by SJB Gilmour
Together, the slight teenage girl and the buccaneer stood in silence as the blue-ish grey surroundings and sea gradually became a world of colour. As the huge glowing orb of the sun finally broke free from the edge of the world, Melanie joined her at the rail.
‘I thought you were asleep,’ Sarah remarked.
‘I was,’ Melanie replied shortly. ‘Bloody nightmares about snakes and Engelbert down the hall started making a racket.’
Sarah shuddered. ‘At least you got some sleep.’
Together the two girls stared out at the water. Now that there was enough light, they could see deep into the clear water of the calm sea. As dawn gave way to morning, they spied a small island on the horizon.
Melanie, who had been given a map by her father, approached the Captain.
‘What’s that island?’ she asked him. ‘It’s not on this map.’
The scruffy seafarer nodded. ‘That’s your destination, girlie.’ His eyes were as green as the sea they sailed and shone with mirth. ‘And it’s not on no chart I’ve ever seen. Fact is, it’s not supposed to be there at all.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sarah asked, walking up to join her friend at the helm.
‘Ah,’ Captain Thunder mused. ‘That’s none of my business,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I agreed to take you there and that’s what I’m doing. No-one said nothing about no explaining.’ Then he focused back on the sea. ‘And like I said, lassie, a skipper’s got to keep a keen eye if he wants to stay afloat out here,’ he told them over his shoulder. ‘Now go on, off with you. The bridge is no place for youngsters today, no matter how powerful you are.’
Frustrated and a little disappointed, the girls went below decks to find Angela. They found her in her cabin reading a huge leather-bound tome. A breakfast of tea, juice and a collection of light pastries, far more delicate than one would expect on a sea voyage, was on a platter beside her. When the girls walked in, she tapped the tome lightly. It closed itself and drifted off. She gestured for the girls to help themselves from the tray of pastries. This they did with gusto.
Through mouthfuls of croissants, they quickly told Angela about the island that wasn’t supposed to be there.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘We’re right on schedule. We’ll probably disembark after lunch.’
Sarah looked at her in surprise.
Angela smiled. ‘Cromwell’s island is enchanted. It’s not on many maps at all, that I know of. Mortals can’t see it and neither can many sorcerers.’ She shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t do them much good if they could anyway.’
‘Why not?’ asked Sarah.
‘There’s also some sort of phenomenon over the island that blocks out the stars and sends compasses haywire. Even if it is visible, there’s little point to it if you can’t pin-point the location. Old Oliver Senior is a crafty fellow.’
Sarah was stunned. ‘How do you do that?’ she exclaimed. Since her adventure at Troll Mountain in the Ethiopian Desert, she had managed to use her powers to do many things, but the enchantments Angela was talking about must have taken a great deal more power than she had even dreamed of using.
‘He’s a necromancer,’ Angela began.
‘So are you,’ Melanie interrupted. ‘And me,’ she paused, flushing slightly. ‘Well I will be.’
Angela shrugged. ‘True, and my powers are probably a match for his, but he’s more ruthless than I am, and he has no concept of fear. There are beings in other worlds that only he has the courage to contact. With their help, he can probably achieve just about anything. Remember, he’s had Loki on his side for several thousand years. Loki isn’t as powerful as a God like Apollo, but He’s certainly not to be sniffed at. And,’ she added holding one finger in the air to emphasise her point, ‘He’s much, much more intelligent. That makes Him much more dangerous.’
‘But these other beings would want something in return, wouldn’t they?’ Sarah asked.
Angela nodded grimly. ‘Yes, Sarah, they usually do. We’re assuming that so far, Oliver’s managed to remain in possession of his soul. Some of his students haven’t been so lucky. That’s why we’re all going.’
There was a knock at the cabin door and Uncle Benjamin walked in.
‘Now,’ Benjamin told them all. ‘I’ve discussed this with the others and now I’m telling you. It won’t be long before we get to Cromwell’s island. Ostensibly, our visit is to get some tuition for you two girls. Of course we won’t be able to pull any wool over Cromwell’s eyes, so we’ll have to be frank about our intentions with Conundrum. I’d rather he think we’re just plotting to overthrow Mautallius by ourselves. We’re not the first, and he’ll probably think we won’t be the last. He nodded at Angela. ‘Angela, you’re the best researcher I’ve ever had. You and Nathan will need to ransack Cromwell’s library to see what you can come up with regarding our prophesied Ones, Firsts and Lasts.’
Melanie’s aunt nodded in understanding. ‘How are we going to do that without him being suspicious?’
Benjamin shrugged. ‘We’re taking these two to him for an education. Just tell him you’re looking for stuff you want them to study. Prophetic literature. He’ll be busy enough teaching them all sorts of things. They’re fast learners. He’ll have a tough time keeping up with the two of them, I’ll warrant. That should give you heaps of time and opportunity.’ He grinned at Sarah and Melanie. ‘Girls, we’ll do as much digging as we can.’ He pointed one finger at them. ‘Your job will be to be the most challenging students Cromwell’s ever had. Question every motive, challenge every method. I’ve sent students to him before. The smarter they were, the more he threw himself at the task of teaching them. Make me proud.’
Sarah wondered just who her most favourite uncle in the whole world had sent to Cromwell for tutoring before. Then she and the others nodded in understanding.
After a brief lunch, the girls went up on the main deck for one last look around the ship. When they looked out for the island, they got quite a surprise. The island, which they had been able to see quite clearly that morning, now seemed even further away. In fact, the ship seemed to be sailing away from it.
‘Hey!’ Sarah protested to Captain Thunder. ‘I thought the island is where we’re going! Why are we going away from it now?’
The man grinned and wagged his beard at her.
‘We’re going there, girlie,’ he promised. ‘We’re headed right for it. Look again!’
Sarah and Mel spun around to look back at the island and it had disappeared.
‘Where?’ Mel began to ask.
The captain pointed over the ship’s bow. ‘There.’
Now the island appeared much closer. Melanie was baffled.
‘How did the island move?’ she asked.
Captain Thunder laughed. ‘The island didn’t, lassie. Me ship did!’
Sarah blinked at him. ‘If this ship can just move to places like the Ottispuschenshuffen elevators, why are we spending so much time sailing to the island? Why don’t we just, you know, go there? Why didn’t we move like this the other night when we were fighting that demon?’
Captain Thunder chuckled. ‘In most seas, that’d be true, lassie. But here, in the Bermuda Triangle, there are some spots you can use such methods and some spots you can’t. An impatient captain can get himself disappeared real quick. I can use some of the enchantment on this ship, some of the time, in some parts of this stretch of water. If I’d done it the other night, we’d all be chattin’ with Davey Jones right about now.’
Sarah was about to ask more questions but Melanie took her by the arm. ‘C’mon,’ she urged. ‘Let’s go pack.’
As the day was nearing its close, and the sun was drifting towards the horizon, Fingers came below decks to alert the passengers. He kicked their door a couple of times.
‘We’re ‘ere!’ he bellowed. ‘Everybody out!’
Sarah and the others emerged from their cabins below decks. Captain Thunder had moored the ship to a small wooden pier jutting out from the island. The sea swel
led casually around the ship, making it groan and creak a little, but it was fairly gentle. The crew secured hawsers and cables of rope to the bollards on the pier and hauled the gangplank over the side.
The island appeared simple. It was round-ish and mostly grass with wooded areas around most of the shore. In the centre was a marble building that resembled drawings Sarah had seen of the lost city of Atlantis. She gazed around. As a werewolf, she had discovered that she could usually instinctively feel the direction of north. There on the island, she had no idea where she was.
Melanie also seemed concerned. She kept looking up at the clear blue sky and frowning.
‘What’s the matter?’ Sarah asked her.
Mel shook her head and frowned. ‘I dunno,’ she replied. ‘It’s like I feel as if I’ve been here before. The stars are still out there past whatever that spell is that makes the sky look so nice. They feel like they’re in a position that I’ve felt before but I can’t remember where.’ She shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ She nodded at the pier and Sarah followed her look.
Standing alone on the pier was a man wearing a long dark robe. He pulled back the hood of his robe to reveal a shock of blonde hair that seemed to stick out in all directions. His tanned face was boyish and his eyes were piercingly blue. Silently, he watched the group disembark down the main gangplank.
As soon as they had all stepped down onto the pier, Captain Thunder gave the robed man a brief nod. Then his crew untied the ropes. When the ship was well clear of the pier, the ship shimmered and vanished only to re-appear far out on the ocean.
The man walked up to Benjamin, who was standing in the front of the group.
‘Well, well, McConnell,’ the man drawled dryly. ‘Long time no see. What brings you,’ and he looked at each member of the group in turn, his bright blue eyes missing nothing, ‘two Browns, two witches…’ his eyes narrowed as he examined each of Sarah’s companions, ‘necromancers by the look of ‘em, a botanist, an illusionist and a Golden Mane to my island?’
Chapter Six
Once again, Marzdane found himself grovelling on the floor in front of Mautallius. More and more, the Chairman of The Sorcerer’s Guild was regretting ever getting involved with his master. Now it was too late.
‘You have the lists we requested?’ Mautallius asked in a tone that told Marzdane his life depended on the answer being yes.
Requested? Ordered more like it. Still, he nodded in agreement and produced the lists. The list of all the Guild Members who had not attended any caucuses lately, had about eighty names. Mautallius had been paranoid about possible threats or uprisings. Marzdane had tried to explain that many guild members wouldn’t show up to caucuses simply because they didn’t like the new administration, but Mautallius had insisted. He’d also insisted Marzdane compile a list of vulnerable children within the enchanted community who would be suitable sacrifices for Mautallius’ wretched rite. That list had only five names.
Mautallius read the list. ‘That’s all?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘Five? Five?’
‘You wanted them to be pure, My Lord. The subjects of Renfields are far from worthy.’
Mautallius sat back and pondered this. ‘True,’ he admitted sourly. ‘But these are all unassailable.’ He threw the list back at Marzdane. ‘Look harder,’ he ordered. ‘There must be more on the way. Get your spies into the hospitals to watch for expectant mothers.’
Marzdane smiled vindictively. ‘We may not need to,’ he told his master with a smirk. ‘My sister in-law is with child.’
Mautallius sat up, his dark eyes gleaming. ‘And in that state, she’ll not be taking part in any campaign her sister might be involved in,’ he gloated. ‘A child of Troy blood would be perfect. Where is she?’
‘In Melbourne, My Lord.’
‘Good,’ Mautallius said enthusiastically. Then he looked at the list of non-attendees. ‘There are only a few names here that bother us,’ he said. ‘Benedict, Jones, Crocket, Freeman and Cromwell.’
‘David Crocket and Freddie Stewart wouldn’t help the Golden Mane if you paid them,’ Marzdane asserted. ‘They were behind the Sao Paulo Ogre Coup and the Coppernicks came along and threw a spanner in the works. Jones is a Grey Mane, known on Wolfenvald as Jasper, but he’s old and won’t leave Wolfenvald.’
Mautallius glared angrily at Marzdane. ‘What about this Benedict character?’
Marzdane waved that name aside. ‘He’s a monk now,’ he muttered. ‘Hasn’t spoken a word in a thousand years. He’s no threat.’
‘And Sheila Freeman and Oliver Cromwell? What about them?’
‘I don’t know anything much about Freeman, other than that she’s a Black Coat. She fought alongside the Coppernicks during the coup, and then went missing. She’s either dead or retired to Wolfenvald permanently. Everyone’s assuming the former. As for Cromwell, he disappeared a few hundred years before that.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Though I remember reading something about him a while ago. I’ll look it up.’
‘He has a relative within this guild of yours, does he not?’ Mautallius pressed.
Marzdane shook his head. ‘Moira’s not worth the trouble. She’s a fawning bootlicker.’
‘So are you,’ Mautallius sneered. ‘Keep her close. If Cromwell does get involved, she might be useful.’
Marzdane grimaced. ‘As you wish, Lord.’
‘And if we were thee, we’d declare everyone on this list renegade, just in case. That way the rest will know not to assist them.’
Marzdane swallowed as he bowed. ‘As you wish,’ he said again. Mautallius’ whole demeanour was changing. Everything — his voice, his speech, his tone — was becoming more evil.
At that moment, a bored-looking pixie courier appeared carrying a large sack bulging with packages, letters and scrolls. Without waiting for permission, he upended the sack and dumped the mail on the floor at Mautallius’ feet. Then, still with his bored expression, he slung the sack over his shoulder and disappeared, leaving behind a cloud of foul-smelling smoke.
Mautallius coughed and waved at the smoke with his hand. He stooped and picked up the first piece of mail, which was the latest copy of Spellcaster Monthly. He glanced at the headline and his eyes widened in surprise. Then he swore furiously in a language Marzdane recognised as the tongue of demons. The air around him began to shimmer and spark.
‘See?’ he demanded, hurling the paper at Marzdane.
Sorcerer’s Guild Chairman linked to Demon!
Marzdane groaned then bravely read on.
Sources have confirmed that Marzdane Hardingleflass, current Chairman of The Sorcerer’s Guild, is in close allegiance with demonic necromancer, Mautallius. Mautallius, who was last reported to have been involved in a fracas at Troll Mountain during which a number of trolls were melted and two Brown Coat werewolves were killed, is reputed to have a vendetta against werewolves. Mautallius is also said to be on a private quest to find the missing Star of Planes, no doubt to secure further access to Earth for his demon contacts.
Marzdane’s support within The Guild may decrease, as his links to the demonic Mautallius are made clear.
Now Marzdane swore and he hurled the paper across the room. It fluttered angrily then rolled itself back up neatly and drifted back to the pile of mail.
‘Who is responsible for that garbage?’ Mautallius demanded.
‘Who else,’ Marzdane grated, pacing. ‘The Hazelwoods. They’re pulling out all the stops. The Pixies are in absolute chaos now there’s this rag.’
‘All the more reason to take them prisoner. Make it so.’
Marzdane shook his head. ‘If I declare them renegade, they’ll know they’re onto something. They’re journalists. They’re like dragons — once they bite onto something, they don’t let go. The more you struggle, the more they fight. Best to wait until the child is born, then strike.’
‘You weak fool,’ Mautallius sneered. ‘Your predecessor would have been able to control them.’
‘Rufus is
dead,’ Marzdane retorted. ‘And even if he was alive, you know full well that he’d never have worked with you.’
Mautallius ignored Marzdane’s belligerent tone.
‘Dead you say? Prove it. Have you seen his corpse?’
Marzdane was sullen when he answered. ‘No.’
‘Then how do you know the old dog is dead?’
‘Jerrit told me.’
Now Mautallius laughed scornfully. ‘You’re pitiful,’ he gloated. ‘You’d take the word of a goblin? You’re more foolish than we thought. We should have chosen a stronger chairman.’
‘Jerrit’s no ordinary goblin,’ Marzdane argued. ‘He’s head of The Mingus Consortium. He’s taken control of the army and is now Emperor of Jilde. He has no reason to lie to me.’
‘What did he say?’
Marzdane paused for a moment. ‘It was about seven or eight hundred years ago, I think,’ he said finally as he remembered. ‘Jerrit was running about the place, building up his antique tome collection. He’s a mad collector of all sorts of antiques. Anyway, he’d approached McConnell to try and buy some old tome but the Silver Shroud didn’t have what he wanted. So, Jerrit went to Rufus to see if the Golden Mane had a copy of the stupid thing. Rufus laughed at him and refused to give him the time of day.
‘Goblins are vindictive buggers, and Jerrit’s worse than most. He wasn’t too happy that McConnell and Rufus couldn’t or wouldn’t supply him. A few years later, when Rufus himself was looking for some sort of tome, Jerrit’s spies alerted him to it. Jerrit then went off, found the tome Rufus wanted, copied it and then cursed the copy he left as bait for Rufus. When Rufus found it, the tome killed him. I remember Jerrit was quite proud of the fact that he’d arranged the death of a Golden Mane and no-one could prove a thing.’
‘Why did he tell you? Were you not obligated to follow your own pitiful laws?’
Marzdane shrugged. ‘If it was up to me, I’d have bought Jerrit an ale,’ he replied smugly. ‘Rufus and I never saw eye to eye. He only cast Angelina out because I pressed him. In my book, Jerrit did us all a favour.’
