Skip: An Epic Science Fiction Fantasy Adventure Series (Book 2)

by Perrin Briar

  Grandfather Time licked his lips and rubbed his hands together.

  “Tell me,” he said, “do you have the other two pieces with you?”

  Elian reached into his shoulder bag and took out the two golden pieces. Grandfather Time ran his hands over the shiny surfaces. The glow worms in the walls seemed to glow brighter.

  “The Cog of Fate and the Chain of Destiny,” Grandfather Time said. “Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable. The Goleuni didn’t give you any difficulty, I trust?”

  “They threw spears at us and chased us over a cliff,” Jera said. “It’s pure luck we didn’t hit any of the rocks below.”

  “Excellent,” Grandfather Time said, not paying attention. “They were once the most powerful nation in the world, did you know? That was why they were chosen, of course. That was why each of them were chosen. The Goleuni, the fairies, and the Tangents. They were seen as powerful, ever-lasting beings who would exist and provide assistance whenever the Time Keeper needed them. Now look at them. The Goleuni scrabble through the undergrowth looking for food, and the fairies are gone from this world. But at least the Tangents won’t let us down. They, at least, remember.”

  “Why didn’t they choose humans to take care of these pieces?” Jera said. “We’re the safest bet.”

  “Perhaps now we are. But when the pieces were handed out we were not developed, and we were too violent to be entrusted with such important artefacts. Frankly, they didn’t expect humans to survive for long.”

  “Who were the people who built the clocktower?” Jera said.

  “First of all, they were not people. Second, no one ‘built’ the clocktower. It simply came into being, just as the world and the trees and the air and valleys did. It grew with the planet.”

  “But someone handed out the spare pieces to the different nations. Who were they?”

  “No one knows, although the Goleuni and Tangents have cave paintings depicting black robed figures handing over a golden glowing treasure. We don’t know who they were. Probably never will.

  “The clocktower is as old as time itself. In fact, it might be easier to think of the clocktower as time. They are inextricably linked. Neither one can be parted from the other.”

  “How do you know all this?” Elian said.

  “Because I was once a scientist.”

  “A scientist?” Jera said. “From the Capital?”

  “From a capital.”

  Jera frowned.

  “What do you mean?” she said. “There’s only one Capital.”

  “In your world there is. But I’m not from this world.”

  He said it offhand like he were commenting on the colour of the soil.

  “I was conducting experiments on our own tower in our own world,” Grandfather Time said. “It is not so big and grand as yours. I suspect your clocktower is the main one, and in each parallel universe there is another, a subordinate. But like yours, they are all at the centre of time in their worlds.

  “Take ours for example, an unassuming, but famous, landmark. It lies at zero on the international time zone map. At the start, and therefore, at the end of time. I was investigating a discrepancy with our clocktower. It was sending a signal somewhere, somehow, and I wanted to trace it. What I discovered was our tower was indeed sending a signal to another tower – in fact, to another dimension.”

  Elian and Jera blinked and shared a confused expression. Grandfather Time waved his hands.

  “The scientific stuff doesn’t matter,” he said. “It was ground-breaking stuff, but before I got ahead of myself I wanted concrete evidence, and to pinpoint where exactly this other world was.”

  Grandfather Time buried his hands in the thin wispy white hairs on his dome of a head.

  “I’ve relived that moment a million times in my mind,” he said, “and every time I wish I had turned away and been satisfied with what I’d discovered. Instead, I picked up a small wooden tool and pressed it into the inner workings of the clock. The next moment, I was here, in this world.”

  He looked down at his old gnarled fingers.

  “I’ve grown old in a world that is not my own,” he said. “My heart yearns to see my home once more. I’ve been working for years trying to send myself back. Only once the pieces have been returned to the tower have the power to send me back.”

  “Can it do that?” Jera said, incredulous.

  “It brought me here. Why not?”

  “How?”

  Grandfather Time lifted a frayed piece of string off from around his neck. On the end of it was a key with an odd-shaped knob on the end.

  “With this,” Grandfather Time said. “It’s a key I discovered many years ago that I hope will fulfil the purpose I require. I’m here to save the universe and, on a slightly more selfish note, to return home. We’re here now, and we’re going to fix it.”

  “What’s the name of the capital you came from?” Jera said.

  “London,” Grandfather Time said. “London, England.”

  “That’s a strange name,” Jera said.

  “Compared to what? ‘Time’? ‘Crossroads’? You were inside the machine when you skipped. That’s why I think you two skipped further into the future than most people. Most skips consist of only a few hours or days tops, but you two jumped. A jump is a skip, but further into the future, weeks, months, sometimes years or even decades. There’s no limit to the time they might jump.”

  “Is it possible some people might skip or jump further than others?” Jera said. “Beyond the date on our watches?”

  “It’s possible, but extremely unlikely. Some water always escapes a dam, despite our best efforts. I had to hurry when I sent you that letter. I hoped it was enough to convince you to go find the other replacement parts. Luckily, it was.”

  “Just about,” Jera said. “We refused once, but the universe brought us back together.”

  The old man smiled.

  “Ah yes,” he said. “It’ll do that.”

  “Don’t we have any free will at all?” Jera said. “If the universe controls everything anyway, why is everything so difficult for us?”

  “Because the universe doesn’t control everything. It can nudge and cajole, but it cannot force. It is up to you to make your own decisions.”

  “It certainly doesn’t feel that way.”

  “It’s the same for all of us, dear.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come,” Grandfather Time said.

  The door opened, admitting Wind, the Tangent poet. He ducked into the room.

  “I BRING THE ELDERS’ DECISION,” he said, his eyes moving away from theirs. “I HOPE IT DOES NOT MEET WITH YOUR DERISION.”

  “Our derision?” Grandfather Time said. “What do you mean?”

  Grandfather Time’s expression turned pale.

  “No!” he said. “You cannot be serious!”

  Jera stood up.

  “What is it?” she said. “What’s happened?”

  Wind had sad eyes.

  “THE ELDERS’ ANSWER WAS A DISMISSION,” he said. “GRANDFATHER TIME HAS FAILED IN HIS MISSION.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Gregory paced in front of his desk in Time’s police station. It had previously belonged to the station’s chief constable, but he had deferred to Gregory and vacated it. There was a portrait on the wall of the chief constable’s family. The constable’s bushy moustache hid his mouth, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes bent upwards belying his happy demeanour. His wife was prettier than the chief deserved, her perfect teeth white and shining, and his two children: a teenage girl with long ginger hair and a chubby younger son. Gregory had decided to leave the painting up. It added colour to an otherwise dingy interior. There was a knock on the door.

  “Come,” Gregory said.

  Captain Timon entered. He saluted and stood before Gregory.

  “At ease,” Gregory said. “Take a seat.”

  “I’d prefer to stand.”

  “We might be
some time.”

  “All the same.”

  Captain Timon looked very stiff.

  “Very well,” Gregory said. “No doubt you’ve heard Maiden Voyage was searched.”

  “Yes.”

  “The post master received a letter last night telling him to search Maiden Voyage. How do you think that happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why that boat? And why now?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Did you tell anyone about our previous conversation?”

  “No, sir. Not a soul.”

  Gregory walked to a table and poured a glass of wine.

  “Would you like a glass?” he said.

  “No, thank you.”

  There was a pause, only the sound of wine filling the glass in the small space.

  “Do you know what it is to have a father like Lord Arthur Ascar, captain?” Gregory said.

  “No, sir.”

  “Of course you don’t. You weren’t born an Ascar. Lord Ascar, my father, is a demanding man. He demands things, he never asks for them. ‘You must attend the rectory for boys,’ he’d say. ‘You must marry a Wythnos girl.’ You must, you must, you must.”

  Gregory sat in his chair and put his feet on the desk. He shook his head.

  “It does get tiring,” he said. “But I know how fortunate I am. I shall always have food on the table, always have access to education and facilities many people could only dream of.

  “When I was younger I used to look out of my bedroom window at night at the Capital. I used to think life must be exciting for someone who fights for each scrap of food they get, to pit their wits against another and win, and then to build from that and make yourself into your own success – rather like my father. But no one would choose to be poor instead of rich. They always assume having money is better than not having it. This is because people only see with their eyes. They see the mansions, the gold plated carriages, the beautiful clothes. But they do not see the inner workings.

  “The truth is, anyone can be rich. Anyone at all. We only believe we can’t be, for whatever reason. Or we know we can but don’t want to put in the effort to do so. People don’t see the difficulties in remaining rich because those things are not meant to be seen. We have our own struggles and difficulties, though they may not be so clear cut and plain to see to those who live on the streets, but they are every bit as dangerous and cutthroat. One false move, and there is someone there to take your place. Even a loved one. Someone we considered close. But they will take your place as soon as look at you. It’s a dangerous world, and we must be dangerous to survive in it. Honour and devotion to one’s family is the important thing.”

  Gregory took a sip of wine.

  “How long have you been with the Force, Timon?” he said.

  “As your captain, two years. As a constable, eight years.”

  “And in all that time has your honour or devotion to the Force ever been called into question?”

  “No, sir.”

  Gregory stepped up close to Timon so they were only inches apart.

  “Let’s speak frankly, like we were family,” he said. “What do you know, Captain?”

  “Sir?”

  “About the tribute ships. What do you know?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Nothing? Then why did you tell Matthews to search Maiden Voyage?”

  “I didn’t, sir.”

  “Or tell one of your subordinates, then? When exactly did you turn your back on the Force? On me?”

  “I didn’t! I would never do such a thing!”

  “Someone is trying to stop me from filling our ships with my father’s tribute, Timon. It cannot be allowed.”

  “But there was nothing on board that shouldn’t have been otherwise Matthews would have found it.”

  Gregory nodded.

  “He would have,” he said. “Except I told the men to load only food crates.”

  “I wasn’t aware of anything illegal on board.”

  “No,” Gregory said. “But now you are. It’s funny, I would never have suspected you to betray my family.”

  “I swear, sir,” Captain Timon said. “I had nothing to do with this.”

  “You were the only one I told about loading Maiden Voyage. And miraculously, a letter appeared under the port master’s door the very next day, telling him everything. Strange, don’t you think? Now, you have to be removed.”

  Gregory turned to the door.

  “Guards!” he shouted. “Guards!”

  “Lord Ascar, please,” Captain Timon said.

  He fell to his knees.

  “I have been nothing but faithful to you and the Force,” he said. “If there is someone orchestrating these events we ought to band together to find them.”

  The door opened, and two large men entered.

  “I swear as an honourable captain of the Force, I had nothing to do with this,” Captain Timon said.

  Gregory looked at Timon, taking him in.

  “Arrest Captain Timon,” Gregory said. “And escort him to a cell.”

  Captain Timon’s face was filled with profound sadness, like he’d been praying to God his whole life and then when he really needed him, He hadn’t appeared.

  Captain Timon got to his feet. He gathered himself and glared at Gregory.

  “You have done nothing but weaken us today,” he said. “And given them – whoever they are – a greater chance of success. And I hope they succeed.”

  The guards led him away.

  Chapter Forty

  “Don’t they understand the severity of the situation?” Grandfather Time said.

  “THE ELDERS HEARD YOUR ARGUMENT AND DECIDED IT IS NOT CRUCIAL TO FOLLOW UP AT THIS TIME,” an official Tangent said, his chest puffed out and his nose high in the air.

  Behind him was a bare stretch of wall with two massive Tangent guards standing on either side of it. Across the top was an engraving of a Tangent feeding a seed that grew and stretched across the whole wall.

  “Not crucial?” Grandfather Time said. “Not crucial! It’s the end of the universe if we don’t get that piece!”

  “THE ELDERS’ DECISION IS FINAL, ALTHOUGH YOU MAY SUBMIT AN APPEAL.”

  “And how long does that take?”

  “APPROXIMATELY SIX MONTHS.”

  “We don’t have time for an appeal!”

  “I APOLOGISE, BUT THAT’S THE ELDERS’ FINAL WORD.”

  The Tangent official turned and walked to the wall between the two guards and pressed his body against it. The earth shifted aside and the official melted into it.

  “This is great!” Grandfather Time said. “This is just perfect! The world’s going to end in two days and we’re all going to die because a few old fools believe it’s not crucial.”

  The Tangent guards scowled at the word ‘fools’.

  “You should keep your voice down,” Jera said.

  “Keep my voice down?” Grandfather Time said. “How can I possibly keep my voice down? We’re doomed! And I’ll never get to go home again.”

  Grandfather Time leaned his shoulder against a wall and cried.

  “Where is the third piece?” Elian said.

  Grandfather Time wiped his nose with his sleeve.

  “Over by the main room with the waterfall,” he said.

  “Can you show us?”

  “What’s the point? We’ll never get inside.”

  “Just show us.”

  Grandfather Time sighed and straightened his robes. He began to lead them down the corridor. He stopped, turned, and poked his tongue out at the guards. Then he led them down the long corridor back to the main room. They joined the hustling bustling crowds, the Tangents milling about with a great sense of purpose. In the middle of the causeway, almost exactly where they had met Grandfather Time just a few hours ago, was a large unadorned wall of black earth.

  “I believe it’s behind this wall,” Grandfather Time said, rubbing his hand over it.

&
nbsp; “You ‘believe’?” Elian said. “You don’t know?”

  “There are few sources with such information, and the Tangents are remarkably tight-lipped on the subject.”

  “Is there any other way in?”

  “From where? This is the only corridor that even goes close.”

  Elian checked over his shoulders and lowered his voice.

  “We could dig our way in,” he said.

  “They’ll never give us permission.”

  “We don’t need permission. We’re going to steal it.”

  Grandfather Time blinked in surprise.

  “Oh,” he said. “What about all these Tangents? Don’t you think they’ll notice?”

  “What time do they sleep?”

  “Tangents don’t really sleep per se. They enter a kind of hibernation state when they put themselves into the earth each day. They rest, regroup, grow and heal inside these walls. Plant life needs constant supervision, so there are always Tangents on duty.”

  “Is this hallway ever empty?”

  “No.”

  Elian frowned, in deep thought.

  “Then we’ll get out of here and dig our way in from the surface,” Jera said.

  “Even if we had enough time to dig – which we don’t – how will we know where to dig? We could be a few feet off, miss it completely and not even know!”

  “What if we started a fire?” Jera said. “They could put that out while we dig.”

  “It’d still take too long to dig,” Grandfather Time said. “And what if the fire got out of control? If the Tangents die, all plants die, and then all life dies anyway.”

  They stood in silence.

  “What we really need is for a Tangent to open the tunnel for us,” Grandfather Time said. “It’s the only way to get inside.”

  “What about Wind?” Elian said. “Would he do it?”

  “All Tangents are programmed to follow orders. They believe in hierarchy and the order of things. It would have to be a powerful emotion indeed to convince a Tangent to ignore those instructions.”

  “Then we’ve gone through all of this for nothing?” Elian said, his words fringed with anger. “Can we fix the clock with two pieces?”