Felix Jones And The Book Of Words (A Felix Jones Adventure 1)

by Julian Roderick

  The camouflaged trio kept low under the wall that ran the length of the bridge. They looked down to their left. There were boats being filled with people carrying suitcases and bundles of belongings. A line of Jewish Parisians were walking out from a tunnel beneath the cathedral and being herded like cattle onto the awaiting boats. Felix stopped and sighed as he knew where the Jews were going to end up, and that very few of them would survive the war.

  Jack grabbed Felix and hurried him along. A truck sped past them and headed down the ramp towards the boats. The tailgates opened and more people were bundled out of it and into the crowd. A lady screamed, “Jack!” The trio stopped and hid behind a pillar. They glanced at the lady - it was Emile’s mother. Emile stood by her side carrying his younger brother and their bags. They were about to be shipped east.

  “We have to get them,” whispered Felix.

  “We can’t, we have to get you home. I’ll come back once you’re gone. I’ll keep him safe - it is my job!”

  Reluctantly Felix followed Jack and Tom to a back entrance to the cathedral. They had longer this time to search thoroughly for the exit point. Nothing stood out. There was nothing in the main body of the church. They entered the vestry and chambers to the side of the altar. Then they heard something they’d thought would not bother them again so soon.

  “The Keeper, Felix Jones, where are you?” growled the gravelly voiced monster.

  “The Brethren!” Felix and Tom said together. Jack drew his sword whilst the boys continued their search. Paintings, shelves full of trinkets and cupboards full of cassocks.

  “Where the hell is it?” screamed Tom.

  “Keep looking,” said a frantic Felix as the footsteps of approaching doom neared. The old oak door creaked open. The Brethren monks entered in pairs. Big smiles on their faces belied their intentions. Jack leapt into action. Felix was getting fed up of the sound of clashing swords but he figured he would have to get used to it. His eyes caught a glimpse of something strange. On a high shelf was a model of a red British post-box. He climbed onto the table and grabbed it. “I’ve got it!” he screamed at Tom, throwing the model down to his thankful friend.

  “Go! And good luck!” shouted Jack.

  “Cheers,” replied Tom.

  Felix knew this would be the last time they would see Jack. Sadly Felix nodded his goodbye. He put the post-box on the floor, grabbed hold of Tom and jumped up in the air. The shudder that went up his spine shook his brain. He listened - no whistling wind, just the sound of a sword fight. They were still there. They had broken some cardinal’s money box and sent coins all over the cobbled floor.

  “Idiot!” shouted Tom, “we’ve had these since Victorian times. Keep looking.”

  “I haven’t got it!” Felix shrieked at a more than busy Jack.

  Jack laughed. “Keep going, I’m fine.” He defended himself and the boys from the Brethren’s blows. “Look for something obvious,” he shouted.

  Felix stood on the spot and scanned the room. There it was, he must have been blind! Sat in the corner was a chilled water dispenser complete with plastic cups. Tom had decided to take a cup and was sat drinking on the floor next to the machine. Felix could not remember seeing one of those in any war films he had watched.

  “You ever seen one of those before?” he asked Jack pointing at the machine and Tom.

  “Never, off you go,” he said once again.

  Jack smiled at Felix. Felix winked and ran straight into the water container, rugby tackling Tom as he ran. The boys passed out.

  25

  The familiar rainbow vortex greeted them when they came to. They had no idea whether this would work. The pair thought that they could end up anywhere. They desperately hoped that they would see their friends and family soon, but there was still an element of doubt.

  Emile had told them that they would get back just before the time they had left. Mr Taylor would get a slap for diving out of the window like a frightened cat thought Tom.

  “What if the Brethren are waiting?” he shouted to Felix.

  Felix laughed as he thought that he could always create their own groundhog day by diving into the picture of Normandy in 1944 and starting the adventure over and over again.

  “I think they’ll be gone,” said a hopeful Felix. He remembered Emile telling him that everyone would have no memory of anything that had happened after the appearance of the Brethren, and that any Guardians and Keepers killed would have disappeared.

  Although they had only had a short time together Felix liked Emile. He was a kind, brave young man who thought of others before himself. Felix had once been described like that by his Scout Leader. That must be it! When one Keeper dies the next is a man of similar character in close proximity. He had just happened to be in the room when The Sheriff was about to die, so the Book chose him. Talk about wrong place at the wrong time or was it right place at the right time? Felix could not quite decide which yet.

  “Relax and enjoy the ride,” he laughed at Tom.

  They once again passed out.

  26

  Felix opened his eyes slowly, hoping for the best. Delighted he found himself sat in a Geography room, G11. He was in his normal seat in his full school uniform, and sat next to him was a beaming Tom. He checked his phone - January 18th, just before 3.30 p.m., full signal. They were back, fifteen minutes before they had left. They both waited for The Sheriff to appear from the store room at the front of the classroom. A booming voice shouted, “When I come out that work needs to be finished!” It was not Mr Law. It was a short, young teacher with a shaved head and round professor like glasses. Felix looked down at his work book - he was halfway through a set of questions about sand dunes. He chuckled to himself. He’d had experience of sand dunes he did not want again. He reached inside his blazer. There, still tucked safely in his pocket was The Book of Words.

  “Who the hell is this?” whispered Tom

  “Matthews! That’s a detention for you tomorrow night,” screeched their new teacher.

  The lesson finished quickly and the class were ushered off to a special assembly.

  “Why are we here?” Felix asked Tom. Tom looked out from under his floppy black fringe and replied, “Apparently, according to Curly, it’s a memorial service for The Sheriff and old man Buckley. Law was knocked off his bike and killed and Buckley just keeled over with a heart attack while he was sweeping in the hall.”

  “Right,” said Felix with a stony face.

  Emile had been correct. The Keeper and the Guardian had gone – with mundane everyday explanations for their deaths. The boys knew better, but they couldn’t tell anybody. The whole school spent the next hour listening to the virtues of these two men. Brave was a word that was not mentioned once. The Sheriff’s war record was mentioned briefly, followed by a short prayer and the school song before the children were dismissed.

  All Felix could think about was the location of the sword. He needed to find it, and find it quickly. If the Brethren turned up he would be defenceless. Tom flicked his ear playfully and said his usual line, “Footie, common now.”

  “We need to find the Keeper’s sword,” pleaded Felix.

  “You planning on a scrap tonight?” quipped Tom.

  Felix shrugged, and the boys spent the next hour kicking a football around with their mates on the local common. They enjoyed coming back to normality, even if it was only for a while. The only immediate danger was a sliding tackle into an unnoticed pile of dogs’ mess.

  Felix and Tom walked home to Felix’s modern detached house with its manicured lawn. He had never been so happy to get there. Tom turned on the TV and Felix turned on the console. As Felix removed his blazer and flung it onto the sofa, the Book fell to the floor.

  “The Book of Words,” Felix said without thinking.

  “The Sheriff’s Book of Words,” Tom chortled.

  An hour of FIFA on the games station ensued before Felix’s mum announced that tea was ready. He could not believe his eyes. On the
kitchen table lay a buffet of bread, ham and a selection of cheeses! The boys laughed out loud as memories of their French diet came flooding back. Felix’s mother smiled and walked out as she thought they had completely lost their marbles. The good friends did what all teenagers do and slumped upstairs in Felix’s bedroom. Felix lay on the bed and Tom buried himself in a bright red scatter cushion. Tom grabbed the Book and flicked through the blank pages.

  “We have to find out more about this,” he said holding the Book out towards Felix.

  “I know but how? We’ve got to get the sword first just in case The Brethren come again.” Felix knew the sword would kill the monks.

  “Tomorrow,” said a very tired Tom. “At least let’s have one decent night’s sleep in our own beds.”

  “See you in the morning,” laughed Tom. “Dad’s been at his fencing club and he’s picking me up at the end of the road in two minutes.”

  “See you tomorrow,” yawned Felix and within minutes he was fast asleep.

  27

  Breakfast seemed dull after all of the rushed affairs before venturing out into the unknown during their seven days in France. Soon Felix was ready for school. He was just waiting for the daily knock from Tom before they wound their way to Queen Anne’s School. Tom arrived and began poking fun at Felix’s being special, and having the gift of travelling into the past using a magic book.

  “I am History man!” he shouted as he dived over a garden wall with his hand outstretched like Superman.

  Felix ignored the jibes of his best friend and followed the advice of his grandfather. He just smiled and nodded at Tom. For the rest of the walk Felix had one thing on his mind. He had to find his sword. He wondered where to start looking.

  He did not have to wait long. Felix had been doing well in school, and every month the top performing students were summoned to Wonky Donkey’s office for a pat on the back and a well done. Wonky Donkey was the nickname earned by their aged headmaster. His head always leaned right when he was happy, and if it leaned to the left you knew you were in trouble. For the first time ever Felix had the call. He was happy because his father had promised him he could go on the school ski trip next year if his grades improved.

  Felix arrived at the office tucked away behind the main reception. A line of other smiling students had already formed. When his time came he entered the opulent office. Wonky had furnished his office like an old board room. Pictures of previous headmasters stared down at Felix. Felix scanned the shelves of trophies and strange ornaments that the school had accumulated over its long history. One trophy captured his attention most. Inside a glass case right over Wonky Donkey’s head was a large bejewelled sword. A gold plaque below it read:

  In Memory Of

  TREVOR LAW (THE SHERIFF)

  Geography Master 1949-2014

  It was here - The Keepers Sword - his sword. He accepted his pat on the back from Wonky and rushed back to his seat in the Maths lesson.

  “Here he is! Mr Smarty Pants!” Tom laughed along with the rest of the class.

  Red faced, Felix turned to Tom, “I’ve found it, I’ve found The Sheriff’s sword. It’s in Wonky’s office.”

  “How are we going to get it?” asked Tom “His office is always locked.”

  Felix shrugged and got on with his Maths. Tom was distracted and said that he felt unwell. He had felt his temperature rising since being at Felix’s house. Tom put his hand up and was given permission to go to the sick bay. He was sent home later that morning. Felix had never known Tom to be ill; perhaps time travel didn’t agree with him.

  Felix texted his friend at lunch but there was no answer. He found a quiet corner and took the Book out from beneath his blazer. There was the school at the centre of the map. Dotted around he could see three red swords. The Guardians were making themselves ready to defend him if needed. He would go and find them that evening as he didn’t have Tom to kick the football around with on the way home.

  The afternoon lessons dragged on and on. The end of school bell could not come soon enough. Felix ran up the winding school drive and onto the small common. He sat on his usual bench and opened the Book to the map. The routes to the Guardians were there marked in yellow lines. The closest marker was back in the school grounds. He remembered what Jack had told him about the sword being passed from father to son. The first sword must be young Mr Buckley who had also taken over from his father as caretaker at the school. Felix decided to talk to him tomorrow.

  The second Guardian was about a mile away on the High Street. Felix wanted a snack. He would call in the supermarket near the High Street and then find him. He looked at the map again - the Guardian appeared to be in the hospital. He set off towards the other end of the common and the High Street, which was filled with schoolchildren chomping on recently purchased crisps, chocolate and gum. He checked the map to make sure it was the hospital that was his target.

  28

  Suddenly, a familiar sound filled the air. The council workmen’s shed was in flames. Young Mr Buckley would be mad, as he borrowed the mowers to cut the school fields. The smoke began creeping across the common. Dreading what was about to appear, Felix ran to a small copse and crouched behind a gorse bush. The four monks appeared, swords drawn ready for the fight. The map showed the red swords closing in on him - the Guardians were coming. The explosion had summoned them to their duty.

  Felix felt a tap on his shoulder. He burst out laughing when he turned around. There stood a stooped, grey haired figure in a long nightgown wielding a silver sabre. He was at least ninety years of age.

  “My ears haven’t been burning for years,” he shouted.

  “I’ll be fine,” said Felix, “go back to your bed.”

  “I’ve got weeks to live. May as well end it on my terms,” he smiled.

  “Anyway the evil monsters blew up my house near the school last week, they’re going to get some when I get over there,” the old man added.

  Felix shook his hand and thanked him. He could not help thinking that everyone he came into contact with had died at the hand of the Brethren. The Sheriff, Mr Buckley, Jack, Leon and Jean-Claude were all gone. Another familiar voice rang in Felix’s ears. “There are three of us now, it’s almost even.”

  Felix spun around to see Tom’s father, Gordon, glaring at the monks with a sabre ready for action.

  “Get your sword out Felix, you can do this!” whispered Gordon.

  “It’s at school in Wonky’s office!” Felix said worriedly.

  The old man smiled and winked. “Take him, I’ll hold them off as long as I can.” He rolled up his dragging nightgown and ran as fast as he could towards the advancing monks. Once again Felix was fleeing with the sound of grating metal behind him. Gordon led him through the copse. They dashed out on to the common behind the ongoing battle. The old man was putting up a good fight, but they knew it was only a matter of time before they became the Brethren’s next prey.

  They were breathless when they reached the school drive. Felix was aware that they were being followed closely by a small shadowy figure. He jumped to the conclusion that the Brethren must have scouts who find the Keeper for them. They would have to deal with that later. Right now they had to get his sword! The pair burst into Wonky’s office. The School Governors were half way through their meeting and watched in silent condemnation as Gordon strode across to Wonky’s desk and opened the glass case.

  Felix took the sword in his hand and ran to the door shouting, “Sorry sir, but I need this more than you!” Gobsmacked, Wonky sat there with his mouth wide open and his head to the left.

  Gordon led Felix away from the school and back to the common. “It’s best to take them on in the open. They can’t corner us.”

  “It’ll be my first fight,” announced Felix in a flap.

  Gordon looked worried. To their surprise the old man was still battling the monks. He had wounds all over his body but he fought on bravely. There was another figure involved in the scrap. It was Young Buckley. Fel
ix and Gordon ran as fast as they could to join in the fray. The old man dropped to the floor, his duty done. Gordon called to Young Buckley. He retreated to form a line with Felix and Gordon. They stood like the three musketeers, together against their foe.

  The monks lunged at them but the threesome remembered their training and defended until an opportunity arose for attack. The Brethren were fearsome and Felix was tiring very quickly when his first chance came. A monk swung an almighty head shot at him, he ducked below the oncoming blade and thrust his hefty weapon up into the creature’s midriff. The monk sank to the floor in agony. The skin and muscle on the monster’s human side melted away and the remaining bones fell into a pile at Felix’s feet. Jack had told him his sword alone could kill the Brethren, and he was right.

  Felix rushed to Gordon’s aid. He was on the floor defenceless. His sword had been knocked out of his hand. Felix blocked what would have been a fatal blow and swung his sword round and onto the back of Gordon’s assailant. Another pile of bones lay on the common as Felix helped Gordon to his feet. Gordon retrieved his sabre and re-joined the fight. Buckley was bravely battling two monks. Felix embedded his sword in the back of one of them. “Only one to go.” he thought. Felix turned to see Gordon backed against a tree. Felix’s fatal blow hit as the monk drove his sabre into Gordon’s chest.