I HEAR YOU CALLING

Jane Scoggins

‘Janice where are you? Can you come?’

 John’s voice sounded urgent. There was a pause and then

‘Janice can you hear me?’

Janice sat at the kitchen table and made no move to get up, but cocked her head, sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

The kitchen clock ticked steadily and the fridge hummed quietly and predictably.

Janice glanced at the clock, within seconds John's voice rang out again, more urgently and with an edge of irritation and impatience.

‘Janice, where are you woman? Why don’t you answer me? – I know you can hear me’

Janice raised herself from the chair and as she did said softly.

‘Oh yes, I can hear you calling.’

In a steady flow of movements Janice reached for her coat and put it on, picked up her handbag from the table and a suitcase from beside her chair. And walked to the back door. With a backward glance, Janice let herself out and closed the door behind her.

   The wedding had been the best day of her life. She had worn powder blue with navy accessories. The bouquet of white scented roses smelled heavenly, and her long auburn hair was held prettily with diamanté combs. Seeing herself in the mirror after putting the finishing touches to her makeup she smiled at herself and saw a beautiful bride.

She had not known such happiness as she left the registry office on her husband’s arm. His glossy dark hair and perfect olive skin set off by the new navy suit and white shirt he had bought at her request.  It made her feel there was nothing he would not do to please her. Family and friends gathered around and showered them with confetti that caught in their hair as it momentarily blew all around them before they all went off chattering and laughing to the smart hotel nearby where a reception had been laid on. And what a reception, a delicious buffet with glasses of champagne to start and a wonderful wedding cake and more champagne to finish off. Everything about the day, and the night in the bridal suite, had been sheer bliss and she would remember it forever Mr and Mrs John O’Brien had started married life on a high and their love knew no bounds. As a child, Janice had listened to her parents arguing. As a teenager, she had heard her father raise his voice in temper and on occasions had raised his hand to her mother too. Janice had wondered why her mother had put up with it. That would not be the sort of relationship that she would expect when she got married. In her late teens and early twenties, Janice dated a few very nice, well mannered, and attentive young men, but she knew she had not yet found true love until she met John, and then she knew almost immediately that he was The One. Good looking, cheeky grin, witty and charming. A real ladies man but as soon as he started dating Janice he only had eyes for her and she reveled in his love. Within six months John had proposed and Janice had immediately accepted. Eight months later they were married.

  Janice had not given much thought to when they would have children but when John had said he wasn’t keen on having any for a while, they had decided to put any plans on hold until they were ready. Over the next few years, John still had not felt ready for a child, so Janice had reluctantly accepted that maybe they wouldn’t have any. A big disappointment but Janice hoped he would change his mind. In the meantime, she was very happy in her marriage and had enough to do enjoying her full time job, cooking, and gardening, which she loved, and spending time with John. To discover that he was having an affair with a girl at work early on in their marriage came as a painful shock to Janice. She had thought they were blissfully happy. John had at first denied the affair but had come clean after confrontation and had asked to be forgiven. He gave up the girl and Janice forgave him.

Over the year's John had a number of affairs and Janice always forgave him because she loved him and he said he loved her too. However, over time she felt she had become a doormat and that John took her for granted, but she did not know what to do about it. Worse was to come when she discovered that John had fathered a child. Janice was devastated and felt so betrayed.

Even worse was that the mother of the child phoned John on his mobile at home and Janice had overheard them talking about the baby. He told Janice it wasn’t his, and expected her to believe him.

    Six months ago John had suffered a stroke which had left him with speech and mobility problems. He was on the mend and managing to do most things for himself now, although he preferred Janice to be on hand to do everything for him. He was bored at home and missed his independence away from home. Colleagues visited him from work occasionally but apart from that John had little company except for Janice. The girlfriend with the baby stopped calling.

  Janice stood with her suitcase on the platform and waited for the train. No more the doormat Janice vowed to herself. She would visit her mum and leave John to it for a while. How long she wasn’t quite sure, a few days, a few weeks? What she was sure of though was if she did come back it would be on a different footing with John and she would make this very clear to him. She would give herself time to think whether he was worth going back to after the heartache she had suffered. A fresh start or a clean break? She needed time to decide.

Copyright Jane Scoggins

  SUNSET  (Part 1 of 2)

by Richard Banks

Bennie drew back the curtains and observed the sky with an expression of weary disapproval. Even had he not heard the steady patter of rain on the windows and roof, the subdued light of a sunless day was only too evident. He stared upwards at the blanket of grey clouds hoping to see a chink of blue that might gradually widen to allow in the sunlight of a summer that wasn’t quite over. Perhaps, he thought, it already was, this was the fourth such day, each one a little shorter than the one before and made even shorter by the grey shroud above. He was by no means sure of when Summer officially gave way to Autumn but, informed by his own notions of how things should be, knew that Summer was unlikely to continue past the second week of September. He consoled himself with the thought that Autumn sunsets were often the best.

         Seven years retired from his job in the car factory he had, at first, struggled to fill his time. His friends had immersed themselves in their hobbies but he had none apart from football which only required his attendance every other weekend on the terraces of Copford United. Golf was too expensive and other sports requiring more rapid movement were no longer an option. As the years drifted by he divided his time between home improvements and gardening. Both provided the satisfaction of a job well done but it was only work, and unpaid work at that. Nevertheless, at the end of each day he would take pleasure from the sight of his manicured garden which was best viewed from the patio he had repaved and equipped with the usual garden furniture and a heater for winter. His sitting out there after tea had become a ritual which while a just reward for his daily endeavours never seemed enough. Then he discovered the sunset and saw with new eyes what for so long he had taken for granted.  The sun which was setting over the roofs of the semi-detached house at the bottom of his garden now dipped lower into a gap where there were no houses, just a long sloping view across town and the countryside beyond.

         In a faraway place, he was unable to identify, behind a distant ridge, the sun met the horizon in a mackerel sky of vivid pinks and blue. From that moment he was hooked and the sense of wonder he had as a child returned with the added force of an epiphany. He had been given a wonderful toy not his to command but his to admire and wonder at. He was in awe, and had it not been for the passing of two thousand years he would have bowed his head in worship. But what was he to do with this great gift? From the start he realised that the sight of each and every sunset was too precious to be lost, that each must be photographed and that although his back garden was adequate for this purpose there were many other places where better views were to be found.

         And, so it was that in the evening twilight he was to be found in a variety of places where the setting sun could be seen to best advantage, where the landscape below had a beauty that was a fitting place for the greater beauty above. It was on one such evening that he met Cyril and realised that he was not alone, that there were others just like him and that one of them, a Texan billionaire, had founded the ‘Luminary’.

         The true purpose of this organisation is still unknown. For some it was a source of knowledge, a tool for scientific research and international cooperation, for others it was something akin to religious revelation. What is not disputed is that its website was a deep mine in which every aspect of the sun could be studied in ever increasing complexity, a labyrinth of connected ways that went sideways and down but never back. It was a journey from which there was no return. It was an addiction to which there was no cure and no demand for a cure. It was a world within a world, or was it the other way around. Of one thing certain, the sun that smiled on both worlds now shone more brightly than ever on Benny who committed himself, full time, in pursuit of all matters relating to the sunset. This is not to say that he was indifferent to other phases of the sun’s daily journey, but able to specialise in sunsets alone, he gratefully seized the opportunity to do so. That this left him with no time for home improvements or gardening soon became apparent in the neglected appearance of his house and garden. Reasoning that they were no longer important in his life he sold the house and purchased a camper van. In this he lived, studied and drove to the many far flung places unaffected by the glare of artificial light where the most spectacular sunsets were to be found.

         It was not long before the endless supply of photographs and memoranda sent by Bennie to the Luminary attracted the attention of its owner and founder, Big Jack Maguire. He was a man whose second great interest in life was stories, life stories, and having decided that Bennie’s extraordinary endeavours must be the consequence of an extraordinary life he insisted that Bennie visit him at his ranch.

         “Tell me your story,” he growled, and deeming this to be a demand rather than a request Bennie attempted to rise to the challenge by recalling his more memorable moments at the car factory and on the terraces of Copford United. That these proved to be a disappointment to Big Jack is only disputed by those who say that disappointment can not be defined by an emotion so wretched that the shedding of tears seems like a carefree frivolity.

         Frozen by the permafrost of deep despair he was, after forty days, catapulted back to normal functioning by a vision that told him that if Samuel could transform David from shepherd boy to King so might he raise the distressingly ordinary Benny to an eminence far beyond that of the world’s religious and secular leaders. The Luminary would become what it was always meant to be, what he had previously been too blind to see. From now on it would be the conduit of a knowing sun that informed every word and deed, and Benny, the vessel through which all solar revelation would be received.

(to be continued)

Copyright Richard Banks

 Pricked finger

By Robert Kingston

The colours are the first thing I remember, followed swiftly by the sizes. How at times we would sift through the tin seeking to find a fix.
My younger brother, much to mum's disapproval thought to taste one once, through his nose. I'll spare you the recovery details....

stitching time

to an old blazer

button moon

 

Copyright Robert Kingston

 The Setting of the Sun

By Lynne Dellow

Trixie looked up at the setting Sun and knew that shortly her mother would leave their comfy den, which was situated under an old garden shed, and go looking for food.  She was often out all night but always returned with something juicy for Trixie and her three brother cubs.

Her mum sometimes relied on the old lady, in whose garden they lived, to provide scraps, but they hadn't seen her for several weeks and wondered why. The following day it became apparent when Trixie awoke to find the shed slowly falling apart. What was happening and where were her mum and brothers? She looked around what remained of the shed and, realising she was all alone, ran outside. Terrified she made her way to the end of the garden where she found a hole large enough to squeeze through. She climbed the steep slope and found herself on an old railway embankment. Seeing a family of foxes hiding nearby she tried to join them, but they snarled and looked so menacing she ran off in the opposite direction. She was so frightened and, breathing heavily, knew she couldn't go on much further.  Fortunately, she found a space in the fence and, squeezing herself through the narrow gap, and lay in some long grass. Then exhausted she fell asleep, hoping she'd found a safe spot.

***

Sally was busy in her garden. Although she lived alone she quite enjoyed her own company. Until recently Beth had been her companion, She was a Springer Spaniel, who followed her everywhere. On summer evenings they often sat on the patio, Sally always drank a glass of wine and watched the Sunset and Beth would lay contentedly by her side, She wiped a tear away when she thought of her passing.  She sighed but as she started watering the flowers, a slight movement caught her eye and made her stop, In the unmown grass lay a pathetic looking fox cub. It stared at her but seemed unable to move. It obviously needed help so Sally put down the can, walked into her kitchen, looked in the cupboard and found a tin of dog food, which she opened and gently mashed. She placed a quarter on an old plate, half filled Beth’s drinking bowl and took them to near where Trixie was laying. She then returned to her bungalow, hoping the cub would survive the night. The next morning she found it in the same spot and was pleased to see the food was gone.

 

***

Many Moons passed by and a strange friendship developed between the two, It took a while but once Trixie knew she was safe she became braver. She’d sometimes make her way to Sally's backdoor and lay on the doormat,  Sally had a catflap fitted on the shed door and put Beth’s sleeping basket inside.

Then one evening Sally was sitting on the patio, Trixie appeared and lay a few feet away.  Sally smiled and, looking at the setting Sun, raised a toast to her dear Beth. Trixie too looked at the fast disappearing Sun and thought of her mum and brothers. She wondered what had become of them, hoping they'd found someone as loving as she had.

Copyright Lynne Dellow

 Sunset

Sis Unsworth

They watched the sunset every night, as they’d done for quite a while

so content to be together, it did so make you smile

just the two of them as always, a regal Darby & Joan.

Their youngest now had flown the nest, leaving them alone,

now with just the two of them, the time went rather slow,

how busy they had once both been, not so long ago.

They now had time each evening, to watch the setting sun,

a radiant end to a lovely day, that enhanced the night to come

Nocturnal birds and animals they knew, would soon now be awake

as the sun did slowly disappear, beyond the silver lake.

They always felt quite hungry when, daytime turned to night

they could now dine away from home, and stay till it got light

so off they went the two of them, to find their favourite place,

The old barn by the river, it did so suit their taste.

In the golden glow of sunset, so picturesque and nice

the tawny owls then flew away, for their supper of field mice.

 

Copyright Sis Unsworth

Cheilin Saga ~ 14

 Cheilin Saga ~ 14 Return to the Eternal City

By Len Morgan

Aldor returned to the Eternal City through the portal, that same evening, having spent less than a day in the Abbey of Samishaan.   He returned through a subterranean basement beneath the outermost ring of buildings fronting onto Circle 20 (C20).   He emerged within hailing distance of the Arch of Triumph a few hundred yards from where he had been taken three weeks earlier.   The evening was cool, the lamps were lit, and the street almost deserted.   He saw several men loitering in the doorway of a local tavern.   He allowed his eyes to be drawn in the opposite direction at the sound of hearty female laughter.   He watched from the shadows as a young redhead took up post with two others as her departing client waved and weaved his way home to his long-suffering yet ever-loving wife…

  As he stepped out into the light, heading towards the watch post at the junction with ‘E5’, he heard angry shouts up ahead.   He observed a male figure being hustled into an alley.   Drunks he thought.   Then, he heard a sharp yell of pain and immediately ran towards the alley past the men in the doorway.   When he reached the spot, the man’s attackers were gone.   The man lay in a pool of his own blood.    Aldor checked his vital signs he was still alive.   A more thorough examination revealed a puncture wound in his back that was oozing life.   He frantically searched his pockets for anything that he could use to staunch the flow.   When this had been done he yelled for somebody to fetch the sergeant of the watch.   One of the men in the tavern doorway obliged.   A corporal and five guards came at the double.

“He needs a physic, urgently,” said Aldor.

The corporal nodded to one of his men who went off at the double.

“He will be here in moments but will require payment in cash, in this neighbourhood at this time of night it will not be cheap” the corporal warned.

“I can pay,” said Aldor.

The physic attended and patched the man up.   “He’s out of danger now and you did a good job, probably saved his life with your prompt action.   He’s lost a lot of blood and will need rest but he will survive.”

The man’s eyes flickered open.   “You…” he said.   “Why did you do this to me?”

“What?”   Aldor’s said startled.  

“You stabbed me” the man accused.

There were now half a dozen curious bystanders to react to his words.

 The corporal looked long and hard at him, his eyes narrowed, the face looked familiar. “I’m afraid I will have to ask you to accompany me to the watch post, sir,” he said.

Aldor shook his head, ‘what are you saying’ he thought as he scanned the victim's mind, for the face of his attacker.   What he saw was indeed very similar to his own features, though not identical, it was close enough to convince this man.

“Yes of course corporal” he answered aloud.

“He didn’t do it corporal,” said a woman’s voice in the crowd, “he ran a hundred yards to help this man.   We all watched him.   Tell him!”   She prompted the two men from the doorway, pushing them forward.

“That is so, he was farther from this man than we were when the blow was struck.   I heard him squeal like a pig.   One of the men he was drinking with looked a bit like this man but they all headed in this direction together.”

The corporal looked at the second man for corroboration, he obviously recognised them both, “Bordek?”

The man nodded his head “She’s right for sure, twern’t him as done the deed.

Aldor looked at the woman who had spoken up for him, it was the redheaded woman.

 The Physic and the corporal conferred briefly.

“Does anybody know where he lives?”

A fourth voice spoke up “He’s from ‘E4’ I’ll take you there; if needs be.”

The corporal nodded and detailed two of his men to stretcher the victim to his home.

“You four come with me, I will need to take down your statements, and the description of his attackers,” he said. 

The watch room was small and cramped, Aldor took it in at a glance; there were three adjoining rooms their doors conveniently labeled.   Holding room, Mess & Easy room, and, the last said Sergeant.  All that could be heard from the latter was loud snoring punctuated by wheezes.

“How is he Dragor?” asked the corporal.

“He’s not well,” the young man behind the desk said tactfully.

“Take their particulars, check their papers, and send them in one at a time.   I’ll have the locals first, then our young hero” he said flashing his version of a friendly smile at Aldor.   He leaned over and whispered something in the man’s ear before entering the Holding room.

“Take a seat,” said Dragor to the first man, glancing at Aldor as he spoke.   The first man had Aldor’s face firmly imprinted on his mind, the others even the victim, were vague shadows.   Aldor planted a helpful suggestion that his own face was probably a little thinner.   With prompting from the corporal the man eventually produced a reasonable description of at least one of the other two attackers.   Bordek was better; it seemed he knew the other two men.   They were petty criminals who he feared because his vague descriptions to the corporal, was obviously intended to misdirect him, differed markedly from the clear pictures in his mind.  

“Are you sure you are not involved in this Bordek” the corporal asked suspiciously, how can you be so sure of one yet so conveniently vague about the other two?   I’m not happy with this, mayhap we should keep you here for a while, at least until the beer is out of your system and your memory returns.”

“No, honest as an orse trader, I know nuthin…”

“Wait outside while I speak to the other two, and we’ll see if your memory improves.   Send in the lovely Doreeta,” he yelled through the open door, “Bordek is to wait out there!”

The lovely Doreeta had all the while sat silently beside Aldor.   As she rose, she favoured him with a smile.  

He responded by nodding reassuringly, “good luck, and thank you.”

She bent forward as though to kiss him, instead she whispered in his ear, “may chance never be a factor.”  

At once Aldor knew she was Tylywoch.   He scanned her briefly with renewed interest as Dragor continued to scribble.   As expected, her mind was disciplined, but she had three perfect identification pictures in the front of her mind, that stared right back at Aldor.   The three had spoken to her on their arrival at the tavern. 

“Papers please,” said Dragor.  

“Did you get a good likeness?”   Aldor asked as he placed his official papers on the desk.

“How did you know I was sketching you?” he asked, holding up the portrait for scrutiny.

“That is indeed an excellent likeness,” said Aldor.   “As soon as you started to shade, I knew exactly what you were about, the corporal asked you to do it?   He is quite a man.”

“He is a good man to have on your side in a situation, for sure.   He has twice been sergeant but, sometimes he is too outspoken for his own good.   He will without doubt get to the bottom of this matter, I’ll wager on it.   He’s not a yes man, unlike others” his eyes strayed in the direction of the sergeants’ office.   He opened the papers and seemed to freeze momentarily as he reviewed what he had said, but decided he had nothing to reproach himself for.   Although, his manner changed subtly, as he handed back the papers, “Thank you, sir” he said, “please take a seat.”

Doreeta emerged from the holding cell, still smiling.   She nodded to them and left.  Dragor took the opportunity to nip in and warn the corporal of his guest’s identity.

“Next!” he called.   As Aldor stood, he saw, out the corner of his eye, that Bordek was edging towards the door.   “Do you think I will not come after you Bordek, sit down!”  The corporal’s voice stopped him in his tracks, Dragor hurriedly returned.   But, Bordek had already returned to his seat as Aldor entered the holding cell.

 

“Well then Aldor, quite an entrance you make.”

“I only saw them briefly as they came out of the tavern,” he apologised.   One was a little like me, but a little thinner, it is possible that he was wearing makeup.   My guess is that the attacker was intended to look like me, possibly to discredit or undermine my position.”

“How would they know what you look like?”

“This is not my first visit to the Eternal City.   I have been here many times before, on the emperor's business.   Just one good likeness, similar to the one your desk man drew would be all they would require.”   He went on to describe the other two men He had seen through Doreeta’s eyes.

“I have to inform you that you’re still not off the hook.   If I find a single shred of evidence to implicate you, sure as my name is Sloan, I will come after you.   I will know where to find you if I need more information, so you may go.”

“Thank you Sloan, I like that you never allow yourself to be intimidated, by power or wealth, and I would hazard a guess you could not be bought.    A glance into his mind revealed a sense of order, verging on obsessive, which to a large extent was what made him such an excellent investigator.    His need to tie up loose ends had frequently led him into conflict with superiors, but Aldor knew it would not be an issue in the emperor’s Red guard.  “Who is your commanding officer, Sergeant Sloan?”

“His name is Tukk, Captain Tukk, and it’s Corporal Sloan.   Do you wish to take issue with my handling of this investigation?”

“No!   On the contrary, I have been impressed by your thoroughness, and impartiality.  Just remember this conversation Sloan.  Do not change, and never allow rank or position to influence you; as to your rank we shall see…”   He stood up and left the interrogation room, without a backward glance.

(To Be Continued) 

Copyright Len Morgan

Cheilin Saga ~ 13

Cheilin Saga ~ 13 The Abbey at Samishaan 3

By Len Morgan 

  The Abbot rose early, an hour before dawn, his dreams had been troubling so he knelt to pray for guidance.   He could not sleep on account of the man Aldor.   Should they?  How could they release him…  He was different as Ignatius and Constance had both observed.  He could well be the ‘Chosen One’; he was certainly virtuous enough but, if that were so, then shouldn't he be capable of releasing himself?  

Brother Ignatius burst into the Abbot's unadorned cell, panting hard from his exertions, fighting for breath.   “He is gone, reverend father.   He disappeared before my eyes.”

“Shhh.   Calm yourself brother, this place is for prayer and contemplation, not panic.  There will be a simple explanation.”

“B-But…” he stammered.

“Shhh!   Go to the orb, he will be there with Sister Constance.”

“H-How do…”

“Do you think he is the one?”

“I-I…”

“Is he the one?”

“Yes!”

“Then let us go and welcome him back to the world.”  

They stepped into the corridor, heard a crash, and the predawn was illuminated by a dazzling blue flash that lingered for long moments, forcing them to screw up their eyes.  They ran towards the roof garden as the glare slowly subsided.  When they reached the top of the stone steps they saw Aldor and Constance in silhouette, side by side, against the glow of dawn's first light. 

“He smashed the orb,” she cried. “He—just dashed it to the ground…   Now I-I can’t see – I’m blind!   She whimpered in shock.

She heard Aldor's voice in her mind…

‘Use your talent.  You do not need to use your eyes, the blindness is only temporary.’

‘If you wish you can use my eyes’ said the Abbot.

‘Or mine’ added brother Ignatius.

She realised immediately that they were right, and she wept with relief and joy. 

‘Why are you crying little one’ the Abbot asked, like the others he was not accustomed to using this new method of communication.

‘Why do you not look and see for yourself’ she asked, giving permission for them to enter her mind.  ‘We have been suppressing and denying our God-given gifts to no purpose. For it is abuse of, not the use of them this order objects too.’   “The orb is gone forever,” she said aloud as reality crowded into her mind.

“That does not matter as much as you might think.   We have hundreds more, stored in neat pigeonholes, down in the cellars; that have always been off bounds to all but the council of elders and of course myself.”

“Then why have we never used them?” asked father Ignatius with incredulity.

“Can you answer that Aldor, if you are as we suspect ‘The One’ you will know.  Look upon it as a test,” said the Abbot.

Aldor turned to face them. “This Abbey was originally built for a very different purpose.   Originally it was a Penal Institution; a place to house wrongdoers and malcontents.  They were housed in the rows of cells now used as accommodation by the Sisters and Brothers.   The doors were permanently closed, to deny them freedom, their lives stolen from them.   They would be housed thus for a few years or the whole of their lives as punishment for crimes they committed.   Then the emphasis changed, from punishment to re-education, at which time the orbs were fashioned by Geoffe to house the spiritual, nonmaterial person, whilst the body was re-issued to another who had reformed and was ready to be set free again.   This was a very long time ago, before the migration, but you would not have heard of that.   The ‘Standards’ used them to imprison any of the ‘Revisionists’ cult they were able to apprehend.   Then, when the Karaxen came…”

“Who?” the Abbot asked.

“It does not matter now but, it may do so in the future if I said millions of years ago?”   He could see the blank looks on their faces.   “Way back in the dim distant past, creatures, unlike us, arrived here to take Abbalar away from our ancestors.   They succeeded in driving those unable to communicate as we do, ‘the Standards’, underground.   They never found a use for the orbs, or discovered that many still contained the minds of, Revisionists.   We all know what four to six weeks of confinement is like; imagine the time it takes for an acorn to grow into a forest giant, then multiply that by thousands.   Many of those encapsulated, must have gone completely insane.   While others succeeded in extinguishing their own life force, so they might return to the wheel of life, they were the lucky ones.   There were yet others who discovered how to exist whilst retaining their sanity.”

 “The Karaxen made as big a mess of this world as our ancestors did; and they in turn disappeared from the surface, leaving it to us once more or, to be more precise, to the ‘Standards’.   There followed a dark time, when barbarism madness and plague abounded.  This place then became a monastery, hospital, and sanctuary, and finally a place of atonement for the religious order to which you now belong.   The monks strove to bring back a sense of sanity to the world by bringing back a little civilization.   They accomplished it by bringing back some of the elders, from the globes, as teachers.   They returned in the bodies of the dying and the insane, and later they used the bodies of volunteers…”

“My word, it certainly has had an eventful history” the Abbot affirmed.  

“The question is,” Aldor continued, “What should be done with the remaining orbs?”  

“Knowing how they can and have been misused, in the past, should they not be destroyed,” asked Brother Ignatius?

“But, there are still occupants in many of them” the Abbot protested.

“Then we should go down to the cellars and reassess the situation” Aldor said.

 Brother Ignatius shook his head, “This is a strange situation, why were we not told of this before Father, what is wrong?” 

The Abbot fell to the ground; his eyes flared momentarily, before glazing over.  Sister Constance knelt beside him, concern on her face as she checked his vital signs.  His face turned grey, so she hit his chest hard with the flat of her hand.   He coughed and spluttered fighting for breath.

“He was calling the others” Aldor explained, “he is not however too familiar with this new mode of communication.”

“Explain what is happening and why” Ignatius demanded.

“They have been bringing back their friends in place of their captives, they are body snatchers” Aldor said with distaste.

“No!   You’re wrong, it is not like that at all, you make it sound so cold and calculating” the Abbot protested.   “We have never indiscriminately replaced the spiritual essence of another.   Our intention has always been to educate and rehabilitate.   Only the darkest most evil minds are retained for more than a month.   Then occasionally a Spirit will expire, unable to continue, in the light of what they have done – you all know separation is a testing soul searching time.   Only in these circumstances would an ancient spirit be relocated, temporarily or permanently, and none has ever objected to relinquishing their borrowed form.”

“Then they return to their Orb?” Aldor asked.

“That is correct.”

“How many ancient spirits are here, currently occupying borrowed bodies,” Constance asked.

“Here at the Abbey there are ten, including myself and two others beyond these walls.” The Abbot replied.

“How many are there in total inhabiting this place,” Aldor enquired.

“We are thirty including the good father Abbot” said Ignatius.

A number of the Brothers appeared discretely at the head of the stairs.

“Come” said Aldor, helping the Abbot to his feet, “we go to the cellars.”

The brothers made way for them without comment, following them down to the lower levels.   The tunnels were dark and dank, and musty.   Smoke from tallow torches, in such a confined space, stung their eyes making them smart. 

Aldor rubbed his palms together producing a bright globe he lauched it towards the ceiling, it followed their progress, lighting their way. “You can now douse the torches.”   

They could hear dripping water up ahead.   A pale green florescence reflected from walls slick with moisture. Aldor rubbed two fingers along the wall scraping a channel half an inch deep in a soft chalk like paste, deeper it was firm, but the walls were two feet thick and had stood for countless ages.  

They entered a low domed atrium just large enough to house them all.

“There are decisions to be made that will affect us all,” the Abbot began, “the council of twelve are part of the reason for this.   We are therefore not the ones best suited to make a decision on this matter.”  

He then explain the situation in full to all. Point out the implications for the twelve and their peers.

“I do not even suggest that we are the ones who should survive in the event you decide to destroy the orbs.  It is indeed possible that some of our number would not wish to continue.   In such an eventuality, there are others we should consider as candidates for life, those who have not yet received a remission, and who would prove to be invaluable.   Many who are experienced with machines, a task that had laterly become moribund?   We do not even know if a disembodied spirit can progress to a higher state of existence, without leaving a body behind, we may well be damning them for all eternity; spirits forever destined to roam?”   The Abbots eyes tear’d up, he suddenly looked tired and frail.

 It was a swift unanimous vote, just a show of hands, which decided that the elders had not abused their privileges.   That they should continue for the natural life of their existing body.   And, the ratio should be capped at 1:2, one elder to two natural born.   The inhabited orbs would not be destroyed, and there was a majority vote that all but twelve of the empty orbs should remain here in the Abbey locked safely away, their destruction would be an act of vandalism.   Aldor went along with this, provided that only the present company were aware of their existence.   A venerable brother, not of the council, was charged with the assignment of guarding them.

“If you are truly ‘The One’,” said the Abbot, “our task is complete, for you are amongst us and there is no further need for such devices.”

“That may not be so.   Now the real work begins,” said Aldor.

“You have something in mind, a quest perhaps?”  The youngest council member asked.

“Your name is?”

“Brother Velorix,” he replied at once, eager to please.

“Being an elder, brother Velorix, you will be aware of the havoc the Karaxen could wreak on Abbalar.”   At the mention of the Karaxen, all eyes turned in his direction,” and silence came over the gathering.

 “They are currently housed in a vast underground complex, and are destined to awaken, in five to six hundred years, to reclaim Abbalar as their own.   We will need to raise our level of technology considerably, to stand any chance of surviving.   They are receiving assistance from Bluttland, from the brides of Bedelacq who are their sworn champions.   Your quest, no, your crusade will be to neutralise them or, if possible, re-educate them using the orbs.”

.-...-.

   Aldor was surprised that he was able to speak about the elders and their machines without encountering resistance from the block that had been placed in his mind.   But, he soon realised that Orden was unable to communicate with him and their fire could not penetrate the confines of the Abbey.   He had no idea how long he had been at the Abbey or how far they were from the Eternal city.   He did however know that these cellars were somehow protected from external probing.   He suspected there was a portal nearby, which meant they could travel to almost any location in Abbalar that possessed an active portal.   He looked back at an innocuous dark hand-shaped tile on a nearby wall.   His glance was not missed by the, ever watchful, Abbot. 

"The portal is operative, we use it on a regular basis, it is how you were brought here.   Of course, your mind was shielded from it by the orb; else we should have known much more about you.”

Aldor was silent for some time, carefully choosing his words.   “I will be honest with you.   I do not know if I am in fact you’re promised one.   I do know you could make an important contribution, to the future survival of mankind, by confronting the Brides of Bedelacq.   What do you say,” he threw the challenge out to them all.

“I think this matter needs to be discussed further and at length…” the Abbot began.

“I think we have talked enough,” said Brother Ignatius.   “I think it is time for us to act, to make a decision.   I also believe that Aldor is the one!”

“So do I,” said Sister Constance.

“Then we are of one mind,” said the Abbot looking to the others for any sign of dissent; there was none.   “Then what better way is there to show our commitment than to harvest the enemies of Abalar, re-educate and  assimilate them?”

Aldor smiled.   There was genuine and enthusiastic support for this view, not a dissenting mind amongst them.

“I must return to the Emerald City, there is still, work to be done.   There are, as you must know, many portals on Abalar that could be used to enter Bluttland unobserved, as yet they are not aware those portals exist.  It is possible they may be used against us if Bedelacq or his brides know of their existence, so be wary."

(To be Continued)

Copyright Len Morgan