Renegades Of Wolfenvald, Book Two of The Adventures of Sarah Coppernick

by SJB Gilmour

  Bruce looked up them for a moment. ‘Why’d you bring them here?’ he demanded a little rudely. ‘I don’t like to be disturbed. You know that.’

  James glanced sideways at Cromwell. ‘A bit mad?’ he queried. ‘He’s a nut!’

  ‘Takes one to know one,’ Mel whispered to him.

  ‘We need you to clarify a few things for us, Bruce,’ Master Cromwell told the oracle, ignoring James and Mel for the moment. ‘But you’ll need to get cleaned up first. I’m not taking you into the observatory until you’re clean.’

  ‘Remarkable,’ Angela observed casually. ‘Where did you find him?’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘I didn’t. He just appeared on the beach a couple of hundred years ago. At first I thought he was just a fraud like most oracles.’

  ‘How do you know he’s genuine?’ she asked the ancient sorcerer as if his oracle wasn’t even in the room.

  Oliver shrugged. ‘Loki told me so.’

  ‘You still keep in touch then?’

  Oliver scratched his head. ‘That’s the strange thing,’ he confessed. ‘I hadn’t heard a peep from Him in centuries. Then not long after this loony arrived, Loki appeared at my dining room table while I was having breakfast. He told me that I should hang onto the oracle as long as I could.’

  Sarah turned to the strange necromancer. ‘Did He say anything else?’

  Oliver shrugged again. ‘Just that I should try to forgive him but He’d understand if I couldn’t. Then He told me not to worry and that Valhalla won’t be calling for me for a long time yet.’

  Bruce kept scampering about in the mess on the floor.

  ‘Bruce!’ Oliver yelled suddenly. ‘I told you to get cleaned up!’

  The mad oracle ignored him. ‘The One!’ he shrieked, clamouring up onto the altar like an ape. ‘The One! The One!’

  Oliver looked back at Angela. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’ he asked. ‘He’s been jabbering on about The One, The First, The Last and The Nine among other things since the day he got here. With young Coppernick and Troy here, there might be something in what he’s saying after all.’

  ‘Nine?’ Angela asked as mildly as she could. ‘Nine what?’

  Cromwell waved at the oracle disgustedly. ‘Stuffed if I know.’

  Angela sighed as if it were of no moment. ‘Which deity is he aligned to?’

  Oliver shook his head ruefully. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never been able to get that much out of him. I’m pretty sure he’s not evil or I’d have detected it a long time ago.’ He pointed one finger at Bruce. ‘Purgarito!’ he yelled in Magaeic. A spark shot from his finger straight at Bruce. In a flash, the filthy oracle was scrubbed clean and dressed in a simple, unbleached linen robe.

  ‘Much better,’ Angela approved. ‘Shall we get him out of here before he gets the chance to spoil himself again?’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Oliver agreed. He nodded at Bruce who suddenly found himself levitated about a metre off the messy floor. The madman kicked his legs wildly but got nowhere. Then Oliver turned to Mel. ‘Clean this place up, will you?’ he instructed her. ‘If we put him back down now, he’ll just roll around in all that muck.

  Mel nodded and concentrated very hard. ‘Purgarito!’ she commanded, using the same spell Oliver had just used. She waved her arm out in a wide arc. Suddenly all the mess was gone and fresh hay was spread out in a small bed for the mad oracle.

  Ignoring the gibbering Bruce who was floating mid-air beside him, Oliver surveyed the result. ‘Not bad, Troy,’ he complimented her. ‘Not bad at all.’ Then he pointed to a corner of the room that was still very messy. ‘The trick with that spell is it will work on everything you focus your attention on. It’s easy to pay attention to most of something, but you’ll need to learn how to focus on all of something,’ he stressed, waving negligently at the messy corner. The area shimmered and was immediately as spotless as the rest of the cell. Then Oliver clicked his fingers and everyone was suddenly returned to his observatory.

  Bruce scampered to one of the large couches and sat down with his legs crossed. He glared first at Sarah and then at Melanie in a most disturbing manner. His wild eyes were obviously useless, though it was clear that he could see using some other sight.

  ‘The First and The Last!’ he crowed, his mad eyes whirling. He rocked back and forth. Spittle and foam flecked his mouth.

  ‘When you say it like that,’ Melanie muttered to Sarah, ‘it kinda makes some sort of sense.’

  ‘I know,’ Sarah replied. ‘It’s like we’re some kind of team. You know, first and last sort of fit together.’ She climbed up onto one of the couches and curled up beside Melanie. Ronny, James, Oliver and Angela seated themselves around in the other chairs. Benjamin, Roberta and Robert went wolf and curled up in front of the fire.

  Benjamin looked thoughtful. ‘Nathan should be here for this,’ he muttered. ‘Sarah, do you know where he is?’

  Sarah wagged her tail. She didn’t take her eyes off the strange oracle. ‘He should be in my satchel in our room,’ she yipped.

  Benjamin’s grey eyes became distant for a moment. Then Sarah’s satchel appeared on the floor in front of him. He nudged it open with his nose.

  ‘Nathan,’ he spoke into the bag. ‘We need you.’

  ‘Oh my!’ Nathan exclaimed, poking his head out of the enchanted bag. ‘Quite a gathering!’ He wriggled out of the satchel and resumed his normal size on the stone floor of Oliver’s observatory. ‘You found him!’ he said to Sarah. ‘Well done!’ He bowed politely to Oliver. ‘Master Cromwell! Pleased to meet you!’

  Oliver raised one eyebrow in an amused smile.

  ‘Well, well,’ he drawled and nodded back to Nathan. He turned to Benjamin. ‘A bookwyrm? Is he really that useful?’

  Benjamin wagged his tail and grinned. ‘Our librarian.’ he replied with aplomb. ‘If it’s been published, then Nathan’s read it.’

  Oliver looked thoughtful and scratched his chin. ‘Hmm, maybe,’ he said. ‘But don’t be too confident in the fact that only published material is worth reading. There are a lot of manuscripts out there that don’t get published because the publishers themselves are stupid or arrogant or both.’ Then he paused as he realised that Benjamin himself was a publisher. ‘No offence,’ he apologised contritely.

  ‘None taken,’ Angela murmured.

  Nathan smiled nervously and echoed Angela.

  ‘None taken, Master Cromwell, Sir. None at all!’ He then turned to observe Bruce. ‘Oh, an oracle!’ he exclaimed. ‘What a day this is! First, I meet a legend and then I meet an oracle. My, it must be a thousand years or more since I last met one!’ He turned and looked at the thousands of tomes on the shelves lining Cromwell’s observatory. ‘Oh my,’ he breathed. ‘My, my, my—’ Then he tore his attention away from the tomes and peered back at Bruce. ‘He’s quite a specimen isn’t he? Could you tell me, what was he before he received his Sight?’

  ‘An alchemist, I think,’ Oliver said, scratching at his blonde head. ‘Of course that just means he was half-batty to begin with. I ran the usual tests and the only tools he seemed to be able to handle properly were a mortar and pestle.’

  ‘Has he written anything down?’

  Oliver shook his head. ‘He rambles a lot, but I don’t think he’s that literate.’

  Nathan’s eyes were whirling excitedly. ‘They’re usually blind,’ he admitted ‘but the deity they’re aligned to normally has them preach to some form of congregation. Failing that, they often use the oracle’s hands to write down some sort of sacred text.’ He frowned for a moment. ‘Most alchemists are quite methodical and usually better at keeping records than turning substances into gold. How unusual for him to be illiterate!’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Master Bookwyrm,’ Oliver apologised. ‘He hasn’t been very productive and since,’ and Oliver spread his hands out wide to gesture around him, ‘an oracle’s congregation, as you put it, is usually made up of throngs of morons and there aren’t that many of those o
n this island, well, I guess his message just hasn’t been put out there. I was going to feed him to the fishes but Loki told me to hang on to him.’

  Nathan seemed puzzled. ‘Loki? He’s not aligned to your Master is he?’

  Oliver laughed. ‘I have no idea! He could be. I asked and Loki denied it, but the my Master enjoys keeping secrets, even from me. He told me to mind my own business. Typical,’ he muttered. ‘He didn’t give me any other useful information.’

  ‘What did your Master say? If you don’t mind me asking, Sir.’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘He sat down at my table, pinched my breakfast and told me,’ he rolled his eyes up in his head, recalling the Norse God of mischief’s exact words. ‘He said, “Don’t worry old boy, your oracle will come in very handy. Keep him here as long as you can and try not to kill him.”’ Oliver paused and regarded the mad oracle with disgust. ‘Loki then said, “I know it may be difficult and should you fail to keep him alive, I’ll understand.” He then muttered something about Valhalla being a long way away for me yet but He had His mouth full of my bacon so it wasn’t very clear.’

  ‘That’s it?’ Nathan exclaimed, gazing at Bruce. ‘How intriguing! I love a good mystery!’ He turned to Cromwell. ‘And all this time, your oracle has never given any hint about whom he serves?’

  Cromwell shook his head. ‘Sorry folks, I can’t help you there. I keep him fed and comfortable—’

  ‘He didn’t look too comfortable when we saw him.’ Melanie accused.

  Oliver spread his hands out helplessly. ‘He likes being filthy. You watch. You did a good job cleaning his cell up, but he’ll mess it up again in no time. He’s like a pig in a wallow.’ He turned back to Nathan. ‘Anyway, my big purple friend, your guess is as good as mine.’

  James stamped forward and took hold of Bruce by the shoulders.

  ‘You know who I am?’ he demanded. ‘Who’s your boss?’

  ‘The Flower Man!’ Bruce cried and began to giggle. ‘Flower man! Flower man!’

  ‘See what I mean?’ Oliver said in a disgusted tone. ‘He’s mental.’

  James looked over his shoulder. ‘He’s not that mad. I’m a botanist, remember? I’ve been called The Flower man before.’ He shook Bruce again. ‘Who is your boss?’ he repeated. ‘Whom do you speak for?’

  ‘I don’t have to answer the Flower Man’s questions!’ Bruce grated. His mad eyes whirled. ‘The Flower Man is the tool! Let the one who wields the tool of fate be risen!’ he cried loudly. ‘I am blind but I can see!’ he crowed, ignoring James. He faced Sarah and began to gibber insanely. Then he looked at Mel and blanched. Suddenly he tore himself loose from James’ grasp and capered wildly about the room. ‘She must die!’ he yelled. ‘Yes, die she must and then when The First is The Last and The Last is The First and The One has come then The Last will kill us.’ Bruce rambled. ‘But when the Golden Protector fails and that which was gold is dross—’ he broke off, listening to the voice in his head. Then he turned to stare at Mel with his mad, blind eyes.

  Mel blanched and watched the madman in silence. She swallowed and went very pale. Angela put one hand on her shoulder comfortingly. Sarah jumped off the couch and stood guard in front of Mel. She bared her fangs and growled a warning.

  Bruce stopped and listened to that voice only he could hear. ‘Yes we must kill her! The Armies of Nine must not come!’ He cried and leaped at Melanie. As he leaped, the force of five sorcerers blasted him back a few metres. He landed with a crash, knocked completely unconscious.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Sarah apologised to the group. ‘I didn’t know you’d all do the same thing.’ Embarrassed, she resumed her human form.

  James chuckled, as did Oliver. Angela merely held Mel still. Not one to shy away from a fight, Mel had immediately clenched her fists and was about to take on the oracle.

  Still grinning to himself, James walked over to Bruce and picked him up with one hand. He hauled the unconscious man onto a couch and dumped him flat out. He turned to Mel.

  ‘You alright?’ he asked her.

  Fuming, Melanie demanded ‘Why does he want to kill me? What was he talking about?’ She wrenched her shoulder free from Angela’s grasp.

  James snorted. ‘Don’t worry kiddo. We’ll find out soon enough,’ he told her. He pulled out the copy of the Serpentine and handed it to Nathan. ‘Did any of that make any sense to you?’ he asked the alarmed bookwyrm. ‘This thing called Sarah The First and Mel The Last, same as what that loony was carrying on about. If that ridiculous little nursery rhyme mentioned them, then there must be other more credible texts out there.’

  Nathan took the tome in his mouth and popped it into Sarah’s satchel. ‘Any number of prophecies refer to their subject as The One. We won’t know if our One is the right One. I’ll have to look for those that also refer to The Last and The First. Before we put too much weight in the Serpentine, it might pay to see what we can dig up.’ He looked at Bruce. ‘And we probably shouldn’t completely discard the idea that the oracle might be connected to Herpethia after all. The reference to Golden Protector and something that was once made of gold becoming dross is more interesting,’ Nathan continued. ‘They’re much more specific references. They should certainly make the search more interesting.’

  ‘Golden Protector?’ Sarah repeated.

  Oliver nodded at her. ‘That’s probably you, Coppernick,’ he said. ‘Dunno what the rest of all that means. He’s mentioned nine before, but as far as I know, that was the first time he ever mentioned what they’re supposed to be. Pure nonsense if you ask me. Whoever heard of anyone being able to co-ordinate nine armies? Best I could ever handle was three and that nearly killed me. I’d rather try to get a herd of sheep to walk in a straight line.’

  ‘Flock,’ Angela corrected absently.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Flock,’ she repeated. ‘The collective noun for sheep is flock.’

  Oliver looked at her quizzically. ‘Then why are all the fools who look after them called shepherds? They’re not called sheepflockers, now are they?’ He turned back to Sarah. ‘You’re the only one with any reference to gold. The Golden Protector is probably you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Sarah muttered glumly. ‘I thought I was The First?’

  ‘Might be both,’ Oliver replied. ‘It’s not unusual for different prophecies to refer to the same people but with different names.’

  James moaned to himself ‘Who’s on first?’

  Mel chuckled at her cousin. ‘Tool,’ she teased him.

  ‘In that case, we better hit my library,’ Oliver said, looking absently at his unconscious oracle.

  Benjamin padded next to Oliver. ‘Mind if I have a look?’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘Of course not. There’s no point in having a dirty great library if you can’t show it off.’

  At the mention of Oliver’s library, Nathan nearly went into hysterics.

  ‘Master Cromwell Sir!’ he exclaimed, wriggling with excitement.

  Oliver sighed. ‘Alright, bookwyrm. Come along.’

  Nathan began stammering so excitedly he made no sense whatsoever.

  ‘But,’ Oliver warned, raising one finger. ‘I warn you, my archivists aren’t all that friendly.’

  Nathan gulped, suddenly fearful. ‘They... they’re not?’

  ‘Don’t frighten him!’ Sarah interrupted. ‘What’s wrong with them?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Oliver said mildly. ‘They’re mummies, that’s all. They’re stupid and they’ve pretty big chips on their shoulders. Must have something to do with them being dead and all. That’s the problem with mummies.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Dead brains.’ He shuddered. ‘You have no idea how long it took me to get them to keep things in order. As for teaching them English…’ He gave a dismissive wave. ‘Forget about it. Stupid language anyway,’ he muttered.

  ‘What language do they speak then?’

  ‘Mostly ancient Egyptian and Greek. They have a smattering of old Arabic a
nd Latin as well.’

  Now Benjamin laughed. ‘Don’t worry my friend. There’s not an Earthly language I don’t speak. I’m sure there won’t be any misunderstandings.’

  ‘How do you manage that? At best I’ve only been able to keep a dozen or so languages going at the same time.’

  ‘One of the benefits of being a werewolf, Cromwell.’ Benjamin told him.

  ‘Well lets not stand here gossipping all day,’ Angela announced. ‘I’m curious too, Oliver. Let’s go have a peek at your library and these unfriendly mummies of yours.’

  Oliver then led them though to an enchanted staircase. When they had gone down perhaps a dozen stairs, they walked through some sort of shimmering field. It wasn’t exactly a portal, which would have taken them to another place. Instead, it seemed as if they’d moved past some section or area that was hidden somehow.

  ‘Whoa,’ Ronny muttered, rubbing his temples with his gnarled hands. ‘My bump-of-uppses is going nuts. We’re not where we were before.’

  Oliver said nothing but continued to lead them down the stairs, which lead out into a sunny courtyard that appeared very much like the one they had just left. As they walked over polished floors and past stone columns into more marble buildings of the palace, Angela’s expression became more and more confused. Sarah wasn’t quite sure what her beautiful teacher was puzzled about, but decided not to ask.

  Instead, she followed along behind Angela and Oliver. Sarah walked between Melanie and Nathan, while Benjamin, Robert and Roberta padded along behind her. The three werewolves’ toenails clicked on the marble floors. Ronny and James took up the rear, arguing all the while about something to do with vampire saffron prices.

  Bemused, Sarah let her mind wander as they walked. Not really paying attention to the others, she kept thinking about something Oliver had said. How could she guard her thoughts from others? She knew the basics, of course. She’d read mortal minds with ease and even managed to pick thoughts from Angela occasionally. Each time, she had extended her consciousness to the other person’s thoughts she had pushed through a fuzzy, grey mist surrounding it. This wall of mist, she realised, was the mind’s own defence mechanism. In mortals, this misty barrier was so thin it was quite transparent. Angela’s was much thicker.