by J. C. Hanna
“Your mortal character cannot live forever, Bess. With the careful manipulation of the makeup, you will appear to age. When the time is right, you can affect a convincing death scene. You can take lessons. One of Marlow’s players can instruct you on how to die well. Or Will Shakespeare. He writes good death.”
Elizabeth chuckled.
“If my death scene is penned by Will Shakespeare, no one will believe it. A protracted, word-soaked agony makes for good theatre; it does not befit the dignity of a Queen of England. A few kind words in praise of her Lord and Master, and then the swift labour of the sword. That is how a true Queen of England should die.”
The imagined sight of her mother’s execution teased at her anger. Her face momentarily took on its demonic form. Dee and Branna exchanged looks of concern. Dee placed a comforting hand on the queen’s left shoulder.
“You must learn how to contain your anger,” Dee said. “Though the good Lord alone knows how that miracle might be attained.”
“I don’t know about that, John. A quick flash of my inner demon might see off the persistent agitators and insufferable bores. The ambassadors of Spain and France would be less quarrelsome during negotiations if their necks were on the line.”
She called upon her demon form. After a moment’s scrutiny of the same in the glass, she reverted to her human appearance.
“There is a dark beauty in my other self,” she mused.
She turned to Branna.
“What of holy places, and objects?” Elizabeth asked, sincerely. “I understand that your kind… Our kind, find them disagreeable?”
“Holy places have never troubled me. Holy objects, especially those in the shape of The Cross, weaken me, and bring about a sickness. Holy water has a similar effect. But these things do not hurt me as much as they hurt the true children of the demon.”
The queen thought on Branna’s words for a moment.
“I shall have all crucifixes removed from my chapels. The Catholics will be delighted with that. And if I should suddenly become afflicted by illness in some holy place, I can disagree with the words of the sermon, and leave. None would question such actions.”
Dee grinned.
“Quite so, my Lady,” Dee said.
“And on my false death? Am I to be encased in marble? Alive and entombed for all eternity?”
“When that time comes, I will take you to a place of safety. A place of this world, but hidden from it,” explained Branna.
“And the lust for blood?” Elizabeth asked, with sudden, shocked, realisation.
“If you must drink from humans, pick the mortally afflicted,” said Branna. “But I can help you control the hunger if you will let me.”
“A diet of plague victims does not appeal to me,” Elizabeth said, with disgust.
“I will help you,” Branna repeated. “And if you cannot contain your bloodlust, and you are too disgusted by the thought of feeding on the dying, then you might consider sending out for some French cuisine. The French aristocracy is so very tasty, and in a few years’ time, no one is going to miss them.”
“I dare not ask,” said the queen. “Either after the fate of the French, or how you have come by the knowledge.”
With so much information assaulting her senses, Dee picked that moment, when she was preoccupied, to deliver some news.
“Branna will help you to adapt to your new life,” said Dee. “I must leave England for a short time.”
“When I need you most, John!” snapped Elizabeth.
“The demon has plans for you. There is an agent of the creature that I must speak with. That agent was here, in England. When I called on him last evening he had left for the continent. I believe that he can provide us with valuable answers. At the very least, I would like to have a very serious talk with him.”
The queen sighed.
“If you believe that it for the best, then leave. But return to me swiftly, John. If my only shelter from the evil is this child, then I do not feel at all secure. If the protection of my subjects from my demonic other depends solely on this girl, then what carnage will follow? I need you by my side, John.”
Dee smiled warmly.
“I shall return with great haste.”
“And I will hold you to that promise, John.”
Chapter Forty-two: The Traitor’s Tale
Krakow, Poland, 1583
King Stefan’s main palace in Krakow was one of the grandest in all of Europe. His temporary predecessor, Henry of France, had been elected to the position of Monarch by the ruling class of Poland when the previous king had died without an heir. Henry had brought to Poland a sense of style and grandeur of which Stefan wholeheartedly disapproved. When Henry moved back to France at the time of his accession to the throne of France, another election was held; Stefan was victorious. He frowned on the lavish spending and extensive building ambitions of his French predecessor, but he took no action to undo or to hide the opulence that had been installed by his cousin. He found it more principled, and politically beneficial, to complain about the lavishness of his surroundings, while at the same time he fully enjoyed the luxury and comfort that came with the position of king.
At heart, Stefan was still a sovereign. Wealth and the appearance of wealth was the foundation of his power—as with all kings. When an Englishman who claimed to know the secrets of alchemy came calling at his palace, late on a snowy winter’s night, the king was intrigued. The visitor was installed in a large, stone-clad chamber in the bowels of the castle. The room bore the appearance of a dungeon, with a distorted hint of a laboratory about it. The perfect setting for a demonstration of the dark arts, in the king’s estimation. The stranger went by the name Edward Talbot. To his fellow countrymen, he was known as Kelley.
A wide table sat in the middle of the room. It was adorned with the instruments and chemicals requested by the stranger. The king and two advisors stood expectantly next to the table. They securitised Kelley’s every movement as he set about his task—the transformation of a single ingot of lead into one of pure gold. The king paced around the table; his long flowing cloak of red, and his black cap, pierced on top by a long, brown feather, gave him the appearance of a proud fighting bird.
Kelley moved with speed and sureness of purpose, and he gave the impression that he was confident in the task before him. He placed many coloured liquids and powders into a round, copper pot, in measures that were discerned solely by the sight and touch of Kelley. The pot sat on three short legs. He applied no source of heat to the vessel, and yet the dark liquid inside the pot began to boil. At the appropriate moment Kelley picked up the lead ingot and he dropped it into the liquid with a satisfying splash—the moment of drama was all part of his deceit. He closed his eyes and recited a silent incantation. Grasping a pair of heating tongs with the flare of a showman, he plucked the newly transformed piece of metal from the liquid.
Kelley turned to the king and grinned. The king was impressively unimpressed.
“Test it,” ordered the king.
One of the king’s men left the room. He returned a few moments later with a tray, on top of which sat an Archimedes’ tube, a small measuring pot, and a glass jug containing water. The man set the tray on the table. He filled the tube with water to the spout at the top, and he then positioned the measuring pot beneath the spout. He picked up the still warm ingot and he slid it slowly into the water. The displaced fluid poured from the spout and into the pot. He lifted the pot and studied it carefully. Finally, he turned to the king and shook his head.
“All you have made, Mr. Talbot, is a fool of yourself,” said the king.
“I assure you Sire; that is gold,” Kelley protested.
“Fool’s gold, perhaps,” sneered the king.
“Please Sire, let me try again,” begged Kelley.
The king waved a hand, dismissively.
“Try all night, if it pleases you, sir,” said the king. “You will not produce gold. That is no matter to me. What you have prod
uced is of equal value. If you can replicate your witchcraft on a much larger scale, then you might be of some use to me. Wealth is a relative matter. If you can flood the lands of my enemies with your trick gold, they will be bankrupted. Their reputations will be in tatters. The princes of Europe will turn to me for real gold, of which I have an abundance. Truth be known; had you produced a true miracle on this night, I would have had you executed on the spot. That kind of knowledge could destroy the value of the precious metal, and the wealth of my nation along with it. You can count your blessings, Mr. Talbot; they are worth more than your gold.”
The king and his men began to leave the room. The king turned to Kelley when he reached the doorway.
“I shall speak with you in the morning,” said the king. “If you still wish to try to perfect your method overnight, by all means, do so. My advice, sir; leave well enough alone. In turn, I shall leave your head well enough alone.”
They left Kelley in the cold, damp, dim room. He was so sure that he had done everything correctly. The powders and liquids were an entirely cosmetic distraction. The true engine of transformation was the silent incantation. The words had been handed down to him from a higher realm, and he had used them repeatedly, and successfully, more than a dozen times. He wondered if the false ingredients had inadvertently interfered with the incantation.
“Edward, I believe the time has come for us to talk,” said Dee, as he stepped out from behind a stone pillar.
A moment of alarm quickly turned to one of curiosity. If Dee had meant to kill him, he would have been dead already.
“And what words would you have me say, John?”
“You are correct, Edward. The time for sorry has now passed. I need you to tell me why you did it. And I need you to tell me what the demon has planned.”
Kelley smiled, uneasily.
“The fangs at the throats of my wife and child were my motivation. As for the demon’s plans… I was merely an unwilling hostage in this scheme.”
“What of your family now?” asked Dee.
“They are safe. Hiding within a holy order in France.”
“Then the demon does not influence you?”
“The demon does not. But what of the queen? I fear her rage and retribution more than I fear the creature.”
“The queen knows nothing of your treachery. But she does need your help. I need your help. If you return to England with me now, we can put the past behind us. I will have your family safely transported home. They will be protected. I make that my solemn vow.”
Kelley smiled again.
“Lure me back with honeyed words, then relieve me of my head?”
Dee raised a hand. Kelley lifted off the ground to a height of several feet.
“I do not have to bring you back to England to take your head,” Dee said, with calm menace.
As Dee lowered his hand, Kelley returned to the ground.
“You are powerful, John. Why do you need me?”
“I am only one man. The queen needs to be watched, always. If we share that burden, then we stand a greater chance of success.”
Kelley indulged in a long, pensive moment, before giving his reply.
“You say that she needs to be watched? Not that she needs to be protected? Tell me, John, what terrible thing has come to pass?”
“I will tell you everything, my friend, if you agree to return with me.”
Kelley nodded.
Dee walked across the room and he took Kelley by the arm. As they moved towards the door, both men vanished.
Chapter Forty-three: Amy’s Death—Part Three
Amy cautiously picked her steps as she walked across the diamond-hard surface. With each step, she feared that the illusion would end and she would plunge into the water.
She looked down in fixed wonder at her other self in the park. Without warning, the surface that she was standing on suddenly changed. She was standing on a floor made from stone. Large rectangular slabs, in a variety of shapes and sizes. When she looked up she was no longer in the marble-lined room. Dee, Rufus, and Branna were standing beside her. They were high up on top of one of the buildings of the town, overlooking the settlement and a lake, and a river, that ran into the lake. The river was wide. It curved gently around the bottom of the blue mountain on which the town perched.
“This place is timeless,” said Rufus. “All those that live under its sun will never age. It is a sanctuary to those creatures, and exceptional humans, that the world has shunned, and persecuted. It is those refugees that will save the world outside; or die in the effort.”
“No offense, but I was not shunned, or persecuted,” Amy interrupted. “As lives go, mine is pretty good. I am still waiting for someone to explain to me why I am here. Is it such a difficult question to answer?”
“You would have been persecuted if you had stayed in the other place. And worse,” said Dee. “Here you will find refuge. Here you will make a difference.”
“I am not special. I do not have any abilities. I do not understand why I am here. Honestly, guys, I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself before you start to listen.”
Dee stepped up to the edge of the flat rooftop. He raised a hand. The others joined him. Two small boats appeared on the river.
“History flows like a mighty river,” Rufus said. “We are carried along towards our destination. It is a fundamental force of nature that we cannot hold back. There are certain individuals, such as you, that cause ripples in that eternal flow. Those ripples can disrupt, or even change the flow of history; if only for a short time. The room that we just left, the Seeing Chamber, reveals those unique people to us. They are always gifted, in one way or another. We will uncover your gift, and we will teach you how to use it.”
Amy shook her head.
“I have no gift,” she said. “I don’t know how to fight. I can’t do magic. My math skills are crap. I’m just a chick from New York City. Believe me.”
Rufus ignored her protestations. His attention fell upon the river once more. The boats floated lazily along with the flow of the river. The boats were neatly aligned, side by side.
“You exist in time as echoes. There are others, like you, across history; but not many,” Rufus explained. “If you imagine the boats below are you. Two versions of you. Both moving as one, and in the same direction. They do not move in the same space.”
Rufus turned to Dee and he nodded. Dee clicked his fingers. One of the boats vanished.
“If one version of you vanishes, the other will continue,” explained Rufus. “Time moves onwards.”
Dee clicked his fingers again. The second boat vanished.
“Ok, I get the metaphor guys; but what I don’t get is, why any of this matters? Why does this make me special? What is the point?”
Rufus sighed.
“I must confess,” he began. “I cannot be certain that you will manifest any special powers. It is a reasoned guess on my part. By watching the events in the Seeing Chamber we have located two others who are like you. One of them, an Irish lad from a time not long past, can see angels and demons in their true guise; even when they are cloaked as humans.”
“I can see how that might be useful,” Amy said. “But I can’t do that. Why don’t you get him?”
“The boy is quite mad,” Rufus said, simply.
“That could be an issue,” Amy added. “Although, standing here in Narnia, with trolls, fairies, magic, and wot not; it seems like this place could be very much in his wheelhouse. And what about the other one?”
Rufus paused. A look of despondency spread across his face.
“I have not been able to contact him,” Rufus explained. “He appears to me as a child. From a time long gone. The child is protected by powerful magic. I cannot tell if that magic is black, or white.”
“So, you have been left with me? That’s about the height of it? I am your last option? Someone with no powers or special gifts. The easy, and completely pointless choice?”
&n
bsp; Rufus stood directly in front of Amy.
“You do have power. Or to be more precise; one version of you has power,” Rufus said.
“Then you have got the wrong version,” said Amy. “If you give Amy 2.0 a shout, maybe she can help you?”
“That is not how this works,” Rufus said.
Rufus waved his hand and Branna and Dee disappeared.
“Where have they gone?” asked Amy, with concern. “Or should that be, why did you make them disappear?”
“Branna cannot hear what I have to tell you. She would not agree. She would try to stop me. I see two versions of you. Separated, your power remains dormant. But together, your power will be revealed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“At this very moment, your other self is sitting in that park in New York. The evil that tried to kill you will try to kill her. They will destroy the city, and everyone that you care about, to achieve that end.”
“Then bring her here. Make her safe.”
“They will destroy the city looking for her, even if we do bring her to this place.”
“But Branna said…”
“Branna told you what I wanted her to tell you. She does not know the truth. At least, she does not know the truth in its entirety.”
“And what is the truth?”
“To save the city, you must die.”
Suddenly, they were back in the Seeing Chamber. They were alone.
“When you die in that park, the evil will move on. You and your other self will become one. Your power will manifest, and you will join us in the final battle.”
“As simple as that?” Amy said, dismissively. “Then kill her… Me… Whoever. Branna is pretty handy with a blade.”
Rufus held out his right hand with the palm facing upwards. A bullet-shaped piece of blue glass slowly materialised. It floated just above his hand.
“Only you can do this,” said Rufus.
