Daemos Rising

by David J Howe

  It had been located by Captain Fitch (now retired) at one of the operations centres during the investigations of the Master. Seems that the Master had blown up a church, with reports of moving statues and devils roaming the surrounding woods. Indeed, a prominent historian had been killed there too … no doubt all part of whatever plan the Master was hatching.

  But he had been captured and taken away to some secure offshore facility, and what remained of the church sealed up and thoroughly explored and ‘decontaminated’ by UNIT.

  This was where the book had been found. It had arrived sealed in one of the special containers as it was supposedly dangerous. But then all of the things here were supposed to be dangerous. Quite how a jar of jelly babies could be seen as that, or the head of a gargoyle, or even a plastic dummy … but the belief was there and so they were locked up safely. That was, until Cavendish had taken selected items into his own custody.

  As Cavendish stood there with his hand on the book, it was as though he could hear voices in his head. Soft and alluring. Telling him that everything would be all right, and that he was right to take the book. There was no problem.

  He smiled to himself. This was what it was all about. Making him feel better.

  He reached in and picked up the book. It was big, perhaps eighteen inches by ten inches and about five inches thick.

  As his hands closed around it, so the feeling of warmth increased.

  Cavendish smiled and hurriedly placed the book under his jacket. Buttoning it up, and cinching the belt tightly.

  There would be no checks. There never were.

  He closed and relocked the cage, then headed back down the passages towards the exit desk.

  This time there was no-one there. The book was lying on the table, propped open at whatever page the guard had reached.

  Cavendish headed for the door, and was through it and heading back towards the lift while the guard there threw a half-hearted salute at his back.

  Through the next door, into the lift room, ignoring the second guard.

  Cavendish operated the lift again and it rose up.

  Moments later Cavendish was emerging into the dusty sunlight.

  He strode back to his car, the book warm and comforting against his body.

  He knew he had done the right thing.

  He knew it. The book was meant to be his, just like all the other objects were.

  3

  Memories of Times Past

  A breeze blew fresh, clean air across green fields. It was sunny and bright, and the sounds of children playing echoed across the grass.

  A small child ran along a path, without a care in the world, and leaped over a stile into a small wooded area.

  There was an electric hum and buzz, as though a generator had been started, and a vivid blue light flickered unnoticed in the trail of the child.

  From nowhere, Andy and Laura stepped into the time zone. Their bodies were covered in crawling blue electricity which snapped and sparked and died away, evaporating in the warm air.

  Laura looked around. ‘Well this is different!’

  Andy had his head down and his hands were on his knees. He was breathing heavily.

  ‘Why does it always do that to me!’ he said.

  He took in some deep breaths to try and shake the sick feeling.

  Whenever he and Laura jumped through time, it hit him like the worst travel sickness ever. Laura was never affected, but then she was a Time Channeller and was able to focus in on the time snake, locating the specific place and time that she wanted to emerge. If she was alone, then this talent was dormant. It took the physical presence of a Time Sensitive to locate the time snake in the first place, and to enable them both to travel. They couldn’t do this without each other and they were both aware of it.

  Laura looked up at the blue sky, stepping away from Andy. She spun in a small circle.

  ‘This is more like it. No greyness. No destruction.’

  ‘Where are we? Or rather when?’

  ‘It’s earlier,’ said Laura. ‘There’s some kids playing nearby, probably one of those was our man.’

  ‘So what, maybe sixty years earlier?’

  Laura nodded. ‘Something like that anyway. What a difference.’

  Andy looked around. He was starting to feel better. At least they were out of immediate danger.

  ‘We need to find some more people,’ said Andy. ‘That’s if we want to stand any chance of getting somewhere more useful.’

  Laura nodded. ‘I think the town is that way,’ she said, pointing to where some smoke spiralled into the sky.

  Andy and Laura headed off away from the copse of woodland and towards the smoke.

  Before long they arrived at the first houses. Standard English brick built houses from the twentieth century. Andy did some calculations in his head. They had been in the year 2050, which was when the Sodality had poisoned the air and were hunting for Time Channellers and Sensitives. The man they had travelled back with had been in his seventies, so they were perhaps now sixty years earlier. So, 1990s?

  It looked about right. Andy noticed a rubbish bin at the side of the road and went over to it. After a moment he returned to Laura brandishing a grubby newspaper.

  ‘It’s 2003.’

  ‘Well that’s not too bad, is it?’

  Andy shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘When did we want to get to?’ asked Laura.

  Andy sighed. ‘You know, I have no idea.’

  ‘Not helpful.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s hard enough trying to fight these people in one timezone, but now that they are spreading out, trying to wipe us out everywhere …’

  Laura touched his arm. ‘Don’t worry. At least we’re away from that thing here.’

  ‘I know. But for how long?’

  The two friends continued walking along the street. Before long, it opened into a village green, with a large church sitting at the far side. Off on one side of the green was a public house. ‘The Cloven Hoof’ read the sign above the door.

  Andy pushed the door but it was closed.

  ‘Wrong time of day for that,’ said a voice.

  Andy and Laura turned and saw that they were being addressed by a smart woman in a pair of pince nez glasses. She was wearing a cloak, and pushing a bicycle. Andy thought that maybe she was in her fifties or sixties.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Andy. ‘We seem to have come out without …’

  The woman smiled. Andy could sense that she was kind, and he focussed a little harder to see if he could sense her time snake. But there was some sort of a block.

  She smiled again. ‘It’s half past nine in the morning. And you’ll have to try harder than that to make sense of me, young man.’

  Andy frowned, suddenly feeling uneasy.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said the woman. ‘I can tell you’re not from these parts.’

  She turned and started to push her bicycle up the street. After a moment she stopped and turned to them.

  ‘Well come on then, if you want a cup of tea. And some explanations. I can tell that you want explanations.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Laura. ‘Thank you Mrs …’

  ‘It’s Miss … Miss Hawthorne. But you can call me Olive, dear.’

  4

  Reading the Book

  Cavendish slammed the door to his car.

  He was still furious from the morning’s meeting. How could they do that to him? To him?

  He strode down the driveway to the cottage, pausing to admire the gardens and their vibrant colours.

  He sighed. At least he had this. His own retreat in the country. Somewhere that no-one, not even his UNIT overlords knew about.

  He entered the cottage and headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. As the water heated, he watched as the steam rose from the spout, creating rivulets of water on the glass cabinets.

  His mind wandered back to that morning. To the summons. The meeting.

  Of course h
e knew what it was all about. He’d had to have been an idiot not to.

  After the demotion to office jobs, then the removal of his security pass and clearance, and finally getting into work to find his name removed from the door to his office, and a brown envelope in his cubby hole requesting … no … demanding his immediate presence at his CEO’s office.

  The discussion had been … interesting … Nothing about his career or prospects. Nothing about his service. Nothing about how hard he had worked. Just a cursory thank you, and a note about retirement pension which would, of course, be paid with immediate effect.

  He had tried to argue. He mentioned his friendship with Kate, daughter of the Brigadier, but that held no water. The Brigadier had vanished. Erased from the record even before the University Incident.

  And Kate … well he had tried to call her several times over the last few months, but she never answered his calls. Any ‘connection’ he thought he had with her had turned out to be smoke and mirrors.

  Thus, Captain Douglas Cavendish, fifteen years active service and experience. Enrolled when he was sixteen years old. Faithful to UNIT and its work … now thrown on the scrap heap.

  What irked him most was that he really didn’t know why. He’d not betrayed any secrets. Not spoken out of turn at parties. He had toed the UNIT line to the end.

  The kettle started whistling, and he turned the heat off, pouring the boiling water into a cup containing two teabags and a splash of milk.

  Two because that was the way a soldier took his tea. Like a navvy. Strong enough to stand the spoon up in! Strong like his mind and his backbone.

  Strong enough to withstand anything that life or the universe threw at him.

  He picked up the tea and blew it gently. He sipped it, wincing as it burned his lips. Still too hot.

  He set it down on the counter and looked out the window. The sun was shining and slanting across the garden. Bees foraged for pollen around the flowers under the window. All was peaceful.

  Cavendish headed back outside to the car and retrieved his bag. Just a few personal possessions taken from his grace and favour apartment in London.

  The nearest village was half a mile away. A place called Devil’s End, notorious among UNIT operatives as the site of one of their biggest achievements. The final capture of the Master in the seventies.

  Never mind that the Church was blown to smithereens in the process.

  He had been drawn to this cottage … buying it just seemed right. He liked the irony too, his hiding in the location of one of UNIT’s legendary missions under the Brigadier. He never felt that it was strange that he started looking just after retrieving the book from the Black Archive. He never put two and two together that this was in fact the place that the book had been found, or that his compulsion to find somewhere safe to keep all his liberated treasures had started after he had taken the book.

  Cavendish didn’t think much about that at all. It was almost as though something was clouding his mind, making him feel wrapped in cotton wool whenever he tried to think harder about his actions and the rights and wrongs of stealing from his bosses.

  All he knew was that he deserved the items.

  Many years ago, while at school, he had read a vast, sprawling book called Lord of the Rings and in that book there was a character called Gollum. He had once been called Sméagol, but had coveted and wanted and desired a precious object, a ring, so badly that it had corrupted him to the extreme.

  Cavendish sometimes thought that he might be like Gollum, coveting and protecting the precious things. But unlike that pitiable creature, he was not corrupted by them. Instead they gave him strength and hope.

  Cavendish could feel the liberated tome even now, tugging at his mind.

  He entered the cottage and went to the study, where the book was resting on the coffee table.

  As he placed his hand on it, the cover seemed to glow gently with an amber light.

  Cavendish smiled as a wave of good feeling flooded his body. He opened the covers and flicked through the first few pages.

  The book opened on an image of a devil-like creature being taken up into the sky by a shaft of light. Cavendish had no idea what it meant.

  As he looked at the page, the strange symbols there seemed to shift and move until they formed words which he felt he could read.

  His lips started to move gently, as he tried the unfamiliar word and letter sequences out.

  Cavendish smiled to himself as that strange inner voice whispered that he was doing so well … that they were very pleased with him.

  It never crossed his swaddled mind to wonder who ‘they’ were.

  5

  London 2586

  A tall, scarred man wearing a heavy robe of office strode down a marbled corridor.

  He entered into a palatial room where a woman was waiting for him.

  The woman cocked her head gently. ‘Grand Master’, she said.

  The man frowned at her. ‘Thank you High Executioner,’ he said sarcastically. ‘What have you to report?’

  The woman seemed unphased by his rudeness. She had long hair tied back, wore the uniform of a military officer, and exuded a sense of controlled power.

  ‘I wanted to report … that we have located the remaining Time Channeller and Sensitive in 2050.’

  The Grand Master nodded. ‘So I hear,’ he said. ‘And then they escaped again. Your troops are ineffective.’

  The High Executioner smiled. She pushed away from the table she had been leaning against and walked slowly around the room, the heels on her boots clacking against the polished marble floor.

  ‘Indeed, but in escaping, they have been caught in another of my traps. My gargoyle chased them through London, to an area we had ensured was only occupied by one man. And that man had been hand-selected as he was originally from Nexus Point B.’

  The Grand Master nodded. ‘Nexus Point B … the village where the first Great Summoning was carried out.’

  ‘Yes. Where our Lord Azal was summoned, and where the powers we now command were made public and available.’

  ‘But what of these rogues? How can we dispose of them for good?’

  ‘Even now,’ said the High Executioner, ‘some five hundred and eighty years ago, we have made contact with someone we can use. The plan has been afoot for several years, but now it reaches fruition.’

  The Grand Master smiled, his face creasing into a toothy grin which made his scars twist into painful knots around his eyes.

  The High Executioner nodded. ‘Yes. And now we have reached the point of summoning once more. The power is growing in that timezone, and we can use that to destroy our final enemies.’

  She slammed her hand down on the table.

  ‘We will not be thwarted again. These meddling time travellers will be wiped out, and the Sodality’s rule of past, present and future will be assured.’

  The Grand Master moved across to the window, and looked out over the grey and blasted landscape which used to be London.

  ‘Soon,’ he whispered. ‘Soon.’

  6

  Tea With Olive

  Andy and Laura sat in Olive Hawthorne’s cramped cottage while she fussed around them.

  ‘Here you are, dear,’ she said, giving Laura a cup and saucer.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Biscuit?’

  Laura selected one from the plate. It was chocolate and she had not enjoyed chocolate for a very long time.

  As she munched on the biscuit, she studied Olive closely. She seemed to be in almost every aspect a typical old aged villager. Happy to bustle about and be everyone’s friend and confidante.

  But underneath the homely exterior was something more. A sense of great power, and a rod of iron that made her far more formidable than you might expect.

  Her home too was dotted with strange and mystical items. On the dresser was a large clear globe of glass which exuded the same power. There were small pouches containing unknown ingredients, and other copper and ir
on images and shapes hung on the walls.

  Despite all this, it felt safe. Indeed, far safer than she and Andy had felt for a long time. She was happy for the respite.

  Olive sat opposite them in a saggy, stuffed armchair that had seen better days, but which fitted Olive like a glove.

  The woman peered over her glasses at them. Studying them closely.

  A cat wandered into the room, sniffed at their feet, and then leaped into Olive’s lap where it sat, looking at the visitors with green slitted eyes.

  ‘Don’t mind Rhadamanthus,’ said Olive, stroking the cat. ‘He won’t mind you.’

  Olive looked at Andy and then Laura, and then back to Andy.

  ‘Where are you from?’ she asked.

  Andy glanced at Laura. It was an insightful question.

  ‘I … I’m not actually sure,’ he began.

  ‘And what about you?’ Olive asked Laura.

  Laura swallowed, not entirely certain how to answer.

  Olive smiled at them both. ‘You see, I can tell that you are not from around here. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that you are from a long way away. A very long way away.’

  Andy smiled nervously. ‘You could say that, yes.’

  ‘I won’t pry,’ said Olive, ‘I can sense that there is goodness in you both, and also pain. A lot of pain.’

  Andy nodded.

  Laura looked intently into her cup of tea and didn’t answer.

  ‘What is it that you need,’ asked Olive gently.

  Andy looked at her. ‘I … I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘Maybe respite? Maybe some help of some sort, but I’m really not sure how you can help us.’

  ‘Why don’t you explain,’ said Olive. ‘Maybe in the telling, you can find the answer you seek. It often works.’

  Andy exchanged a glance with Laura. ‘I’m not sure you’d believe us,’ he said.

  Olive chuckled, a throaty laugh which filled the room.

  ‘Oh,’ she said when she could speak. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find that I’m more open minded than most.’