Things appeared to be coming to a head.
Chapter 18
Sometimes, unexpected things occur….
The Colonel was in his office. He was sitting on a plush chair next to a roaring fire with his feet up on the coffee table.
He appeared to be at rest.
Appearances can be deceiving.
Pembrake sat in the chair opposite the Colonel and began to fully appreciate that statement for what it was: the greatest warning any man can ever receive. Thing are always more complicated, more convoluted, and far more dangerous than they appear.
'It was nice of you to join me,' the Colonel lolled his eyes sleepily before finally opening them fully. 'I had heard that you had been quite busy these last several days.'
Pembrake nodded curtly in reply.
He'd been staking out the west wing of the Palace, where he knew that the Colonel resided, when a servant had rushed up to him. Pembrake had been too busy to notice at first, but the man, sallow skinned with longish, oily black hair, had appeared at Pembrake's side as if he had popped out from the ground itself.
In a polite tone, the man had informed him that the Colonel had been wishing for some time to make his acquaintance formally and that he thought now was an especially good time. Pembrake had blinked back the shock and had accepted. What else was he supposed to do, after all?
But the walk though the west wing of the palace had been a long and tortuous one. Had the Colonel somehow learned about his plans? Did he know what Pembrake was planning? Was 'make your acquaintance' code for run you through with a sword?
The servant that had been dispatched to find Pembrake had also caused him to pause for thought. The man was strangely familiar and there was something about the loose movement of his body and the unblinking stare to his eyes, that told Pembrake he was no ordinary staff member.
The man looked like he had been born to kill.
So by the time Pembrake had finally walked through the doors to the Colonel's office, he had been ready for anything. His churning stomach told him to be on the alert. The Colonel had, in fact, been sitting in his chair staring at the fire. But Pembrake had known at that moment that he was done for.
He'd been asked to take a seat.
'I find you very curious,' the Colonel tapped at the corner of his chair, 'you do not appear to fit in here, sir.'
Pembrake maintained his silence.
'Neither you nor your companion fit in here. Is there perhaps something that you could share with me to explain this little oddity?'
'We aren't from around here,' Pembrake finally offered. Too much silence was never a good thing around psychotic despots.
'How clarifying. There is nothing else you would like to add? There is no reason you could think of why a man such as yourself should be travelling through Bridgestock with a witch of all people?' the expression on the Colonel's face hadn't change any, nor had his tone, but the word witch had ignited a fire of hatred somewhere in the man, and Pembrake felt it burn at this face.
He knew Abby was a witch. Oh god..
~~~
Abby went back to the kitchen to wait for Martha but on the way was waylaid by a very nervous Charlie. Never before had she seen her little cat so anxious. His little paws shook like he was trying to balance on a large ball.
'Charlie?' she'd bent down to pull him into a hug and comfort him from whatever loud noise or sudden movement had shocked him so. 'What's wrong?'
'Abby! I might have done something a bit terrible!'
Ordinarily she would have ignored a statement like this coming from Charlie. He was prone to exaggeration. But this was not normal Charlie behaviour. 'What on Earth are you talking about?'
'Abby! I've gone and told Pembrake something and... I think it might have been a tiny mistake....'
'What?'
'Well... the thing is, I might have been hiding something from you. Not something big, mind you... well not monumental anyway... well only a little monumental anyway.'
'What, Charlie?'
'Apparently the Colonel is looking for a witch, Abby. He's looking for a witch for some horrible reason. I heard it off a flock of seagulls. Apparently the other witches in town have cleared off. I was going to warn you, Abby... but I didn't think it would work.'
Abby was dumbstruck. It seemed moment after moment she would receive some new and all-important piece of information. Now, not only did she have to think about the Prince and how to save him, but she had to figure out how to use the bracelets and worry about Pembrake and the Colonel.
The fact that the Colonel was looking for a witch did not surprise Abby though. He was responsible for the Witch Ban, after all, somewhere along the line he would have to find a witch to pin his planned assassinations on.... But it was unsettling that all the other witches had left town... because that left Abby as the only witch of Bridgestock.
Abby straightened herself up and sniffed.
'Abby, no, no, no – what are you thinking? Abby, I know that look in your eyes. I knew I shouldn't have told you! You're going to get all righteous and go and confront the Colonel or something, when you should be running away!'
Abby repositioned her grip on Charlie and looked down at him. 'Someone has to do something, Charlie. You told me that last night. You said that it was time that I take matters into my own hands. You said that it was time for me to start rewriting my destiny.'
'Yes, by running away! Some of the best destinies, I'm sure, have started by people running the pleck away from the psycho who wants to pin a royal assassination on them. Abby!'
Abby took a breath and sniffed again. She really could feel the sniff rattle her nostrils, just like a proper sniff should. Her sniff would reveal her mind perfectly. It was time to get out of her way; it was time for this witch to do something.
She headed off down the corridor with Charlie still in her arms. This wasn't going to be easy. Her heart was fluttering and rattling around like a startled bird. But... she had to start making decisions, and that had been a damn good sniff!
Ms Crowthy would be proud.
~~~
Wasn't your life supposed to flash before your eyes? Weren't you supposed to freeze while your memory offered up the highlights of your sweet and short existence? Weren't you supposed to feel something when the end was so near?
No. Because that happens in stories. In stories they have the luxury of introspection while being caught in a perilous moment. In the real world, disaster happens fast, too fast to even conjure up one favourable memory.
Your life doesn't flash before your eyes. Only the glint of steel does.
A part of Pembrake wanted to think of how he'd gotten here. Part of him wanted to have the time to go through the inventory of events that led to this current moment in time. How many mistakes had he made and chosen to ignore on his path to peril?
Maybe there was one thing you had time for before death: regret.
'Don't worry, dear boy, he won't kill you yet. No, I need you alive for the time being,' the Colonel drawled from his chair by the fire, hardly bothering to turn around.
The servant, his yellowed eyes alight with the exhilaration of violence, stepped back, allowing his sword to fall from Pembrake's neck.
'In ordering him to attack I merely wanted to point out that having you killed is always an option. Please don't forget that. Now take a seat again. There's something we must discus.'
Everything was whirling, gushing, pushing, speeding. His reality was being forced through a pinhead of desperation. He had failed in his task. But not only was the failure bitter, it was complete. He had not only failed to kill the Colonel, he had failed even to try.
There was no doubt about it. He knew that he, Pembrake Hunter, was the most stupid, ineffective Commander in the history of the world. Going back in time had plecked his brain – how else could he fail so spectacularly?
'Don't berate yourself, boy. I'm sure your plan would have worked had it been given a chance. I am simply afraid to
admit that I have an embarrassing advantage; I've hired a Turn About,' he gestured to the servant, 'and that's stacked the odds slightly in my favour, don't you think?'
Pembrake looked at the Turn About. He should have known. No one moves like that, no one normal, that is.
If he'd known that the Colonel had a Turn About, then he would never have bothered. Though Pembrake had never had the misfortune of running into one in the future, he's heard all the stories about Turn Abouts. They were formidable, far more formidable than a mid-sized Commander.
It would have been tracking them. As soon as the Colonel had grown suspicious of Pembrake and Abby, he would have sent that thing out to shadow their steps and learn their secret. Pleck, he would know everything!
Sure enough the Colonel began to smile with horrendous sadism. 'Oh you are begging to follow, I see?' he leant forward, 'it is true I know of you mission here, I know everything about you.'
Pembrake didn't move; his whole body had become as stiff as a steel sheet.
'I know, of course, of your planned assassination. But I know also of your origin: I know where you are from and who sent you!'
Cold spread across his chest as if someone had opened his mouth and forced him to swallow ice. The Colonel knew, he knew.
'I know you are from Fyture.'
Though the Colonel pronounced it strangely, the word pressed out any further warmth that had remained in Pembrake's bones.
'Fyture, the capital of Elogia. I knew that they would send people to assassinate me, but I would have hoped for a more capable pair.'
Pembrake choked. His throat constricted and he rocked forward from the force of his realisation. Fyture? The capital of Elogia? The Turn About must have overheard them talk about being from the 'future' and assumed it more likely they meant Fyture....
A part of him wanted to laugh.
'I see this shocks you. I know all about Elogia's plans to destroy me. I have known for some time. You feel threatened by my power in Bridgestock,' the Colonel was now leaning so far forward in his chair, he was practically out of it, 'and you should be worried. Once I have control here, and I will get it, I will use Bridgestock's vote in the Westland's parliament to send us to war. I will crush your home, sir, count on that,' the Colonel was shifting his eyes across Pembrake's face, obviously waiting for him to break down with emotion.
'You know it all then,' Pembrake confirmed with as much gravitas as he could manage. 'We knew that you in power would mean war with Elogia. Can you blame us for seeking to remove you from the equation?'
~~~
'Abby where are we going?' Charlie hadn't calmed down any, but Abby just held onto him tightly and continued to run through the halls.
'I have to do something, Charlie!'
'No you don't! I take it all back, you don't have to do anything at all!'
Abby shot through the corridor and headed for the kitchen. 'You were right, Charlie, not doing anything is just as bad as doing the wrong thing.'
'No, I was wrong, I was really, really wrong!'
He was right. She had forgotten, or perhaps she had never learnt, the most important lesson of being a witch. Ms Crowthy had told her time and time again – choice is the origin of all magic.
A witch had to be clear about what they were doing. They had to be decisive. They had to choose a path and steam along it like an unstoppable train. It was not the place of a witch to stand by the wayside, thinking of this and that, weighing up one option against another. No, a witch had to be at the helm, directing the ship forward at all costs, staring out at all who may cross her path with the steeliest of gazes.
Witches made things happen.
And this witch was going to save the Prince.
'Seriously what's your plan, Abby? Are you just going to go in there and grab the Prince and lock him in a box somewhere until all this is over? What are you going to do?'
'I'll start by finding him.'
'And then?'
'I'll save him.'
She would go into the kitchens and ask Martha where she could find the Prince. That seemed like the logical thing to do.
Martha had been baking a giant batch of cookies when Abby had walked in. According to Martha, Abby could find the Prince on the roof. Apparently there was quite a view of Bridgestock to be had from up there.
Abby had rushed, with equal determination, up the several flights of stairs and winding corridors that led to the roof.
Sure enough she'd found the Prince leaning against the railing, staring down at the deep-blue ocean spreading out from Bridgestock.
She put Charlie down.
The Prince turned to her. 'Have you come for the second part of the tour?'
She shook her head firmly. She was going to do this. She was going to warn the Prince and do what it took to save his life, no matter what the cost. 'Your highness, there's something I have to talk to you about.'
He did not quip or laugh her off. It was obvious he could pick up on the concern in her voice. He just waved her over.
'This is quite hard to say – so I'm just going to say it all at once. I believe, no, I know someone is going to try and kill you.'
The Prince did not yelp with concern or ask her what the pleck she was talking about, he just nodded solemnly.
She took a breath.' It's the Colonel, I'm sure of it. I know that the Colonel is planning to assassinate you.'
There, she'd said it.
The Prince nodded once more. 'I believe you, Abby, you don't seem the kind to lie. But can you be sure?'
Abby nodded her head so strongly she almost pulled a muscle in her neck. 'I know it's him. Please believe me, your highness, I know he wants you dead.'
Finally a little colour seemed to drain from the Princes' cheeks. But he still did not dismiss her, he simply turned around and stared out at the city of Bridgestock below.
'I beg you to leave the Palace, sir, you have to get the pleck away from here. I know he's planning an assassination, but I don't know when and I don't know how.'
'I see.'
'Please, please just leave. He tried already with your sister and failed... but I don't think he intends to fail with you.'
The Prince nodded. 'My sister... I see.'
'Please believe me. Please believe that the Colonel is capable of this.'
The Prince finally turned back to her. 'Oh, Abby, I believe that the Colonel is capable of murder. I believe he would stop at nothing to have this kingdom, nothing. But I also believe that, if as you say, he has decided to move now – there is nothing we can do.'
Abby paled and took a shuddering breath.
'The Colonel is a man of powerful means,' the Prince continued evenly, 'there is no one in Bridgestock more connected, nor more determined than he. He would employ methods and tactics that I do not have available to me. There is simply no where for me to run, Abby.'
Her heart was actually sinking in her chest, it had to be, she could feel it dropping through her rib cage. 'But there has to be something. If you run away now, surely he won't be expecting it. Surely there is a way? Can't you escape to the Mountains? Or the South Islands? I'm sure even Elogia would take you. There has to be a way!'
'I imagine Elogia would be thrilled to support any kind of move destined to weaken the Colonel, but I have no means of getting there. Abby, nothing happens in this city that the Colonel does not learn about, nothing. He has spies everywhere – in the palace, in the ports, in the slumps. I know for a fact he has a Turn About working for him. With fire power like that, Abby, I am destined to lose, and I will not lose good men putting up a fight.'
'But, but you have to go! If you die, it will be horrible. Bridgestock will become the most horrendous, terrible place. Believe me, without you, the future will be unbearable.'
'You sound like you already know the future, Abby. Martha did say you were a witch…' his voice was kind, 'my only counsel is this: there are many events that add up to make the future.'
'No, you don't understand,' sh
e shook her head again, 'I know what will happen if you are assassinated.'
'There is nothing I can do.'
'Yes there is!' Abby took a breath, 'you can try!'
The Prince considered her for a moment. 'If only we were all as proactive as you, Abby – the world would be a much better place,' the Prince turned back towards the view, 'I'm afraid I believe in destiny though. What should happen will happen. We must not get in the way of what is meant to be.'
Something was bizarrely familiar about this conversation. But before Abby could push on, she spotted an object flying across the sky. She knew what it was long before it landed on the roof.
Both Abby and the Prince turned around to see the Head Crone demount from her broom and sniff wildly. 'Thought you'd be up here,' the witch walked up to the pair, continuing to sniff like a putting engine.' Patrick,' she said by way of a greeting.
The Prince nodded, a little surprised, but still polite.
'You better come with me, young Abby,' the Crone walked right up to them, 'you'll be in trouble if you stay here any longer.'
Abby was reeling from the quick change in circumstances. Things were happening so fast at the moment. 'I… what?'
'Are you telling me you still don't know? What a bad cat you have then,' the Head Crone took a moment to glare at Charlie, 'I've been sending warnings on the wind and with the birds for several days now! Has that cat of yours still not told you?'
'About the Colonel?' Abby managed to ask.
'Yes, about the Colonel. And don't you be using that tone. You should be filled with a good bit of worry when talking about him, my dear, he has horrible plans and I'm afraid you might be featuring in them, youngin.'
Abby swallowed and tried to sniff but gave up and just swallowed again.
'So you come along with me, youngin, because we don't have much time.'
'But where will you take me?' Abby looked sideways at the Prince who was watching with interest.
'Somewhere safe. Don't you worry, the Colonel will have no idea.'
'I see,' Abby nodded, 'then take him,' she pointed with a firm, witchly finger at the surprised Prince.
Abby the Witch Page 26