Ephemeral Boundary (T'Quel Magic 1), Page 2

  “What’s going on here?”

  The Morityaro let go of Arovan, scrambled to his feet and ran away holding his bleeding arm. Arovan got shakily to his feet, slipping the bloody knife back inside his belt.

  The voice got louder.

  “What’s going on here? I’m calling the police.”

  “No,” called Arovan. “I’m all right.”

  The man ran over.

  “What happened?” he demanded. “Are you all right?”

  “Someone jumped me,” answered Arovan. “He wanted my wallet.”

  “Did he get it?”

  “No but the experience has certainly shaken me up.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Just a few bruises, that’s all.”

  “You’re not local. Where are you staying?”

  Arovan gave him the name of the hotel.

  “I’ll take you to the police station first. This needs to be reported.”

  “No. There’s no harm done, a few bruises, that’s all.”

  “It needs to be reported,” insisted the upstanding Pitlochry citizen.

  There was no way Arovan was going to go to the police and make a report. It would cause him a great deal of unaffordable delay. The police would never find his assailant anyway.

  He continued to insist that the event should not be reported to the authorities during the entirety of their walk back to the hotel.

  With a great amount of difficulty and using all of his powers of persuasion, he was eventually able to convince his Good Samaritan that a visit to the police station was unnecessary. The man left some time (and several large whiskies) later.

  Arovan spent a largely sleepless and restless night.

  * * * * *

  After an early breakfast, Arovan checked out.

  “We hope to see you again soon Mr Douglas,” the receptionist said. “It is most unfortunate that you have to cut short your time with us.”

  “Unforeseen circumstances,” he explained with a disarming smile. “I would have liked to stay longer, the room was very comfortable but … business calls.”

  “Perhaps you can return once your business is completed,” she said with a coquettish smile, handing over his receipted bill. Arovan was a very attractive ‘man’.

  “Until next time,” smiled Arovan as he took his leave.

  The receptionist sighed as she watched him go. Married, although he doesn’t wear a wedding band. Why are all the nice ones caught already?

  Arovan, having checked the car park for any watching figures got into the car and drove away. He was a competent driver for all that he hadn’t been driving that long and the big Astra diesel ate up the miles as he drove south.

  Down the A9 road he drove then on to the M80 motorway. He stopped for a break and something to eat half way along the M74 but dared not tarry. The Morityaro were very efficient and he suspected they would have reached Pitlochry by now. They would be asking questions and receiving answers.

  Four hours after he had left the hotel, he drove into the outskirts of the town of Hexham, in England.

  He knew the route to the abbey. He looked at his watch - ten minutes past one. He had plenty of time; the abbey didn’t close until five. He would buy some packets of sandwiches and a bottle of cola.

  Once in the abbey, Arovan Cuthalion-Alasdair Douglas disappeared.

  * * * * *

  Magic Wielder Crucius studied the pieced together bits of paper. Merlin and Arthur. He had wondered when Lord Arovan Cuthalion of Tanquelameir would realise their importance. No matter. He was still ahead in the game.

  “Your orders?” asked the Morityaro agent. “Do you wish me to arrange Lord Arovan’s assassination?”

  “Not yet,” Wielder Crucius answered. “Continue to watch and report back if you learn anything of interest. He may still be of some use.”

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 1

  ‘The hardest thing of all is to find a black cat in a dark room, especially if there is no cat.’

  (Confucius (BC 551 - 479))

  KIRSTY

  2006

  The fifteen-year-old Kirsty froze as she woke.

  She could feel hands pressing down on her forehead.

  Terrified, she took a breath.

  She could hear murmuring, a man’s voice; the words were strange, alien but oddly soothing.

  She opened one eye, the one closest to the pillow. There was just enough light from the street lamps seeping through the gaps in the bedroom blinds for her to make out a dark, hooded shape.

  She couldn’t hold her breath any longer but it didn’t matter. She tried to listen to what the man was saying but all at once sleep overcame her. She woke a short time later to a thumping headache, a dry mouth and a sense of disorientation that only increased as she opened both eyes and looked around the room.

  It was still dark, although there was a hint of dawn’s light creeping into the room.

  The hooded man was gone.

  In his place sat a cat, a large, furry, black cat with unwinking green eyes and incredibly long whiskers.

  “Good morning,” said the cat and yawned, a huge yawn, exposing a mouth full of sharp, white teeth.

  “What’s for breakfast?” the cat asked. “I’m very fond of fish. Lemon sole is my favourite, without bones if you please.”

  “I-I don’t think we’ve got any fish,” stammered Kirsty, not quite sure if she actually was awake or whether she was still asleep, experiencing some sort of surreal dream. It had to be the latter, it just had to be; cats didn’t talk, at least not in real life.

  The cat disappeared in a puff of pale purple smoke leaving behind just enough of a scent of lavender to tickle Kirsty’s senses.

  It must be a dream, Kirsty thought, allowing her head to fall back on to her pillows and closing her eyes once more.

  * * * * *

  “Are you sure you have to leave the ring here?” asked the cat as he and the ‘hooded man’ went downstairs. “It will mean that we can never return unless we can lay our paws on another tarna.”

  “I don’t have a choice and you know it,” he answered. “It will be safer so, for both of them.”

  “Indeed,” said the cat, beginning to wash his paws with his rasping tongue. “The danger is very real.”

  “I don’t understand how they got on to us. We just made it through this time.”

  “Perhaps we never shall know.”

  “I intend to find out, but at least they’ll never find it here and what must be guarded, will be guarded.”

  The cat snorted. “Oropher is a true friend. However, I do not think much of the other sentinel.”

  “She is loyal and willing.”

  The cat snorted again. He did not consider the abilities of the canine species much to write home about. In his opinion, dogs were vastly inferior to cats.

  “So where now? To Dunfermling?”

  “I need to say my farewells there too but first we need to pay a visit to an old friend.”

  “Indeed,” said the cat (he was fond of the word), “in more ways than one, it will be a farewell, for both of us, and I don’t for the life of me know how you managed to persuade me to do this.”

  “Charm?” smiled Arovan, with a deprecatory shrug of his shoulders. “Coming?”

  “I believe I shall remain here, have a word with the dog.”

  Lord Arovan was surprised. “If you like,” he said, “I won’t be long and a word of advice, I don’t think she likes being referred to as ‘the dog’.”

  * * * * *

  On feet as light as feathers, Lord Arovan Cuthalion ran across the road to the house on the opposite side. Avoiding the front door and keeping his body hidden by walls and shadows he slunk down the side and round to the back garden. Ignoring the brightly painted back door he went to the curtained ground floor window and beat a soft, peculiarly timed staccato on the glass.

  There were some muffled sounds from within and the back door opened a crack.
<
br />   “Arovan, is that you?” whispered a voice.

  “It is indeed my friend – a flying visit.”

  “Come in, come in,” invited his host and the door opened, just enough to permit Lord Oropher’s guest to squeeze inside.

  The two clasped each other warmly.

  “It has been a while,” observed Oropher. “Trouble?”

  “No more than usual,” answered Arovan.

  “Then what brings you here? I thought we had decided that you should stay as far away from here as you could. And before you ask, there’s not been sight nor smell of any Morityaro agents.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” sighed Arovan, allowing Oropher to usher him inside the room with its curtained window, the one on which Arovan had rapped. He sat down in one of the cushiony chairs and stretched out his long legs.

  “They’re getting closer then?”

  Arovan nodded.

  “The situation is not dangerous, at least not yet, but there have been some interesting developments.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m being followed again. I thought I’d thrown them off the scent a year ago but they’ve found me again.”

  “That’s not good news.”

  “Problem is,” continued Arovan, “I still don’t know who their employer is.”

  “One of the kings?”

  “Possibly, probably, but which one?” Arovan shrugged eloquently then, from the folds of his cloak, brought out a canvas bag.

  “I’m going to draw them off,” he said, handing the bag to Oropher. “Keep it hidden, keep it safe.”

  “Until you return?” probed Oropher, accepting the charge.

  “I don’t know if I will be able to return old friend, at least for the foreseeable future,” the worried Arovan replied. “Just keep it safe. If, and I say the word guardedly, if the time comes, give it to Kirsty.”

  “What is it?” asked Oropher. “Can you tell me?”

  “My research.”

  “You’ve written it down?” spluttered Oropher.

  “In a way,” Arovan’s reply was whimsical. “It’s in code.”

  “And in case, heaven forbid, you can’t return? The key to the code?”

  “The key is Kirsty. Wielder Zanner is at the house now, setting the magical potential and the triggers that will activate it. If the time arrives, give the bag to Kirsty and-and, look after them for me Oropher. Ramses is there too. Marian is giving him something to eat in the kitchen.”

  “Is that cat still following you around?”

  “Not following, but yes, in a way – he’s still accompanying me on my travels if that’s what you mean. Good company … for a cat. His sense of humour is a bit odd at times though. You’ll guard what I’ve given you?”

  “With my life if need be,” Oropher promised, “but I wish you’d tell me more. Why, exactly, are the Morityaro hunting you down like this? It is the T’Quel and the rings, isn’t it?”

  Arovan nodded. “I can’t tell you more. If the Morityaro work out where you are and you are caught …”

  “I can’t tell them what I don’t know.”

  “I will tell you this much,” continued Arovan, almost as if he hadn’t heard Oropher’s words, “if the time does arrive, you will know. Get Kirsty and Marian to a gate, Marian knows where it is.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And,” Arovan added, lifting his hand so that Oropher could see the three rings glittering on his finger, “the magic inherent within the rings will awaken when the time comes, and it is coming, there’s no doubt about that now. Kirsty will have one ring; the second ring will be in the possession of another. The third I will keep for now. They are a trio. Before I forget, this collar, you will need it too. The magical trigger has already been set by Magic Wielder Zanner and will activate when you place it around the dog’s neck.” He handed it to Oropher who accepted it with a slightly confused expression on his face.

  “For Boudica?” He took the collar and rolled it around his hand, examining it carefully. “I take it that I have recognised what I think is embedded into it? Don’t worry; I’ll keep it safe too. I understand now why you’re saying that you doubt whether you’ll ever be visiting again.”

  Arovan nodded.

  “So where do you go now?’ asked Oropher, rising and walking over to an antique desk. He placed both collar and bag inside a secret drawer.

  “Wielder Zanner and I leave this evening – with the cat.”

  “Back to Alfheimr?”

  “Eventually. We have another visit to make first, you know where.”

  “And in Alfheimr?”

  “Zanner is going back into hiding for the time being. Too many questions are being asked about his whereabouts and companions. Our association is known to many. Once back in Alfheimr I am going to try to find out which king, if king it is, is behind the trouble. Now, I must go. I have already overstayed what is safe and I must take my leave of Marian.”

  “Tell her that I’ll come over in the morning once Kirsty’s gone to school.”

  “I will,” said Arovan, getting to his feet.

  At the back door, he clasped Oropher’s arm.

  “Thank you,” he said simply.

  “What are friends for?” asked Oropher. “You are of my blood and are closer to me than a brother.”

  He watched as Arovan, keeping to the shadows, disappeared.

  * * * * *

  “These metal carriages are absolutely amazing!” enthused Magic Wielder Zanner as Arovan drove the hire car out of Kilmarnock. He settled himself comfortably in the passenger seat.

  “You said the same yesterday,” noted Arovan with some humour, “and frequently!”

  “That’s because it is amazing. When you told me about the otherworld Arovan, that morning back in Alfheimr, I thought that you were spinning some sort of fantastic tale. Such speed! Such comfort! Such wonders!”

  “You’ll be telling me next that this is where your new hiding place should be!”

  “I don’t believe I would want to go that far.”

  “Nice to visit but not to live in?”

  “Precisely. It is a fast and furious world. I will be happier if I remain back where I belong. Amazing to think that we elves originated here.”

  “That’s what the histories tell us,” agreed Arovan.

  “So tell me about this place you are, how do you say it – ah yes, ‘driving’ us to?”

  “Dunfermline. It’s a town like many others here in Scotland. It’s steeped in history and old buildings and was once the seat of kings.”

  “The gate?”

  “Unfortunately it is right in the middle of the town. Also unfortunate is the fact that I suspect that the Morityaro have located it and are using it.”

  “Do they have Wielders with them?”

  “No sign of any so far.”

  “Then there is no problem. A simple shield of concealment should hide us from their seeking eyes. We go through the gate there? To when?”

  Arovan smiled.

  “I am sure that you will be more at ease in the ‘then’ Dunfermline than the ‘now’. In those days it was very much like some parts of Alfheimr are now. No boiling kettles!”

  Wielder Zanner winced. There were many unexpected and frightening things here in the otherworld. Electric kettles were one of the least scary. When the first lorry had overtaken their car when they had originally arrived in Scotland, Zanner had cowered down in his seat like a baby dragon peeping out from behind his shell. He had begged Arovan to take him home immediately.

  He was glad now that Arovan had merely kept driving. He had seen many wonders that he would not otherwise have seen.

  They drove into the outskirts of Dunfermline.

  “Do you wish me to form the shield now?” asked Wielder Zanner.

  There was an amused hiss from the back seat where Ramses the cat had been sleeping.

  “Ah, no, not yet,” laughed Arovan. “It would look very peculiar if it appe
ared that this car was driving itself. We don’t wish to attract unwanted attention.”

  Ramses meowed.

  Wielder Zanner absorbed the information.

  “I could place the shield around the entire car,” he suggested.

  Ramses emitted an amused hiss.

  “I’m afraid that would be even more dangerous,” Arovan explained. “If other drivers are unable to see the car they will drive into us. This is not like it is back home. Cars are inanimate, they have to be driven; they do not have minds.”

  “I forgot that,” admitted Wielder Zanner. The humans, they’re not really all that advanced, are they? These cars might be able to travel fast but they cannot fly or think, like dragons and gryphons.”

  “The humans use machines called aeroplanes for that,” Arovan answered patiently. He remembered the days when he had arrived in Scotland and Marian’s patience as she explained how things worked and how to behave. He had been, he remembered, horrifically scared and had talked a lot to cover it, much like Wielder Zanner was doing now. The otherworld was so very different from back home.

  “We’ll go to the car hire place and hand in the car,” Arovan informed him. “It is not far away from where the gate is. It’s well past closing time (a comment that mystified Wielder Zanner completely) but we can lock up the car and drop the keys through the letterbox. Although once we leave there, a shield would be of great help. It means we can get to the gate unseen and unheard.”

  “They’re definitely watching then?”

  “I have come to believe that the Morityaro have a more or less permanent base here, a flat or a house perhaps.”

  “A logical assumption.”

  “The gate is underground. We have to go through a small building to get to it. Thankfully, I’ve got a duplicate key. Hopefully the Morityaro won’t find out that we’ve been here and even if they suspect, they won’t know ‘where’ or ‘when’ we have gone and, of course, my blue ring will take us straight back to Alfheimr after our visit into present time. Thank goodness the way home is so much simpler than the way out.”

  “And for that we must be eternally thankful,” intoned Wielder Zanner.