Daemos Rising

by David J Howe

  ‘Well,’ said Andy. ‘It all started about 600 years in the future …’

  In that future, 583 years away, the High Executioner had assembled her team of acolytes.

  They were standing in the nave of St Paul’s Cathedral in London. This was one of the key locations for the Sodality as it had a history and a centre which made it ideal for these hunting parties.

  The High Executioner closed her eyes and muttered an incantation under her breath. Alongside the acolytes one of the stone gargoyle creatures slowly stirred into life, its eye sockets glowing red as movement and sentience was bestowed to it.

  The acolytes shifted nervously among themselves. Although they knew that these stone creatures were brought to life and controlled by the higher ministers in the Sodality, they were still terrifying to watch. As still as stone one moment, and then charging like some crazed bull the next.

  Every one of those present had seen what the creatures could do. The weight of them could crush a man in an instant, and their horns were sharp and could pierce solid rock. Add to that a powerful force which allowed them to disintegrate solid matter with a gesture, and you had an impressive killing machine.

  It was with creatures such as these that the Sodality had consolidated their power. No-one could stand against them.

  When the gargoyle was fully activated, the High Executioner opened her eyes once more, surveying her team.

  ‘We will send the creature through,’ she said. ‘It will locate the Channeller and his Sensitive companion and destroy them. It will also maintain the connection to that time for us, allowing us greater access to it. It is also where our secondary power source is located, and we need to ensure that this is boosted and maintained for as long as necessary.’

  She checked her wrist on which was a chronometer. Rather than showing the actual time, however, this showed relative power levels. Time was not a concept that made much sense when you were talking about something happening 583 years ago in the same breath as ‘today’.

  She gestured to the ten acolytes who were gathered there.

  ‘Two teams, now.’

  The assembled group obediently split into two teams of five.

  The High Executioner set one team chanting a particular set of cabbalistic words. This was designed to reach and influence their secondary power source, and to try to force open the window between the times even further.

  While they moved in a tight circle, chanting continuously, the High Executioner prepared the second group. They were to send the gargoyle through when the moment arrived.

  She consulted her wrist again, and noted that the power was low. It was almost as though her quarry were somewhere that was shielded, protected somehow.

  Soon though … they could not remain hidden forever.

  In his cottage, Cavendish felt the brush of a hand across his neck, and a feeling of happiness rested on him. He turned a page in the book, and saw that he could read the words written there.

  His lips moved silently as the voice in his head congratulated and praised him the whole time.

  He was doing a fantastic job. Everything was proceeding perfectly. All would be well.

  He didn’t notice that the sky was darkening outside, and that the birds and even the bees had deserted his bushes and flowers.

  Silence was falling.

  Andy stopped talking and drew a long breath. The story of how he and Laura came to be there was indeed incredible, but Olive had listened intently.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Andy asked. ‘Have you any answers?’

  Olive cleared her throat, and smiled gently again at them both.

  ‘I think … I think your trials are coming to an end,’ she said. ‘And that you have the answer within you.’

  Andy looked puzzled. ‘But what does that mean?’

  Olive sighed. ‘I feel that you are among the last. This is why your enemies are so intent on finding you. But you have ended up here. This place contains so much power. Partly because of what has taken place here, but also partly because of the alignment of the leys, and the special position that we occupy in the mists of spacetime. I have seen such things … here the dead are never truly passed. I have seen spirits and phantoms. Things which would make your hair curl. Some of it can be explained, but most cannot.

  ‘You, Andy, have a greater part yet to play, but you may not find it easy. And Laura, your future is hidden from me. I cannot tell.’

  Laura looked at Andy in alarm. ‘If I have no future … what does that mean?’

  ‘Hush,’ said Olive. ‘What will be will be. None of us can change the past, but we can all change the future, regardless of where we originate.’

  Rhad stretched on Olive’s lap, and jumped down to the floor. ‘Now, it is time,’ said Olive sadly. ‘You must go.’

  She stood and ushered her guests out of the room.

  ‘Remember that all things have their time. But that time sometimes is a flexible beast, and that not all things know how to behave within it.’

  Andy shook Olive’s hand. ‘Thank you Miss Hawthorne,’ he said. ‘Telling you our story has been of help … I think.’

  Laura agreed. ‘Yes. I feel … sort of … calmer now.’

  ‘That will be the tea,’ chuckled Olive. ‘Nothing like a nice cuppa to soothe the nerves.’

  They stepped out of the cottage, and noticed that the sky was growing dark.

  ‘There’s a storm coming on,’ noted Olive. ‘I think you’d best get under cover as soon as you can. The pub should be open now.’

  ‘We will,’ said Laura. ‘Thank you again Olive.’

  They left the cottage and walked to the road.

  Olive waved from her doorway, and the two friends walked back along the road, heading for the pub.

  In 2586, the High Executioner felt the power suddenly rise as the window opened still further.

  Good. Good. Exactly as she had planned.

  ‘Start now,’ she instructed the second group of acolytes, and they began their chant, moving slowly in a circle around the great stone beast which stood silently before them.

  There was a noise like a rushing of air, and the dirt and leaves which littered the floor of St Paul’s started to shift. Faster and faster they blew around the chanting acolytes until there was a maelstrom of power and wind buffeting them. Dust flew like smoke, and obscured the stone beast for a second, and when it cleared, the beast was no longer there.

  The wind died slightly, but the acolytes knew better than to stop. They continued their circling chant, as the High Executioner smiled broadly.

  Victory was hers.

  7

  The Attack

  Andy and Laura heard it first as a faint rushing sound. Walking along the road in Devil’s End, they could see that the sky was now black with clouds, and that a storm was approaching fast.

  The wind picked up almost as though there was some elemental force playing with it. It buffeted them back and forth as they tried to walk.

  ‘This doesn’t look good,’ said Laura. ‘Do you think they have found us?’

  There was a wailing howling noise, and ahead of them on the road, a stone gargoyle materialised from the winds. It lifted its great head with a grinding noise and sniffed, scenting the air.

  Then it slowly turned until it was facing Andy and Laura.

  They stood stock still in the wind and rain as it took one, and then another step towards them, the stone-on-stone grinding sound echoed above the sound of the howling wind.

  ‘Run!’ shouted Andy, and, grabbing Laura’s hand, he turned and raced across the green towards the church. The stone beast gave chase, its hooves churning up the grass as it went.

  Andy and Laura raced up into the small graveyard which dotted the lawns around the front of the church. There was nowhere to go.

  The beast clattered up the steps, and stopped, watching them with its pinprick red eyes as they moved between the gravestones.

  Andy spotted an exit from the churchyard, a
nd, keeping firm hold of Laura’s hand, ran for it.

  The churchyard gave way to a narrow lane, and Andy and Laura ran down it, heading away from the village. Realising that they needed to find someone, anyone, whose time snake they could use to escape, they skidded to a halt and looked back. But return to the village was now blocked by the stone beast which cantered into view behind them.

  They turned again and kept running.

  Ahead of them, the path split, and they took the left hand route, which led down and around towards some wooded areas and fields.

  As they ran, Andy wished that he had paid more attention to the time, and not spent quite so long with the woman, Olive.

  They emerged after half a mile or so into a small clearing, beyond which could be seen a small cottage nestling in the woods. There were some ancient plinths in the clearing as well, like some sort of destroyed outhouse.

  Andy dragged Laura behind the largest of the plinths and crouched down, panting heavily.

  The place seemed strangely familiar to him, but he couldn’t sense why.

  Laura looked at him, she too was exhausted. ‘How are we going to get away?’ she asked.

  Andy shook his head. ‘No idea,’ he said.

  In the cottage, Cavendish felt a chill surround him. He looked up from the book that he had been reading. There was nothing there.

  A small movement out in the hallway drew his attention. There seemed to be someone there!

  As Cavendish watched, a man dressed in a silvery suit seemed to coalesce out of thin air. He had a balding pate and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. He faded in and out like a badly tuned television set, and there was something else too. A buzzing sound, again like a radio signal on the edge of reception. The figure seemed to be trying to say something, but Cavendish could not make out the words.

  Cavendish closed his eyes in terror.

  In the clearing, Andy caught a glimpse of something across the other side. There seemed to be someone behind the trees there.

  He looked closer, and realised that a man was standing there. The figure seemed to fade and Andy could clearly see the trees and brush through him.

  He nudged Laura. ‘Look!’ he hissed.

  Laura looked and drew in a gasp. ‘It’s … it’s you!’ she said.

  Andy looked again. The figure was wearing the same silver suit as he was, and had the same beard and moustache.

  At that moment there was a crash, and the stone gargoyle emerged from the undergrowth and stood by the side of the clearing. If it had been in any way a real animal, it would have been panting from the exertion of following the humans, but it was not, and the eerie silence and stillness was more unnerving than anything.

  There was a gently grating noise as it swung its head back and forth, sensing the presence of the humans.

  The High Executioner had her eyes closed. She was sensing the past through the channel opened by her acolytes, and connected to the gargoyle that they had sent back 583 years.

  ‘There they are,’ she whispered. ‘I have you!’

  She smiled a thin, cruel smile.

  ‘Attack!’

  At that moment, several things happened at once, though no one present knew or realised what the impact of them would be.

  In the cottage, Cavendish cracked open his eyes to see that the ghostly presence had gone. He let out a whoosh of breath which steamed and hung in the air before him, and, realising that the great book was opened in front of him, closed it quickly.

  Perhaps, he thought, this was the cause of the spiritual presence he had seen. It was icy cold though and he shivered. Maybe the heating had failed.

  The closing of the book abruptly cut the channel of energy off that the great stone gargoyle had been using to maintain its vitalities and to supplement those coming from the future.

  In the future, the High Executioner sensed the closing of the power source, and urged the gargoyle to attack before it was too late. The portal was still open.

  In the clearing, the stone beast leaped onto one of the plinths beside Andy and Laura. The stone cracked and creaked from the weight, but held strong.

  Laura threw her hands up in a reflexive gesture of defence, and Andy tried to shield her from the creature.

  From the side, a ghostly shape also threw itself at the gargoyle, passing through the stone at the exact moment that Laura’s hands touched the creature.

  The portal activated, powered by the Time Channeller’s own inner energy, and Andy and Laura found themselves no longer in the clearing, but in an echoey, smoke-filled chamber. There was chanting and movement all around them. The two humans looked at each other in terror, and then around themselves.

  Andy could feel himself tearing, being pulled in many ways at once as the forces within the portal dragged part of his essence back and forth, maintaining his presence at the various nexus points that he and Laura had visited.

  There was a blinding flash, and the two humans screamed as the acolytes bore down on them.

  Silence.

  In the clearing, nothing moved. The bulk of the giant stone gargoyle remained perched on the remains of the plinth. It was once more just a stone statue. The red of its eyes had faded, and now the worn stone glinted as the rain fell on it, pooled, and ran in rivulets down to the ground.

  In the cottage, Cavendish sat slumped in his favourite armchair. In his hand was a rather overfull glass of whiskey. As he sipped the drink, his eyes were drawn to a photograph beside him on the table. One of a few he had decided to keep.

  The man in the picture was military. You could tell from his uniform, his bearing, and even his eyes. This was an efficient military soldier.

  Cavendish looked at the picture of his hero, Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, and sighed. The picture was old, probably taken during the Brigadier’s heyday with UNIT in the seventies. But Cavendish was not thinking of the military, but of the Brigadier’s daughter, Kate. He often thought of her. How she had caught his eye, how she moved, how she spoke … truth be told he was a little obsessed.

  He took another sip of whiskey and let his eyes close. Maybe tomorrow he would try and contact her again. Maybe tomorrow. A small voice in the back of his head tried to raise an objection, but Cavendish quashed it with liquor.

  In the far future, the High Executioner smiled as the bodies of the two humans were taken away.

  Two less meddlesome time travellers for her to have to try and account for. She had no regrets over what she had done. She never did. Everything had a price, and her focus was on what the Sodality needed to do in order to gain the power from the ancient gods of this world.

  She would brief the Grand Master, and they would plan for the next foray. Now that they had a potential power source and a gargoyle at one of the key nexus points, they would be able to take the next step.

  All in all everything seemed to have worked out quite well for her.

  PART TWO

  1

  The Cottage

  Satanhall. Kate had never heard of it.

  As the train hurried through the countryside, she looked again at the latest letter which had arrived with her.

  It was from Douglas. Again. Probably the tenth such letter he had sent her. But this time was different. His handwriting was shaky and tentative, and the message pleading. Please come!

  He had included a hand drawn map of the route from the station, but she hoped she might be able to jump in a taxi instead.

  She looked out of the window and thought back to her first encounter with Douglas Cavendish. It had been at the University during the incident with the yeti and the web … strange enough to think about now.

  That had been about eight years ago, and while she had subsequently gone on one ‘date’ with Douglas, it became obvious that he had been a career soldier, devoted to his job, but that following the incident, he was also very troubled. Trying to fit a relationship into all that was going to be hard work for both of them, and Kate wasn’t sure she wanted t
o.

  She knew this from her father. The famed Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. She loved him dearly, but he couldn’t let the job go. If it wasn’t manoeuvres in Scotland, it was strange sightings on the South Coast, or creatures seen in London housing estates … it was amazing that he had ever had time to be with a woman long enough for Kate herself to have seen the light of day.

  But she had recognised a lot of her father in Douglas, and felt sorry for him. Via friends she had heard how he had become reclusive, almost hermit-like, and how this had affected his work to the point that UNIT had to let him go. He had moved from being top of the list of people you might choose for a mission, to being a liability who no-one wanted. Last chosen for the football team. That was Douglas.

  So when the letters started arriving, Kate was sorry first, and then increasingly alarmed as he started to describe otherworldly happenings and incidents.

  This culminated in this most recent letter, which seemed the most pained yet.

  She really had little choice, and so left her own idyllic home: a houseboat on a lovely canal; and headed off to darkest Wiltshire, to a place she had never heard of to meet a man she barely knew who was in some sort of trouble. She just had to do this though. It was a compulsion, and she felt that she almost owed it to him to make sure he was okay.

  Well, she was the Brigadier’s daughter, and very good at looking after herself. Even her son Gordy looked up to her. Luckily, she had friends who could look after him, and so she was free for a long weekend and could go and check on Douglas. It was, she thought, just what her father would do if he knew that Douglas was in trouble.

  Even so, it never occurred to her to contact her dad. Douglas had reached out to her, and she had to respond.

  As the English countryside slipped past the windows, she closed her eyes and sunk back in her seat. She rarely travelled by train: everything she needed was within walking distance of her houseboat; and so this was a pleasure for her.