The Extraordinaires 2

by Michael Pryor

  ‘Raised by wolves,’ Kingsley said. ‘Baby me.’

  ‘Baby you,’ Dr Ward echoed. ‘I was following a rumour of a miracle-working woman in the Kerala forest. Two workers flagged me down while I was riding past. They begged me to take you. I had no choice and by the time I’d left you, temporarily, at the Military headquarters in Madurai, I’d lost any hope of finding Selene.’

  Kingsley was reeling. He’d cost his foster father his wife-to-be! ‘You brought me to England.’

  ‘And great joy you brought me, my boy. I couldn’t have been prouder if you were my own flesh and blood. Fourteen years ago – nearly fifteen – it was. I had nearly forgotten my scorpion-stinging intended, when a letter arrived last year.’

  ‘That must have been a shock,’ Evadne said, with more than a touch of impishness. Kingsley scolded her with a look. She didn’t take it seriously.

  ‘I had to sit for some time after I read it. Then I re-read it again and again until I was satisfied that it was my own, dear Selene, alive after all these years. She had been taken by the Immortals and only recently escaped. She was on her way to our shores. I met her at Southampton and the rest you know.’

  Weren’t you suspicious? Kingsley wanted to ask, but he didn’t – and not just to avoid embarrassing his foster father. He had an instant’s insight when he glanced at Evadne and wondered how he would behave if she suddenly vanished and then reappeared many years later.

  I doubt that my first reaction would be to ask some searching questions about affiliations with malevolent sorcerers.

  ‘I think we’re missing a few useful details,’ Evadne said, ‘but they can wait.’ She looked towards the farmhouse. Smoke was coming from the chimney. ‘So the Immortals have her again.’

  ‘It was probably her actions at your workshop,’ Dr Ward said. ‘The Immortals would have noticed a magical disturbance in the ether. Selene was worried about such a thing – it was the first magic she’d performed since her escape, for that very reason. Hence our fleeing so quickly.’

  ‘Do you have any idea why the Immortals want her?’ Kingsley said. ‘Specifically, that is. I imagine they’re fond of having things just because they can, but a plan running over so many years indicates that they have something special in mind.’

  ‘Part of the Immortals’ interest in Platonism, or neo-Platonism to be more correct, is this notion of a superabundance of gods infesting the mortal realm. Selene fears that they are working up to invoking these deities, opening the door to them and bending them to their will.’

  ‘Bringing back the gods,’ Evadne breathed. ‘If you can’t be a god, then having a troupe of them as minions is the next best thing.’

  ‘For them but not for humanity, I fear.’ Dr Ward’s voice was harsh. ‘Every time she opens the way while the Immortals watch, they learn more about her ability. The more familiar they become with it, the more likely it is that they will be able to control the deities as they emerge.’

  ‘She can’t call on godly help without their knowledge, either,’ Kingsley guessed. ‘And she’ll be watched constantly to prevent that, I imagine.’

  ‘Almost certainly. While she’s resourceful, I’m afraid it’s up to us to get her out.’

  Kingsley made a fist and bounced it on his knee. He stood, brushed off his trousers and surveyed the farm. ‘Why did they have to come here?’

  ‘We know that.’ Evadne rose and joined him. ‘Heart of England, large transmission tower, enslave the human race.’

  ‘True, and a sleepy village is the perfect spot to do it. No interference from the busybodies of the city, a good place to get on with your own business as long as you don’t draw attention to yourself too much.’ He paused. Overhead, a wisp of cloud touched the moon. Was it a little lighter in the east? ‘I think we should rest.’

  A few objections came from both Evadne and Dr Ward, but they were mild and mostly from habit. They arranged themselves as best they could amid the beech trees, pulling jackets and scarves tight.

  Kingsley wanted to sleep the wary half-sleep of the wolves, but he didn’t dare come so close to his wildness. As a result, he immediately fell into troubled and alarming dreams.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Later that morning, Kingsley, Evadne and Dr Ward retired up the road a few miles towards Fenny Drayton. Evadne wanted a position a little removed from Mallowside Farm where they could rendezvous with those she’d sent for. Kingsley spied a stand of trees at the turn-off to Stoke Golding. The beeches were ancient and gnarled, and hazel and may bushes surrounded them in an untidy, but useful, tangle. As they neared the turn-off, Kingsley could smell burning – not recent – and the remains of a fire pit confirmed that the site had probably been used for many years.

  Kingsley was relieved when, mid-morning, a caravan rolled along the road from the direction of Atterton, with the unmistakeable figure of Troilus at the reins and Lavinia standing and waving.

  Kingsley was on his feet in an instant. Evadne held out a hand for him to help her to her feet in a gesture probably unnecessary but certainly welcome. She was as bright-eyed and fresh-faced as if she’d just spent a night at the Savoy.

  ‘The Trojans are here,’ he announced.

  Dr Ward stood gingerly, but he waved Kingsley off when he went to help. ‘It’s nothing, my boy,’ he wheezed, ‘just jolting the old body into action, that’s all. A good galvanic shock would help, but I don’t expect you have a generator on your person. No?’ When he stood, he looked grim, but resolute. ‘These helpers of yours. I’ve learned that nothing is too outlandish where you’re concerned, but are you suggesting these are truly people from the ancient city of Troy?’

  Evadne waved as the caravan neared. A second rounded the corner and was followed by three more. ‘That would be foolish,’ Kingsley said, having listened and learned. ‘They’re the descendants of those who fled the sacking of Troy.’

  The tall figure of Troilus leaped down from the caravan, grinning broadly. ‘We’re seeking a place to build a new Troy, Dr Ward. And, as you can see, we haven’t quite located it yet.’ He stuck out a hand. ‘I enjoyed your lecture on the origins of the species last year. Brilliant stuff. Ah, Evadne!’

  Troilus swept Evadne up and swung her around, laughing. ‘Glad I am to see you again!’ he cried. ‘My days are now better for it.’

  He was wearing what Kingsley would have described as ‘I’m a gamekeeper, not a poacher’ gear – hard-wearing canvas trousers, knee-length boots, and despite the cool of the early day, a leather waistcoat over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show the lush hair on his forearms. He wore no hat, as if daring the elements to do their worst to his dashing grey hair.

  Evadne straightened her jacket. ‘Troilus, I’m glad you’re here.’

  Lavinia caught Kingsley’s eye and held out a hand. He took it. She steadied herself and alighted. She was in accord with her brother, in that her outfit announced that she was a lady gamekeeper and not a lady poacher: a no-nonsense tweed skirt with a well-buttoned jacket. She wore a hat over her black hair; round, it came down over her ears, and Kingsley wondered if it were as bulletproof as it looked.

  ‘We are the Free Trojans, Dr Ward,’ she said. ‘We won’t stop our search until we find the perfect place for New Troy.’ She reached into the wagon, under the driver’s seat, and handed a squirming bundle to Evadne. ‘This is yours?’

  Evadne cried out and took the myrmidon in her arms. ‘Beanie! You are a clever boy!’

  Troilus screwed up his face. ‘True, that. I’ve never met a cleverer rat.’

  Kingsley, Dr Ward and Troilus shared a look, and Kingsley was forced to revise his opinion of the New Trojan. If he was dubious about the myrmidons, he was obviously someone of perspicacity.

  ‘You’re lucky you caught us,’ Lavinia said as the other Trojans clambered out of the caravans. Kingsley was pleased to see nearly thirty of them. ‘We’ve just booked a steamer.’

  Evadne’s face fell. ‘There’s nothing for you here in England
?’

  ‘It doesn’t appear so. Other places beckon.’

  ‘I’ve a mind to try some of those South Seas,’ Troilus said. ‘None of us Free Trojans have been out there. Maybe it’s the place for us.’

  ‘But you don’t mind helping us?’ Kingsley noticed several of the Trojans were checking rifles.

  ‘We owe Evadne,’ Lavinia said simply. ‘Whenever she needs us, we’ll be there.’

  ‘It’ll just take a long time to get here if she asks while we’re in the South Seas,’ Troilus added. ‘Now, what’re we in for this time?’

  As Evadne explained, both Troilus and Lavinia grew stony-faced. When she finished, Lavinia eyed the road that led to the farmhouse. ‘The Immortals. This explains the missing children in the district.’

  ‘Missing children?’ Evadne covered her mouth with a hand.

  ‘We stopped in the village,’ Troilus said. ‘Bleak, the people were. Three children have disappeared in the last few weeks.’

  Kingsley was watching Evadne closely. At Troilus’s announcement, any delight at the arrival of the Trojans drained away. Grief touched her but was quickly hidden behind steely-eyed fury. He took her arm. She was trembling.

  ‘It’s not as if we needed another reason for going against these monsters, but you’ve provided one,’ he said. ‘We’ll rescue them, too.’

  He felt Evadne relax, just a little.

  ‘With all this, I can’t say we’re overjoyed at the prospect of putting ourselves up against these Immortals,’ Lavinia said, ‘but there you have it. We’re armed well enough.’ She gestured to the rest of the Trojans, who had stood their rifles in bunches of three, and were now starting a fire. With tea in mind, Kingsley hoped. ‘And we have some heavier stuff ready in the back.’

  Evadne craned her neck. ‘Really?’

  ‘Under the floorboards we have a light cannon and a Maxim gun. They’ll take a while to assemble, but they’re yours if needed.’

  ‘Now, look here,’ Dr Ward bristled, red in the face, ‘I’m not having this place become a battleground. Too much at risk.’

  ‘And what would that be?’ Troilus asked.

  Dr Ward glanced at him to see if he were joking, but Troilus’s sunny face made him subside. ‘My wife is in there somewhere.’

  ‘Oh. You know where?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Dr Ward dropped into what Kingsley always thought of as his lecturing mode. ‘The farmhouse is surrounded by new outbuildings and a large barn.’

  ‘These’d be on the other side, away from the field we’re going to set up in?’

  ‘That’s right.

  ‘But you don’t know which of these many buildings your wife is in.’

  ‘Not as yet.’

  Troilus shrugged. ‘With the right sort of surprise and firepower, some of our lads should be able to storm the whole lot. We’d hardly work up a sweat.’

  ‘That’s the worst thing to do. You’ll start a battle. There are children, foreigners, my wife.’

  Kingsley took his father’s arm. ‘It’s all right. They haven’t heard our plan yet.’

  ‘You have a plan?’ Troilus perked up. ‘Righto then, time to share, I think, around a nice cup of cha.’

  Under the sceptical but friendly gaze of the Trojans, Kingsley laid out his thinking. ‘It all depends on Gompers,’ he began. ‘It appears as if he’s managing the affairs of the Immortals, at least where this wireless telegraphy is concerned.’

  ‘Gompers?’ Troilus said. ‘Big bloke, rude, white mutton-chops?’

  ‘That’s him,’ Evadne said.

  ‘He’s the main man, then. The people in the village say he’s been coming and going for nearly a year, now; buying, selling, organising deliveries. They don’t like him but they like the money he’s been spreading about.’

  ‘Father, you know him. Can you tell us anything about his upbringing?’

  ‘Eh? Little boy Gompers?’

  ‘That sort of thing. Where was he raised?’

  ‘Belgravia. His family was very well-to-do. From there straight to Cambridge where he stayed until the Olmsley Affair, after which he was stripped of all of his honours, his positions and his career.’

  ‘No time spent elsewhere?’

  ‘What are you driving at, my boy?’ Dr Ward said. ‘Why are you so interested in Gompers’s life? He’s a bad egg, that’s what he is, and a dangerous one to boot.’

  ‘I want to know if he’s a city person rather than a country person.’

  Dr Ward snorted. ‘I doubt he’d know a dandelion if it bit him. He’s citified to the bone. Prefers the inside of a library or a laboratory. This must be a great shock for him, fresh air and the like.’

  ‘That’s what I was hoping.’ Kingsley pointed at the farmhouse. ‘This plan of the Immortals’ needs some secrecy if it’s to succeed, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Most definitely.’

  ‘So, as long as I’m correct, Gompers would do just about anything to fit in with the local way of life without really knowing what the local way of life is.’

  ‘I see,’ Dr Ward said. ‘The Immortals won’t let anything interfere with their task, though. At anything untoward, they’d take lively action.’

  ‘Naturally,’ Kingsley said, ‘but that necessitates knowing that something untoward is going on. Being out of his element, how can Gompers judge what’s untoward and what’s . . . toward?’

  Evadne made a classic gesture of prestidigitation, tumbling her hands together and then separating them with a flourish. ‘Deception and misdirection culminating in an astonishing resolution?’

  ‘You’ve intrigued us, Kingsley,’ Lavinia said. ‘Tell us more.’

  Kingsley soon realised, as he answered questions, revised small points and rebuffed criticisms, that his wildness and his rationality were working together. He had to draw on all his powers of persuasion, intelligence and anticipation – he was in the realm of civilised Kingsley – but his wildness kept him aware of the people around him. He was alert to unspoken objections, half-formed arguments and the wordless connections between those who were judging his plan. Hardly realising it, he was aware of the bonds of deference and obligation, of responsibility and duty that allowed him to guess who would speak first and who would support whom.

  The more he had to adjust his plan in response to the Trojans, the more he appreciated the honing of intellect that civilisation had provided. The more he had to acknowledge their hesitations and to gain their support, the more he was grateful for the perception of intangible bonds that his time as a pack member brought him. Both came from his past, his upbringing, and both belonged to him.

  Eventually, he finished. He sat back on the stone he’d drawn up to the fire. He inspected the faces of the Trojans. Most were nodding. Some had that faraway look that spoke of imagining themselves in the situation Kingsley had described.

  Troilus took out a knife, opened it and began paring at a fingernail. ‘That, my friend, is a plan that shows a devious and crooked mind.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kingsley said. ‘It was all I could think of.’

  He pointed the knife at Kingsley. ‘I meant it as a compliment.’

  ‘Life on the road means you have to develop a fine sense of the devious and crooked,’ Lavinia explained, ‘if only to meet it head on.’

  Dr Ward, however, wasn’t so easily won over. ‘So that’s it?’ he said, arms crossed on his chest. ‘We’re going ahead with Kingsley’s scheme?’

  ‘What is it, Father? From everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve learned, Gompers is the key. We separate him from the Immortals’ installation and we should have a chance to get in and perform our rescue.’

  ‘That much is reasonable, my boy. I don’t want to appear to be carping, but the rest sounds outlandish, preposterous even.’

  ‘It is. This whole situation is preposterous and it needs a preposterous solution.’

  Dr Ward went to speak, then grasped his chin and thought furiously for a moment before bursting out laughing. �
�Kingsley, you have grown! You saw the way forward much more clearly than I did, dear boy, much more clearly. I, the old bull, give way, and I acknowledge that I was being a duffer.’

  Evadne stared at him. ‘I’m sorry, I think I’ve missed something.’

  Dr Ward stood, still chuckling. ‘My dear, it’s like this. In the wild, there comes a time when the old bull who leads the herd is challenged by a younger bull. They lock horns, or trunks, or tusks, or whatever they fight with. Sometimes it’s merely posturing, sometimes it’s violent and bloody. The winner becomes leader of the herd again, or for the first time.’ He slapped his own forehead. ‘I was too caught up in my own feelings to realise. I saw a young bull challenging my authority, and I was resisting – regardless of whether bull boy here had a good idea or not.’

  ‘Dr Ward, you should have accepted that his plan was a good one. I wouldn’t be going along with it if it weren’t.’

  ‘An excellent point.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Right, what’s my part in all this?’

  THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘Can I borrow the field glasses?’ Kingsley asked Evadne as they lay on their stomachs on the slight ridge that overlooked Mallowside Farm. Their observation point was in the middle of a stand of elders, well screened from view.

  Without speaking, Evadne handed the binoculars to him. The sun was high in a sky that looked as if it had never seen a cloud. Kingsley was grateful for the visual aids the Trojans had ferreted out of the endless hidden chambers and hidey-holes of their caravans.

  Kingsley was apprehensive when the caravans rolled up to the farmhouse, but when he saw the man who opened the door, he knew that they’d entered a crucial phase of the plan.

  Musgrave Gompers. The man looked out of place in what he must have imagined were farmer’s clothes – heavy trousers held up by braces over a checked shirt, a leather waistcoat and a cloth cap. They clung to him as if they weren’t sure of their welcome. Gompers looked uncomfortable just standing there.

  Kingsley looked through the field glasses again. Gompers’s face was hard, but not angry. He was resisting the Free Trojans, but he was doing it calmly. Troilus was joined by Lavinia, and she began pointing down the road to the village and shaking her head.