by Mike Mannion
All his children had been rounded up like cattle and sooner or later he’d be rounded up too. Percy’s mind used to be honest and open, he’d been described by his friend in The Ultorius Apostles as ‘the stoutest and most noble of fellows’ but since Iamia Daemonium had taken its sinister hold his mind had turned cunning and wily. He thought of his recent meeting with the good Doctor Whitebeam, the only other person he’d met from his own time, and wondered how he could use his erstwhile friend for his own ends. The Doctor had told him the Cabinet of Rebirth was rebuilt and working, had offered him to chance to become human. Percy could barely remember what that meant. Was that the price he would pay to escape the officers and their mysterious carriages? Part of him wanted it, but his mind had become twisted, contaminated by the terrible will of Arddhu Og. How lost he felt! How wretched!
There was a rustle of wet leaves and a dark shape sprung up out of the night. It came close to Percy and sat on a gnarled bowl of a nearby tree. Percy looked round with a start and was amazed to see his faithful hound.
“Why Claude old boy, however did you find me?”
He heard a voice inside his head, but this was not the whispered urges of Og. This voice was quicker, well spoken, masculine, a voice he almost recognised...
Hello Percy old friend. I’ve found you at last.
“Claude? Is that you? What is this devilry?”
It's a very old friend, using a summoning of will to speaking through this dog.
“What is this trickery?”
Come and join me and I will show you what you can really be. You have been lost but we can be reunited.
“Who are you?”
Come and see Rowena.
“What! How do you know of her?”
I can bring her to this world and you can gaze on her face and hear her voice just as she was.
“Who are you?”
I have plans to rule this world, not to hide in shadow like a cockroach. I will bring about the birth of Og but I need your help.
Percy was trying to understand what he'd just heard. Could he really see Rowena and speak with her again? Or was this merely a strange trick his befuddled mind was playing on him? What had happened to the ever-present voice of Og?
Getting up off the cairn and brushing himself down, he took a deep breath of cool night air, felt the patter of rain on his face, and followed Claude down Ogden Hill, away from Underwood and the church. At the bottom, he was greatly surprised to find another of his old friends. Beauty stood by a stone wall, her wet black coat barely visible in the rainy night.
Percy jumped up onto the horse’s back.
Good! Now I will bring you to me!
Beauty stamped her hooves, reared and sped off into the night, running faster that Percy could believe. The horse made its way along a lane that wound through farmland and trees. Percy clung on desperately as the horse turned up side roads and cut across dirt tracks. It was so dark even Percy had trouble seeing the dark shape of stone walls and horseless carriages appearing suddenly, but Beauty had no trouble, seemed to know exactly where she was going. The horse rode on for quite some time, never tiring. He passed a partially ruined castle, built on a hill to his right. This was Caern castle, an ancient and spooky place. As a child his mother, Lady Jane, had told him it had seen many a blood-soaked murder in its time.
A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and for an instant Percy could see the low hills of Gimley Dale with the craggy peak of Tor Idris at its centre. Up ahead was a low valley nestling a scattering of ancient buildings. As thunder boomed across the sky Percy gasped in disbelief. He was headed for that most mysterious of villages – Barleybrook! This was a place he had visited one mid-summer’s eve with the Etheric Club and had had the fright of his life – ghosts of gargoyles in the chapel! In his time, it had been known as the lair of warlocks, the centre of all that was occult and pagan. Now here he was, on a cold and wet night, speeding to this mystifying place on a horse that magically knew where to go, and being followed by a dog that talked!
As they entered the village, Beauty slowed to a canter. Percy looked left and right, his eyes dripping with rain, at old houses either side. Most were tumbledown, with doors and windows rotted away and roofs that were missing tiles with black beams exposed. A pale blue light suddenly misted Percy’s eyes and confused him for a second. Now he could see wooden shutters where there had been black gaping holes in the brickwork and the broken-down roofs were now fully thatched. There appeared as if from nowhere a sty surrounded by crooked fencing, containing three sleeping pigs. Percy shook his head and wondered if his was imagining things, but then he saw something up ahead that could only be described as a wondrous sight. The high and craggy summit of Tor Idris, dominating the skyline to the North of the village was also bathed in the same faint blue light. It danced and swirled with slow and infinitely varied movement and sprayed up convulsing arcs of light that lit the dark clouds in many beautiful but strange ways.
As Beauty turned up a cul-de-sac, lightening flash once more and Percy could see a tall crooked house where the street ended. As thunder boomed, Percy’s heart raced as he began to guess where he was going. He had been here once before with the Underwood Hunt when out to revenge Rowena’s cursing. As he slowed then stopped outside the house Beauty’s head fell and she began gasping for breath, trembling all over and sweating profusely. Percy hoped his dear horse hadn’t exhausted herself to fatality with her epic ride. He jumped down and looked at Claude, who gazed back at him and whined mournfully, a normal dog again.
Percy climbed the stone steps to the front door and gazed at the brass knocker. He was here now, cold, wet and very tired, so what else could he do but knock? As he did so the door swung open and there stood a tall gaunt man in a black suit with pointed shoes and silver topped walking stick. His hair was long and grey and the eyes had pronounced crow’s feet but Percy recognised him almost immediately. It was the warlock who had cursed dear sweet Rowena over one hundred years ago – Victor Tainn!
“My dear Lord Percy, please come in. We have much to discuss.”
Percy noticed Victor’s voice was slightly slurred and the left side of his mouth drooped as he spoke.
“You see my disfigurement,” said Victor. “When you attacked me all those years ago, the brass figurine you threw at my head, well... it left its mark.”
“I remember the blood all over your face. I can’t believe you’re still alive.”
“In a manner of speaking yes I am... to you.”
“You speak in riddles.” Percy shivered as the rain beat down on him.
“Please come in my friend! We now are allies, we have a shared interest.”
“But... you cursed Rowena and ruin her life, you ruined my life!”
“You can see Rowena. I have told you this already. My dear chap calm down and come inside. Get out of those wet and muddy rags – my wardrobe is at your disposal. You are still a member of the Barleybrook Etheric Club and I need you greatly. I have magnificent plans. Og will rise!” Victor stepped back, gripping his cane as he stumbled slightly on his left leg.
Percy was about to protest but wondered where else he was going to go. He thought of the policemen, of his companions who had all been taken away, and of dear sweet Rowena on their wedding day.
He bowed his head graciously and stepped inside.
*
I hope you have enjoyed the first book of The Bill Blackthorne Chronicles. Now go and read the second book in the series – Talons of Tainn!
Here’s a sneak peak at what’s in store…
The Queen of England has been infested by a demonic curse and it’s up to Bill and his friends to save the day… He is commanded by royal decree to rid the world of Arddhu Og and ‘cure’ all her poor and deranged followers. Bill takes the job, but finds he is up against a powerful new enemy, who appears each night as if from nowhere. She is the mysterious ‘White Lady’ and is controlled from afar by the warlock Victor Tainn. She is unstoppable, terrifying, a
nd is forcing huge numbers of innocent people into the folds of Og’s evil.
The city of Middenmere is quickly falling apart. Thousands of people are lost to the grip of evil, their minds consumed by Og. Everywhere there is chaos, danger and destruction, with people being bitten and cursed, converted to serve in Og’s army. The Apostles, despite having all the best scientists and occult specialists at their disposal, are losing the battle at every turn. What they desperately need is Bill’s help. But Bill is lost, has been taken away to a place where he may never return…
