by A. J. Dobbs
The Seventh Seal
First Published in Great Britain 2015 by Mirador Publishing
Copyright © 2015 by A.J. Dobbs
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers or author. Excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
First edition: 2015
Any reference to real names and places are purely fictional and are constructs of the author. Any offence the references produce is unintentional and in no way reflects the reality of any locations or people involved.
A copy of this work is available through the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-910530-75-7
Mirador Publishing
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Wearne Lane
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The Seventh Seal,
By
A.J. Dobbs
“Everything we call real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real” Niels Bohr
For my family past and present in whatever universe they find themselves making their way….
1 – Michael Stone
My name is Elias Watson. I am the Keeper of the Second Seal of Thera and your companion and guide throughout this great tale. It was the great Albertus Magnus himself that said to me, “Elias, you must record for future generations this story”, and so here I am.
Some of what I will tell is of my own first-hand experience; much is what I have gleaned from conversation with those who were party to these events, but in its whole, this story is now legend…
Our tale begins on Earth in spring. The year is 2007…
The sun was rising over the small Welsh village Gadeiriol, bathing the streets and roofs with a soft spring glow, sneaking into rooms through curtain cracks and stirring the inhabitants for another day. The sun’s dancing patterns on the floors and walls of one boy’s bedroom at number 1 Sunnyside caused eyelids to flutter and arms and legs to stretch with accompanying groans, as his mind moved from dreams to consciousness, in the slow process – for he was a boy of ten – of waking up.
Nestled in the foothills of the Beacon Breks —you may know them as the Brecon Beacons — this unassuming village with its combinations of chimneys old and new was like so many towns and villages all over the world; it was a small cog in a very big machine. However, on this day the focus of a small group of individuals was all on Gadeiriol in Wales and particularly one inhabitant of number 1 Sunnyside.
Michael Stone was already up and packing his rucksack with a troubled look on his face as his ten-year-old son, Daniel, stumbled down the stairs rubbing his eyes and yawning.
‘Hi, Dad, I thought you weren’t going until tomorrow?’
‘I’ve lots to do, Daniel, so thought I’d get a head start. Is your mother still sleeping?’
‘Yeah, shall I wake her?’
‘No, let her sleep; we’ve said our goodbyes. Come over here and give your dad a hug.’
Michael Stone was a gentle fellow with a stout heart and also a good friend; at one hundred and forty years old he was one of our most experienced Keepers and here he was saying goodbye to his family, preparing for the greatest battle of his life, and his son was happy, as he should be, to let the world go by…
As Michael left the small cottage and headed down the high street in the early light, he repeatedly glanced around him, but this was no twenty-four-hour city and, apart from the clanking of bottles from the milkman in a nearby street, all was quiet. He reached inside his pocket to grasp for the Seventh Seal and as he cleared the main village he spun around 360 degrees for a final check before pulling out the ornate gold disc. Engraved around the outside with filigree which surrounded a triangle and three circular depressions it fit neatly and beautifully into his hand; it was as if the seal was a natural extension of his physical body. Michael placed a finger in each circle and pressed gently down on the smallest of the three depressions.
The air around him began to vibrate creating a rippling effect as his whole body distorted and he was pulled through a hole in spacetime; just like a floppy handkerchief being pulled into your hand. In the blink of an eye he was gone!
*
It will be of great benefit, dear reader, at this point to equip you with some facts; like all great adventures they always go best when we are prepared. The place you call home, Earth, despite how it obviously appears complete to you, is only one half of the whole. The other half of the world is called Arthe and the happenings on Earth trigger alternate outcomes on Arthe and, of course, vice versa, which means I’m afraid that there are two of you.
Strange as this is, there is more. In between the spaces of Earth and Arthe is my home of Thera. There is a delicate balance of life between Earth and Arthe and the role of the Keepers is to ensure that balance is maintained. For as long as there has been life, there have been Keepers and as long as there have been Keepers there has been balance. The two ‘yous’ can obviously never meet or see each other and you all go happily about your business without knowing this underlying truth; the Keepers ensure that.
Thera, spring 2007
Michael emerged in Thera in much the same manner as he left Earth, and he now stood in a region known as the Southern Lands; to the north his destiny awaited. All around him was a patchwork quilt of well-kept fields of varying shades of green, each filled with cattle and sheep and separated by hand-built stone walls, all impeccably tended. In the far distance this view gave way to more mountainous terrain covered in snow, the Northern Ice Fields. The day was calm and bright with just a few wisps of cloud in an otherwise beautiful blue sky, and as his mind focused on this distant view, his attention was grabbed by a voice…
Albertus Magnus, Keeper of Peace at Tolemak, was a tall, elegant man with well-groomed, raven black hair. I, like everyone else, had no idea of his age; in a universe that is ageless, Albertus was also ageless and wise, and it was to him we always looked for answers and guidance.
‘Michael, good morning.’
‘Hello, Albertus, I didn’t expect to see you.’
‘Michael you are not only a dear friend but the Keeper of the Seventh Seal, I couldn’t let you head off alone into certain danger without trying to talk you out of it. We will catch Smee, you know, you don’t have to do this on your own.’
Michael so wanted to grab the olive branch just given him by Albertus and the strain of the decision was clear on his face.
‘There is just too much at risk, Albertus. Who knows what could happen if he… I must deal with him alone; it’s me he is after.’
He had now committed himself and pride would not let him back down; Albertus could see this too and tried another tack.
‘Do you have a plan, Michael?’
‘I know he’s hiding out near Lake Akgrada; surprise will be my main ally, apart from my trusty drows,’ said Michael, not really convinced by his own words but patting his drows, his sword-like weapon, as if it made his plan a better one.
The drows is the weapon of the Keeper; designed for their use and their use alone. In its undrawn state its innocuous appearance, similar to a plain sword hilt, belies its deadly power. Held upside down in a simple leather holder about the waist it connects with, and draws power from its Keeper reacting and responding to danger. Extending into a blade of dark matter so sharp, the drows can cut through almost anything and in the hands of an experienced Keeper it is almost without equal. Michael Stone was considered a master; but even a master can be outnumbered and outwitted by a superior force and that was what Albertus feared most.
‘T
hat’s hardly a plan, Michael. Let me help you, my boy. Let’s go and talk to the Professor about this; his house is not far from here, walk with me,’ Albertus implored.
Michael nodded in grateful acceptance and they both headed down the road in silence. The spring morning air was cold and refreshing and the sun, low in the sky, was refracting off the dew on the grass, creating a kaleidoscope of colour on the fields. Michael smiled an uneasy smile to himself at the beauty of nature and in that moment hardened his resolve to protect this life.
The road to Professor Peart’s home was clear and the journey uneventful; whilst this area was mainly farmland, there was little activity and this unusual state was not lost on both the companions.
The stone cottage of the Professor was set about five hundred feet off the main road elevated at the top end of a field. Accessed by a narrow dirt road with cart ruts winding up like large snakes to the front, it came into view as they rounded the next bend.
There were wisps of smoke rising from the chimney of the cottage, the only clue that there was any life other than the cows and sheep in the fields. As they approached, the solid oak front door creaked open and the Professor greeted the pair with outstretched arms and a smile.
Alexander Peart, professor of regulogical science at Tolemak Castle, was the son of one of the greatest professors at Tolemak, Einstein Peart. He had a happy disposition and was slightly portly with short blond hair and at one hundred and thirty he was young to be in such a position, but the balance is never wrong and it is what it is. Despite his youth, his ancestry had fed his every atom with knowledge and it was unwise to assume his youth was a weakness; those who did, did so to their detriment.
‘Albertus, Michael, what a welcome sight. Come in, let’s have some tea and talk a while; there is much to discuss.’
They entered the house into what would have been a sparse kitchen, had it not been for the apparatus of pipes and glass tubes and shelves full of jars all marked with strange names. At one end a fire burnt slowly, taking the spring chill out of the air and stone walls and filling the house with a sense of calm and comfort.
‘Sit, please sit.’ The Professor pulled two chairs out and gestured to his guests. He pulled a hot kettle from the fire and poured them all tea.
‘Smee came through here a week ago, stealing food and supplies. No one resisted and the farmers are still too scared to venture out, that’s why it’s so quiet; he’s got a small band of men with him, around ten as far as I could tell. You intend to confront him, I gather, Michael?’
‘Don’t think that you can talk me out of this, Professor, I’ve made my intentions clear to Albertus. Smee must be stopped and I cannot and will not risk the lives of the other Keepers. This is my fight,’ he said emphatically, agitated by the feeling that they were trying to corner him.
‘Calm yourself, Michael, I can see you are committed to your cause and I can’t argue that he needs to be stopped, but on your own, really? You are walking a fine line between danger and stupidity and your motive to protect the other Keepers whilst admirable, is one that puts us all at risk. This is not just about what you want.’
Michael was taken aback by the uncharacteristically aggressive tone of the Professor as the realisation of what he was proposing dawned on him.
The Professor now smiled, warming the atmosphere a little and continued,
‘If you are insistent on doing this without the other Keepers, Michael then I am coming with you. That, my friend, is not up for debate; this is about all life on Earth and Arthe. We have our duties too you know,’ he added as emphatically and as impassioned as Michael.
Michael felt relieved and heartened. The Professor had given him some room to back-down from his position and the reality was that having him at his side increased his chances of success and survival considerably. It lifted his spirits immediately, restoring his whole rhythm.
‘Come on, let’s have a look at the regulus viewer and see if we can find him,’ said the Professor.
The regulus, that’s what all this is about you see. Michael’s foe, Smee was trying to take control of the balance between Earth and Arthe, because if he could control what happens, then he could get up to all sorts of mischief.
You should think of the regulus like a hidden system of roads connecting everyone and everything. All the energy of the universe flows through the regulus and on Earth and Arthe it is protected by the Keepers on Thera. You will begin to understand more as the story unfolds…
‘Let me have your seal please, Michael,’ said the Professor.
The Professor made his way over to the wall opposite the fire where hanging like a picture was a rectangular piece of crystal. The Professor pushed the seal into a depression below the crystal screen and it immediately stuck fast. The three circles of the seal, at the apices of the triangle changed from concave to dome and started to glow with the soft iridescence of a star. The Professor touched the smallest of the three balls and started to roll it around and as he did so, soft light sparkles fired around his hands in the most beautiful array of colours. The crystal screen above immediately turned clear and an image of the land around them appeared. He moved the ball and the screen image started to move at speed across the countryside, heading to the Northern Ice Fields. The image settled on a large lake, Akgrada, and the Professor and Michael both looked at each other in uneasy unison. The Professor pressed the ball on the seal and the image zoomed in; first they could see little black specks moving near the lake edge, then the shape of people became clear. Albertus was the first to speak.
‘Looks like you’ve found them.’
The Professor rolled the ball around, scanning the area near the lake, picking out a complex of interconnected igloos set in a sheltered corner between the lake edge and the rising sides of an ice wall. A fire was burning near the igloos.
‘What are they doing?’ asked Michael.
‘Waiting for us,’ responded the Professor chillingly.
‘Smee wants to draw you out into terrain that evens the odds. A fight near Tolemak would give us the advantage as our ability to draw power from the regulus is stronger there. He’s setting a trap that he hopes you will fall into.’
‘Professor, the ice fields, they are four days’ walk from here, aren’t they?’ said Michael.
‘Correct. We can set off in the morning at first light. If we head up through the Sugarloaf Pass, we’ll approach their camp from the east. I will buy some time for you, Michael, with an energy surge in the regulus that will force his men to sleep, but not for long; you will need to deal with Smee quickly,’ said the Professor, now more serious about the challenge ahead.
*
At Lake Akgrada, Smee had gathered his men into the largest of the igloos to give them a rallying call.
‘Men, the time is nearly upon us to reach for our destiny, to channel our hopes and dreams, to control the power of the regulus and free us from the control of the Keepers. You have all been loyal to me and I hope as we enter this final stage that you will be rewarded by all that life can offer. It is my time, it is your time. Let us prepare for the Keeper and give him the welcome he deserves.’
Smee’s rallying speech worked the small group into frenzy and they applauded and cheered as he turned and left the igloo. He walked over to a smaller igloo, nodding at two of his close aides who were standing by the fire; they followed him in.
‘Gentlemen, it is nearly time, I feel it, the Keeper is here in Thera and prepares to meet us. We need to be vigilant over the coming days so post guards day and night around the camp. When we have the seal, you know what to do with the men.’
Both men nodded in unison, acknowledging their understanding of the plan, and left. Smee smiled an evil and deceitful smile drawn from the depths of his dark soul.
‘Soon the power will be mine. They will kneel at my feet and acknowledge their new master. I will wipe the history of the Keepers from the annals of time; a new order is coming…’
*
Odl
ing Smee was once one of us and a happy child in the old days, but he was corrupted by events long ago and was now our sworn enemy. His foreboding character augmented his dark appearance which you felt reflected his rotten inner self. He was an oddity to look at, his whole scale distorted by long sweeping black clothes that, coupled with black hair and dark brown sunken eyes, gave him a menace beyond his physical scale. His costume of choice of course was deliberate but to assume that this was purely theatrical was a mistake; Odling Victor Smee was pure evil.
His life was as prominent a part of Theran history as the Keepers themselves. Smee was the son of Victor Smee, one of the most admired Keepers of our time. After his death, Odling had big shoes to fill, that’s no mistake, and as I look back now he was always fighting his father’s shadow. I knew him as a boy and his innocence was clear; children are always innocent, aren’t they, for a time? There is such beauty in this stage of our lives that we never appreciate until it’s gone. We all liked him, which is why his fall was so difficult for all of us. We didn’t see the change either, like dampness in a wall it crept up, and whilst you see some changes you often ignore them and we did. He progressively distanced himself from us and in my old age now I often wonder if we contributed to his change…
In the end he became consumed with the idea of intervention in the lives of man, in the way that the world tick-tocked its way along. He realised that the universe had no plan and that the regulus allowed all things to be. It was in its design to operate like this, no luck or chance, just everything that could happen did happen somewhere. Odling wanted the power of the regulus, a power that would allow him to upset the balance between Earth and Arthe and from this ‘what if’ seed of a thought grew a darkness that enveloped his soul. He was banished from Tolemak and sent to Arahas in the Eastern Desert to live out his days; he, of course, had different ideas…
