by Sam Short
Scrambling to her feet, Millie nodded, putting all fear aside. She was there to help her father, and she was in a hurry. Anyway, anything or anybody who spoke with such an educated accent surely didn’t mean her harm. “I’m here to find Henry Pinkerton,” she said. “It’s an emergency! I need his help!”
“Ah, Mister Pinkerton, the delegate from Spellbinder Bay,” said the creature, nodding its rotting head slowly. “A wonderful man. I’ll take you to him; I’m sure he’ll want to know about an emergency.” He lifted a bony arm and pointed inland. “That way, Madam. Follow the stream. I’ll be right behind you.”
Reluctantly turning her back on the creature, Millie splashed through the stream, climbing from it as a path emerged on the bank-side. The sound of footsteps crunched in dry grass behind her, and her skin crawled as she imagined the creature’s eyes on her back.
“I’m not bad, you know?” came a low voice from behind her.
“Pardon?” said Millie, risking a glance over her shoulder.
The creature’s mouth spread wider, displaying blackened teeth and a rotting tongue. Was it smiling? “I said, I’m not bad, you know?” it said, as Millie faced her front again and hurried along the pathway. “I realise I look quite different from people in the dimension you call home, but I was rescued from the dimension you would know as The Chaos. I was rescued and brought here by people such as Henry Pinkerton. I work for them, now — welcoming guests such as yourself to this dimension. Do you have a name, Madam? I have a name. I was given a name when I was brought here. I was never given a name in the other dimension, but now, I am named Terrence. Do you like my name, Madam?”
“I do,” said Millie. “It suits you. I’m Millie, Terrence. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You, too, Millie,” said Terrence. “You’ll see a fork in the pathway just up ahead, turn left there, and we’ll be at our destination in a minute or two.”
Millie hurried, moving even faster when she saw the fork in the path, she turned left, away from the stream, and was happy to find herself walking on a paved trail with neatly planted flowerbeds on either side.
“The Meeting Pyramid is just ahead,” said Terrence, now walking alongside Millie. “I’ll announce your arrival.”
“I’m not sure I need my arrival announced,” said Millie, feeling the stone vibrating harder in her pocket. “I just need to speak to Henry Pinkerton as quickly as possible.”
“It will be necessary,” said Terrence. “The delegates follow strict protocols. It helps them deal with the important issues of your world in as orderly a manner as possible.”
“Okay,” said Millie. “But I need to find Henry quickly, Terrence. Somebody I love is in grave danger.”
“Turn right here, Millie,” said Terrence, indicating a pathway leading into tall trees. “We’ve reached the Meeting Pyramid.”
As Millie turned right and cleared the tall trees which had been shielding her view, she stopped walking and gasped, her eyes following the pyramid into the heavens.
“Are you alright, Millie?” asked Terrence, stopping alongside her.
“Yes,” said Millie, gazing at the huge structure which rose from the jungle. The huge white stones it was constructed from sparkling in the sun, the pyramid climbed high into the sky, its peak lost in a heat haze. “It’s amazing, Terrence. I’ve never seen anything so spectacular.”
“Haven’t you?” asked Terrence. “I was led to believe by the people who visit from your world that there are many of these structures in your dimension. I’m told that none are in use any longer and some have crumbled, but they are widespread, especially in a region now known in your world as Egypt.”
“Really?” murmured Millie.
“Pardon?” answered Terrence.
“Nothing,” said Millie. “I was talking to myself.”
“If you’re in such a hurry, Millie,” said Terrance. “You would be well advised to stop staring at the Meeting Pyramid in such a peculiar fashion, and to begin walking again.” He pointed towards the tall wooden door at the base of the pyramid, its surface painted with hieroglyphics and colourful portraits of animals. “That way, please, Millie,” he said. “It is through that door that you’ll find Mister Pinkerton.”
Chapter 39
Terrence gave the metal chain alongside the doors a firm tug, and with a loud creak, the huge doors began to open inwards, their hinges creaking under the vast weight they supported.
The corridor beyond the door was dimly lit, with only wall torches to guide the way with flame, but the sunlight which crept in as the doors opened illuminated the walls, allowing Millie to make out more hieroglyphics carved into the massive stone blocks.
Terrence began walking into the pyramid. “This way, Millie,” he said.
As Millie followed him into the gloom, the hinges creaked again as the doors closed behind her, extinguishing the sunlight. Following Terrence along the corridor, Millie smelled the air. Not musty, as she might have expected, the air carried the fragrance of burning oils and herbs, reminding her of a perfume shop.
Soon, Terrence turned right and paused when he reached another large door. He looked at Millie with black eyes, the flap of skin on his scalp threatening to peel away completely as he tilted his head. “We’re here,” he said. “When the door opens, I’ll announce you and then call you in.”
Millie nodded. “I understand.”
“Good,” said Terrence. ”The people behind this door are good people, but they have aeons of traditions to uphold. They may appear aloof and uncaring, but they mean well.”
With that, Terrence pulled on a chain next to the door and adjusted his robe as the doors swung open. Giving Millie what she assumed was a smile, he strode out of the gloom of the corridor and into the vastness of the huge, well-lit hall, which Millie could see beyond.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he shouted, looking left and right at areas of the hall hidden from Millie’s view. “It is with pleasure that I announce the arrival of a visitor. A young lady named Millie. She seeks an audience with the delegate from the town she resides in — Mister Henry Pinkerton of Spellbinder Bay! Mister Pinkerton’s urgent attention is required involving an incident in the other world. Millie is here to make that request.” He turned to look at Millie and beckoned her with a bony hand. “Come on,” he hissed.
With her mouth dry, Millie walked into the hall, immediately aware of just how much bigger it was than it had appeared from the other side of the doorway. Gazing upwards it seemed as if there was no ceiling, only the point high up where the four outside walls formed the pinnacle of the pyramid.
The smell of burning oils was stronger in the hall, and wisps of black smoke rose from tall metal stands, each with a flame burning below a concave plate, which Millie guessed were used to heat the fragrant oils.
The hall was silent, but the sort of silence which Millie associated with a library. Not completely silent, and somehow apparent that the silence was forced — as if it would be willingly broken at any moment if given a chance.
And then Millie’s eyes adjusted enough to the light, and she was able to make out the sloping sides of the hall. She spun on the spot, both terrified and amazed at the sight that greeted her.
The four internal walls had been built at an angle opposite to the outside walls of the pyramid. A steep slope rose on each side of the hall, affording a surface on which to build seats. Rows and rows of people climbed high into the pyramid, until the wall changed direction again.
An empty row at the base of the wall in front of her told her that the seats were hewn from stone, and stairs wound their way between them, steep in their construction and running in diagonal lines which turned back on themselves, creating stairways that resembled the winding mountain pathways that sherpas would lead mules along.
Surprisingly relieved to find herself feeling safe next to Terrence, Millie stopped walking and stared at the faces which gazed down at her. There was no way of estimating how many sets of eyes studied he
r, and she decided she’d rather not know.
Suddenly, a male voice rang out, breaking the silence and bouncing off the walls. The man stood apart from the main crowd, standing beneath a canopy made from palm fronds. Wearing a white robe and carrying a staff which gave off a metallic glint, his face was hidden by a gold mask which resembled one of the Egyptian gods which Millie had learned about in school. “State your purpose, Millie of Spellbinder Bay. So we may make a decision,” he shouted.
A murmur of agreement spread throughout the hall, sounding like a passing breeze, and then it was quiet again, the breeze blown out. Millie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, discomfort gnawing at her stomach. She looked at Terrence, one small part of her mind trying to recall which Egyptian god was portrayed by a dog. “What’s happening? Where’s Henry?” she asked.
“Up there somewhere,” said Terrence. “Who knows where? The delegates change seats often so that they may speak with as many people from your world as possible. That is how they keep the paranormal population in your world safe from oppression and victimisation.”
“But I just want to speak to Henry,” whispered Millie, aware her voice was rising in the hall and being amplified by the shape of the room.
“You can’t just speak with him,” said Terrence. “You require permission, which can only be given after a vote. This is an important meeting, Millie. Every paranormal town or city in your world has sent two delegates here to represent it. In the case of your town, those people are Mister Henry Pinkerton and Mister Dickinson.”
“That’s right,” said Millie, avoiding the million estimated eyes which gazed down at her.
“What seems to be the problem?” came the voice of the man in the dog mask again.
Anubis. That was it.
“Millie requires a moment to gather her thoughts,” shouted Terrence, his voice ringing out with perfect clarity across the hall. He looked down at Millie and lowered his voice. “A meeting like this hasn’t happened for four centuries, Millie. You will need to present a good reason in order for them to allow Henry to leave.”
“I do have a good reason,” argued Millie. “I could lose somebody I love if Henry doesn’t come back with me.”
“And every paranormal town and city in your world could be wiped out by humans if valuable lessons are lost by cancelling this meeting,” said Terrence. He put a hand on Millie’s shoulder, his skeletal fingers feeling strangely reassuring. “Go on, Millie, explain your case to them before they become tired of waiting for you to speak and ask you to leave.”
If she’d thought speaking to a few parents in her classroom had been hard, talking to the acres of faces staring down at her would be a Herculean task. She made fists out of her hands and then relaxed them, and concentrated on breathing as she moistened her lips. She lifted her chin like she’d seen politicians do to make their voices go further, and took a deep breath. “Hello,” she began.
“Please raise your voice!” shouted the man with the golden mask. “There are some in this hall whose ears have long ago ceased to function as intended.”
His comment was met with a chorus of laughter, and Millie pressed the toe of her trainer into the hard stone floor. She took a long smell of the essential oils which moistened the air, and then spoke again. Louder, this time. “Hello! I stand here before you to ask for your permission to speak with Henry Pinkerton. Something awful has happened in the town I live in, and only Henry can prevent it from becoming worse.”
“What is the awful occurrence you speak of?” asked the man.
Millie swallowed and then spoke. She began at the start, explaining about the death of Trevor Giles, telling the crowd about the false accusations the werewolves had levelled at Sergeant Spencer, and finishing with a description of what was happening to Sergeant Spencer’s memories.
After a brief pause, she looked directly at the man with the staff. “That is why I need Henry to come back with me. Only he can reverse the damage that is being done to Sergeant Spencer,” she said.
The man stared at her for a long moment, the mask he wore disguising his emotions. Then he gave his head a long, drawn-out shake. “I’m not convinced that your problem is serious enough to necessitate the conclusion of this meeting,” he said. “I will put it to the vote, but will advise the delegates to vote against it.”
Millie scanned the crowd, desperately searching for the friendly round face of Henry Pinkerton, or the tall, thin body of the headmaster. She could see neither of them, though, and wondered why not one of them had spoken up yet. “Please,” she begged, sensing with dread that the man she was speaking to was not the sort of man accustomed to changing his mind. “Please don’t let this happen to Sergeant Spencer. He doesn’t deserve it!”
“Terrible things happen every day to people who don’t deserve it,” replied the man. “Why should this sergeant be any different? If this meeting is cancelled, something awful could happen to a lot more than one person. This meeting is a way for us paranormal people, from every corner and continent of the world, to swap ideas and to make sure the human population never discovers us. For if they did, we would be wiped out. Humans are vicious. They destroy things they do not understand!”
“No!” yelled Millie. “No! They do not! Not all of them! Most of them are kind, caring, and most of all, loving! Sergeant Spencer is one of those people. He gave up everything he had after rescuing a young witch from certain death! He gave up his normal life with humans to live in a paranormal town! He adopted that young witch and brought her up as his daughter! He is a wonderful man!”
“And I am regretful about the situation he is in,” said the man. “And I am regretful that he will lose his memories and a girl will lose her father. But that is still only one father and one daughter whose lives will be altered. Cancelling this meeting could result in many more lives being altered. I do not consider your request to hold any merit, and I will advise that it is ignored.”
Millie straightened her back and took a step forward, shrugging Terrence’s hand from her shoulder as he attempted to calm her. “No!” she shouted. “It’s not one daughter and a father! It’s two daughters and a father! Sergeant Spencer is my father, too, but he doesn’t know that. If he loses his memories he’ll never be permitted to know — the concealment spell won’t allow him. If you don’t allow Henry to come back to Spellbinder Bay, you’re preventing a daughter from ever getting to know her father, and you’re preventing two daughters from becoming sisters! You’ll prevent any children either of us may have from having a grandfather, and you’re preventing my father from being that grandfather!” She took another step forward. “You must let Henry come back with me.”
The man lifted his staff slowly. Then he brought it down hard, slamming it into the ground, the sound reverberating around the hall. “You do not tell me what I must or must not do,” he said, his voice angry. “You made an impassioned plea, but nothing you have said will make me change my mind.” He took a step forward, and stared around the hall, turning slowly to look at the people behind him. He lifted the staff again. “You all heard the young woman’s request. When my staff comes down, you will vote with a show of hands. I will ask who is for and who is against the meeting being drawn to a premature ending so that Mister Pinkerton may leave. For as you all know, we are as one. We cannot continue our meeting with even one person not in attendance. It will be a long time before another meeting such as this one is arranged, and it is with that thought that I ask you to vote against the motion.”
“No!” said Millie.
The man turned and stared at her, and then lifted his staff higher. Just as he was about to slam it to the ground, a voice rose from behind Millie. “Wait! I wish to speak!”
The man lowered his staff slowly. “And what would you say, Terrence? This is highly unorthodox!”
Terrence took a few steps and stood beside Millie, his hand finding her shoulder. He stared up at the man in the mask. “You are wrong, Ammon,” he said. “You should all
ow Henry Pinkerton to return with Millie.”
“Oh? I should, should I?” shouted Ammon. “You would do well to remember your place, Terrence!”
“I am well aware of my place,” said Terrence. “I am aware of who I am and where I came from. I came from The Chaos, rescued by you, Ammon. You saved my life when people like me were being murdered by the evilest of demons. Three demons were killed when my life was saved, and I was brought here, almost dead. You knew that the demons would seek their revenge on my people. You knew that by saving me, others would die!”
“I would not have left you there to be killed in such a savage manner,” said Ammon. “It is not my way!”
“Yet you will allow this girl’s father’s life to be destroyed. While only harbouring speculation that by cancelling this meeting, harm might come to you and your people. It is doubtful that such things will happen, but it is guaranteed that lives will be destroyed if Henry Pinkerton is not allowed to return to his home. You saved my life in the knowledge that others would die because of your actions, yet you refuse to help a man with only speculation that perhaps one day, others might die.”
Terrance span slowly on the spot, looking at everybody in the room. “You all heard of the sacrifices Millie told us her father had made. He sacrificed the life he knew to help a young witch. To help one of you. I would ask that you vote to allow this man to be saved. I would ask that you vote to allow this man to have a relationship with his family, but most of all, I would ask that you vote to save this man because it is the right thing to do.”
“Enough!” yelled Ammon, the sharp crack of metal bouncing off the walls as he slammed his staff into the ground. “Now we will vote. Those who are against Henry Pinkerton being permitted to leave, raise your hand.”
