The Sphere of Septimus

by Simon Rose

  “When should I be back?”

  “No need to be back until dinnertime.”

  ERIC walked down the lane into the village. The pub was opening for lunch. A man placed a sandwich board in the middle of the sidewalk, advertising the pub’s lunch menu. The post office and village shop were closed. A couple of cars passed each other on the main street, but otherwise Middle Wogglehole was virtually deserted.

  Eric walked by the car repair shop and noticed a bright-red vintage English sports car with its hood up. A radio was playing, but the workshop appeared empty.

  “Hello?” Eric called, looking at the car. “Anyone here?”

  “Hello there,” someone said.

  A young girl came out from the back, wiping her hands on a rag. “Can I help you?” she asked. She was wearing thick-framed glasses and her hair was tied back in a short ponytail. There were oil and grease stains on both sides of her face and her blue coveralls were filthy.

  “This is a really nice car,” Eric said.

  The girl stood next to Eric and hung the rag on the hood.

  “Yes it is,” she said. “It’s a 1959 Austin-Healey Mark I. You’re the boy from London, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” said Eric. “How did you know?”

  “The accent, mostly,” she said with a grin. “You’re staying with Mr. Trinket, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, he’s my dad. I’m Eric.” He extended his hand.

  “Oh, I didn’t know Mr. Trinket had a son,” she said, shaking it. “I’m Jessica. Are you here all summer?”

  She took off her glasses. She had beautiful brown eyes, and for a moment Eric just stared.

  “Safety glasses,” said Jessica. “I only wear them when I’m working on the cars.”

  “Oh, yeah, right,” said Eric.

  “So you’re here all summer?” Jessica asked him again.

  “Yeah,” Eric replied. “Is there anything to do around here?”

  “Not really. Middle Wogglehole is pretty boring.”

  “So what do you do all summer in a place like this?”

  “Oh, I don’t live here,” explained Jessica. “I’m just really interested in cars. Mick—that’s the owner—he’s an old friend of my dad’s. Mick lets me help out in the summer. I’m here three or four days a week during school holidays. Wait here a minute. I have to go and get cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”

  She disappeared through a door behind the counter. Eric sat down on a chair and examined the faded posters of vintage cars on the walls.

  A bald man came up beside him. “Hello there,” he said. It was the same man Eric had seen on his way through the village the day before.

  “Hi,” said Eric.

  “Hello, Mick,” said Jessica as she came back through the door.

  She’d washed the grime off her face and changed into a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans. Her short brown hair hung over her shoulders.

  “This is Eric,” she told Mick. “He’s staying with Mr. Trinket for the summer.”

  “Ah, the inventor,” said Mick, nodding his head. “I wonder how he keeps up that old motorbike. It’s never been in here for a tune-up or anything. He tinkers with all kinds of things in that workshop of his.”

  “I thought I’d take a break and show Eric around.”

  “No problem. Actually, it’s pretty quiet around here. You might as well take the afternoon off. See you tomorrow.”

  “We’ll go to the Sentinel,” Jessica said, turning to Eric.

  “The what?”

  “The Sentinel. It’s what they call the big stone pillar on the village green.”

  Chapter Four

  The Mystic Triangle

  Eric and Jessica strolled down the main street of the village. Middle Wogglehole was very quiet. There were only a couple of cars parked on the street. The sidewalks were empty except for an old man putting a bunch of envelopes in the mailbox.

  “This is the village green,” Jessica said when they got to the Sentinel.

  The Sentinel was an eight-foot-tall stone column, featuring Christian symbols and Latin inscriptions. At the edges there was a series of short twisting lines, dashes and dots.

  Eric ran his fingers over the odd markings, which were smooth from centuries of weathering. This must be some kind of writing. Suddenly he remembered the figure of blue-and-green flames, and pulled his hand away in alarm. He stepped back from the column, stumbling into a flower bed.

  “Are you all right?” Jessica asked, extending a hand.

  “Yeah. I’m just a bit dizzy, no problem.”

  They sat down on a bench next to the monument.

  “So why is this thing called the Sentinel?”

  “It guards against evil spirits. A long, long time ago, this stone was sacred to the Celts. They were pagans. After Christianity came to Britain, the Church carved Latin stuff over all the pagan monuments. They also filled in the healing spring.”

  “Healing spring? You mean, like magic? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “They built the church right over it.” Jessica gestured toward the houses around them. “This village has been here for a long time.”

  “It says a thousand years on the sign.”

  “People have been living here a lot longer than that. Before the castle was built, there was a Roman fort, and before that, a pagan temple. Even now, the locals still tell all sorts of old legends. Like the one about the Mystic Triangle.”

  “What’s that?” Eric asked.

  “If you connect the castle, the healing spring and the Sentinel, it makes a triangle with fantastic power.”

  “Do you really believe all that stuff?”

  “Well, yeah,” said Jessica. “Everyone in Middle Wogglehole does. This is one of the most mysterious places in England. It’s in all the travel books.”

  “Maybe they’re just trying to attract tourists.”

  “If they are,” said Jessica, “it’s not working very well, is it?”

  They both laughed.

  “Come on,” Jessica said, “I’ll show you some other places.”

  They walked past the Dog and Duck pub.

  “This was a favourite of eighteenth-century highwaymen like Dick Turpin.”

  “What about Robin Hood, did he ever come here?”

  “Maybe, but lots of the small towns in the north of England claim him.”

  They turned down School Lane.

  “That was the school,” said Jessica, pointing to a stone building with large windows and the same grey slate roof as most of the village houses. “It closed down about twenty years ago. They use it as a community centre now.”

  As they approached the end of the street, another comet streaked across the sky.

  “Did you see that?” Eric said, pointing up.

  Just then a small white car blared its horn and screeched to a halt in front of them. Jessica abruptly pulled Eric onto the sidewalk.

  “Careful!” she exclaimed. “This might be a pretty dull place, but you still need to watch out for cars.”

  At the end of School Lane, they stopped in front of the church.

  “St. Thomas’ was built in the 1350s,” Jessica said, easing open the weathered wooden gate and stepping into the churchyard. “But there were at least two churches on the site of the spring before this one, maybe more.”

  There were plenty of very old headstones in the churchyard. Some dated back to the 1600s. The church itself was a tall imposing building of dark stone. The front door creaked as Jessica pushed it open. Inside the church were rows of dark wooden benches, flanked by a number of thick stone columns. High arches supported the roof. Stained-glass windows with colourful biblical scenes glowed in the sunlight.

  “That’s the minister,” Jessica whispered, pointing to a man in a black cassock. He was sorting t
hrough some prayer books on a shelf at the base of the ornately carved wooden pulpit.

  They walked over to a slab of stone just inside the doorway. Carved into the top was an effigy of a knight in armour, with a sword at his side. Eric gazed at the carved stone face in the half-light, and for a fleeting second he thought it came to life—a man with white hair, a thick beard and blue-green wrinkled skin. Eric stepped back, startled, and tipped over a bench. The crash echoed through the empty church.

  “Are you all right?” asked Jessica.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure,” Eric replied, although he wasn’t entirely convinced. He glanced at the knight, but the face had turned back to stone.

  The church bell struck four times as they walked out into the sun.

  “Wow,” said Jessica, “four o’clock already. I’d better be getting back. My dad’s picking me up soon. We could meet up tomorrow and walk up to the castle, if you like. You get an amazing view for miles around.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Shall we meet around ten o’clock, at the repair shop?” suggested Jessica.

  “Sure, that’ll be fun. See you tomorrow.”

  Eric began to think that Middle Wogglehole might not be such a dull place to spend the summer after all.

  Chapter Five

  Dreaming in Duplicate

  “Utter nonsense,” Septimus scoffed, scooping some more mashed potatoes onto Eric’s plate.

  “I dunno,” said Eric, “she was pretty convinced.”

  “Well, there are a lot of legends here. But all this talk about magic, superstitious claptrap, that’s what it is.” He tossed a scrap of meat to Toby, who gobbled it up.

  “We’re going up to the castle tomorrow,” said Eric, yawning.

  “Still tired, eh?” said Septimus.

  “I didn’t sleep well last night. I had a weird dream.”

  “Weird dream?”

  Toby perked up his ears and whined.

  “There was a kind of a fire person . . . it came out of the fireplace and touched my wrist. Right here,” he added, pointing to his burn.

  Toby snorted and began pacing back and forth.

  “Sit down and eat your scraps, Toby. You’re making me nervous.”

  Toby crawled under the table and covered his eyes with a paw.

  “Don’t worry, Eric,” said Septimus. “Dreams don’t usually mean anything. Just get some sleep. I have to go out early in the morning. I’ll leave you a key on the table.” He looked under the table at Toby, considering something. “Why don’t you take Toby with you when you go to the castle? He likes to get out.”

  “Sure.”

  “His leash is just over by the back door. You’ll only need it when you’re near the road. You can let him run free otherwise.”

  “Okay,” said Eric, finishing his potatoes. “And thanks for dinner.”

  “You’re most welcome,” Septimus replied with a brief bow. “Get some rest and I’ll see you when you get back from your walk tomorrow.”

  Eric woke up thirsty in the middle of the night. He went downstairs to get a drink of water and noticed a fluctuating light coming from behind the kitchen door.

  Septimus’ voice came through the door. “I think I have it this time.”

  A different voice replied, “You said that before.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Septimus said. “It doesn’t like you very much, you know that. Now, let me concentrate.”

  The door was slightly ajar, and Eric pushed it open just enough to peek into the kitchen. Septimus was seated at the kitchen table with Toby at his feet. A blue crystal sphere, small enough to fit in the palm of Eric’s hand, rested on the table. It pulsated with a faint blue-green light. Next to it was a large ceramic bowl and jug.

  Septimus stood up from the table, lifted the jug and poured water into the bowl, filling it to the brim. He picked up the glowing sphere and held it above the water. Then he let it go, but the sphere didn’t fall. It hung suspended in the air.

  Then the light faded. The kitchen was shrouded in darkness. Glittering stars appeared inside the sphere. Then images of people, buildings and strange creatures, the likes of which Eric had never seen before, rose from the water and drifted around the room. Septimus stroked his beard. Suddenly there was a blinding flash and everything went black.

  Did I dream that? Eric thought when he woke up the next morning. It was so real. Eric got dressed and went downstairs. Toby was curled up on the couch and there was no sign of Septimus. Eric made himself a couple of slices of toast and wolfed them down. Toby came into the kitchen and stood beside the leash. Eric picked it up, attached it to Toby’s collar, then took the key from the kitchen table and headed out.

  Jessica was waiting for him beside the gas pumps.

  “Hi,” Eric called as he approached.

  “Morning. Is this your dad’s dog?”

  “Yeah,” said Eric, “I promised I’d bring him along. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, that’s fine.” Jessica reached down to stroke Toby’s head, but he growled and she pulled her hand back.

  “Sorry. I don’t think he’s very friendly.”

  “Never mind. Come on, there’s a path not far from the church that leads up to the castle.”

  Eric let Toby off the leash once they were safely on the path. Along the way, Jessica talked about the history of the castle.

  “Here we are,” she announced when they reached the top of the path.

  It hadn’t taken them long to reach the ruins. The view from the top of the hill was indeed spectacular. Eric could make out parts of the winding road that led to the village, as well as the bridge spanning the gorge. He could see the village’s main street, the church and the Sentinel. He could also see Ivy Cottage, perched on a craggy hill, looking very isolated from the rest of the village.

  Most of the castle’s main tower had broken down, and its crumbling stone walls had been overgrown with grass and weeds. Toby started sniffing around and disappeared behind the rubble.

  “Careful,” said Jessica when Eric jumped between two rocks. “Watch out for the ring.”

  “What ring?”

  “You’re standing right over the entrance to a fairy ring. It’s best to avoid it.”

  “Okay, okay,” Eric muttered, stepping to one side. “Fairy rings, fire creatures, this place is crazy.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Eric sat down under a tree. “I had a weird dream last night. There was this glowing sphere or something, and it floated. And the night before that, I had a dream about a creature that came out of the fire and burned my wrist.”

  Jessica sat down beside him. “You’re not the only one. I’ve heard people talking at the pumps. Everyone in Middle Wogglehole seems to be having strange dreams.”

  “Really?” Eric felt very uneasy.

  “Maybe it has something to do with the Mystic Triangle.”

  “My dad said all that stuff is superstitious rubbish.”

  “Did he now?” Jessica said with a grin. “Well I know he spends a lot of time up here at the castle. I’ve seen him over at the church and the Sentinel too. He’s always measuring things. And of course, there are all those odd stories about that cottage of his.”

  “That’s weird. Hey—where’s Toby?”

  “There he is!”

  Toby raced away from the castle down a different path.

  “Quick! After him!”

  Chapter Six

  The Workshop

  Eric and Jessica chased Toby down the path until they ended up on the lane to Ivy Cottage. But there was no sign of him.

  “Where’d he go?” Eric asked, panting. “He was just here.”

 
They hurried around the side of the cottage and into the garden, but there was still no sign of Toby.

  “Hey, look,” said Jessica, pointing at the workshop. “The side door’s open. Maybe he went in there? We should check.”

  “My dad told me not to go in his workshop,” Eric said. “He said it’s dangerous.”

  “We’ll just take a quick look. We won’t touch anything.”

  They peered through the open door into the workshop. “Toby? Are you in there?” called Eric.

  “Come on,” said Jessica, “let’s look inside.”

  She pushed past Eric and flicked on the lights. Pieces of machinery cluttered up every corner. The shelves along the walls were filled with plastic bottles of motor oil, toolboxes, rusty cans and glass jars.

  At the back were two wide wooden tables. One of them was littered with crystals of all sizes and jars of coloured liquid, metal coins, antique jewellery and small weapons. The other overflowed with books, magazines and newspaper clippings.

  Jessica picked up a clipping. “‘Two New Fairy Rings Discovered in Derbyshire,’” she read aloud.

  Eric opened a magazine. “‘Middle Wogglehole: Most Magical Place in England.’”

  A large leather-bound volume lay open on the table. Eric flipped through page after page of pictures of monuments and ancient artifacts. “Look, the writing here is just like the carvings on the Sentinel.”

  “It’s Celtic script,” said Jessica. “I studied that stuff for a school project.”

  “What does it say?”

  “How should I know? I wonder what he has all this for?”

  “Yeah. He told me all those legends and things are nonsense.”

  Eric picked up a small dagger from the other table and studied the unusual script on the handle. It was just like the writing in the old book. “This stuff looks like it belongs in a museum.”

  “Look at this,” Jessica said. “I think it’s the Mystic Triangle.” She handed Eric a diagram covered in scribbled notes and equations.