Daemos Rising Page 2

  Miss Hawthorne was looking at the book.

  ‘That was Magister’s,’ she said with a note of warning in her voice. ‘I wondered where it had gone.’

  Fitch nodded and took another sip of tea.

  ‘That’s why I’m here, miss,’ he said. ‘To make sure that things are properly secured.’

  Miss Hawthorne looked at him carefully.

  ‘There were things abroad in this village, dark forces, the likes of which are best kept unknown.’

  Fitch nodded again.

  ‘Well, they will be kept unknown,’ he said. ‘UNIT’s orders.’

  With a backwards glance at the book, he ushered Miss Hawthorne out of the room and back into the sunshine. He blew on the tea and finished the cup.

  ‘Thank you miss,’ he said, handing it back to Olive.

  He pulled the door closed, and locked it again.

  ‘We’ll keep it safe,’ he said with a wink.

  With a cheery wave, Fitch set off back to his jeep. There he had some secure tape, and plastic bags into which the book would fit.

  Their scientific adviser had also provided some sort of electronic doohicky of a box into which anything really ‘special’ could be placed. And the book would be the first thing in there.

  Olive stood and watched the soldier go.

  She frowned gently.

  There was still danger in this place. The runes showed it. And that book was part of it all. It would be good to see it gone.

  Another magickal item of power taken out of the reach of those who might abuse it.

  Olive sighed and looked at the teacup in her hands.

  The tealeaves in the base of the cup had formed into a shape. A circle with two protuberances emerging from the top, a little like horns.

  Olive frowned again. There was more trouble coming. She could feel it.

  But this time she would be ready.

  PART ONE

  1

  The End of Time

  A breeze stirred the grey dust into eddies across the empty plaza. The skies were full of grey clouds, and an occasional drizzle fell, dampening the ground and turning it a darker grey.

  2050 was not a good year for humanity. The start of the rise of the Sodality.

  Suddenly, across the open space between shattered buildings which reached for the skies like broken teeth, the shape of a man appeared between the broken rubble.

  He raced across the plaza and scurried behind a wall where a young girl was waiting for him.

  The two humans crouched still, trying to control their breath, and to be as silent as they could.

  From the other side of the open space, a darker shadow detached itself from the wall.

  There was an echoing sound, faint, but like concrete rubbing against concrete. A slow scraping noise.

  The man put his finger up against his lips.

  The girl nodded.

  He slowly poked his head around the wall so he could see the other side of the plaza.

  There it was.

  As he watched, the shape moved, slowly, towards the centre of the plaza. It was like some sort of animal, but none created by nature. Its skin was like stone, riven with cracks, and its massive horned head was worn and rubbed as though by centuries of wind and rain.

  It paused in the plaza, its head moving back and forth as though trying to scent the humans it had been chasing.

  The man ducked his head back.

  The two humans heard a clatter of stone hooves against broken cobblestones, and then the whooshing of stone wings against the air. Then there was silence.

  The man popped his head back around the wall again. Nothing.

  He realised that he had been holding his breath, and let it out with a whoosh.

  ‘It’s gone,’ he said. ‘For the moment.’

  The girl studied the man closely. ‘You know they’re tracking us, Andy?’

  He looked at her. Her long light brown hair was matted, but her skin was clean. Blue eyes looked at him from a petite pretty face.

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But we’re one step ahead.’

  ‘The High Executioner is determined to wipe us all out,’ the girl said. ‘She’s insane.’

  ‘She has her own agenda, Laura,’ said Andy.

  ‘So, what now?’ said Laura, standing and brushing her trousers as though this action could remove the stains and grey dust which permeated everything in this time zone.

  Andy didn’t remark how pointless this gesture was. He looked around. ‘We have knowledge, and that’s dangerous to the Sodality. I also think we might be the last.’

  He looked down at Laura, his dark eyes piercing her. She often thought he looked a little like a film star, with a balding head, and neatly trimmed beard.

  ‘So we need to run again?’ Laura looked at him seriously.

  Andy looked around again. ‘We can, but to do that we need to find someone to facilitate …’

  His eyes caught a movement the other side of the Plaza. ‘Shh …’ he warned, and ducked down again.

  With a clatter, perhaps the same, perhaps a different gargoyle creature landed on the cobbles. It raised its great head and swung back and forth.

  Then it headed straight for Andy and Laura.

  They crouched behind the wall, listening as the hooves struck the stone of the ground, coming closer and closer.

  Then, with a rush of air, the creature headbutted the wall, causing it to crack and bow in the middle. Bricks fell from the top, just missing Laura.

  She let out a squeal.

  ‘Run!’ shouted Andy, and grabbing Laura’s hand they set off through an arched passageway.

  The stone creature gave chase, slipping and raising sparks from its hooves as it raced after them.

  At one corner it crashed into the wall, bringing a torrent of grey dust and brick down on top of it. But this barely slowed it down. It shook off the dust like a huge dog shaking off water. There was barely a beat before the creature gave chase again.

  Andy and Laura kept changing direction, taking random passages and streets, trying to keep some distance between themselves and the gargoyle, but it was exhausting.

  They burst out into a small area beside a large river. This had once been called the Thames and had been a beautiful stretch of clean water running through the city. But now it was dirty and grey, like the rest of the world, and full of broken masonry and rubbish. There was no life left in what had formerly been known as London.

  Andy spotted that the one remaining bridge over the river was nearby, and in the few moments available, focussed his energy on searching for a time snake.

  There!

  On the other side of the river was the distinct shape and form of a person’s time snake. It unravelled from humans like some sort of visible projection of their lives: forward and backwards in time. Only a Time Sensitive could see them, and Andy was one of that dwindling group of individuals, granted this power by whatever meddling the Sodality had undertaken through history.

  The time snake laid out a person’s lifeline: a glowing stream of light-like particles which connected an individual to their past, their present and their future … assuming they had any.

  ‘Come on,’ Andy said. ‘Over the bridge.’

  As the stone creature careered into view behind them, Laura and Andy raced along the embankment and up a set of crumbling stairs towards the bridge.

  On the other side of the river they could see the shape of St Paul’s Cathedral silhouetted against the shattered sky. It was grey and broken, but still triumphant, and the massive dome was intact.

  Keeping his eye on the time snake, Andy hurried across the bridge, avoiding the edges where the ancient balustrades had fallen into the river below, and trying to dodge the holes which dotted the surface.

  Behind them the gargoyle kept coming. It was relentless in its pursuit, and unlike the human couple, tireless.

  They reached the other side of the Thames, and Andy hurried down another set of steps, and in
to another warren of passages along the side of the river.

  It was here he had seen the snake.

  It called to him somehow. He knew that this was their only way out as once one of those stone gargoyle things got your scent, there was only one way to escape: through time.

  The passages opened up again into a small square, where a man dressed in a plain outfit was hurriedly trying to open a door.

  Exhausted and breathless, Andy looked at the man carefully. He was scared, but his time snake extended forward as well as backwards. He would not die this day.

  ‘This is it,’ said Andy, grasping Laura’s hand. ‘Now!’

  As the stone gargoyle came rushing around the corner, the man managed to open the door and hurried inside, slamming it behind him.

  Outside, the creature came to a skidding halt. It seemed to sniff the air, but there was no scent left.

  On the wall beside the doorway, a crackling, electric blue light crawled, marking the shape of what could have been a man and a woman.

  But they were gone.

  2

  The Book

  ‘Sir!’

  The young recruit on duty gave Captain Cavendish a smart salute.

  Cavendish returned it with a nod, and continued past the checkpoint and into the building.

  Cavendish walked past the normal civilian entry doors and stopped at an inconsequential metal door set into the wall of the building.

  It was deliberately designed to look like absolutely nothing of importance. Just a service area, or maybe the boiler room.

  He pulled out his pass and waved it in front of one of the bricks beside the door. The hidden sensor detected it, and the door clicked once.

  Cavendish then waved the pass on a different brick, and the door clicked a second time.

  This procedure was drilled into anyone who needed access. The first sensor activated an electric current which flowed through the door and the handle. Anyone trying to open the door after just swiping once would receive a very nasty electric shock. Not enough to kill but certainly sufficient to disable someone for a limited time. Time enough for the alarm to be raised and for UNIT soldiers to pour into the area to arrest the trespasser.

  The second sensor deactivated the current and opened the door fully. Only a few trusted officers knew this and had access to the area. Cavendish was one of them.

  Cavendish grasped the handle and pulled the door open. It opened outwards as it could then not be easily battered in from outside. Another precaution that showed they were taking no chances – and for good reason.

  Inside was a short corridor which led to another room. This was lined with mops and buckets, and a wooden shelf unit stood on one side with a couple of tins of paint standing on it. For all the world it was a small cleaner’s closet.

  That was what it was meant to look like.

  Cavendish reached out to one of the mops, and moved the handle sharply to the left. There was a click, and the room juddered slightly as it began to descend. The only evidence that it was moving was a faint bar of light which repeatedly rose up the small window set into the door of the room.

  After a minute or so, the room juddered again, and Cavendish opened the door which previously had led to the short brick corridor and outside.

  Now it opened onto a polished steel corridor, with a door at the end, beside which another soldier was seated.

  When he saw Cavendish, the soldier stood and saluted sharply.

  ‘Sir!’

  Cavendish saluted back and approached.

  ‘Pass, sir?’

  Cavendish handed over his pass, and the soldier looked at it carefully. Checking the dates, the signature, and finally the photograph of Captain Cavendish which adorned it.

  When he was satisfied, he handed the pass back to the Captain, and opened the door.

  Cavendish nodded and strode into the area beyond.

  Here there was another guard, and another table. He too checked Cavendish’s pass, and eventually handed it back.

  Then finally, Cavendish was allowed to enter the facility.

  Cavendish thought all this was crazy. So much security on the way in, but next to none on the way out. And just one man at each station. It was as though they had never encountered someone like the Master before. Number one on their wanted list, the Master could so easily have got inside and out again with very little effort. Even though he was so sought after, that the whole organisation was on alert for him.

  Why was he called the Master? Cavendish had his own ideas about that. He was a master of disguise, and could be standing right next to you before you knew it. He was also a master hypnotist, and again, before you knew it, you would be helping him with whatever scheme or scam he was running at that moment.

  But these things were all the concern of the top brass. A lowly Captain like Cavendish was not privy to the discussions that presumably took place.

  Cavendish instead felt neglected and forgotten. A Captain in UNIT who was on his way up and up … successful missions, great rescues … but then … following what was being described as ‘The University Incident’, he was suddenly passed over for promotion and assigned a series of dreary office jobs.

  ‘The University Incident’ … well that was an interesting way to describe it.

  Cavendish paused at the main desk of the facility. All was quiet as customary, and the man at the desk was, as usual, reading a book.

  ‘Ok George,’ said Cavendish.

  The man, George, flicked his eyes up from the page and nodded. Then he returned to his book.

  Cavendish moved on.

  This was UNIT’s Black Archive. A storehouse of all the items it found, confiscated and didn’t destroy in the line of action. But there were some partially destroyed items here as well.

  Anything which seemed alien ended up here. Anything strange or beyond human understanding.

  Sometimes the boffins tried to disassemble the items, trying to find out what they were or how they worked, but often their modus operandi was completely beyond comprehension.

  Cavendish moved down one of the aisles. Either side of him were metal shelves and cages. Each containing the objects.

  He passed a box in which nestled a spherical globe made from some sort of green-tinged plastic. A meteorite apparently, but like no other that had been seen.

  Another cage held a selection of plastic store manikins. Legs and arms and bodies all disassembled. But next to this, were three arms taken from the dummies. They looked normal enough, but the hands had a strange seam running around the knuckle area, and one was open; hinged down to reveal the nozzle of what could be a blaster hidden within the hand.

  Robots. That’s what everyone thought. But on further investigation, they turned out to be completely solid plastic dummies. No articulation or inner workings at all.

  Everything in here was like that. Unexplainable.

  Further down the passage there was another cage, and inside were five or six silver spherical objects arranged in a pyramid shape.

  Cavendish looked at these and shuddered.

  He remembered them well.

  There was a roar and the yeti launched itself across the University Square.

  Cavendish, standing alongside the entranced ‘Chillys’ – Students who had become enraptured and controlled by whatever the thing was that had first invaded New World University’s computer systems, and from there the rest of the staff and students – looked on as the Brigadier, accompanied by his daughter, walked into view.

  The silver spheres were on a dais beside him, and his mind was full of confusion and noise and the voice of a power called the Great Intelligence.

  There were distant shots. Gunfire.

  The Vice Chancellor of the University, a lady called Victoria Waterfield, was there. And a journalist well known to UNIT called Sarah Jane Smith was hanging around too.

  And the yeti!

  A mythical creature from the Himalayas, careering across a modern-day University campus
. And controlled, somehow, by the silver balls …

  But worse than that, the yeti’s hands seemed to be guns. They emitted a stream of smoke-like substance which coalesced into web.

  Yeti monsters spinning killing webs … you couldn’t make it up.

  Cavendish stood there. His mind reeling.

  He was told to pick up a sphere and ‘present’ it to the Brigadier. He didn’t want to … but …

  The bleeping of the silver spheres echoed in his head.

  Cavendish rested his hand against the metal cage. He felt dizzy. This happened from time to time, but it was normal. His doctor had assured him of that.

  He sucked in a deep breath and composed himself. Now. What was he here to do?

  He continued down the cage-lined passageway, and turned into another. At the far end, a further passageway extended, but here the cages were mostly empty. This was where the new acquisitions came.

  In one of the cages was a book.

  Cavendish quickly checked the passages, but as usual they were deserted. This had become something of a ritual for him. A way of coping with all that UNIT had thrown at him.

  If he could actually touch … actually keep some of these objects and artefacts, then the nightmares seemed somehow more real to him, and in making them real, he was able to understand them and push them away.

  There was nothing worse than waking with a nameless dread that something unknown was coming for you. That there were things beyond human understanding.

  To actually have some of these objects in his possession helped. He then knew they were real, and thus the nameless dread of the unknown was lessened.

  As a soldier, Cavendish had lived his life on the solid certainty of a gun and law and order. Seeing things which made no sense unsettled him. Made him worse.

  So he justified his actions with the salve of his own sanity.

  He quickly opened the cage with the small skeleton key that he had had made for the purpose, and gently laid his hand on the book.

  When the book had first come in, some twenty years ago, Cavendish had still been in nappies. But on joining UNIT, he had become fascinated by its story.