to pick up some of his things, as they already had another person to place in the room.

  Kat hated the idea of visiting that place again, but felt that he would have wanted her to go with her mother to pick up the items. Definitely the worst birthday ever.

  Her mum came into the room, wearing a bright white winter jacket, and knee high tanned boots over her denim trousers. “You ready? Hopefully this won’t take long and we can still find a turkey on the way back.”

  Kat sighed and got to her feet.

  After digging out the snow from the drive way, Kat jumped back into the car with her waiting mother, and they were soon carefully driving the same route they had a few days previously.

  As they pulled into the car park of the two-storey building, the meagre light the sun had provided throughout the day had already fizzled out, and the windows shone brightly against the heavy snow and dark shadows. They walked into the lobby.

  Joan was standing behind the counter, with a consoling smile on her face. “Please accept condolences on behalf of Schumer Assisted living. Arnold was—”

  “Yes, yes, it’s sad. Where are his things?” Said Dawn. Kat wanted to crawl even further under her hood.

  Joan’s smile broadened while her eyes became flat. “Please, follow me.”

  Kat breathed in as they entered her grandfather’s room. The bed had already been remade, and at the bottom of it were three boxes. Labelled “A. Ambrose belongings.”

  Dawn turned to Joan. “Did he leave any letters, any last thoughts?”

  “There is one letter, you will find it in the third box—”

  Dawn sprang forwards pulling the lid off the box mentioned and picking up the lime green envelope which sat on top of some books and journals. She went to open it.

  “Umm, if you look on the other side, you will see it’s addressed to your daughter.”

  Dawn went to open it anyway, when Kat stepped forwards and snatched it out of her hand, throwing a scornful look in her mother’s direction.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” said Joan, walking away.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Dawn turned to Kat. “Well go on then, open it!”

  Reading her grandfather’s last thoughts, while standing in the room he passed away in, felt wrong on a number of levels, but her mother’s face wasn’t one that allowed any room for compromise, so she reluctantly opened the flap, and pulled out the few pages of high quality paper inscribed with handwritten words. She started reading the letter to herself.

  “Dear Kat, I hope this finds you good, well as good as you can be learning of my passing. Sorry I was a bit incoher
ent during your last visit, but the illness had reached its inevitable conclusion, and it was difficult to think clearly. Happy Birthday! You must be thinking this is the worst birthday ever! But even though my time here has come to an end, your journey is just beginning. First let’s get to your presents—”

  “Well? Anything about the shop?”

  Kat glanced at her mother’s eagerness, sighed, and continued reading.

  “—In the envelope with this letter you will find my cherished ring, and a key. The ring has been in our family for generations, and now it is yours—” Kat looked inside the envelope and sure enough there was the gold coloured ring with the orange gemstone and dragon head clasp, together with a slightly rusty key, “—do not place it on your finger just yet, as there are some things I need to explain in regard to the effect it may have on you—”

  Effect? She picked out the ring, as before it felt warm to touch and she held it close to her eye to look at it properly. Up close, the gemstone reflected the light but apart from that it looked like the kind of ring you might win at a fair.

  “He’s left you that stupid ring? Maybe it’s worth something.”

  Kat put it in her jacket pocket and continued reading. “—But before we get to all that, along with these pages you will find a statement signing over the deed to my Glastonbury shop to you.” She gasped, then looked at her mother.

  “What?” Dawn said.

  Kat wasn’t sure how to break the news, or even to mention it at all. “Umm, the shop—”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. “Yes?”

  “He signed the shop deed over to me.”

  Dawn looked confused, then a smile started to crawl its way onto her overly made-up face. “Oh, well, that’s great! That means we can sell it!”

  Kat could see her mother was already spending the money that would come from the sale, but Kat was far from sure exactly what she was going to do with the place. She started to read some more when her mother touched her arm.

  “Katrina, our money problems are going to be a thing of the past! You might not even need to get a real job! Come on, let’s get these boxes in the car!”

  Kat folded the pages, placing them carefully back in the envelope and placed them with the ring in her pocket. Her mother was already out the door with one of the boxes, leaving the remaining two to her daughter.

  CHAPTER 7

  Justin sat on the end of his four-poster bed, admiring the room around him. Nearly all the furniture was on legs of various lengths and curvatures and the construction was such that nothing looked like it had been made in the twentieth century let alone later. The walls were covered in lush striped wallpaper, and every few feet weapons that came from the medieval ages or earlier hung proud.

  He didn’t remember seeing any signs of the hotel offering a ‘period experience’ but he was certainly feeling like he was in a different time. He walked over to the tall, four-panelled window and looked out into the night beyond. The snow was still falling in large heavy clumps, adding to the already featureless landscape outside.

  Pulling his phone from his pocket, he held it up to the yellow glow from the nearby gas supplied light and frowned. There was no signal. He sighed. His father had no idea where he was, and he should have been back home at least two hours ago. He was going to have to venture out into the garden to try to find a signal. His stomach grumbled. He also needed to find some food. He didn’t see it on his way up to his room, but he presumed somewhere in this large building there was a dinner hall.

  Pulling his coat back on, he left his room, locking it with the ornate key Miss Toper had given him, and walked along the dimly lit corridor. Stopping he studied the oil paintings that ran along the length of the corridor. The style was consistently late nineteenth century, but the subjects were a strange mix of medieval knights, dragons, wizards, and fair maidens combined with more modern scenes.

  “Drake’s early period, really quite an astonishing composition,” said a small middle-aged portly man with a beard and round glasses, who seemed to appear from nowhere.

  “I’ve not heard of the painter but the idea of a knight fighting a dragon in the 1920s in the centre of Paris is certainly interesting.”

  “Ha, yes, Drake was one of the few to have actually been there at the time. I have some of his sketches of the event, they are almost as well rendered as these paintings.”

  Justin presumed the man with the smart waistcoat and jacket was joking and smiled. “Do you get any mobile phone coverage in here? Or perhaps you know if they have a computer I could use?”

  The man scoffed. “Dear fellow, surely you know those sorts of devices don’t work in a place like this? They pay the magi a hefty amount in gold to ward the hotel so no such shenanigans can take place.”

  Justin looked confused. Ah, it’s a theme hotel, everyone’s in character, now I understand.

  “Well, it’s been nice meeting you,” said Justin, offering the man his hand.

  “The pleasure has been all mine, maybe we can talk more about Drake over dinner? I believe it’s almost 7 p.m. I’m Bartholomew Dayton from the house of Bedivere,” said Bartholomew, shaking Justin’s hand firmly. He then leaned into Justin. “There’s also going to be a meeting of the council after dinner, this storm has everyone’s head in a spin,” he said quietly.

  Justin backed off smiling and nodding. “OK, nice meeting you.”

  That one’s a bit too in character. Soon Justin was moving quickly down the wide staircase and into the lobby, as he approached the front door Miss Toper’s voice came from behind him. “Where are you going? Dinner is almost ready.”

  Justin turned around. By now the oddness of the place was beginning to shock him less. Miss Toper was dressed in a flowing ball gown.

  “I just need to pop out to get some air,” he said, not really knowing why he avoided mentioning his mobile phone, but feeling it was better not to.

  She turned and walked towards one of the many closed doors in the hallway. “Well, be quick, we don’t wait for anyone, including the house of Pendragon.”

  “Right, yes, I’ll be quick.” He grabbed the handle, and opened the large door without paying too much heed to what she had just said. The wintry night fought with the warmth of the lobby as he stepped outside. The snow was still falling as before, and it wasn’t long before he was stepping into drifts that went to just below his knees.

  Quickly pulling out his phone, he looked at the screen. The little icon which indicated a full signal, showed none. Swearing to himself, he held it up in the air and waved it around, then looked at it again. Still nothing. As he staggered further into the garden, ice flakes landed on his face and glasses making it hard for him to see the phone’s screen. Taking his glasses off and wiping them with his coat, he heard the crunch of snow to his left and immediately turned in that direction. A vague human form stood about twenty yards away. “Hello?” he said, unable to see much of anything between the heavy snow falling and his blurred vision.

  The form moved towards him, increasing its speed. Justin quickly threw his glasses back onto his face just as the nightmarish figure leapt at him. Staggering backwards, he fell over a small stone in the snow and landed on his rear just as the creatures clawed hands sliced through the air where his head would have been.

  He quickly swirled and pushed himself back to his feet panicking, when he realized what must have been happening. He turned back to the creature with the undead face, and dark, ragged, mould-encrusted clothes. “Ha! You got me! I must say, really nice make-up, with the whole zombie face thing.”

  The creature’s limbs twisted and bent, and its jaw opened wide showing rows of teeth which would have been more at home in a shark.

  “Wow you must be a gymnast, I’ve always wanted to do yoga, but—” Justin became aware of a noise behind him, just as an axe sailed inches from his nose slicing through air and flakes of ice alike and smashing the creature square in the centre of its skull, instantly dropping its lifeless body to the gr
ound.

  Justin’s mouth fell agape, his mind trying to make sense of what just happened. He then smiled. “A robot! That’s some impressive stagecraft, no wonder you’re expensive.” Turning back towards the house a brown-haired woman wearing leather trousers, and a white shirt stood looking pensive. Behind her, others were coming from the entrance of the large building.

  Justin walked towards the woman. “Hey that was really impressive, maybe you can—” Before he could finish she walked right past him, kicking the dishevelled thing on the floor and pulling out her axe. She then looked out into the falling snow and night around them.

  A large bearded man wearing a similar attire to the woman, but with what looked like a broad sword in his hand ran up to her, also walking past Justin.

  “Are there any more?” said the man.

  “Any more?” said Justin, standing behind them. “Oh, the shows not over—” he said to himself standing a few steps back and waiting for the actors to play out the scene.

  “I’m not sensing any, but even one on the grounds—” she said with a Scottish accent, shaking her head. “We need to get inside, and ask Hilary if she can get the magi to increase the strength of the warding, at least just for tonight, while we try to figure out what’s causing this storm.”

  The man and the woman turned, the former walking straight past him, but the woman stopped, looking at him angrily. “Who are you?”

  Interactive show. “I’m Justin Pendridge, who are you?”

  “How did you find this place?”

  He went to answer, when she grabbed his arm, pulling him with her. “Doesn’t matter, we need to get inside.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Kat looked at the advanced messaging system on her laptop screen. It was a program developed by unknown entities so she and her cohorts could communicate without anything or anyone tracing them. She watched parcels of text go back and forth between the members of the group she was part of. Most were about the weather.