The Seventh Seal (The Chronicles of Daniel Stone Book 1)

by A. J. Dobbs

  ~

  Look each night for a shining star,

  take comfort, love, we will never part,

  within its light that travels far,

  I’ll always shine within your heart.

  ~

  I head away now to a distant land,

  I may not return to your loving arms,

  through snow and ice and desert sand,

  I’ll fight forever, for a balanced calm.

  ~

  I am your Keeper, your love and light,

  have hope for the future, for I’m always near,

  I’ll protect forever for this is my fight,

  sleep sound tonight without any fear.

  ~

  Oh distant love, hear these words of mine,

  on winds they fly, with love their wings,

  our parting sorrows, for all of time,

  these words of love, my heart it sings.’

  ~

  ‘You remember the old song of the Keepers, Michael; that should tell you something about who you are.’

  ‘I just hope she can hear me…’ said Michael with sadness in every word.

  The two continued to climb up through the Sugarloaf Pass progressively moving from hard frozen ground to snow and ice; it was getting too dark to travel and their only light was the moon. The reflections off the ice and snow although quite beautiful were now making their progress infinitely more dangerous.

  ‘We need to get to the Keepers’ lodge; it’s only another mile away,’ said the Professor, now clearly concerned.

  *

  A raven had landed in the camp at Akgrada; this was no random or ordinary bird, it was Smee’s and was carrying a message on its leg.

  ‘Butcher, bring the bird to me,’ shouted Smee.

  Smee carefully removed the small metal canister and unrolled the handwritten message. To this day we don’t know who betrayed Michael and the Professor, but betrayed they were. Smee read the message and with each word emerged an increasingly deceitful smile.

  ‘Butcher, it seems our prey did not fall foul of our little trap in Abrythin. They have tried to surprise us with a cock and bull story that Longuard defeated them and is on his way here with the seal. They must think we are stupid. They would have already travelled one day and were on horseback so they should be somewhere on the Sugarloaf. I’ll bet my reputation they’re heading for the old Keepers’ lodge.’

  ‘Shall I prepare the men, sir, to head up to meet them?’

  ‘My original plan was to let them come here, if Longuard failed, but this could be a real opportunity to steal the advantage of surprise. Yes, Butcher, ready the men; we’ll head up this evening and attack the lodge in the morning.’

  The group of vagabonds left within the hour heading for the Keepers’ lodge on the Sugarloaf Mountain.

  *

  Michael and the Professor were unaware of what was going on as they made slow but steady progress up through the pass; conditions without proper light were poor and unsure of their footing they remained steadfastly slow with their steps. However, even this caution was not enough on this mountain, as with his next step Michael heard a loud crack, the noise starting at his feet then shooting off in a random an unknown direction. The two men stood mannequin still for what seemed an eternity, hoping that nothing further would happen, but there was another crack and Michael fell. The Professor reacted quickly and luckily they were walking close to each other as he grabbed the collar of his min-ed cloak and held him from falling into a black, bottomless ice crevasse.

  ‘Professor, don’t let me go,’ screamed Michael.

  ‘I can assure you I’m not intending to. Can you get any sort of grip with your feet on the sides and I’ll try and pull you up?’ said the Professor, struggling to speak under the strain of Michael’s weight.

  ‘I don’t know, I’ll try.’

  Their predicament soon worsened as the chilling call of mountain wolves reverberated around them. These were fearsome creatures and they were not afraid of man; they would attack in any circumstance and they could already smell fear. The Professor knew they were in big trouble.

  ‘Michael, how are you getting along? We’ve got some company up here.’

  ‘I heard! Okay, I’ve got some grip, haul me up.’ As the Professor started to pull Michael up, he heard a loud growl from behind him and then something grabbed his lower leg and started pulling and tearing. The Professor let out an enormous cry of pain and momentarily lost grip of Michael, letting him fall back in the hole.

  ‘Professor,’ screamed Michael, panicking. No answer, but Michael could feel himself move again out of the hole. The Professor, whilst trying to kick the wolf and pull Michael out, was unable to speak; his adrenalin was running hot and he pulled with all his might.

  Despite the pain, the irony was the wolf was actually helping. As it tried to drag the Professor away it gave the lifting process additional mechanical advantage. The downside of course was the Professor’s body was acting as the lifting gear in this bizarre ‘machine’ and his leg was in danger of being torn from his body.

  Finally, Michael was sufficiently out of the ice hole to haul his own body out using his arms. He could see the pain on the Professor’s face and the exhaustion and sweat, as well as two glowing eyes at the end of his body. He got to his feet, pulled out his drows and pierced the wolf in the heart, killing him instantly. The Professor rolled over in agony, blood pouring from the bite. Michael used his drows and cut a piece of his min-ed cloak and wrapped it tightly around the wound.

  ‘We have to get to the lodge quickly; the other wolves will soon smell the blood and also attack,’ said Michael.

  ‘I don’t know if I can walk.’

  ‘You’ll have to or die here,’ said Michael chillingly.

  ‘Come on, Professor, you can do it; it’s just over there, I can see it in the moonlight,’ encouraged Michael.

  With one huge effort and a little help from Michael, the Professor managed to get to the lodge without further incident. The old lodge had not been used for some time, not since the dark matter mines had shut down, but it was in good order; the thick timber logs made of lignum vitae, the hardest of all known woods had beaten off colder nights than that one.

  Michael reached into his backpack and pulled out a metal tube and, with a twist of the handle, slots on the side of it opened up allowing air in. Immediately the phosphor inside reacted with the air and light shone out one end. The room lit up and Michael could now see a stone fireplace was already laid with wood and a number of candles on the shelves could provide some light. Michael helped the Professor onto a chair and removed the min-ed ligature.

  He winced.

  ‘You’d never make a good doctor with that sort of reaction to a wound, Michael. I don’t have enough energy to fix myself as I did with you. Can you get me my backpack please?’

  The Professor delved inside and pulled out a jar marked ‘Concentrated Silver Leaf’. ‘Michael, cover my leg with this and replace the min-ed bandage; with any luck I’ve treated it quickly enough for it to work by morning.’

  With the fire lit and the Professor’s leg treated, the two men were exhausted and had no idea what was on its way to them; they settled down and rested.

  *

  Smee and his men had made good progress. The route from the lake up the Sugarloaf Pass was a lot easier than the route Michael and the Professor had followed and so it wasn’t long before they were in a position to set up their camp for the evening. They heard the wolves and the screaming and Smee took heart; perhaps the battle in the morning would be easier than he thought.

  By morning the weather had turned from calm and sunny to blizzard snow and in the cabin the Professor woke first to the sound of the wind whistling down the chimney. His leg was sore, but on removing the min-ed it had largely healed; the Silver Leaf had done its job. Michael was waking up as the Professor stoked the fire and raised it to flame from the dying embers.

  ‘The weather is too bad to move
today. We’ll have to chance another day here.’

  Michael opened the front door to confirm the conditions. ‘I see what you mean.’

  Perhaps this was their mistake for Smee had no such concerns.

  About six hundred feet from the lodge Smee and his men were waiting and now had the cover of the blizzard to approach the lodge with impunity.

  ‘Butcher, hold your men fast under cover. I’m going up on my own; if you see my arm rise, give them the order to charge and let them do what they do best.’

  ‘Very good, sir,’ Butcher replied with an evil grin.

  Smee checked he had his sword, pulled his long dark cloak around him and started the climb up to the lodge. The area surrounding the lodge was a mini plateau and once on this more level ground he made good speed despite the blizzard.

  Inside the cabin, Michael was staring out of the one small window at the front, overlooking the plateau; he could just make out a black mass in the driving snow and his heart skipped several beats.

  ‘Professor, someone is out there; someone is heading towards the lodge.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Well I’m not going to wait here. I’m going out there; can you help?’

  ‘I don’t know, I’m still quite weak; if it’s Smee and he’s with his men, I don’t think I can offer more than a little magic show with some snap jack I’m afraid, Michael.’

  ‘Okay, well be ready would you? I’m going to need all the help I can get.’

  Michael donned his min-ed cloak and checked his drows was in place; he took one last look at the Professor then headed outside. The dark figure was clearer now. Smee drew nearer and soon they were within sword distance of each other.

  The storm raged around them but neither noticed its ferocity as they faced each other man to man.

  ‘Hello, Michael, it’s been a long time.’

  ‘Not long enough, Odling. You should have stayed in Arahas.’

  ‘Well I didn’t come here to debate where I should be; you know what I want and there’s an easy way or—’

  Michael interrupted. ‘There’s no easy way, Smee, other than you and your band of thugs surrendering to me.’

  ‘Oh, Michael, you should not be so stubborn. You risk much standing here; you have a wife and son.’

  ‘Don’t you dare mention my wife and son!’

  Michael could feel the anger building inside him and his eyes were watering with tears; he instinctively put his hand on his drows.

  ‘You see, Michael, you don’t want to be here, your heart is with them; give me the seal and go and live a happy life.’

  ‘You know I can’t do that.’

  ‘Very well, then there can be only one outcome…’

  Smee drew his sword and whilst this was no drows, he was gifted in its use and Michael knew this; he pulled his drows from its sheath, spinning it around in a single action as the blade extended once more.

  ‘The world is about to change, Michael.’

  Smee lunged at Michael, maintaining his posture and grip on the ice with the use of crampons on his boots. Michael raised the drows in a defensive move and the two blades clashed. It was told that the sound that the two blades made could be heard all over Thera, as good and evil clashed. Michael withdrew and took up an attacking stance and for what seemed an eternity they fought as no two men before or since have fought. In the end it was an act of treachery that separated the fate of the two men.

  Butcher was watching the fight and waiting for the signal from Smee; when it didn’t come he decided to help out anyway and circled around behind the fighting men and in the blind spot of the lodge, so that the Professor, who he assumed was still inside, would not see him. The Professor too was not sitting idly by, and had been busy making snap jack bombs to distract Smee and give Michael a brief advantage. As he emerged from the lodge and was just about to throw his first bomb, Butcher came up behind him and hit him with the hilt of his sword. Crack went his head; he fell unconscious to the floor. Michael had his back to this commotion, but Smee caught sight of what was happening and smiled; he disengaged from the fight and stepped back, gasping for air from the exertion before composing himself.

  ‘Michael, we are getting nowhere with this, clearly neither of us can win…’

  Smee smiled and Michael looked at him, trying to understand what was going on. He soon knew as he felt the cold steel of Butcher’s sword in his back.

  ‘Unless one of us gets a little help,’ said Smee. His smile now turned to a laugh as Michael fell to his knees.

  Butcher withdrew his sword, ready to deliver the final blow. He was about to strike when both Albertus and I arrived from Tolemak. We materialised just behind Butcher and I immediately swung my drows and struck him, killing him with one blow.

  Smee was in momentary shock and looking on open mouthed as I grabbed my seal from my coat and headed over to Michael where Albertus was waiting; he had already dragged the Professor to where Michael had fallen and all four of us touched hands. I pressed the seal and we were gone.

  Smee screamed with desperation at the top of his voice as his men slowly moved out from their hiding places to find out what had happened before running away and leaving him. He sank to his knees, driving his sword deep in the snow and ice.

  *

  Our small party materialised by the shore of Lake Akgrada. Michael was in a poor condition; Albertus laid him down holding his head on the floor.

  ‘You were right, Albertus, it wasn’t m-much of a plan.’

  ‘Rest, my boy, don’t move,’ said Albertus.

  ‘Take me… to the lake, would you? I want something peaceful to see as I depart this world,’ said Michael emphatically.

  Albertus could see the wound was fatal and did not argue as he and I helped him to the lake edge. Michael seemed to recover a moment and sat on the cold ground, staring at the lake.

  ‘Albertus look after Daniel and Sarah, won’t you?’

  He started to cry as the names of his most beloved filled the air around him, echoing like a song around the lake.

  ‘Of course we will, they will be safe with us.’

  ‘Safer than I was, I hope.’ There was a hint of bitterness in these words as he suddenly struggled to his feet and using all his remaining energy took the Seventh Seal of Thera from his pocket and threw it as far as he could into the middle of the lake.

  ‘Michael, no, that will not help,’ cried Albertus.

  ‘I will not let my son face my fate. He m-must l-lead a norm—’ Michael Stone passed from this world at the side of Lake Akgrada.

  Albertus, with head held low, spoke, quoting the great Epicurus of Thera.

  ‘As long as we are on the road of life, we must make the later journey better than the beginning, but be happy and content when we have reached the end. Rest in peace, Michael.’

  *

  Smee was captured at the Keepers’ lodge by Lucius Crambourne and Thomas Orvieto; the Keepers of the Fifth and Sixth Seals. These young buccaneers live by an honourable code of combat and when they found Smee still on his knees, clutching his sword, their first instinct was to spur him into a fight, to finish the matter there and then. Smee, however, was lost in limbo and neither man could kill him in cold blood; he was returned to Tolemak and then sentenced to life in Arahas prison.

  2 – Daniel Stone

  Earth, spring 2007

  It was a Saturday morning when the news came to number 1 Sunnyside, Daniel and his mother, Sarah, were having breakfast in the kitchen when the postman delivered the letter. It had been five days since Michael had left and just as a soldier’s wife is left at home when her husband departs for war, she had spent that time in worry. The letter from Albertus had fuelled her anxiety and whilst letters from him were not an unusual occurrence, she could feel the hope of his safe return slipping away like sand through an hour glass.

  Sarah stared at the wedding photograph of her and Michael on the mantelpiece and was taken back to the moment they met…


  She recalled her ambition and thirst for life at age 18, the world was at her feet as she passed through the triumphant arches of Cambridge University for the first time. Absorbing the splendour of the architecture and its echoing history from as early as 1209; the energy she felt was intoxicating. She didn’t notice the people around her and so it was inevitable that she would bump into somebody.

  ‘Oh I’m so sorry…’ a young man said as they crashed together like cymbals. He too was lost in his own moment of awakening as their bags and books went flying across the floor. They smiled politely at each other, and with a little embarrassment, Michael Stone held out his hand in introduction. As their hands touched and their eyes met a connection was made that would never break and so a new branch on their lives was created.

  Sarah’s eyes glazed with the memory as she returned to the present and secretly and quickly wiped away her tears before Daniel could see her.

  Their love blossomed at Cambridge, and all his obligations as Keeper of the Seventh Seal of Thera became secondary to his desire to marry Sarah; this was now his sole quest. He had no idea of course how love would eventually cause him so much pain; he was blind with it, but his course was set.

  As a member of the Council of Keepers he was in a unique position to argue his case for marriage and he did so with gusto. Eventually and with more reluctance than blessing, consent was granted; what could we do? If we had said no Michael would have ignored us anyway.

  Sarah got caught up in a whirlwind of emotions for Michael. I had my doubts at the time about how much she really understood or wanted to understand about us but she anchored her heart to what she did know; her feelings for Michael, and just let the rest blow over her. In time we all came to love her dearly and how she settled and grounded him; in fact making him a better person. So when Albertus and I arrived in Gadeiriol on that lovely spring morning, we did so with heavy hearts, heavy for the loss of our close friend and heavy for the grave news we had to give to the ones he, and we, so loved.

  *

  We materialised in a clearing just north of the village wearing the clothes of Earth and despite Albertus’ taste being a little out of time for the current century, people just saw him as an eccentric old man with a wooden cane. His tweed suit was reminiscent of the 1920s, but it worked for him and he always managed to look elegant, regal even. I was of more contemporary styling — relative to Albertus at any rate— but I suddenly realised that my dark suit made me look like an undertaker and I cursed myself for this insensitivity.