

THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSES

And other Tales of the King Imminent

By

'Dangerous' Walker

Copyright Grahame Walker 2016

Published at Smashwords

CONTENTS

BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

INTRODUCTION

LEFT ALONE

A STATION IN THE EVENING

LUCINDA'S STORY

THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSES

A WARM GUN

THE MATTER WITH ALICE

EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF LORD NAYLOR

THE CULT OF THE KING

THE BEGINNING OF THE END OF THE BEGINNING

TO DIE BEFORE THAT DAY

THE BOOKSHOP

WELCOME TO THE WALKERVERSE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Books by the Author:

Adventures in Space

Pray for Rain

The TSAR Trilogy

The Trimedian

Tears of War

Strangers

The Complete TSAR Trilogy

The Book of Five Worlds

The Foreshadow of Balance

Five Tasks

The Road between Gods and Monsters

Southern Hunter

In the Valley of Elah

The Haunting of Berkeley Square

INTRODUCTION

The stories contained within this book are the beginnings of the wider mythology of the Walkerverse, that is the metanarrative that most, if not all, of my books are linked to.

These stories are only indirectly linked the novels giving a wider setting for them.

For those wishing to delve deeper into this mythology, the books to read are the Book of Five Worlds series.

It is my hope though, that these stories will entertain you and make you wonder, whether you look further or not.

For who knows what lies out there? Who knows if or when the King Imminent may return?

And if you were to find one of the books from the Library of the Universes, I hope that this serves as a caution of what knowledge you may gain.

Authors note: this book will be updated with more stories, and will continue to be free until it is completed, meaning that you will not have to pay to own the extra stories. Go to 'About the Walkerverse' to find out where you can keep abreast of the news.

LEFT ALONE

Why did they ever leave him alone?

They thought he was old enough because he was mature for his age, that's what they said, but he knew it was something else. He could see that they were younger than his friend's parents. What he couldn't articulate, but knew was that they had had him young, hadn't meant to have a child until later and had lost the freedom of their youth to him. Now that he was older they wanted to go out and enjoy being young before they lost it forever.

His Mother had worked hard to teach him how to prepare and get to bed by himself, she had read him bedtime stories, but had taught him to read too, so that he could read himself to sleep.

But for all their work, he wasn't ready to be left alone.

He loved his Father and he knew his Father loved him back, but he didn't' show it the same as his friend's Dads. He didn't play, wasn't silly. Not like Bret's Dad.

He was always had his mind somewhere else, never seemed to be truly there. You could see it in his eyes when they did do things together. He was secretive, he would not share anything with his Son other than the need to do well and to travel and experience things.

Well that had certainly worked, he read a lot of books (thanks to his Mother's teaching) about the World, lots of books on myths, especially from the Greeks, and he loved to daydream about them, about travelling and adventuring. His Dad didn't like him daydreaming, said it was a waste of life until he told him he was daydreaming of the places he would go; the things he would see and then his Dad seemed satisfied.

But what he actually daydreamed about the most was the attic. This was the place he was not allowed in, under no circumstances. His Dad spent a lot of time up there because he said it was where he had his study, but he didn't know why his Dad needed a study. What did he study up there?

Not that it mattered, he was too short to reach the rope that pulled down the ladder. Until now. They were too preoccupied with going out and seeing friends and his Dad hadn't thought about it and that was weird because he was always thinking. They hadn't considered that if he was old enough to be left alone, then he was old enough to do lots of things. Such as pull a chair out to the landing and reach the rope. Sarah's Mum had noticed how he'd got taller, had said 'my haven't you grown', but Mum and Dad had noticed.

And it called to him, that rope, that secret ladder. What was up there? What was his Father hiding up there? He didn't think his Mother knew as she never went up the steps. She couldn't, he always pulled them up after him and eventually they had installed an intercom so that she could tell him when lunch or dinner was ready. What did his Father have up there that was so secret? He talked about his job as if it was the most boring thing in the World, so surely he wasn't doing more of that? He couldn't understand why his Dad would do a boring job in the first place. So he must be doing something else up there.

But what?

They shouldn't have left him alone.

They had kissed him goodnight, they seemed a lot happier now that they were going out two or three times a week and they showed him more love. The hard work they had put in to make him self-sufficient was paying off and they were happy about it, they loved him more for it. Loved him for learning and letting them live out their youth.

So he didn't want to spoil that.

But he did want to know what was in the attic.

He'd thought about it and made a plan. A simple plan, just to stay awake and find out what time they normally got home and work out the best place, the closest place, to get a chair from. He left it a week, staying awake when he would normally have slept and checking the time they got home. He did it another week just to be sure that it wasn't an unusual week. It was still risky, they could get home earlier for any number of reasons so he vowed to be out of the attic an hour earlier than their average earliest home time.

"You've done well at school this term," his Dad told him as he tied his tie.

"I've tried hard."

"That's good," he said ruffling his hair. "There's so much out there that the uneducated never get to see. Experience."

He liked it when his Dad ruffled his hair, it was loving and intimate and said that his Dad really did love him.

"And you go to bed on time, no staying up," his Mum said same as she always did.

"I will. School in the morning," he replied same as always.

She smiled down at him.

"Such a good boy, give your Mum a kiss."

She bent down and he kissed her cheek. She stood up beaming. He was glad that he had been able to learn what they taught him; he was glad that he made them happy, though he wished it wasn't by the fact that they could leave him alone.

"We should go to the zoo this weekend," his Father said.

The zoo? They'd never been there before and his heart started beating more quickly. That would be awesome, he longed to see a tiger. A real tiger. He was happy for once that they could go out.

And when they went out he had doubts of going up to the attic, he didn't want to spoil what they had, he didn't want to be found out and not go to the zoo. He should leave it, it didn't matter anyway, and his Dad could do what he wanted now that they were being a family. But he was too curious.

They shouldn't have left him alone.

He didn't go up there that night, but it burned in him and when they went out two days later he found that he had the chair placed under the trapdoor before he realised it. What harm could it do? They had left and he had given them time to turn around for anything they had forgotten. He couldn't do anything else, no television or internet; no books or magazines; nothing held his attention other than the attic. It had become more than a secret of his Father's, but a thing that needed to be known.

He took a deep breath to try and expel the doubts and then climbed on the chair and reached for the rope. He stopped with it in his hand, once again wondering if he was spoiling everything, but then his hand was tugging and the steps dropped.

He hurried up them, now knowing that the clock had been set. He pulled the chord to switch on the light and worried that it would shine out of a window and alert a neighbour who would, in turn, tell his Father, but there were no windows. He checked his watch and set the time he had to be down by and then he looked around.

There was the fake Christmas tree flanked by two boxes of decorations and for some reason he wanted to go and feel the tinsel he could see poking out of one. Instead he looked around. Here was a desk with papers on it and a bookcase filled with old looking books and rolled paper. He went over and picked one up, he dared not take off the elastic band, but looked inside instead and surmised that it was a map. He picked up more and thought they were maps to. Curiosity got the better of him and he slid the rubber band off of one that he thought his Dad wouldn't notice had been opened.

It was a map, but of nowhere that he recognised. His Father had shown him maps of the World and of the continents and he did not recognise this continent. It was a large expanse of land with numerous islands dotted around it. Some were tiny, some quite big and each was named, but not in a language that he could read. He rolled the map up and put it back as precisely as he could and desperately wanted to open the other maps and see the strange lands that they held.

But he couldn't. He'd be found out.

Instead he looked on the desk and opened the book that was there. It was some kind of journal with scribbled writing in it. Something about the pre-Nargalian cultures, whatever that meant and the Eternal City. There was someone referred to as the King Imminent, but he could not read his Father's scratchy handwriting. Still, he thought he had seen something about one of those and he went back to the bookshelf.

Yes, there was a book called 'The King Imminent in Fraturi Tradition.' He wanted to pull it down, but it was just at the edge of his reach and he didn't think he could get it back up there.

And then his watch beeped, his time was up and he had to go down and to bed in case his parents returned.

Once again he sat in front of the television giving enough time for his parents to turn around for whatever reason and then went up the stairs and pulled out the chair and opened the trapdoor.

It was much the same as the last time, but there was another book lying open on the desk. He read from the top of the page:

It is considered that the time is passing of the powers that rule the Worlds and that the King Imminent will make His move to resecure power from the Righteous, though there are still many powers that must be attended to and legends have it that the Powers must be aligned.'

None of this he understood so he stopped reading and went to the bookcase to read the spines of the many books. Here was one called: 'Famous Gangsters and Hitmen of the Universe' by someone named Coblidge. Here was Dr. Fozz's 'Myths of the Five Worlds' and there was a book on 'The Myths and Legends of the Ten Kingdoms'. Also there was a book called 'The King in Yellow' and numerous books that started with 'The History of...'. He took down a book called 'The Princesses in Morality Tales' flicked through before his gaze was arrested by a suitcase tucked besides the bookcase.

He pulled it out after checking he had the time, it was a dusty beige colour with a faded red number eleven on it. He didn't know why, but it fascinated him and he sat and just stared at it, wondering what it might hold, but being scared to open it, just in case. No, not this time, his alarm would ring too soon and so he slid it back, checked that everything was as it should be and then went downstairs to bed.

They did go to the zoo and it was wonderful. He saw gorillas and lions; snakes and spiders and the tigers. They were so much bigger than he had thought, and that alone made them terrifying. But he loved watching them and did so until his parents pulled him away to find some lunch.

A real day out as a family and he began to think that that was what they could be, that he had done well; he had learned and made them happy and in being happy they could be a family.

But.

They shouldn't leave him alone.

He couldn't help himself, he didn't want to ruin what they had now, but he had to know what was in the suitcase number eleven and when they went out again he didn't wait as long before he was back up in the attic and had the suitcase pulled out. He sat and looked at it for a long time, but didn't want to open it, didn't want to end the delicious enjoyment of suspense.

Instead he looked at the map spread out on his Father's desk. This was of two countries separated by a strait of water. The names were in English, but they were none that he had ever heard of. There were towns and cities and he wondered where this was, he wished there was a map of the World somewhere that he might be able to find them on, but it didn't matter, his eyes kept being drawn back to the suitcase.

He got up, laid it down and carefully, slowly opened the clasps and opened the suitcase so that both sides were laying on the floor.

There was nothing in it. Well, that was not true.

The suitcase seemed to be filled with a silver liquid; to the brim of each side and yet it had not spilled out, but seemed to sit there as a unified, flat surface. He touched it and it rippled viscously. What was this? He looked at it, not sure what to do. If it was a liquid why hadn't it spilled out, but what if it did when he tried to close it? And why did his Dad have a suitcase filled with such a strange, thick liquid?

He sat and contemplated it when suddenly a hand burst through the liquid and groped around until it found the edge of the suitcase.

He screamed, but no sound came out and then he was running down the steps, pushing the trapdoor back up and scraping the chair back into place before running to his bed.

He lay there under the covers, but could hear nothing from above. He knew he had to get undressed so that his parents would suspect nothing and so he got back out of bed and changed into his pyjamas before the dread set in.

He had left the suitcase there. His Father would know.

He had to go back up.

But what of the hand? Had he imagined it? He must have; maybe fallen asleep and dreamt it, for he could hear nothing up there now. He crept out into the hallway and listened but there was no sound. He pulled the chair out of the room to below the trapdoor when he heard the thump of footsteps above him and he fled to his room before fleeing back to move the chair, his heart beating a terrified rhythm. Still above there was the thud of footsteps and he ran back to the safety of his bed.

What had he done?

His watch beeped and he desperately fumbled for it in the darkness under his covers. He didn't know how long he lay there, but he heard his parents comes through the front door and the thudding above him stopped.

He lay there as he heard his parents come upstairs laughing about something, his Mother made a shushing sound and he heard their bedroom door click shut. He lay there and wondered at what might be happening, whether he should go and confess when he heard the trapdoor being opened and the steps being lowered quietly. He cowered in his bed as he saw light under his door as someone opened his parent's door.

"You," he heard his Father say before he heard a dull thump as of someone falling to the floor.

He heard his Mother start to scream, but it was cut short to a gurgle and then his own door was slowly opening and the figure was a silhouette against the light, but he could make out the shape of the long, curved dagger in the assassin's hand.

They shouldn't have left him alone.
A STATION IN THE EVENING

The gloom had settled across the small, open train station, the clouds scudded across the waning moon and the bulbs hanging from the metal awning fizzed and pulsed lazily. There were insects in the air, attracted to the lights, struggling in the webs that they found there. The spiders moved around hungrily and cast dancing shadows across the platform.

It was cold and the man pulled his scarf and long coat tighter around him and looked down the tracks but saw no tell-tale light of an approaching train. He took up his pacing again, how long had he waited? Surely a train should have come by now? Once again he wandered to try and find a timetable that he already knew didn't exist.

He sang under his breath a ditty he had heard sometime during the day:

Wibbaliwoo,

Who's the Wibbaliwoo?

Are you the Wibbaliwoo?

The wibberly, wobberly, bibberly, bobberly

Boo!'

That stupid book, why had he opened its pages, read its infernal jottings? There were things in there a man like him, if any man, should not know. But now he did. Now he did and he wanted, no needed to get away from the town. He felt like there were people watching him and he afeared that it was the Shadowers that he had read about in those ghastly pages.

No. That was nonsense. Those things could not really exist. Not any of what he had read could be true and yet he had been terrified by the truth of those words. Truths he should not know, but now did.

He was nobody, just a small time thief who was good at what he did, but not a trouble, not worth hunting. It was not as if he could tell anyone what he had read; no one would believe him even if he did have friends or family to tell.

But he had broken the rule.

He had stolen the book and he had read some of it before handing it to the woman who hid her face with a hat and scarf. Only her eyes were visible as they shone out through the shadow of the hat's brim in a way that scared him almost as much as the book. They had pierced him and read his thoughts, his actions. She knew that he had read the book even when he was swearing that he hadn't.

And so now he was trying to get away, he was supposed to lay low in this picturesque town for a few more days, just another tourist, but he had to risk travelling, had to escape from those that were watching him.

Stop.

No one was watching him, he was just jumpy from what he had read. It was foolishness to think that any of those words held a truth and even more so that others would be willing to kill him just for reading a portion of them. But then they weren't just any words were they? They told of things, dark things deep beyond the world he knew.

Words of Worlds he had never heard of and of Princesses, gods and demi-gods, but it had gone further than that. Looking behind those things, beyond the Righteous to the King Imminent. Talk of pasts and futures and terrifying acts that will come to pass.

He looked down the track again. Where was the train? One had to come, the station was lit and he had heard trains on previous nights. Maybe he should have waited another night, stayed up and plotted the regularity, the times they came, but he had been too scared today to leave it any longer, he had to flee and flee he did into the cold, dark night.

The platform grew darker and the electric bulbs could hardly withstand the darkness. There was the fizz-pop of the lights and the buzzing of the insects and the shadows of the spiders that had grown fat finding this feast of a lair.

And he knew then that the train wasn't coming.

He'd lied and been found out.

They would come for him.

They knew what he was going to do, they couldn't let him escape with the knowledge that he had. So they had let him come to this desolate, lonely place before they struck at him.

No train was coming.

He looked around him. The waiting room with the ticket office, now closed, and at either end a path around back onto the street and into town. Maybe he should go there now, go back and hope they hadn't noticed his escape attempt. Perhaps he could convince them that he wouldn't talk, maybe pledge his allegiance to their King, but at that thought he shook violently in disgust and fear.

And as he looked, they came creeping around the building and the wind howled at their arrival.

The Shadowers.

And he knew that there was no train coming.

Not this night.

Not evermore.
LUCINDA'S STORY

"I want to hear it from you. Tell me your story, my child."

"I was brought up, as you know, on the Third Kingdom. My Father was the Royal Librarian and my best friend was Darceigh, the daughter of the Royal Chef. People were amazed that we could be such good friends because we were so different, opposites almost, but we'd grown up together and we had one thing in common that bonded us. We both wanted to travel, both wanted to explore the Universes.

"You see, most people didn't even know of the Port of Karzak and those that did were not overly interested. We had ten worlds full of beauty and adventure and people were fiercely proud of them. But for the rich to be rich, the Royals to be royal, they needed more. Needed things that no one else could get and so they had merchants who travelled to the Port of Karzak to buy things from other Universes. Most people would never see them of course, never got to see inside of the Royal Palaces. Those that did know, I've said people were deeply proud of the Ten Kingdoms, they had no interest of going any further than the Port.

"But we knew of it, and we knew that if things were coming in and out of that port, then it was a gateway to unknown adventures. This is what bonded us and it meant that I was more adventurous because of her and in turn she managed to study because of my help and influence. She was naughty, playful and I was serious, but we rubbed off on each other. We played together, we dreamt together, we explored and we grew together. In my memory it always seemed to be summer. We knew we'd grow up and get all those things we wanted, even if the truth of life and our positions didn't marry with that idea. I was happy and so was she. At least I thought.

"Until he came into our lives. Came back with one of the merchants from the Port of Karzak saying he wanted to learn more of the Ten Kingdoms. The court was suspicious of course, but he proved himself to be wise and knowledgeable and the King, known as the Thane Lord, was impressed and interested in his knowledge. And, of course, flattered by his interest in the Kingdom.

"I'm sorry, I should go back. Everyone in the Court knew of our interests, from an early age when we saw the Thane Lord we bombarded him with questions about the Kingdom and then about the other Kingdoms. So it was obvious that we should meet this man, Blagdon, and learn from him. We were very excited about it and now that I look back I wonder if, maybe, we were being groomed from that moment to be ambassadors to the Port of Karzak and beyond. Such alliances would change the Kingdom, make it something more than the others; give it more leverage and power. But I have not thought on it fully.

"Everyone, my Father included, thought Blagdon was a great man, kind and knowledgeable. He spent hours with my Father explaining some books and texts and my Father spent more time in study than even before. The whole Court did. But we too got time with the man and to me he seemed less wonderful. Where others talked about the good and great things in the Universes that he spoke on, with us he touched on darker themes and older times.

"We were only young teenagers and it didn't seem to me to be wholly appropriate, but Darceigh became entwined in his teachings. She grew darker and more brooding. He spoke to us of the ways of different Worlds; of ways of being and thinking that we had never encountered in the Kingdoms and I stopped seeing him. But I still saw Darceigh and she told me of the things he was teaching her and I afeared for her. They were not the things that we should know at that age, or perhaps any age, but I couldn't tell anyone, they were all in his thrall.

"He had made one mistake though, he had mentioned a book, a book I had seen my Father studying. I do not know if Blagdon knew of it, but I knew that my Father's library contained some books that he kept locked away. So I began looking at the books in the library, began reading what I could find, but I knew that I needed to see his secret books also. So, I made my plans and crept one night to the library (having stolen the keys) and I opened the door and began to search the books there.

"I found the book Blagdon had mentioned and I read it. It was terrible, full of awful things from times long past. I could see how what he was telling Darceigh was corrupting her. We had arguments when I wouldn't go along with some of the things she wanted to do. Oh, I had done some of them, at the start; sneaked into the city at night, but she wanted to steal some of her Father's alcohol which I wouldn't do. She did it anyway. And she had started to flirt with boys at school. I didn't think we were old enough for such things.

"And so I snuck into the library at night and read. There were terrible things in those books; at such a young age I was learning of things that I should not have learned for a number of years yet, but also learning of them in the most awful ways. And yet, amongst the horrors there were stories of good. There was the 'Trials of the Wicked One' which was horrible, but that was followed by the 'Ode of Doloriss' a story of good people fighting and defeating evil. I think now that that evil knowledge didn't effect, corrupt, me because I had a pure reason for reading it. I wasn't interested in it, but in finding the good to balance against what he was teaching Darceigh.

"But she was already experimenting with other things; she visited me once to tell me that she had lost her girlhood and that there was a boy in our class, Tormus, who liked me, who would do the same, she bet. She told me it was the best thing ever and that she wanted more; wanted me to join her in that adventure, but I would not and once again we fought. I tried to tell her of stories and knowledge that was opposite of what Blagdon was teaching her, but she wouldn't listen to it. She told me that we had always dreamed of learning about the Universes and now she was. Learning the real truth, not just childish fantasies.

"I can never know what happened, I had by now read all the books in my Father's secret collection, but when she spoke of things and I countered them with good stories, she merely scoffed, said she was learning of the true rulers of the Universes, the true powers that made and shaped the past, present and future. She saw that the only thing that binded all people and animals together were the things that were taught against in school and by our parents.

"Then one night she came to me secretly. She was scared, she said that they were going to do a rite and she, for the first and last time, mentioned Him. The King Imminent. I had read of Him, read enough to know that this could not happen.

"She was scared, but she wanted to go through with it. She said it would give her true knowledge of all things, and that she would leave with Blagdon once it was done to explore the Universes. She begged me to come with her, but I told her of the things I knew and countered her with references to the Righteous, particularly from that great text, 'No Deed Done'. We talked long into the night and I thought she was coming to see my side of things; she was scared. It was obvious that Blagdon had not told her everything about the King Imminent.

"Two days later she was found. She was mutilated, her body was, they say, set in a position that suggested some kind of rite. And of course, Blagdon was nowhere to be found. I don't think it was the rite that she had spoken of. I can't see that he would have gone to all that trouble just for a sacrifice to the King Imminent. No, I think, I like to think, that she had had second thoughts; that at the last moment she remembered the things I had told her and refused to go through with the rite.

"He couldn't, of course, leave her with such knowledge and so he overpowered her and gave her up as a sacrifice. They wouldn't let me see her, but I knew the nooks and crannies of the palace and I overheard enough. I heard my Father speak of it, thinking that no one who overheard would understand, but I had read his books and I knew. I knew she'd been sacrificed and what burned in my heart more than the loss of my friend was knowing that it was not a sacrifice that gained Blagdon anything. It was merely an offering to show his allegiance.

"That at the end, good had overpowered bad in her soul and so she had died for no other reason than his own devotion to evil.

"The Thane Lord, my Father, and a few others met with a man who lived in the mountains. Someone who everyone knew stories of, someone who had travelled to the Port of Karzak and further. A man named Actaeon. He was sent out to hunt down Blagdon. I don't know if he succeeded as it was not long afterwards, in a state of fugue at the things that had happened and the things that I knew, that you came for me. I had told my Father everything and assume he contacted you somehow."

"For you have a knowledge of things. Ancient, terrible things."

"But also good things."

"And that is what we fight for. What is it that you want?"

"I want to rid the Universes of the great evil that some follow. I want to learn more and in doing so be able to stop those that would hurt and destroy."

"There is something deeper."

"I had happiness and love and joy and it was taken from me. My soul is dark and my heart is heavy and I fear that that is the truth of life. I wish to find happiness again."

"My child, we all know that the Sun sets and leaves us in darkness, but the Sun merely sets in order again to rise."

THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSES

Even in a ruinous state the building was impressive. Impressive and large with high vaulted ceilings and large windows set high up in the walls from which the swirls of colours outside lit the room.

He couldn't quite believe he was here, in this hallowed place, a place no one had set foot in for millennia. The Library of the Universes. He walked the room looking at the high bookshelves that split the room into rows along a central corridor and wished that they were full. Soon. Soon they would be again and the whole building would hum with knowledge. Ancient knowledge.

It was from a time before the Universes had settled and fully formed, when the walls between the spiritual and corporeal world were yet to be erected and the peoples of both mingled together. But where there are people, where there are differences, there is war.

This was all he knew of the war itself, other than some principle characters that he dared not think on, let alone speak. Not in this place, not in any place for that matter. But he knew that as the war raged a sect had formed, the Sect of Malumat, and they began collecting all the written works and knowledge orbs they could.

The war raged for centuries and new books were written and collected until the war was coming to an end and the Sect knew that the Universes would be sealed, from each other and from the spiritual realms. They used their knowledge, used their wisdom and what magic they had and when the Great Sealing came they had chosen their spot precisely and, at the centre of all the Universes, the Library was sealed.

Portals had been formed from the Outerfield so that the Sect had access in and out of the Universes and as more books were written, as more knowledge was discovered, the books found their way back to the Library. Oh, yes, the Universes held remnants of that time past and there were certain people who found ideas and information that was not held in the Library, as if a book had been ripped into separate pages and each page locked in a different house, so that each household had only one part of the story.

And of course, portals were found, people from one Universe found a way into another and with their different eyes could see things others could not. And they wrote about it and those books came into the possession of the Sect and were stored in the Library.

But not just knowledge, prophecies; prophecies that led to, well his name must not be thought, but He came to be known as the King Imminent for His followers held it dear that His return was soon. They came to the Library to read the knowledge stored there and the Sect became scared. They saw that there was great evil in the Universes, but nothing like the evil that was stored in the books of the Library. They feared that someone might be able to use that knowledge to bring about prophecies that would unleash the True Evil and Great War would once again fall upon all of the Universes.

And so they scattered the books and orbs, they could not bring themselves to destroy the knowledge, they had spent too many centuries guarding and collecting it (some books could not be physically destroyed anyway). So, yes, they dispersed them throughout the Universes hoping that no one would be able to bring them together again.

But now they were looking. Those he worked for, the followers of the King Imminent, and a secret war against the Sect had been, and was still being, fought. But they had the Library now and he had been made curator over it. A great and honourable job, but one with a huge burden to it. It was not a job that you failed at.

He was brought out of his reverie by a noise from the back of the long room, somewhere out of sight and he looked in that direction. But it was nothing. It could be nothing. No one was here. No thing. Nothing had been here for thousands of years. Still he took a few steps forward before stopping. They had the library guarded, no one could be in here other than him, unless one of the guards was making a round.

He thought of calling out, but something stopped him. No; this was foolish, he had much more to think of than spooks. He had a search to lead, books to find; even now the Shadowers were out there hunting alongside the men and women who shared the Cause. He too had a job to do, books to find and in fact there was a book already found that needed to be collected.

Oh, yes, the process was slow, they were hunting those books that the Sect were not guarding; building their knowledge and he had a place to go, a book to find, 'The Galwaith Fantasies' had been located and there he must go now.

And so he turned from the Library and walked back to a guarded portal and with only a breath, stepped through it.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

She couldn't believe her luck, couldn't believe that such a book had turned up on her lap. It was like nothing she had ever come across before, nothing relating to the myths and legends of her World, nor any that she knew of; ancient tales mixed with what seemed to be newer ones. She thought this by the style of writing and of the references the stories made.

Here, 'The Ode of Relgrin' mentioned the Shores of Dawn as if it were common knowledge, but 'The Times of Grief' described them as if people no longer knew of them, or regarded them myth. And of course the style of the language was different and it was this, amongst other things, that helped her as a linguist and mythologist to sort the stories into a rough timeframe. It was hard and time consuming and no one at the University gave any credence to it, so it was her evenings that she devoted to it.

Was it worth being single for? The time to study this tome? That she couldn't say. She was grateful for the chance, but hoped that when it was done she might find someone to share her evenings with and leave study to her working hours. But she could not be ensnared by those thoughts since she had found the book, she was too enravelled in it; in the stories that it told, even though some were too much to bare. Stories of evil and of things that should never be spoken of, let alone detailed as graphically as they were.

It made her shudder as a woman, made her want to draw her legs closer and put on clothes that would hide her form, such were the descriptions in the book. Not that they were only about women. But in amongst them there was knowledge, great knowledge of times much beyond her own; it was like hunting for Trickster Beetles amongst the leaves and branches, trying to find the real truths that mattered.

She turned back to the 'Rhyme of Raiffian' and to the mentions of the Shores of Dawn and after rereading it tried to plot it onto the easel she had set up along with all the other mentions. Surely there must be more books to mention it, more information on where the idea of this place came from, where it might be located. She smiled to herself and got up to refill her wine glass; as if such a place really existed.

A place of all knowledge, where every question was answered. A place where truth was laid bare; where heart and mind were stripped to their core and then entwined into absolute understanding. She smiled to herself, a place, therefore, of absolute madness.

The wind picked up suddenly and rattled the windows of her small apartment and she briefly felt a shiver in her spine. Just the cold getting through she told herself as she curled up again with the book. What she needed to do was to try and find a source for these stories, as this book was obviously a compendium of stories from other places. She read the 'Love Song of Alathena' and found once again that she was aroused by it, a hand had snaked down to her crotch and she took it away and picked up her glass instead.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

The next day she went to work and went through all the motions she had to; a full day lecturing. It was as she sat out in the Kargusain Sun and ate her lunch that she felt as if she were being watched. She was already distracted by the book, 'A Compendium of Myths and Legends as Compiled by Sixtus' but the feeling of being watched distracted her more so and she didn't know how her lectures went after she left them. She had marking to be done, but she got through only a quarter before she went home. Back to the book.

She had gone to the library and scoured the book list for anything that might shed light on it; she had tried many different searches on the Web to no avail before finding herself back at home with the book on her lap. Sixtus, she traced her finger over the name. She had found no mention to him (or her, but she was pretty sure it was a him) anywhere, and yet here she had a book by him. She wanted to read the Love Song again, but tried to banish it from her thoughts and turned to 'The Ode of Relgrin' once again to see if it shed new light after reading more of the book. It didn't; it just frustrated her, but she was disturbed from it by noises in the hallway.

She listened and decided it was just her neighbours who were notably noisy and went back to the book, but there was just too much of a kerfuffle outside that she couldn't concentrate. She picked up the book and, on a whim decided to grab a bottle of wine and a glass before retiring to bed where the noise would not reach her. She went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet and let the detritus of the wine flow out before brushing her teeth and changing into her pyjamas. She then slipped into the heavy, warm, embracing sheets and opened the book to its contents. She chose 'The City of the True King' and read, but became sleepy reading of that tranquil Eternal City.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

Here it was, though an original Library book, it was not original in itself but a collection of various texts that could blossom into new finds; that could be a centre for their knowledge. Sixtus was a name that was synonymous with authenticity. A traveller and historian, aligned to no side other than that of knowledge. From this book, they who had knowledge could begin to piece together the truths of the Universe and it was held by a woman, just a normal woman, not one that could fight him or the Shadowers that had been drawn to this place. Oh, they were drawn by the book, but that was not what they wanted, not what they yearned for, no they wished for him to come, him to be summoned, they wished to strike him dead.

But he was not here.

Just a woman who had somehow gained the book. Now he would take it from her, he would add it to his Library and it would grow, he would grow, in knowledge and power.

He walked along the corridor, the Shadowers, though with no true substance, could not pass through walls and so they followed unseen but felt, pulled along by the knowledge that the book exuded.

And then they were here, the Sect coming through a portal. Oh, he should have known that they still held some of the arcane magic and they leapt forth and into battle with the Shadowers as he pushed forward, beyond them and to the door.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

In her dreams she was with a man, two men and three women and she was in bliss, the things they did to her, that she did to them and then she was bolt upright and covered in sweat. She looked down at the book and saw that it was once again turned to the 'Love Song of Alathena'. She looked at it confused and then her ears tuned into the commotion that seemed to be coming from just outside her room.

Was someone in her apartment? She tensed scared and then the door opened and a man stood there. The Curator, she thought not knowing why, but then there was a flash and a portal stood open in her room, twirling silver and black and before it stood a woman.

"Come," she said. "With the book. Come."

And she did, smothered in calm. And as she passed through she heard the man howl in loss.
A WARM GUN

She walked into the small library in the nunnery and looked around at the tomes on the bookcases. Her first thought was dusty tomes, but they were not dusty, they were regularly cleaned and the books were also regularly used. It wasn't a big room and she looked around at her new work space, for she was charged with being the librarian. And it made her happy. Happy to be given a task that some may see as menial, but that she saw as important.

She hadn't been with the nunnery for very long, she was just learning the ways, but she was devout in her following of those ways, wanting to cast aside her old life and embrace anew. Therefore she wanted to do this task set before her well and please those that had given it to her.

She walked along the bookshelves, letting her fingers brush the books and breathing in the mote filled air, letting the sun from the small windows alight on her face and warm it. Here, in the back corner was a door that was ajar and she pushed it open. It was a small room with a small table next to the door and only another larger table and chair in it. There was only one small window high up and on the larger table were five books.

She thought that maybe these were for her to put back on the shelves, or new books that she needed to assign numbers and add to the catalogue. With that in mind she picked up one and thumbed through it, reading a part of a chapter entitled 'The Pitiful Demise of the Residents of the Halls of Kymer' but put it down for it was filled with sadness and of a time and place that she did not know. Instead she picked up another book and opened it to a random page. The words it spoke made her flush and feel hot in places that she no longer wished to feel, for she had come here to escape that way of life. She hurriedly flicked on and read, but dropped the book in disgust. Who could write such evil things and in such detail? As if the writer delighted in the torture of them. Why would such a book be here in the nunnery? Perhaps these were not books to be put into the library, but to be destroyed.

She stared at the book on the floor and when she looked up the Mother Superior was standing in the doorway.

"Oh," she said.

"You shouldn't be in here," Mother Superior said.

"The door was open, I thought that this was part of my duties," she stumbled.

"No, my child, no. This room is not supposed to be open. You have read some of the books here?"

"I'm sorry, Mother Superior," she gushed.

"Hush, child, it is OK, such things happen. But we are in an unfortunate position. You see, some of the nuns here are tasked with studying these books so that they can understand and warn of the great evil held in their pages."

"Oh, no, I don't want that, I just want to go back to my duties," she pleaded.

"It is not that easy. A long time ago we thought it was, but a sister, similar to you, read a portion of the books and days later we found her dead outside of the door. She had wanted to read more, she had needed to know and it had driven her crazy. She smashed against the door so hard that it broke her skull and turned her organs to liquid. The deep grooves from her nails can still be seen in the wood," she shook her head sadly at the memory.

"No, I don't want that, I'll be OK, I don't want to know such things," she pleaded again.

"But it will happen, such is the knowledge in these books. I'm sorry, but we only have one choice, you will read more; you will not be able to help yourself anyway. An when you have read enough, if you still have faith in your God and in Humankind then knock and you will join those nuns that study these books to help Humanity. But if you cannot bare it..."

She took a small revolver from out of her habit and laid it on the small table. With that she backed out and closed, locked the door. She sat down at a chair next to the door and waited.

How had this happened? she thought. She could not believe anyone had left the door unlocked, but it seemed that the knowledge held in that room could not be held, but tried to escape, tried to infect other minds so that it could spread. She sighed a tired, woeful sigh.

For a while there was silence, but then there was the ruffle of clothes and the sounds that no one should listen upon; following this were sobs of guilt before the room was silent again. Gasps of horror arose, sobs coughed back and even through the door she could hear her heavy breathing before it slowly turned to sobs of pain and terror before they were followed by a single gunshot.

The Mother Superior sighed a tired, woeful sigh.
THE MATTER WITH ALICE

He is not entirely sure how he got to this place, lying naked between the crumpled sheets as she lay contented next to him. It had all happened so fast and he felt wrong and right at the same time; confused as this was meant to be the best thing. Ever. That's what they all said, but he wasn't sure now that they really knew anything of it. It was not like they had claimed.

He thought back through the events that had brought him here. It had been her, of course, Alice. He had seen her at school and thought her pretty with her long blonde hair and short skirt. He wondered why he hadn't noticed her before in all those years, but considered that they were all changing, growing up. Developing, the Health teacher had said. Though he thought her pretty, prettier even than Rachael Robbins, and her answers in class were smart and sometimes funny, she did not seem to have many friends. Did not seem to fit in and for that she was ignored by the other boys. But not him. He thought of her constantly and his heart ached whenever he saw her, more so when he shared a class with her.

He was neither popular nor shunned at school, just one of the majority that drifted through the school system, but he had a good group of close friends that urged him to go and speak to her, even though they all lusted after Julia Finnegan, the most popular girl in school. They would never go and speak to her, they would be laughed at or maybe beaten up by her boyfriend, but still they urged him to speak to Alice and one day he didn't have to.

He was sitting alone in the canteen eating his lunch, all his mates had lunchtime sport, but he'd twisted his ankle and was not allowed to play by his mother until it was fully healed. That was balls, it was fine, he could have at least done some training, but she was strict on it. And then she was there, sitting opposite him and his twisted ankle suddenly became a blessing. He looked up at her and his heart leapt into his throat, making it hard to swallow his food.

She smiled at him the prettiest smile he had ever seen and he gulped down the tasteless hard lump of sandwich.

"Hi," he said weakly and her smile widened.

"You've been watching me," she said and he blushed.

He couldn't blush, dammit, that would give away his lie, but he couldn't force his face to cool down.

"No."

"It's OK," she smiled again. "I like it. I'm Alice."

"I know," he said and regretted it. "I'm Craig."

"I know," she smiled.

It really was a beautiful smile, it confused his mind and made his body tingle. He couldn't believe she was sitting here with him.

"Where are your friends?" he asked.

"Oh, they're about somewhere, I suppose. I heard you talking about Galactic Empire with your friends in History."

"Oh yes," he frowned.

Such TV shows were seen as geeky, nerdy and he tried not to be open about it, not around others. It was a cool show and he wasn't embarrassed by it, he just didn't feel the need to get bullied for it.

"I loved it when Dance Brightmoon stole the police ship to chase the Canis hitman."

"Do you mean that?" he asked tensely. Was she here to mock him? That would be worse than anything.

"Oh course, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I just didn't know any girls who were into stuff like that."

"That's sexist," she chided and he frowned, but she smiled. "I'm joking. Not many do, I guess."

"Who do you think the mysterious stranger will be?"

"I don't know," she frowned in thought. "I guess it'll be someone from Dance's past."

"I hope it's not family, that'd be a bit cheesy."

"I know right," she perked up.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

And so it went on, they spent their days at school together finding out more about each other. Other than Galactic Empire that shared a love of horror, both books and films and had an interest in the natural world. They both also loved comics and superheroes. He couldn't believe a girl like this could exist. That's sexist she would chide him if he said it out loud and the thought made him smile.

On that first weekend they went into town together and spent a long time browsing the local bookshop, laughing over or discussing books. She wanted to look at the spiritualism section, but he said he didn't believe in that. She went on her own as he looked at graphic novels.

"Why don't you believe in spiritualism?" she asked over a fast food lunch.

"I just think that a lot of that stuff is made up, I think that the spiritual world is real, but it's not there to be used by us."

She nodded.

"You're right, I don't think ghosts or spirits are there just to help heal us or whatever."

"No, and in films ghosts always throw objects or bang doors to scare people. As if they would waste their time."

She smiled at that.

"I keep trying to tell my friends that, but they tell me I'm spoiling the film."

"So what do you think is out there?" he asked.

"I don't know, but did you know that science thinks there are multiple universes or realities?"

"Yeah, like seven or something."

"Right. So maybe it's not spiritual worlds, but other universes out there."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But I still think there's a spiritual world. Not like anyone thinks or nothing," he shrugged.

"Do you want to come over to my place on Tuesday to watch Galactic Empire together?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah. Yeah, that would be cool."

Ha. 'Cool'. He nearly pissed his pants with excitement. This was just about the biggest and best thing that had ever happened to him.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

And so it went on and he couldn't believe it was happening and even his friends were jealous that he had a girlfriend, someone he was making out with and they wanted the details. There wasn't much to tell, even if he would, they kissed and he had felt her breasts through her top. It was more confusing than he thought, she seemed to like it and he wondered if he should try and take her top off, but what if she didn't want that and got angry at him? But if she was enjoying it then maybe she'd get frustrated that he didn't go any further, think him too prudish. There was no way of telling without either trying it or asking her. And he was too scared to do either. He wondered why he felt such a need to push it, wasn't what they had enough?

She was very sensible, she told him they shouldn't spend too much time together at school because they shouldn't ignore their friends and though at the time his heart had cracked and he had spent that night in bed wrestling with whether she was pushing him away or not, it was a good thing to do. He wanted to be with her all the time, but she was right, he would lose his friends and, as she said, they had the evenings together anyway.

Except one week where she told him she was ill, couldn't see him even though she still came to school and seemed fine. He kept pushing it, his heart had cracked further thinking she was finally tiring of him, but that annoyed her. She kept telling him that she got home exhausted from school, but had seen a doctor and was taking medicine. He spent the time with his friends instead and had a great time with them, once again cherishing her advice not to ignore them. If it was all over between them then he still had his friends, he wouldn't have to come crawling back after weeks of ignoring them.

And so the week passed and finally she rang him on Saturday morning wanting to meet him in town. He was excited to finally be seeing her again, though dread set into the pit of his stomach when he thought that maybe this was a break-up. That was quickly dispelled when they met and she threw her arms around him and kissed him hard and deeply.

He was too overjoyed to really hear what she had to say, just agreeing with her and following her back to her house. Her parents were out and they went up to her room where she locked the door.

They sat on the edge of her bed and began kissing again and this time she pulled back and took her tee shirt off and slipped off her bra. He couldn't believe it, nor remember it, he only remembered the worry of what he was supposed to be doing, was he doing it right?

Now she got up, but didn't put her top back on. Instead she walked to her wardrobe and reaching up and pulled out a book from the shelf.

"Look at this."

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a book."

"I can see that," he smiled and she returned to sitting back next to him.

"I found it a few weeks ago but didn't really read it. Just a bit, but I kept thinking of it and when I started it properly last week I couldn't stop. I'm sorry to have lied to you, but I wasn't ill, I was reading."

"Oh," he said sadly.

"Don't be like that, I had to read it all before I showed it to you, I had to know it was true."

"What is it?"

"It's called 'A History of Incantations'," she showed him the first page. "There's no date or publisher, but it looks old. Smells old."

He took it from her and looked at the contents page. It was certainly about incantations. Not only defining them and talking of the history of them, but it seemed to include some too. There were chapters on incantations from different places, but only two were places he recognised on Earth.

"Where'd you get it?"

"I found it."

"I don't know these places."

"No, neither do I, but you get a sense of them from reading it. You have to read it, take it home with you."

"If you want," he smiled.

"I do," she smiled back and then to his disappointment put her clothes back on.

They watched a film downstairs in the lounge before he went home for dinner.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

He wanted to make her happy so he read the book, careful that his parents didn't see it (she had told him to keep it a secret) and the more he read the more he became engrossed.

She was right, in the early chapters the book told of places generally as if they would be well known, though he knew nothing of them. But as the chapters got more specific they talked of the places, gave names to cities such as Delith in the country of Flagir. It talked of the great river Helge'r that ran through the city and of the Cosor fish that inhabited it.

It talked of the sea beast, Manthor, which was alleged to be imprisoned in the frozen Ardrick Ocean on the planet of Strotium, waiting for the Great Thaw to set it free once again. Great cities and small towns; forested countries and deserts; tiny villages lost in the mountains and the fabled City of Greth in the Harkuin Mountains. The Halls of Kymer and the Palace of Vertreem.

And in amongst it all was suggestions of other things; people and places that seemed ancient even by the standards of the book. And of course there were the incantations, what they did and the stories that surrounded them. Stories of horror, of loss, of decadence. Stories of love and of good as well as stories of evil and war.

It was a thick book and it took him three nights to read. Alice called him to find out where he was in the book and to excitedly discuss what he had read, but she kept her calls short and would not meet him. She wanted him to finish the book and he wanted it too. His thoughts of her and his friends were extinguished by his thirst for this book. Once he finished it he went back and read it again, gaining more understanding from the first chapters now he knew of many of the places it talked about.

But that second reading saturated his brain and he began dreaming of the places he read about and they were not good dreams; dreams filled with dread and shadows and by the time he had finished the book the second time he had a certainty that what it contained was not good.

"Why do you say that?" Alice asked genuinely surprised.

"I don't know," he admitted. "There's nothing actually bad in the book."

"No, I thought it was exciting," she said.

"It was, I can't stop thinking about it. How the Heasu Incantation was used to try and turn the tide of the Battle of Pelegrey Fields."

"That was amazing, and how Gradysi was tortured and used the Felj Incantation to become a vengeful ghost."

"Oh yeah, that was pretty gory, way too much detail."

"I thought it was cool," she smiled.

"Do you think he's still out there?"

"Who?"

"Gradysi. I mean it didn't really say whether he got his revenge or not. What if he didn't and he's still out there. Or maybe he did, but he didn't get to rest in peace after all. There's a warning in one of the earlier chapters that the Incantations do not always do what you want them to do."

"I don't know," she frowned. "I hadn't thought about it. We should search on the Internet."

They did so and found nothing except one page that contained a poem that mentioned Gradysi in passing, but there was no author and no way to contact the writer of the page which had been put up many years ago and never changed.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

The book had brought them even closer together and they talked about it often and sometimes read parts together, especially the parts that were not fully explained, trying to put pieces together.

What really nagged at them were the references to past times and people that would not be elaborated upon. At many times either the author or characters in the stories would call upon the Righteous and they figured he was like a god or hero of old, but others would talk of another one in the same way. This one was discussed less than the Righteous, but there was one mention of the King Imminent and they, by trawling the book, decided it was he that the other mentions were about.

But as they read and thought more and she became more invigorated, more sexual, he continued to have nightmares and became more and more tired. He often dreamt of standing on a grass covered hill looking at a city far away and knowing that he had to reach it, had to keep moving because there was something behind him, something terrible and he would only be safe if he could reach that faraway city. In other dreams he was closer, but running, always running, through fields or forests, once swimming a deep murky river, knowing that there were deadly Cosor fish in the deeps below him.

One night he dreamt of walking through a deep forest on a wide path as things flew through the treetops. It must be night for all around him was dark and he could not see far into the trees. He could hear voices though, coming from the trees. The sound of children singing:

'Wibbaliwoo,

Who's the Wibbaliwoo?

Are you the Wibbaliwoo?

The wibberly, wobberly, bibberly, bobberly

Boo!'

Finally he came to a clearing that was lit with torches and in the middle stood a man that he knew from the book to be Cyclo the Wicked. He held a ball of blue fire in his outstretched hand and he knew that it was offered to him, but he did not want to take it and then he was attacked by something unseen from above and he awoke trembling.

And so it was that he got here.

Her parents had gone away for the weekend and had decided that she was old enough to stay at home alone. She told him that her parents weren't worried because they thought she had no friends to invite to a party. But she didn't want a party, she just wanted him. They had stolen some of her Father's alcohol, topping the bottle up with water and watched old episodes of Galactic Empire before she led him to her room. They had kissed and then she had undressed, telling him to do the same, and slid into the bed. He didn't know what he was doing, this was more terrifying than enjoyable, what if he did it wrong? They kissed and then she did other things, told him to do things, talked him through it all.

Afterwards she had kissed him, smiled into his eyes and said:

"Now, we're no longer pure."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"We can't be pure if we're going to do an incantation," she said and snuggled up to him.

So here he was lying naked between the crumpled sheets as she lay contented next to him. She seemed happy and so he thought he had done it right, but that bothered him less than what she had said. About being pure, about doing one of the incantations. He wasn't sure he wanted to, wasn't sure it was a good idea; images from his nightmares flashed through his mind, he couldn't believe that the incantations led to good things. He thought of the warning that they didn't always work out the way people wanted.

"I can't believe we're going to do it," she said excitedly turning to him.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You don't want to?"

"Do we really know what we're doing?" he asked seriously.

"Yes, of course we do. Together we can do it."

And he thought on this, on her words that they could do it now that they weren't pure. Was that why she had done it? For the incantation? But then she was kissing him again and his thoughts got muddied.

It was only three days later that his parents were out at a conference for the day and wouldn't be back till late. She came back to his house after school and they were lying on his bed talking about school when she got up and took the book from her school bag and sat back down. She opened it up to near the back where the incantations were.

"Which one?" she asked.

"You're serious?" he asked back.

"Of course, why not?"

"I think it's dangerous."

She laughed.

"Don't be silly, the people in the book only used them to help themselves or others. We'll be safe; we're together and we're bonded, that protects us.

"Is that what all this has been about? You and me? Just about the incantations?"

"No, of course not," she purred.

"But you found the book not long before you came and sat at my table."

"Stop being stupid," she said crossly.

"And you couldn't be pure."

"Stop it. I'm doing this for you, for us. I haven't lied to you."

"There's danger in those pages, can't you see it?"

"There's knowledge. Knowledge I can have."

"So it is about you."

"I meant we," she was still cross with him.

"No," he said as his heart broke.

"Well I'm going to anyway," she said crossly and got up. "This is something important that we've got, we can't just do nothing."

"No."

"I need you."

"No, you don't; you never have."

She wept at that

"You're blind," she spat. "Blind and scared."

He implored her to stay all the way to the door, told her that he'd do it, but she could hear the lie in his voice and wouldn't reply.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

They didn't talk in school, nor meet afterwards. Her phone was never switched on and he felt the pain of heartbreak as he watched Galactic Empire alone.

It was only four days later that his year was called for an assembly to be told that Alice had died. They wouldn't give any details, but said the police were still looking into the cause.

He knew the cause and felt the physical pain of knowing that he might have saved her if he had gone through with it.

He wondered what happened to the book.
EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF LORD NAYLOR

I can hardly write this entry, my heart is so full of woe knowing as I do that the Ten Kingdoms will fall. That it will not be soon is my only comfort, but it will happen, of that I know.

I have been given a good view of it by the wizard Zakztas and though I wish I had never known, I know why he showed me. He thought I, if anyone, could do something to stop it. But I was wary and I put him off for months. Oh, I listened to him rant, but I took it good naturedly and sent him to the door. I was much more concerned by the Countess Sardeena.

I had known her from youth, but our friendship had stopped any other thoughts and we had grown apart as we grew older until there came the Ball of the Harvest. I was mixing with the crowd and talking with old Yorkin when she entered. At first I did not notice her, but then I noticed the crowds grow quiet and looked around to find the source of their allurement. It was then that I saw her. Dressed so eloquently, walking with such confidence and smiling so approvingly at those that greeted her. She was a creature of magnificence, so much so that I had to ask old Yorkin who she was.

"But, my liege, that is the Lady Sardeena," he told me to my confoundedness.

But I digress, lost in revelry, or perhaps to feign from writing that which I know. But I must come back to it, I cannot write of these things and think on the Lady at the same time; no I am stalling to put my thoughts to page.

{+}

He came to me, Zakztas telling me of the Shores of Dawn, bringing enough books that he necessitated a porter, to show me the truth of what he was saying, but it all seemed so fanciful. A strange place that might hold the key to our survival against a foe that existed not.

He flicked and turned pages to show me wild ramblings and I humoured him only because he had been, and still was, my teacher; but I could not give credence to such things. Fool that I was not to listen to a teacher. He would read from the books he had brought with him, though he would not leave them with me. He told of an entity, an evil beyond our compare, known as a beast, thing or simply as IT that roamed what he called the Outerfield, but could gain access, when the walls were thin, into the living world in the city of London. For all my knowledge, and Zakztas had taught me well, this was not a city on any of the Ten Kingdoms, but Zakztas paraded this information as if it were proof of our demise.

I had no choice but to acquiesce to him, to nod and smile and take the one book that he would leave with me. It was a harrowing tale, 'The Tale of Frreidspierrce' that left me unable to sleep in the dark, but the morning Sun burnt away such fears to the absurdities that they were.

And I had a maiden to woo.

For she had hidden herself away, I discovered, in order to learn the ways of the Kingdom and to travel to the other Nine to know of them; that is why I had not seen her for so long. If I had I would have recognised her beauty and intellect by now. Or would I? If she had been commonplace in my life, would I have even noticed her?

But as our circles were similar and small it was not long before I had the chance of meeting her.

"It has been a long time, Hastriff," she greeted me.

"Too long, my lady," I kissed her hand.

"Come now, there is no need for such manners between friends," she smiled a glowing smile.

"I was not to be sure how you would see me. We have changed in the years."

"Have you? I don't think I have, other than pretending at airs and graces."

"Pretence?"

"There is more to the Ten Kingdoms than soirees such as this."

"You have travelled much?"

"I have, more so than those who wish to hold my leash know."

"You have not changed," I laughed and then caught myself. Such revelry was not for events such as this.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere to talk later, no doubt you have hands to shake and egos to stroke."

"It is the way of my position."

I left her there and she was not without male company for the rest of the night, but I could not see her as my duties kept me busy the entire night. I received a note the next day and met her in the Choir Garden in the secrecy of the night.

She was wearing simple clothes, but still looked radiant enough to light the shadows as we sat next to the burbling fountain dedicated to Lord Bavato.

"So, how have you been?" she asked me.

"I have been well. Busy, too busy, but well."

"One should not be so busy that he cannot take in the pleasures of life."

"I wish that were true, my lady."

"You know my name, so speak it."

"Sardeena," said I.

"I have missed you, Hastriff, I longed for you to be with me on my journeys."

"I have missed you too. The age of our youth when we played together seems so long past now."

"I sense something vexes you," she said taking my hand.

"It is most likely nothing," I replied thinking of Zakztas.

It is he whom I should be speaking of, not my time with Sardeena, though that is what fills my mind.

He came to me again a week later, furtively, locking us alone inside my quarters. He checked the doors and looked out of the windows before pulling the curtains closed.

Once he had seated me he withdrew a book and I asked him what all this was about. He told me it was a book of prophecies that no one knew he had in his keeping; in fact were some to know they would kill him for it. I laughed and then apologised and he explained that what he had told me was true, that it had been prophesised about and that those behind it were not of the Ten Kingdoms.

From where, then, I asked him, but he could not answer. Instead he told me that if the prophecies were known then people might do something to stop them coming true and that those masters of our destruction could not let that happen. Why then was he risking his life to show me now? He reminded me that it was soon the Feasts of Iwin, a yearly celebration of the First Kingdom that I was expected to attend. He told me of the prophecies and my dread for our future deepened and he instructed me to look for the signs of their beginnings.

{+}

I have spent my time in the First Kingdom, delighted to be accompanied by Sardeena and have spent, as you have read, too much time outlining our exploits and growing friendship. But now I must bring myself back to the more important matter.

I did as I was asked by Zakztas and looked for signs of the prophecies, though at first I did not notice much. There did seem to be unrest in the city of Grew'que, but we as dignitaries were shielded from it and none of the Court spoke of it.

I however noticed the number seven graphitised around the city. I may not have noticed it if it wasn't for seeing a man scrubbing one off of a wall as our vehicles passed. From there I noticed it more and more, hidden from casual glances, but visible to one who was looking for it.

It niggled at my dread and one night I snuck out in plain clothes to visit the working areas of the city. It was there that I found myself in a bar, quite noticed as a stranger and as a Tenth Kingdomer. When I was questioned I told them that I was a stableman, charged with looking after the ceremonial horses and that I had snuck away as I could not stand the pompousness and restrictions of the Court.

This seemed to satisfy the men there and as the beer flowed they asked of how the Tenth Kingdom fared and, for my sin, I spoke ill of my Thane Lord and his Court. From this they confided in me that there was rebellion brewing; that people were poor and unhappy whilst others were rich and did as they pleased. I mentioned the sevens I had noted and they said aye, that was their sign.

It came from, they told me when I inquired, the earliest days of the Kingdom when seven rulers of seven nations fought to keep their independence, not wishing to have their peoples ruled by a far off King who knew not of them nor their needs. They were defeated and executed and the First Kingdom came into being.

Seven nations. It was as the prophecy told, the ruin of the Ten Kingdoms by the Army of the Seven Nations. All this I told to Zakztas to his great woe and my own dread now fulfilled. I pleaded with him to let the prophecies be known so that we could defeat this menace before it fully took hold, but he said he could not. He would be killed, the book would be taken and they would be left with nothing. It was better to work in secret.

It is the most unhappy time to be in love, for which I am now sure that I am. Alone and single I could go and fight and not think on it, but now I have someone else to be fearful for. I fear that she will come to hurt if I cannot do something.

{+}

I have had no chance to write in this journal for some time, but now I stay up late as I feel I should note down what has been happening. Zakztas still felt that a mission should be mounted to find the Shores of Dawn and spent many hours compiling everything he could know about it. He spent some time travelling through the Ten Kingdoms, even to the Port of Karzak, as I continued with my chores as a Lord and spent time with Sardeena. It must be clear to the whole Court that there is something going on between us and no doubt it brings secret joy to some and frustration to those who wish to be suitors.

I could fill the rest of the pages of this journal with just the times we have spent together recently such were they a joy to my heart.

Zakztas returned and we pored over his studies starting to plan an expedition. It was madness, no doubt a suicide mission, but he still wanted me to go. I resisted, however; if there were to be war I would be here to defend the Kingdom. I think he wanted to get me away from here to save me from just that. And of course I could not leave Sardeena, not now, not ever. And so we gathered people to our bosom, trusted people who were willing to take on such a mission and we planned and acted in secrecy, waiting to see if we should have to put our drastic plan into action.

{+}

Now the signs of rebellion have grown in the First Kingdom and we hear of skirmishes. Not only that but one of the nations of the Second Kingdom has shown a rebellious hand. The prophecies talked of an Army of Seven Nations, could they be from different Kingdoms? Could that be how the rebellion comes to be such a force to destroy them all?

And so our small group of men and women were assembled and finally briefed fully. I shall not fill these pages with that information, but under the cover of night they took a ship and flew off into the night sky. I feel sorry for the Captain whose name would be besmirched for stealing a ship; it was far too big, with too many supplies to hope that its disappearance could be covered up.

I was able to convince my Thane Lord, the King of the Tenth Kingdom, that these rebellions were dangerous to us. He did not think so, but trusted me to do the right thing for our world. I sent out small groups of spies and assassins to try and quell the rebellious pockets before they grew, but many never came back and the ones who did feared that their actions had not done much.

{+}

Today Sardeena and I confessed our love for one another. It was a happy day indeed, I have gained the most wonderful prize in the Ten Kingdoms, but as I write this my heart is heavy that it should come now, so late, when there will not be much time to enjoy it.

{+}

It has been many months since I wrote in this journal for the rebellions have turned to war and the Court of the First Kingdom has fallen to the Army of the Seven Nations as they now openly call themselves. Only the Third, Eighth and Tenth Kingdom have not had an uprising from within, but the Seven Nation army is even now attacking the Third Kingdom and, though we have sent some troops to help, myself included, we and the Eighth Kingdom are holding back most of our troops and firepower in order to protect our own worlds.

The fighting I have seen is fierce and bloody, unlike anything I have ever experienced. How can man commit such acts on each other? But they seem to have more on their agenda than freedom from the Courts, they wield banners with strange symbols on and have an almost cult-like fierceness to their assaults. We have tried to send in spies to find out more. Find out what is spurring them on to be so bloodthirstily vicious, but all attempts have failed.

Against them, everything is failing.

{+}

The only thing I have left other than despair is the love of Sardeena. We have had no contact from the ship we sent and cannot know if they have succeeded or failed, but it matters not now, the Tenth Kingdom will very soon be under attack and like the others we will fall. We are merely the last domino, unable to stand against the shaking of the table.

I am trying to get Sardeena to leave with Zakztas but she will not leave without me and I cannot bring myself to desert my Planet. Zakztas says that everything is happening as prophesised, that with or without me the Kingdom will fall.

He quoted it to me today;

"Rivers of blood will wash away the Ten Kingdoms and as the tide subsides a new era will bloom."

Our time has passed, he says, we have lived it to the best of our ability, but like everything it must die.

I find Sardeena packing for an escape even though I have not agreed to it. Now that she is my wife, hastily married in war, she knows that we will not be apart, but hopes that I will come away.

{+}

No hope now resides for our Kingdom, but we have one last hope. Through Zakztas' searching for the Shores of Dawn we have deep space coordinates. There is a chance to escape and find another planet, perhaps other civilisations. I have spoken of this to my Thane Lord, but he will not leave his World. Instead he has sent out invitations at random, anyone who receives one is told to come here with their immediate family in order to take the two biggest ships, filled with supplies, and escape. Rich and poor alike, people from all over the Kingdom. It is wise of him.

{+}

I have returned from battle on the Ninth Kingdom, it is now consumed in darkness and the assault of the Tenth Kingdom will begin shortly. We have not the army to stand against the black tide and so the people move to the two great arks. I wish we could take more people, but this is the extent of our ships that could house people for a long time. Zakztas has given out the coordinates that we are to follow so that anyone else can risk it in the smaller ships and some no doubt will, but many are lining up to fight and die.

I should be amongst them, but my Thane Lord will not hear of it. He sees that the other Nine Kingdoms have disappeared forever, but in this way the Tenth Kingdom will survive. Perhaps one day we will return, he says, re-establish the Kingdom.

Other than the table and chair, this journal is the only thing left in my quarters. I wonder if I shall continue to write it in space. Perhaps not. If not, then these are my last lines.

The war has reached the Tenth Kingdom and shortly I will be leaving for the ark. The Tenth Kingdom was a good place, a peaceful place, but there are those in the Universe that hate peace, that wish for gain and are willing to shed blood for it. I may never know who was truly behind the Army of the Seven Nations, nor what they wanted, but I know that they are not good.

I am happy to leave this place, there is nothing pure here now.

{+}
THE CULT OF THE KING

"He will come. Soon. Soon. He will come."

"That's all he says, over and over again," Agent Wilde said.

"Who's gonna come?" Agent d'Angelo asked.

"Dunno. He refuses to speak."

"So what else do we know?"

"It was a raid, deep in the woods. Some kind of cult. Kidnap and torture for rites. According to the report," Wilde said.

"So why's it landed on our lap? You know I like the city, man. Not up here in the wilds."

"Lead Detective Howell is taking time off. Stress leave," Wilde shrugged.

"Stress leave?"

"It sounds like it was pretty horrific, man."

"OK. Whatever. I'm going in."

D'Angelo pushed open the door and took a seat in the bare interview room. That's what they called it, not interrogation room. There was only the Formica table and three chairs, one of which was taken up by the raving suspect, Kane Rigby.

"He will come. Is coming," Rigby raved into d'Angelo's eyes.

"Who?"

Rigby cackled.

"You don't know."

"I realise this. That's kinda why I asked."

"You don't want to know," Rigby hissed.

"On the contrary. I do want to know."

"You're here. Not the other. Where's he gone?"

"That's not to do with you."

"Taken a little holiday," Rigby sniggered to himself. "Couldn't bare it. Can't sleep for what he calls nightmares. I sleep soundly."

"You want to tell me what all this is about?"

"You want to tell me?" Rigby sneered.

"Seems like you and your friends are sick puppies and you're the one who got caught. Maybe you can commute your sentence if you help us out."

Rigby laughed a high pitched laugh.

"You think I'm worried about prison? Oh no. And you think I got caught. No, no. I come here as a prophet."

"There you go again, talking around the subject, but not saying anything. Not really very prophetic of you."

"He is coming."

"Yadda, yadda, so you've said."

"So desperate for the truth, yet you will regret knowing when you lay awake at night in fear of the dark," Rigby yabbered.

"Try me."

"What do you know of the Ten Kingdoms?"

"Talk sense."

"Oh, but I am, but you know not of such things. The Ten Kingdoms have laid in waste, but now will flourish again."

"Are all prophecies so hard to understand?" d'Angelo asked.

"All important things are hard to understand, d'Angelo."

"You read my badge, I'm impressed," d'Angelo ironicalised, but Rigby laughed.

He leant forward.

"I found the Book of Ani," he said. "Can you believe that?"

"You'd have to explain that before any believing happens."

"Of course," Rigby shook his head. "You know nothing. It is a crucial text. Crucial, you see? A core book about the Library and I found it. I read it."

"And what's this book about?"

"Dark things. Knowledge," Rigby nodded to himself.

"And this is linked to your little cult?"

"Yes and no."

"How very enlightening of you."

Rigby snickered.

"What a dry humour you have, Agent. But our little cult is but one of many, we were just lucky to have my new found knowledge. Until you blundering fools upset us."

"Upset?"

"Oh, it is merely an upset. I am the only one they caught, remember?"

"That will change before too long, Rigby."

"Ooh, so sure of yourself, big city cop, but you can't stop aeons, Agent d'Angelo."

"Are you going to start making sense soon?"

Kane Rigby huffed and then smiled.

"You can't stop what is happening."

"You said you were a prophet, so tell me."

"No. What you are interested in is the law. Measly human lives."

"I am," d'Angelo agreed.

"Well we did. We did, if that's what you want. We took them, we killed them. Oh me oh my, now you will lock me up and throw away the key, but it won't matter. You still need to know what I have to say."

"Then tell me."

"I thirst."

D'Angelo got up and left the room.

"You want a hit at him?" he asked his partner.

"He wasn't talking to me at all," Wilde said.

"I think you need to go and talk to Howell, man."

"He's on stress leave 'cause of this," Wilde frowned.

"This dude is talking of more, talking of others. Yeah, we can put him away, but that might not stop the kidnappings; the killings."

"You want to corroborate?"

"Hell yeah. We need to know what the fuck happened in those woods; to know what this maniac is saying is true and what's delusion."

Wilde nodded.

"I don't like it, but I'm on it."

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

D'Angelo set down a glass of water before the both of them as Rigby stared up at the ceiling.

"Let's go back. Back to this book."

"The Book of Ani," Rigby said excitedly focussing on d'Angelo.

"Yeah. Where'd you find it?"

"Hidden away."

"Great answer."

"I stole it. A private collector had it. I didn't know it when I broke in."

"So were you a part of the cult then?"

"No. I found the Cult because of the knowledge I had."

"So how long had the cult been around before you joined?"

"Who can tell? No one knew. Hundreds, maybe thousands of years."

"A cult that's stayed secret for thousands of years?" d'Angelo raised his eyebrows.

"We're not the only one," Rigby shrugged.

"OK, so before we get onto the cult, what was in the book?"

Rigby grinned a deathly grin.

"Do you really want to know such things?"

"I just asked, didn't I?"

"It starts with 'The Rape of Orthantica', no introduction or anything, just straight in. It's a test you see. To see if you are willing to read on after it. Very graphic."

"And who's this Orthantica?"

"Someone from aeons ago, she gave birth, they say, over many years to that one they call righteous and to the princesses."

"And who raped her?" d'Angelo asked leaning forward despite himself.

"Well, Him, of course."

"Him?"

"Say His name I cannot, he is merely known as the King Imminent."

A shudder ran through d'Angelo's body as if a blast of cold air had found its way into the room.

"So you read it and you read on?"

"Of course," Rigby said with satisfaction.

D'Angelo sat back in his chair.

"Seems to me that you're willing to talk."

"I am. Very."

"Then I want to know about this book before we move on to the cult and what you did and why. I think that's going to be a long story."

"I have the time. Only prison awaits me."

"Then why don't we take a break, you can use the toilet while I get us some more water and a bit of food. You smoke?"

"I could smoke."

"OK then, I'll send someone in to take you to the rest room."

"I don't need a rest," Rigby smiled.

"You're a funny guy," he said getting up and leaving.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

Wilde sat in Detective Howell's lounge with him.

"I'm sorry to be bothering you like this, Pete."

"It's fine, Wilde, I didn't want any leave, they forced it on me. If I could be working the case I could excise it, see it as the work of men. Sitting here alone, all I can do is relive it as a nightmare."

"Well, Kane Rigby, the one you caught alive is talking to my partner right now. I just got a text from him saying that Rigby is more than happy to tell everything."

"That's good. I think he may be mad though."

"Right. That's why I'm here. I got the text just as I arrived. Rigby is saying that he joined the cult, it already existed and that there are others out there."

"No." Howell shook his head. "I can't see how that is possible. Let me tell you the timeframe as we know it.

"Rigby comes up here from down south and works. He was a plumber. It's a year later that there are reports of a cult in the woods. There was a cult in there years back, some still remember; nothing crazy enough to make the national news, but enough to alarm locals.

"We just assumed they were jittery and searches were made and nothing was found. Lots of forest up here though. So it's nearly another year before local people started to go missing, it's hard to know how many were connected except for the local ones. There's a number from the city in the timeframe, but that doesn't necessarily link them to this cult."

"So you're saying that Rigby started the cult?" Wilde asked.

"Yeah. Look, it'd be hard for a cult to exist up there for so long with no one noticing, especially as their practices involved, well, you know."

Wilde shook his head as Howell reached for a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

"Sorry, but it dulls the emotions, you know?" Howell said offering a glass to Wilde who declined. "As for other groups? I just can't imagine cults existing without any hint of them and I mean, the whole thing, it's so, I dunno, Lovecraftian. Secret cults sacrificing people? But we looked wider and found nothing to suggest they were linked or that there were any similar groups."

"So he's lying?"

"Yes. I think so. He's mad, delusional; wants to think that what they were doing had some greater significance. Raved on about someone coming, that we couldn't stop it now, some King or something."

"OK, that's good," Wilde said texting his partner. "Talk me through how you got to the clearing in the forest."

Howell took a gulp of his drink and wiped his lips.

"We were blind to the facts. Like I say, no one thinks that such things are the work of a cult; hell that satanic cults even exist in the real world.

"Rigby was our first suspect, he was the obvious choice. Man moves into the area and then people start disappearing, but we couldn't pin anything on him and the young woman, Gracie Delfonte went missing while we were watching him. As I say, we didn't think this was the work of a group and we stopped watching him and then he disappeared."

"You looked into it?"

"We did and the general consensus was that he'd moved back south. He worked for himself so it was hard to know, but I'll tell you this, in all our investigations people had nothing but good things to say about him."

"So who else did you suspect?"

"We were at a loose end there," Howell admitted. "We were so bent on Rigby, we were like a dog with a bone. There were connections, some of the people who went missing had had Rigby over as a plumber. It makes sense that he could scope out houses to break back into.

"The Carver murders. The family had had a faulty faucet and Rigby had fixed it. This was two weeks before they were all found dead. Suggestion of rape, though no evidence of semen. All of them raped..."

Howell trailed off and stared at the ceiling before taking another gulp.

"You want to stop?" Wilde asked.

"No. I want to talk it out. The thing is we were watching Rigby at that point, it couldn't have been him."

"But you were right, it was him."

"Yes. I think now that he was recruiting his cult, that these murders were part of an initiation," he shook his head.

"But you didn't know that then. So what led you to believe the cult angle?"

"As the cult grew, weird things started happening in town. A lot of it was gossip. We're big enough that not everyone knows everyone. Despite the horrors, for most people they were news items that didn't affect them in the slightest. Poor people going missing doesn't bother rich people, or vice versa. But there was that small group, people whose families have lived here since forever. They heard things, they knew what happened. Through this grapevine I heard that Joanna Gregg was cheating on her husband with several men in the town. It didn't make much sense, she was an upstanding woman with no history of any such thing and suddenly she was cheating with a number of men?

"It was enough for me to look into it. Follow her. And I caught her, she wasn't even being very secretive about it, met Charles Ray, a young kid, in a motel just outside of town."

"How does this connect?"

"It doesn't really. Except I shook Charles down, confronted him and he burst into tears, he was only nineteen or twenty. He said she had come on to him, she had been wild and he had been weak. And after that he felt bad, but she kept ringing and he kept going.

"About a week later he rang to tell me he'd got a job in the city and was moving pretty much straight away. Poor kid."

"I'm still not following you," Wilde admitted.

"It lasted one week from when I started watching her. One day nothing happened, she went about her business as if nothing had been going on and seemingly none of the men she had been seeing had an issue with the sudden cessation of it."

"So it was strange, but maybe she knew you were watching."

"Maybe, but I don't think so, not after the Taylor twins went mad."

"Mad?"

"Yup. Boy and a girl. Started having extreme nightmares. The whole thing was kept quiet and the family moved away soon after. I saw them not long before they were committed, they rambled about the walls between this world and the Outerfield thinning. You ever heard of that?"

"Means nothing to me."

"Same here. They talked of great evils and they were terrified that there wasn't the goodness here to stop it. I don't know. But you want to hear more weirdness?"

"Sure."

"At the same time there were lots of calls to the station, talking of ghosts and hauntings. Nothing we took seriously, at least not then. They died. The twins. The night we raided the clearing. They were found the next morning with, I'm told confidentially, faces contorted in terror, their hearts both stopped at exactly the same time," he shook his head sadly.

"It's certainly unusual, but I don't see how any of this links to the cult."

"That we want to see strictly human hands in this tragedy, but I just can't. The whole thing is surrounded in things I can't understand. Don't want to understand. There's been cults in this country before and they mostly boil down to one crazy, charismatic leader that wanted the power, but this one? This was full on and surrounded by weirdness. It makes me re-evaluate everything I know.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

"So. Before we get to the book, I don't believe you joined the cult, I think you started it."

"I told you."

"But not the truth."

"Ahh, your absent partner. He's talking to Detective Howell is he?"

"He's busy."

"He's a smart cookie, that Howell," Rigby bobbed his head in thought. "What I told you was still strictly true. Yes, I started the cult here, but I did not invent it. We were merely joining a cult that has been around a long time. We were, are, a chapter, if you wish. I can't know whether we are the only one on Earth, I suspect so, but there are many out there and they have existed for thousands of years. Just like I said."

"Out there? You mean like on Mars?"

Rigby sniggered.

"No life exists on Mars, that's just crazy talk."

"I'm talking crazy?"

"I'm deadly serious," Rigby hissed leaning forward.

He then leant back, took a glass of water and lit a cigarette.

"So let's get back to this book. What's in it?"

"I already told you of 'The Rape of Orthantica'."

"You did, but what else?"

"You're not understanding. 'The Rape' is a test to see if you can handle, stomach what is in the rest of the book. I can't just reel off 'The Enlightenment of the Wicked One' and think you could understand it. I think you would punch me before I even got through a quarter of it."

"I don't want to know, I merely want to know what the book is about," d'Angelo said. "Generally."

"Ahh. It is a series of stories written by an Egyptian many, many years ago. He began having dreams, visions, of the Outerfield. He travelled through it and spoke to those souls long dead or imprisoned and learnt the truths of the Universes, not what we are led to believe by the others."

"The Outerfield?"

"The area between the Universes. Not so much an area, more a dimension, if Ani is to be believed. It is Earth bound, this book, it was never part of the Library of the Universes, but it is a guide to those fabled books. An introduction, if you will. No, a glue."

"I'm sorry for my dullness, but the Library of the Universes?"

"You will have to stay dull on that," Rigby shrugged stubbing out his cigarette.

"OK, I think I can live with that, but I don't understand how a book of stories led you to do what you did."

"Because it's not just stories, it's knowledge. Until I read that book I thought that this was all that there was for a person like me. I was into porn, you know?"

"I didn't."

"No, of course you didn't, but I was. I wanted all that the carnal world could give me, it was an obsession. I went to whores, ones who would give me what I wanted, I went to Madams, you know, who do bondage and the like. None of it was satisfactory, not like what I found in the Book of Ani. It opened my mind."

"So you decided to start a cult around the stories?"

"No, around the knowledge. It isn't just stories, it tells of things and how to be a part of them. He will return and I will be there in His graces," Rigby nodded to himself.

Two things happened then. D'Angelo's phone beeped and an officer popped his head around the door.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

"So tell me about that night," Wilde said.

"Well, finally we got it into our heads that this cult might be real, that it might not be the work of one man. We were still trying to find Rigby, but there were more rumours of goings on in the forest and some claimed to have seen Rigby around. A local man had gone fishing in the forest and claimed to have met with him. He came out through the trees and filled a canteen from the river and then left without so much as noticing the fisherman.

"And as they got closer to what they were doing, they were less calculating, as if they didn't care to keep it secret anymore. More people were going missing and it was becoming a worry to the whole town. Like I said, we're more of a small city than a town, numbers wise, but we all still refer to it as a town. For the whole town to worry shows you the number of disappearances.

"The Cooper boy killed his parents and fled. We still haven't found him, but he'd written on the walls in their blood. That was never released to the public. Not much of it made sense, except, in big letters on the lounge room wall he had written 'King Imminent'. No idea what it meant, didn't till I received an email this morning."

"We'll come back to that. What happened?"

"We were unprepared, we didn't take enough men when we went into the forest. No one thought it was a serious threat."

"Even after what you've told me?" Wilde raised eyebrows.

"Come on, you're looking at this after the fact."

"You're right, I'm sorry."

"No one was buying that locals had joined a cult and were sacrificing people in the woods, Wilde. It was supposed that people were being lured into the cult and leaving their homes and families. People wanted it stopped before it led to mass suicide or whatever."

"That makes sense," Wilde nodded. "I would have thought along the same lines."

"So we went in," Howell stopped and poured more whiskey, downing most of it.

"You alright?"

"More than anything, it was him that's scarred me."

"Him?"

"There was a man there, seemed to be running the show. We were all caught up in what went down, but I looked at him, looked him in the face and it's that face that haunts my dreams more than the bodies."

"Wait," Wilde leant forward. "Are you saying someone else was in charge, someone over Rigby?"

"Yes. No. I can't answer that definitely. Everything points to Rigby, but this man, he seemed to be in charge."

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know. I looked him in the eyes, but it was chaos and when I looked again he was gone. He had a big book in his hands as if he was reading from it, but he must have run into the trees with it. We never found a book there."

"I need to contact my partner."

"Wait. You remember I said about the email this morning? About the King Imminent?"

"And I said it can wait."

"No. Before you contact your partner. When we started taking the cult a little more seriously I looked around on the Internet, on the police databases. I came across only one person who was touted as an expert and emailed him. He replied saying he would look into it and got back to me this morning. You should read it before you continue."

"Hang on, Howell, back up. I need to know why you went into those woods that night. Why did you take the cult angle seriously? Why contact someone, an expert you say? Expert on what?"

"Yes. Well, there was more talk in town, more evidence, little things, graffiti, all the weird things I have told you. But then this man comes to the station. He was mad or stoned, seemed terrified and was demanding to talk to someone, arrest him if it came to that. 'I know of the cult', he kept shouting and then looking around as if he shouldn't have said anything.

"Finally I got called out and decided to interview him. He wanted to talk and, I dunno, just the mention of the cult. He talked, he said that he had been part of the cult, but he didn't want to be anymore, wished he could scrub his mind clean, that's what he said. It went like this:

"No man should know such things, Detective Howell, it's not right."

"What things?"

"Knowledge, dark knowledge. It was good at first, gave me power and belonging, but there is too much. And we did things, did things we shouldn't. No one should, but I did them, I did them."

He broke down in sobs and I had someone bring in some water and tissues.

"What things?"

"Bad things. You watch porn, Detective Howell?"

"No."

"That's good, good for you. We did things like that, to the women. Part of the Cult they are, they wanted it, begged for it. Begged to be degraded and it was freeing, Detective, free from the constraints of society. Men too, I'm no homosexual, but I did stuff with men too."

He shook his head and began to weep again.

"Society, that was the problem, Detective Howell. He told us that it was ruled by those who wanted to inhibit us, keep us penned in like sheep or chickens in a battery farm, but then it got worse. Someone found two teens, drunk and they wanted to do things too. I don't know what happened to them. Did someone take them back? I don't think so.

"And good people. Look into the disappearances of pastors, teachers, nurses. Someone kidnapped three nuns, Detective Howell. Nuns. I don't know where they came from, but they were raped and ritually murdered."

"Who was leading you?" I asked.

"That man."

"His name."

"He called himself Akvan, but I know that wasn't his real name."

"I need a description," I insisted.

"He carries a book, The Book of Ani, that is where he gets his teaching from," he told me instead.

"A book?"

"Yes, that is what the Cult is formed around. It's a book about the Outerfield and ancient beings. Demons, Detective, demons."

"I left him there, went to get a deputy to take his official statement. I don't know how it happened, I guess he wasn't seen as hostile, but he punched the deputy hard enough to knock him out, took his gun and blew his brains out right there in the interview room.

"So finally I had a reason behind this cult, Wilde, I had a man who said he was a part of it, a book that was teaching evil. It made sense that if Rigby had found this book he might start a religious cult around it. So I emailed this expert. Here, read his reply."

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

D'Angelo looked at the email Howell had forwarded to him. Wilde had rang the office to let him know and he looked at the contact address and number at the bottom. He worked out the time difference and decided he needed to ring anyway.

"I'm sorry for the lateness of the call, I'm calling from the States. I'm Agent d'Angelo, you've been in contact with Detective Howell."

"Yes, I emailed him with my reply."

"Yes, I have a copy of that here, as I say I'm sorry for the time difference, but I have a suspect and I need to know something."

"Calling at this time means it must be important."

"I don't know to be honest, not all he says makes sense. Listen, do you know of a story called 'The Rape of Orthantica'?"

"It rings a bell, but I'd need to talk to my colleague who knows more on this subject."

"OK, that's cool. My suspect says that, oh man, I feel stupid saying this, I don't even know why it bothers me. Maybe just to work out if he's mad or not."

"I'm sorry, Agent d'Angelo, but you must get on with it. Rather late and I have classes to teach tomorrow."

"Yes, I'm sorry, Doctor. He said that this Orthantica gave birth to someone known as righteous and the princesses. He says this story is a test and I need to know if it exists and if it does, that what he says is true. To the story, I mean."

"I will look into it, is there anything more?"

"It's all to do with someone called the King Imminent. He says that's who the rapist in the story was."

"I'll ring you back in an hour. Give me your number."

He did so.

"And Agent d'Angelo?"

"Still here."

"Be careful. It is a dangerous path you are treading."

He hung up and d'Angelo looked at the phone before putting it down.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

"So. Who was the other man?"

"Ahh, it's all coming together now, isn't it?"

"I thought that was why we were talking, but it seems that, for a prophet, you're awful coy."

Rigby laughed at that.

"Poor Howell, got to see things he should never have. Got to understand the truth of the Worlds without reading that first chapter."

"Keeps coming back to that with you doesn't it? You liked reading the Rape of, who was it?"

"Orthantica."

"Yeah. That really hit a nerve with you. All that porn, so unsatisfying, but this really turned you on, didn't it?"

Rigby leapt forward, both hands flat on the table, only held back by his shackles.

"You couldn't know," he hissed. "It set me free. It turned me on in a way that you couldn't understand."

"You're supposed to be enlightening me," d'Angelo said leaning back in his chair. "That's what a prophet does remember?"

Rigby sat back and composed himself.

"He found me. Found the book, I think. Could sense it. He told me that it was the King's Will that had brought the book into my hands. You don't want to know how I got the book so I won't tell you, though later you'll wish I had."

"Who is he?"

"I honestly don't know," Rigby said lighting another cigarette. "If you think I'm evil, which I know you do, you should meet him. He kidnapped a young woman and her child, he did, made me do things in order to receive the Mark."

"The mark?"

"Oh, yes, He promised me so much if I could prove I was worthy. I proved myself and became one of the King's Marks. Received it, see?"

He pulled up his sleeve and showed a tattoo, though it looked more like a brand:

"So it was him and not you that started the cult?"

"Oh no, I had already started our chapter by then, but he wanted to take us further, he wanted us all to receive the Mark. He wanted us all to join the hunt. That's what he said."

"The hunt for what?"

"For the books, for the knowledge. I'd found the Book of Ani, perhaps there were more here to be found."

"What books?"

"I felt bad, you know?"

"For what?"

"What I did to that woman and her child. In his presence I could still feel human feelings, but he promised me so much, don't you see? He's not of this world, the things he's seen, we can't comprehend them."

"That didn't stop you though, did it?"

"Oh no," he sat back and took a long drag of his cigarette before stubbing it. "I was too far in by then. And I mean, look at this world, it needs destroying. People like me, we ruin it for everyone, don't we?"

He cackled to himself.

The door opened.

"Sir, you have a call."

"OK. Take him to the toilet if he needs it, refill the water," d'Angelo said as he got up.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

"Agent d'Angelo, I've consulted with my colleague and yes, as far as we know the Rape of Orthantica is a true story. Or at least, it is based on a true story, there are a number of variants it seems. Look, Agent d'Angelo, we need to do much more study on this, but I wanted you to know that the idea that this rape gave birth to the Righteous and the Princesses is not true. Other texts suggest them to be concurrent with the so called King Imminent and the story was changed as propaganda to try and levitate his position in mythology."

"That's very helpful, Doctor."

"What it means is that your suspect is caught up in a web of lies, try not to take anything he says as fact. Do you have the book? The Book of Ani?"

"No, I'm afraid not. From what I gather, there was another man there, a new man who was leading the proceedings that night. He escaped with it."

"Do you have a name?"

"No."

"We need a name, Agent. Whoever he is, he is extremely dangerous, even more so than your suspect. As for him, put him in isolation, never let him pollute the minds of other prisoners."

"I'll try to find out a name for you."

"And we will research further and let you know, but hear me, do not let your suspect into general populace."

"Thank you, Dr. Fozz," d'Angelo said just before the line clicked off.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

"So this new man comes into your life. Where'd he come from?"

"He said from other Universes," Rigby shrugged.

"And you believed him?"

"Why not? The things I had read..." he trailed off. "Do you know of the Plateau of Ilsgiriant?"

"Nope."

"No. Of course you wouldn't. It is a plateau high up in what they call the Blessed Mountains. They talk of good things in those mountains, but the plateau only seems to attract evil."

"I thought you weren't going to tell me stories from you book?"

Rigby cackled.

"I won't go into details. They say that those mountains, or the plateau, is one of the suspected hiding places of the Toskey of Carnupance. Anyway, evil has never triumphed against good on that plateau. It is always, over aeons, attracted there, but it is always defeated. It was the arena for the final battle between Actaeon and Blagdon, though I don't actually know if that has happened yet. In this time and space.

"I've seen that Plateau through the words in that book, I have experienced things no other man on this Earth has experienced. Yes, I believe in other Worlds, other Universes."

"So what were you doing in that clearing?"

"Receiving the Mark. We had the people, both men and women, who wanted it and he was there to indoctrinate us, to make us King's Marks to search for the books and bring about the Imminent return."

"But you were disrupted."

Rigby leaned back and smiled.

"Some had already received the Mark, you are too late, d'Angelo, they will continue in their Quest, they will come together once again."

"And what of your mysterious stranger? Where has he gone? He never gave you a name?"

"Not one that was truthful," Rigby lit another cigarette. "But as for where he has gone? That's why I'm here, Agent. I don't know, but I think not far; I think he is hiding."

"From who?"

"No idea. But that night I started to believe he wasn't all that he said. Not there officially, as it were."

"Give me a description, a name. We need to find him"

"To help you find him? I would like that, but it would be your downfall, Agent d'Angelo. Very dangerous. Now I have true understanding I can see that you are a good man. It is foolish and against the truths of the Universes, but it is laudable. Would I see your destruction, Sir?"

"You said that was why you were here, not as a prophet, but to get this man captured. He stole your book and you want us to find it for you."

"We didn't need him, I see that now," Rigby shouted. "He just wanted the book, power for himself, but I was the true follower of the King," he stabbed at his chest with a finger. "He cared not for us nor our cause. Here now we upon the point, I will detail him to you and you will find yourself up on the Plateau. Good will win this one last time, and good riddance to him, but this will be your last victory, d'Angelo."

"But the book will not be yours."

"It will find its way into the right hands," he smiled and then told all he knew of the mysterious man.

D'Angelo took notes and then excused himself to ring his partner.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

"Lay it out to me, then," Wilde said. "What you found in the clearing."

Howell finished his drink and stared at the bottom of the glass until he finally, slowly filled it up and stared at it.

"You're a G-Man, Wilde, what's the worst thing you've ever seen?"

"I've seen a lot of bad stuff."

"But the worst?"

"I guess I would need a glass of that to recount it," Wilde tried a smile, but Howell didn't hesitate to pour a glass.

Wilde took it and looked at it in much the same way as Howell had.

"It's kids. It's always kids, isn't it? Me and d'Angelo have broken up a couple of paedophile rings in our time, but one of the worst was kids going missing.

"There was a Voodoo church in the area, that's what we called it, so much so that I can't remember its real name. But like you said, we got fixated on it, I mean it was Voodoo. Turned out to be two scrawny, nerdy white kids.

"They'd got so deep in some dark, twisted porn that they wanted to grab and rape women, but they weren't strong enough. So they grabbed kids and killed them, didn't rape them. And the thing is, part of you can forgive them; they were under the influence of this fucked up society, but there was this one paedophile ring that was kidnapping and trading kids and babies. Babies, man.

"They were adults, they knew better, but they acted like it was a business, just a thing to temper their urges, whatever they might be. And that they were allowed to do it, that their urges should be satisfied, they were entitled to it, man. Just fuckin' evil."

Wilde took a long swallow of his drink and shivered.

"We walked into that forest without enough men for the job," Howell said. "And when we came to the clearing there were fires lit. Let me say at this point the cult didn't seem to care that everything pointed to them, they just needed to do what they were doing. It wasn't hard to find. And amidst the fires there was sex, both allowed and rape. There were bodies in the fires and others strung up. People were butchering them. Some bodies were being butchered while they were being raped and there was a line of people in front of this man with a book and a red hot poker. It was this sign."

Howell dug through papers next to his chair and showed Wilde the brand:

"There was more that I won't speak of, despicable acts of torture and bloodletting. People were hung from trees. Some were family members, we know that.

"When we burst into the clearing the night was dark, the full moon that we had used was being obscured by scudding clouds and they were deranged. Some ran away, but others attacked us. Listen to this, one man charged a deputy and he shot him twice, but the man still attacked the deputy ferociously enough to break his arm and a number of ribs before I put a bullet in his brain. He was a local butcher and his wife and son's remains were found there, partially..."

He drank and refilled both their glasses.

"Maybe half escaped and half we killed. Except Rigby. Most of the bodies were not from our town. Except the victims, and even some of them were not local. Woman, young men and babies, Agent Wilde. Babies, some half eaten, some butchered, some... I can't speak of it."

Wilde's phone rang and he apologised before answering and listening.

"No, I don't think that will help from this end," he said and hung up.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

D'Angelo walked back to the interview room to a horrific sight. He walked straight out again to where a deputy was sitting guard.

"Has anyone come in here?"

"Nope."

"Did you take him out of the room?"

"No, I asked if he wanted to use the rest room, but said no."

"Nothing strange?"

"Well he seemed a little panicked, but then he got kinda serene and told me no, he wasn't going anywhere."

D'Angelo stood there in a daze. He looked down at the deputy, could he have done such a thing? He looked up and saw the security camera, if he did it that would show.

"No one, and I mean no one goes in there until I get back, OK?"

"Sure, whatever you say."

"No. Tell me."

"What?"

"Tell me you won't let anyone in there."

"Geez, OK, I won't let anyone in there."

D'Angelo walked quickly out of sight and then ran to the security office.

"Run back the camera outside the interview room," he panted.

"What?"

"Room 3, I need to see the last five minutes."

"OK, OK, hang on."

The tech rewound the video.

"Stop. Stop there."

The man did so and they both watched the deputy open the door, stand in it for less than a minute and then close it again, reseating himself.

"OK, shit, thank you."

He got back to the room as fast as possible.

"Did..."

"No. I didn't go in, didn't let anyone in. No one even came by."

"Go get the crime scene boys, forensics and, fuck, everyone. Get everyone."

"What the hell..."

"Just go. Now," d'Angelo shouted.

Once the deputy had gone he opened the door again and looked at the sight.

The false ceiling had been broken open and Rigby, his stomach sliced open, had been hanged from a pipe by his colon.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END OF THE BEGINNING

"I saw you die in the gritty half light of a winters dusk, how then have you found me here when I hide even from myself?

I saw you drop to the cold floor like the last leaf of autumn; a slow spiral that brings with it the immense weight of sadness that is winters start.

The death of youth and care-free living; the start of leaden days of darkness and rain.

The end of my aspirations and, in many ways my life.

How then, when I can remember that day of brushed colours so vividly in my mind, can you be standing here in front of me once again?

How did you get here, and who now are you? Who am I? In searching for you who have I become?"

From "A Coffee for Doctor Fozz"

By Rufus the Poet

I

She arrived and as always the portal had worked its strange magic, changing her clothes and money to fit the place she arrived. But it felt wrong, a disturbance in the Outerfield and the clothes were similar, but not the same as she had expected. That meant she was either earlier or later than she had intended and the disturbance could suggest that she was followed, or at least tracked.

No wonder, the book she held in her position was not from the Library, it was much newer than that, but it still held great knowledge. That, combined with her use of the portal, would have brought her to the attention of others. No; they wouldn't know what she had, they could only seek books from the Library, but they would be curious. Perhaps curious enough to follow.

She picked up her suitcase, a dirty beige with a faded number eleven on it, and walked to the nearest eatery. It was a coffee shop, but the array of choices was bewildering and finally the nice young man behind the counter served her what he called a flat white which turned out to be just coffee with milk. She took her coffee to a table in the corner, put down the suitcase, and took out the book, simply titled, 'A Coffee for Dr. Fozz'. She opened it at random and read:

'The books he had me bring, he would not let me read and I had no inclination to do so, they were far outside my field. Many at the University thought he was a kook, certainly these were kook books, but they kept him on because of his teaching ability and far and sound knowledge of linguistics, archaeology, mythology and literature. They had four lecturers for the price of one and worked him relentlessly.

He didn't seem to mind though, he told me he enjoyed teaching and knew that it was only for that that they paid for his own research. Such as that seemed to be, he spent his free hours reading books of wide ranging topics, looking for slivers, that's what he called them, slivers of information. For knowledge."

She put the book down and looked at the rain wind-driven across the glass walls. Here was someone who knew, she thought, someone who had somehow come to knowledge that he shouldn't have and here was someone else, plotting his own story, but getting a glimpse of things through his mentor. This Dr. Fozz.

That was why she was here, to learn more from him, to put together such knowledge he had with her own, with the Sect's. Much had been lost to them, they had scattered the books in the hope that none could ever put them together again, but in doing so they had lost track over the aeons of many of them. And now that others were hunting them, they too had to hunt them out.

Not just that, but new things were happening, as of course they would, but the Sect no longer had the Library, no longer had the strength to collect all the new works and it was feared that there were new advancements, new happenings that they could not control.

In military terms she was a commando, she'd been trained not only to fight, but in espionage too. Not only that, but a scholar also, knowing exactly what she was looking for. They were taken young and trained, but even then only a few got to be in the ranks she enjoyed. Enjoyed? Was that the word? Was this an enjoyable life? Part of becoming a commando was the fact that you truly believed in the mission, and she did. With all her heart she knew that they had to save the books, stop them falling into the wrong hands. Her mission, their mission, was to save the Universes and to do that was to sacrifice your life.

But was it life? What of the joys of life that others had? They contacted her in her teens when she showed promise so she had plenty of time to know what a normal life was. Or at least the dreams her and her friends had. But then they had been the dreams of young girls, she didn't really know what a so called normal life was. Could not know what joys or losses were faced by her friends from back then. She sighed to herself, this wasn't the time for such thoughts, she needed to find out exactly when she was and she needed to contact this Dr. Fozz.

II

She had memorised maps of London and studied what was known of the culture, though being unaware of the exact time she was in meant that could now be useless. So she wandered through the London streets under grey clouds and through miserable people. Everywhere there was noise, from people, from traffic and from construction. She wanted to find quieter back streets, but she feared getting lost and stuck to the wide, busy main roads. There was also the fact that someone, or something, might be following her. She found her way onto Euston Road and knew where she was going, she simply needed to walk until she found Euston Station and then opposite that, pretty much, was the University.

And here it was. There were gardens in front of it and she walked through to the large station itself just to make sure before walking back to the road and joining people who were waiting to cross. A light on a pole showed a green man in a walking pose and people started to cross as the traffic stopped. Across the road there was a little garden with a thoroughfare between it and a building and she walked through here to a quiet, trafficless road. Turning right and then left brought her onto Gordon Square and another right turn had her standing at the steps to the Institute of Archaeology. It wasn't a large building and it didn't seem to have any security as students passed to and fro through the doors, so she walked in. There was a door to the left that seemed to need a key card, but there were a lot of students passing through so she nonchalantly went through with them and walked up the stairs on the other side.

She walked along a corridor reading the names on the doors until she came to Fozz's, knocked and was politely invited to come in.

He sat behind a large desk in a small room filled with boxes.

"They're moving me to a bigger office," he said around an unlit pipe.

"It looks like you need it."

He shrugged slightly.

"I like it here, I prefer it to the main campus. Do sit."

She took a seat in front of him.

"I was hoping to see all of your books," she said looking at the one open on his desk.

"And why is that?"

"I need to know what you know. What year is it?"

He told her. Yes, she was early. That was bad, that meant he didn't know as much as he would if she had arrived when she had meant to.

"So. I don't know you and you don't know what year it is and yet I feel something about you."

"My plan was always to be frank with you, Doctor," she said. "I am not from here, I am part of the Sect of Malumat. You have heard of it?"

"It rings a bell, yes. I now too wish that I had my books at hand," he looked at the ceiling in thought. "The Library of the Universes?"

"Yes."

"Well this is a very strange turn of events," he said laying his pipe down. "A truth behind the words."

"There are many truths, Doctor and it is the work of the Sect to stop those truths, that knowledge, from being known."

"So why is it that you are here?"

"You know much and we have much to learn."

"I would think that you would know more than I."

"Not of all things, not of newer things. I found a book that spoke of you, it is not yet written in this time so I will not allow you to read it, but it alludes to your knowledge of the Universes."

"Do you have a place to stay?" he asked.

"I will find somewhere, I have money."

"I have a friend who helps me; let me ring him and he will help you find a place. I move in two days and then we shall start to unpack my books. Then, I think, it will be better to talk."

"As you wish."

The man came and stood in the doorway about ten minutes later.

"Ah, Wendell, I'd like you to meet Barbara," she turned in her chair. "She has come a long way to talk with me and needs to find somewhere to stay."

"A hotel?"

"Somewhere to rent; close by if possible."

"That won't be easy," he said.

"Could you look though? Maybe find her a hotel for a few nights?"

"When have I ever said no to you, Doctor?" he smiled and she thought it lit up his face.

"Excellent. Well, perhaps I will take her for some lunch while you do so."

"I think I've got the bad end of this deal. I'll ring you. Nice to meet you," he nodded to her and then left.

"Barbara?"

"You have not introduced yourself and so, in the circumstances, I assume you'd rather stay anonymous."

"Very well," she nodded in agreement.

"Come then," he said standing, "let's find something to eat."

III

They had met the man, Wendell, on the steps of the Institute and having said farewell to Dr. Fozz, she had followed him along the streets to a hotel not far away.

"This is the same street as the University is on," he told her as they stood outside. "Just walk that way and you can't miss it."

"You've been too kind."

"It's kind of what I do. Help the Doctor."

"That's your job?"

"Oh no, I'm studying for my PhD," she looked at him funnily. "My doctorate. To be a doctor."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"You are studying medicine."

"No. No, you can get a PhD in most things, it just means you've studied a lot. Like Dr. Fozz."

"He doesn't practice medicine?"

"Not as far as I know," he grinned and she smiled. "You're not from around here are you?"

"You could say that, but I would prefer not to be questioned on it."

"OK," he shrugged. "Well, anyway, I'll help you book in."

{+}

She sat on the edge of the bed in the spacious room. It had a bathroom and a desk with a television on it. It was similar, though more primitive, to devices in other Universes, but it was the same in the fact that there was nothing of worth being shown. Now the TV was dark and she laid down and thought over the day.

Dr. Fozz was just as she had hoped. Knowledgeable and open minded. She didn't really know how she might have convinced him of the truth of who she was if the direct approach hadn't worked. Oh, she had ways, often used, but they took time as you had to judge the character of the person first. She was glad that in their first meeting he had taken her to be who she said. This gave her hope that he would be open to her and she could learn of what he knew.

Then there was Wendell, he seemed to be Fozz's right hand man, but she didn't want him to know who she was, she couldn't trust anyone at this point. But he seemed nice. He had a nice smile, she thought; it was kind and gentle though she could tell his body was hard from working out, she had learned to size up opponents. Perhaps he would be a good man to have by her side if it came to fighting.

A good man by her side, she smiled and clicked off the light. So, she was still thinking of such things after all these years and after all that had happened. Remembering dreams of youth, silly girlhood fantasies that had been taken away. She fell asleep thinking on better times.

{+}

He came back in the morning as promised to take her around London and it became apparent to him that she knew next to nothing of the city, or the country. Even as a foreigner it seemed completely impossible for her not to know something of London and even more baffling when they went to the British Museum.

Before that though they rode on the London Eye.

"It's breathtaking," she said as they rode higher.

"Yes, you can see St. Paul's Cathedral there, the one with the dome. And over there is Tower Bridge and the Tower of London."

"What's that?"

"It's a castle. It was originally built by William the Conqueror to keep Londoners in check."

"Where did he come from?"

"Normandy. I'm sorry to bring it up again, but where are you from?"

"What does it matter? Where's Normandy?"

"It's in France, that's the country to the East."

She didn't know what to do; she had planned to sit down with Dr. Fozz, talk at length and then leave. Now she had to contend with this man and his questions. They were valid questions and she had been a fool not to study further. Could she stall him long enough, perhaps tell him to mind his own business? What did it matter so long as she got what she needed? But she couldn't. He was a nice man, going out of his way to help her. No, that was stupid, the mission was the only thing that mattered.

"What's that clock tower?" she asked.

"That's St. Steven's Tower, sorry Elizabeth Tower now, though most people call it Big Ben."

"Why?"

"That's the name of the bell inside," he shrugged.

She had upset him, she could see that and she felt a pang of guilt that went against her earlier thoughts of the mission. What was wrong with her?

They were on the way down now and silent. They stayed that way for most of the trip to the British Museum. Once there, however, she was bowled over by the wealth of artefacts and once again questions came spewing from her mind to her mouth and Wendell was good enough to answer them as best as he could.

And they had fun.

He obviously loved the history of the planet and got excited about it and she, in turn, was also fascinated and excited to learn. Until they got to the end and sat in the court café with a coffee each.

"I'm sorry, but how can you know so little about the world?"

"You work with Dr. Fozz, you know the things he researches," she said.

She had been thinking about this all the way from the Eye to the Museum.

"Most of it," he admitted.

"I don't want to talk about it more than I have to, but let's say, considering the Doctor's studies, that I come from a long way away. Please leave it at that for now."

He nodded slowly.

"OK."

And she was happy. He seemed satisfied with the answer, satisfied that she had been (somewhat) honest with him and she could see his demeanour change a little. In his face, in the way he sat.

"We should be able to see the Doctor tomorrow in his new office, though I bet he'll enlist us in unpacking," he smiled.

"I'm glad to be of some help."

"And in turn he'll help you. Or don't you want to say?"

"I am looking for his help yes," she smiled. "But that's as much as I'll say for now. I'm sorry."

"It's cool," he smiled back. "Working with Dr. Fozz you spend a lot of the time in the dark."

"He's enigmatic?"

"To say the least. Or he tells me everything and I'm too thick headed to understand it," he laughed and she joined him.

IV

The next day they did indeed find themselves in Dr. Fozz's new office and he did indeed inquire into their help unpacking to which they both laughed and he gave them a quizzical look and then shrugged to himself and pointed to a box to be opened.

After a couple of boxes Dr. Fozz went and sat at his new desk, obviously worn out.

"So have you two been having fun?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered brightly. "It's been wonderful."

"Wonderful, has it?" he said with a little smile.

"Wendell has shown me a lot of the city, it is truly one of the greatest I have visited."

"That's good to hear, though I assume he has only shown you the nice parts."

"Don't taint her image, Doctor," Wendell said with a smile.

"No. No indeed. Try that box next, Wendell."

They opened two boxes that the Doctor instructed them to before he called it quits.

"Go and take Barbara to the canteen and get her something to eat. And bring back a coffee, would you?"

"As ever, Doctor."

"Yes, yes."

"You won't come and eat with us?" Barbara asked.

"No. I need to sort these books and then we need to sit down and look at them."

"Very well."

{+}

"So what do you do for fun?" Wendell asked her as they ate.

"Fun? I have to admit to you that I have had little time for it in recent years."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No, I suppose not. I had not thought on it until you mentioned it."

"But it's not a choice?"

"No. I have just been too involved in my work."

"Which you won't talk about."

"You're a fast learner," she smiled.

"Not fast enough. I thought about what you said, about the things Dr. Fozz studies and have put a few things together, but I am still in the dark."

"I'm sorry, Wendell, but that is for the best."

"Do you enjoy your work?"

"Yes, because it is important."

"That's good then."

But she could sense again that he was sad at the barrier between them and so was she. He was the first person in years that she might call a friend and she was forced to keep her distance, her secrets.

"And you? Do you enjoy your work?"

"I do, yeah. It's through a knowledge of the past that we understand the present and plan for the future. Not that the World leaders seem to learn from past mistakes."

"That is the same everywhere," she nodded.

He looked at his watch.

"I better get that coffee for Dr. Fozz and then get to my seminar. Can you find your way back to his office?"

"Yes. Thank you for lunch."

"My pleasure," he smiled and got up. "See you later."

She watched him go and then pulled out the book from her bag and read a passage:

'How can we find hope in ourselves if we cannot find hope in others? How can we find hope in others if we cannot find it in ourselves? If we cannot find hope in ourselves, how can we understand it? But surely hope is intrinsic? Most of us still get up the next day and go through at least the routine, however depressing the day before was. How then can we discover hope in its distilled form? Maybe Doctor Fozz is right, perhaps hope lies in death, not the hope of a better afterlife, but only when we embrace death as the inevitable end only then can we see life for what it is.'

She shut the book, put it away and, finishing her drink, got up and left.

{+}

"Ah, there you are. Take a seat."

Dr. Fozz had a number of books stacked on his desk as she sat opposite him.

"So what is it that you want to know?"

"Everything," she replied.

"That is unhelpful."

"I'm sorry."

"Give me some background to work with," he picked up his pipe.

"The Library of the Universes was shut down and the books scattered. This was a long time ago, but then people came, the King's Marks they call themselves."

"Like this? Hang on," he looked over the pile of books before pulling one out halfway down and flicked through it. "Yes, this."

He showed her a page:

"Yes, that is the King's Mark, they have it branded or tattooed on themselves. They use it as a secret sign or calling card."

"Good, good. Please continue."

"They began, I don't know what started it, but they began to look for the texts, the books and orbs. They began a war against us who would protect the knowledge. I don't mean just a war to find the books, but an actual war, battles have been fought. Some books are guarded by the Sect, but others have been lost to even us and then there are new books. People find books or scraps of books, hear stories and write them down."

"Such as myself."

"Yes, Doctor. Some are finding new knowledge, some are merely repeating old. It doesn't matter, in a way the Sect now knows just as much as our enemy. We used to have the books to hand, but once they were gone a lot of the knowledge died with the older members of the Sect."

"They couldn't have passed it along orally?" he asked lighting his pipe.

"No. Not knowledge such as this. Some of it, yes, but not the depths, not the details. These are not merely words on a page, Doctor, but true knowledge of things and that affects the heart and soul just as much as the mind."

"So you want to know what I know, see if maybe I have pieced new things together?"

"Yes."

"Because of the book you spoke of."

"You cannot read it, Doctor."

"I have no wish, but I don't see myself as having much knowledge on things and wonder why someone would write a book suggesting that I have."

"I have come earlier than I thought I would."

"Yes, tell me of that. You can travel in time?"

"Yes and no. You see most portals are fixed. If I were to travel here through one of them and then return a year later, the same amount of time would have passed in the place I left, but if you know how to travel the portals you can plan a route, take a longer or shorter route through the Outerfield to arrive earlier or later."

"You speak of so much that I wish to learn on."

"The Outerfield can wait, Doctor. We are here to look through your books."

"Yes. Yes, you are not here to teach me, but for a mission, a goal."

"In doing so I will answer your questions," she smiled.

"You have a delightful smile, my dear. Though it seems to these old eyes that it is not commonly used."

"There is not much to smile at in these days," her smiled dropped to a frown.

"And Wendell?"

"He is very nice."

"He is indeed, but I meant how much you had told him."

"Oh. Yes. I don't want anyone more than has to, to know. He quizzed me of where I came from and I told him it was linked to that which you study. I'm sure he has an idea, but will not ask on it again."

"Then I will say nothing," he smiled around his pipe. "Very nice, you say."

She blushed.

"It is getting late and I should go."

"What will you do tonight?" Dr. Fozz asked.

"Think and prepare."

"One thing before you go. You said you could control when you arrived here, but it didn't work. Why?"

"I don't know. A disturbance in the Outerfield as I travelled."

"And what does that mean?" Dr. Fozz leant forward.

"There are three reasons for it, but the important one now is that maybe someone was watching me; or following me. You must be careful, Doctor, by spending time with me you may be putting yourself in danger."

"Fear not, my young adventurer, I have a copy of 'Throe's Magic'".

"Really? I must read it," she said excitedly.

"Not before I have incanted the protection spells from it. Though I suppose you could do them better than I."

"No," she frowned in thought. "No, you are better placed to do them at this time. Just include Wendell and myself."

He smiled at that.

"I wouldn't dream of anything else."

"Then I will see you in the morning," she rose.

"Is it the Shadowers?" he asked.

"Most likely, Doctor," she acknowledged before bidding him farewell and leaving.

V

She sat in her bed having watched some television shows. Some she thought superfluous, one she had laughed at so hard she cried. Some humour is the same throughout the Universes, she thought. She watched a film and though she did not understand all the references it still made her cry. And now she was sitting in her warm bed with the book in her hands. It was funny that Wendell had taken a coffee to Dr. Fozz, but there was, as yet, no evidence that he had a strong affection for the drink. She read a passage she had marked:

''Ordinary people discover ordinary things, extraordinary people discover extraordinary things; the rest discover truth about life,' the doctor told me as he sipped his coffee.'

She wasn't sure where she sat in that thought. She knew more than ordinary people, but was she extraordinary? She didn't think so. That left her as 'the rest' discovering the truth about life. She flicked to another passage she had earmarked:

''It seems,' he said, 'that there are things people must go through. It matters not how you get there, but whatever path you take you will end up at these places, these choices.'

'So we have no free will?" I asked.

'For the most part, yes, we do. But there are things laid down for us to do, laid down by greater entities than us."

"A spiritual world?"

"Maybe, maybe not. We spend so much time looking at the world around us, but never look behind it. Like a man who is so focussed on the late train he has selected that he misses other trains that could have taken him to the same destination."

"Are you saying that we share this world with others we don't see?"

"More refuse to see," he said lighting his pipe.

"So how do we see it?" I asked

"With our eyes, of course."

"That there is more to life is an old adage, Doctor."

"And for good reason," he replied.'

She slept.

{+}

It was another two days before she saw Doctor Fozz again. Wendell had come around to bring her a mobile phone which he'd put his and Dr. Fozz's number in. He'd asked if she needed anything, wanted to do anything, but she had replied she needed to drink it all in. Get out on her own and he agreed that was a good idea. Though she felt that maybe he was a little disappointed, or maybe she was reading her own disappointment into him. Because maybe she wanted him to insist.

Instead she turned to the book that she had taken from Dr. Fozz, 'The Shores of Dawn in Universal Legend'. It was a myth, even amongst the Sect, but it held fascination; it was always referred to by its shores and not by the planet that those shores were a part of. She flipped past the chapters outlining it and its importance in myth to the first story. That of Seagram, one of the first people to say they had been there. Nothing was known of Seagram outside of this story and many believed he was a fictional character, but he came across as real in this story.

The volcano on the Western edge of the island, amongst the Thalin Mountains; the thick rainforest that covered most of the large island to the East of planet. The beginnings of the expedition on a country deforested for farmland and cities. But of course she knew this story, and none of the other stories ever mentioned cities, nor people in the most. It was hard then to know what might be true as most other accounts did not mention anything of the sort. And if there were people there, wouldn't they now have the technology to travel? Or wouldn't some of them have travelled back with Seagram? Only two other stories in the canon mentioned ruins of a past civilisation and, of course, none of the stories had ever been truly verified.

Now, here was a story she was not familiar with, the Cantok Expedition. She read through it; it laid down all of the preparations, all of the reasons why they were mounting the expedition, the facts that they had uncovered through archaeological digs on the Tenth Kingdom. She stopped reading and put the book down. The Tenth Kingdom? No one went there, the exact position of the Ten Kingdoms was unknown; what was known or believed was that there was no portal close by, meaning the galaxy needed long space flight to reach. Those that supposedly had been said that the galaxy was a wild and dangerous one. Such things could be pieced together from older texts, notably Royal Librarian Erstin's account of the war and so it was not believed that those who claimed to have been, actually had.

She knew, of course, about the Ten Kingdoms, she knew that the nearest planet held the Port of Karzak which had links to the Ten Kingdoms, but even that had somehow been lost to knowledge. It was unfathomable to her how this could be, but she knew that time and the Outerfield were like oceans moving to and fro, this way and that, though she didn't truly understand how. Even with that being true, the Ten Kingdoms were lost to all Universes and in that they were an anomaly.

But according to this story, they had been excavating on the Tenth Kingdom. Well, none of the other stories of the Shores of Dawn were believed to be true, why should this one be any different? She kept reading and was disappointed that the story didn't mention the actual facts pertaining to where the planet was, it referred to co-ordinates, but not actually what they were and, in fact, it finished with their departure, there was no mention of the Shores of Dawn at all.

But this made it more real to her, this was not a fully formed story, more like a journal that would be completed and rewritten when they arrived back. She put the book back down and thought of something she had never truly grasped. Something before her eyes since she had joined the Sect, but something she had never thought about.

{+}

She sat opposite Dr. Fozz and tried to explain it. She wanted to voice it in order to flesh it out in her mind. She had had a sleepless night juggling it through her head and what it could mean.

"Time in the corporeal Universes started at the Great Sealing."

"When the corporeal and spiritual dimensions were sealed from one another."

"Yes. So time started then. Now, take two events in two different Universes that both happen at the same length of time from the Sealing, they should be happening at the same time so that you could travel from one to another, yes?"

"So, you're saying that if I had a portal I would travel from one event to find the other still happening?"

"Yes, except that's not always the case. It seems that time is somewhat relative to each Universe."

"So I could go from one event here to find the other event has already finished, or not yet started?"

"Exactly. I don't know why, we think it has something to do with the flows of the Outerfield. So let's take three Universes, A, B and C. There is a war in each one at the same time. Travelling from the war in A to B will bring you out in the midst of the war, but travelling from C to B you might find the war long over, or not yet started. Some Universes are concurrent, some are not.

"Listen, this is all theory, pieced together through endless travels and it doesn't really matter as the length of time from the Sealing to the present is too long for your mind to grasp. When travelling from one Universe to another, in your mind, time is concurrent."

Dr. Fozz lit his pipe and thought for a moment.

"So where is this going? It seems that any issue is dealt with by the inability to grasp it. And as you've said, this may not be true at all."

"The book I have, the one that brought me here."

"It hasn't been written yet."

"Exactly."

"But that is because you arrived too early."

"Yes, but that was an accident, it is not a normal occurrence."

"Explain."

"Not now, just be aware that it shouldn't have happened. But it did and that means I have a book that is not yet written in this Universe and you have a story here," she picked up the book she had taken home and found the page. "You know of the Ten Kingdoms?"

"Yes," Dr. Fozz piped cheerfully. "The Ode of P'Lartio, very tragic, very beautiful."

"No one knows where the Ten Kingdoms are, the Fall happened a long time ago. Many believe they simply do not exist, are merely myth. But here you have a story of an archaeological expedition to the Tenth Kingdom. If this story is true then it comes from a time far into the future of any of the Universes I have travelled to recently."

"So you are saying that this Universe is ahead of all the others?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's possible, of course, but I don't think so. How would you have any of these stories, this knowledge if it has yet to be written in other Universes? Anyone travelling here could get information on the future, but I have not seen such things."

"Perhaps people don't come here."

"Perhaps, but it doesn't matter to my point. That these books, these stories travel from Universe to Universe, travelling through time and so some of them can be in times before or after the events they describe."

"How is this important?"

"Because it changes the way we study them in context. What if some of these texts are describing things that are yet to happen elsewhere? Look, I get confused here, that's why I wanted to talk about it."

"OK, OK. So, it's all about time. You could go from a war in Universe A to Universe B which is behind Universe A in time, but has a book about the war written in Universe A's future."

"Yes. I think."

"You're right. That is confusing."

"And if you are right, if this Universe is far ahead of the others then we could find information, knowledge, which can be used in other Universes."

VI

What she had thought would be one long conversation had turned out to be weeks so far. Weeks of reading Fozz's books and discussing them. There was knowledge here that was new to her, some of it talking of things that were yet to happen, some of it merely tales, or versions of tales, that she had not come across before. It was infuriating though as, for the most part, they were new books repeating old tales. The people interested in such tales were few and far between. This World, she learned, had no belief in magic or the supernatural though she was interested to learn that scientists were beginning to believe in other dimensions, alternate realities. It was difficult to believe this Universe was ahead of the others when their knowledge of the other Universes, or their own, was so limited. But maybe they were so far ahead that they were isolated.

She still struggled to accept that idea for a number of reasons, the chief of which she had not mentioned to Dr. Fozz, nor would she. It could lock in his thinking and she liked the way he was free thinking his way through the knowledge. It was amazing to her that this man, so isolated from the Universes, isolated even from the extent of his own Universe, could be such a great thinker on the subject. She thought that she should take him with her, should show him the other Universes. What breakthroughs such a mind could make with more information; but for now they needed to put together what they had. She could enlighten him on much and he could use that to think through what he already knew.

And, of course, there was Wendell. She thought back to two nights ago.

They had sat in a pub drinking ale and laughing about a theatre show they had seen the night before. She found herself having to be careful with her tongue, he told her funny stories from his past and she had to check herself from doing the same, from saying too much.

"I, I," she started to answer his question. "I can't really say, I'm sorry Wendell."

"You're sorry," he said frowning. "You think you're keeping me safe by not telling me or something."

"Yes," she said gently.

"But how are you keeping me safe by keeping me in the dark?"

She was keeping him safe in two ways, one from knowing anything that could make him a target, but also from knowing too much. How could he stay here, live a full life knowing that there was so much more out there? But he was right. What if there was a threat and he was oblivious to it?

"OK. Listen, there are creatures out there, that's the best I can explain them. They're called Shadowers and they help the King's Marks."

"The King's Marks?" he interrupted.

"They are people looking for the same things I am."

"Which is the books. Or what's in the books. That's why you came to see Dr. Fozz."

"Yes."

"Why is it important?"

"That you don't need to know. It's too big right now. But you wanted to know to be safe, so know about the Shadowers; dark entities like hunting dogs, sniffing out those who know. That's why I won't tell you too much."

"But you are putting Dr. Fozz in danger."

"He can look after himself," she smiled. "And he has you to protect him now."

He nodded to himself. He wasn't happy with this explanation and it gave rise to many more questions that he knew she wouldn't answer. The only way he was going to get answers was to research himself and he planned on doing just that.

"And if they do come sniffing around?"

"I'll show you a book on it," she smiled.

"It all comes down to books, doesn't it?"

"Yes, books hold knowledge and knowledge brings life."

Before that they had gone to a small town outside of London, had caught the train and visited a fair there. They had gone on some rides that both exhilarated her and made her want to vomit (she chose a middle path of giggling uncontrollably). They had played games; he had hooked a duck and won a small teddy bear, she had won at the shooting range and they had played a fighting game in the arcades which caused them both to shout in victory and dismay and come away laughing.

They also went to the cinema on many nights and watched all kinds of films; they really made some good ones here on Earth, but she could also see the influence of the books of the Library in their tales. Thankfully in her study of Earth's history she did not detect the hand of the King or his followers; yes there were evil men and women, some nearly on the same level as the King's Marks, but no evidence that they were connected to the cult of the King.

The world seemed to be at war with itself; the films she watched all seemed to have morals behind them, extolling the virtues of friendship, love, justice and sacrifice for the greater good, but the actual world was full of greed, selfishness and violence. How did people live with these opposites of ideal and reality? Probably the same as they did all over the Universes.

{+}

It was a day later, walking home with Wendell from a nice restaurant that she felt afraid, felt that there was something there. She had her arm through his and she instinctively gripped it tighter. He looked at her.

"What's wrong?"

"Shadowers, I think."

"What?" he started to look around.

"Look forward," she hissed and he snapped his head back.

"What do we do?"

"Nothing at this moment, I'm not sure what they know."

It didn't make sense that they had followed her through the Outerfield and then done nothing for all this time. Perhaps they had already been here for something else and had only now sensed her. But then why were they here?

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know why they've scented us, but I suspect it was reading the Book of Jhendda."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that they don't know why I'm here, that they're trying to find out."

"What does that mean to us now, though," he said and she could detect panic in his voice.

"I want to wipe them out, it is in my bones to do so, but that might make us of more interest. But then we can't have them sniffing us out."

She was torn. If they weren't already here for her then she couldn't risk making herself of more interest, but then they now knew she was here and it might be more suspicious that a member of the Sect did not try and fight Shadowers. They must already know of the Book of Jhendda, it was one of the guarded books.

"How are you at climbing?" she asked him.

{+}

She sat in her room and thought back over the day. She couldn't believe that Dr. Fozz hadn't mentioned the Book of Jhendda au Morkil before. It was only when they were stumped on the meaning behind one story that he mentioned it was in the British Library. She couldn't believe it, if it was real (and it turned out to be) then it was one of the most important texts in the whole of the Library of the Universes. It was where much of the knowledge of the Great Sealing and the war that preceded it came from. It held the only known written version of 'The Love Song of Arturo and Alathena' which in itself dealt with the rise of Nargel. It contained the only full accounts of 'The Battle of Pelegrey Fields' and the 'Travels of Laitin', which was possibly one the most important books in all the Universes as it laid out the Universes within just years of the Great Sealing. It held the one reference to the 'Book of the War of the Sealing' a book that had not even been held in the Library.

They had read it together, she had wanted to read more, but knew that she couldn't. They had been led into a sealed vault to see it and she had recognized that those who led them were members of her own Sect. This was a guarded book.

They had read 'The Lament of Guilgood' in order to place a more accurate date on the theft of Kele Stone, its eventual landing in the hands of Cyclo the Wicked and his eventual losing of it to the one known as Cyclo's Bane.

The Lament of Guilgood was a heart wrenching story of evil and redemption, redemption too late and also contained the earliest version of 'Miller's Passing'. It was a tale from the earliest days of the corporeal Universes, Miller was elected to be a leader of the people of that world as they fought amongst themselves for control of the planet. He was chosen for his purity and innocence, but he held a dark secret that, in itself he could have lived with, but when being held up as a paradigm of virtue, tortured his soul. It never mentioned what his dark secret was, and it was regarded by many as a morality tale rather than a history, but it still caused the pain of sadness to her reading it.

Thinking of this she flicked through 'A Coffee for Dr. Fozz' and read a passage"

He looked at me over his desk.

'The fact is that no one is innocent,' I boldly stated.

'But what is innocence?' he asked back and I picked up a dictionary from his cluttered desk.

'Here it is: 'freedom from guilt or sin through being unacquainted with evil'.'

'All of us are acquainted with evil?' he asked seemingly yet to blink.

'Yes, of course,' I replied.

He stretched in his chair and it creaked wildly. 'Have you ever been to war?'

'No.'

'So you are unacquainted with it?'

'Not unacquainted with it, I know of it.'

'But there is a difference between first and second hand knowledge or experience, is there not?

'Of course, but I see where you are going. Knowing about war is still acquaintance.'

'Is it? Can you be acquainted with someone you have heard about, but do not know?'

'No,' I had to concede.

'So you are innocent in war, you are unacquainted with it,' he said.

'Where are you going with this? That innocence is not lost from acquaintance with just one evil? I mean a clean, white wall only needs one spot of muck on it to become dirty.'

'And are we like that? Are we simply one simple, homogenous entity?'

'No, but my point still stands.'

'Does it?'

When did that conversation happen and was it linked to their reading of Guilgood's Lament? Was she changing things? No, he had already read the Book of Jhendda.

It was then that she felt them. The Shadowers. They had waited, she looked at the time, just enough to hope that she was settled and unalert. They would question her; of that she was sure, they didn't know why she was here, but that begged the question of what they were here for in the first place.

They came through the gaps, like a black mist they filtered under the door before they formed their shape, what shape they could form. They were surrounded by a grey haze and looking through it it was hard to focus on their features, as if they were not quite knitted together. It made you sick to look too long and they wore long black robes that added to their indistinctness. But there were only three of them and this wasn't the first time she'd encountered them.

"Why are you here?" one asked gravelly.

"You're the one who has come into my room," she said standing.

"Sit," another commanded.

"Again, you are in my room. What is it that you want here?"

"What is it that you are seeking here?"

"It is my job to travel the Universes, but why are you here? You only come to where there are books."

"That is not for you to know."

"Then why come to me? You're attacking me with no merit and that is frowned upon."

"We have no interest in Treaties."

"Others do. Others will. Leave now, you have no power here."

"We have the power to do as we wish," the first one threatened and took a step forward.

It was as she had hoped, Dr. Fozz had successfully incanted from Throe's Magic and the Shadowers lost substance as they stepped into attack, lost power. And then Wendell was jumping through the window from the small balcony. He launched himself at the nearest Shadower with the blade she had given him as she pulled another knife from under her pillow and attacked the nearest to her. Magically charged they disintegrated at its touch until only the two of them stood there, Wendell shaking with adrenaline.

She walked over and put her arms around him as he dropped the knife.

"It's OK," she soothed.

"We did it."

"We did."

"What were they?"

"That doesn't matter now."

"It does," he put his hands on her hips.

"They are from the Outerfield."

"Of course," he said and she laughed.

"I'm sorry, but you take everything in your stride."

"Of the two of us, I think you were the knight in shining armour," he said.

"No," she pulled away to be face to face. "You scaled a building to attack those who were attacking me."

And then she was kissing him, she wasn't thinking, she was just kissing him and then she was pulling off his coat and his shirt. And under the covers, when she could hold herself back no longer she whispered to him, 'my knight in shining armour'. And after they laid in bed, entwined in each other's arms.

"You're worried," he said.

"I am."

"But not about the Shadowers."

"No."

"Why not?"

"They attacked me. They're not allowed to do that. We only fight when there is something at stake, to do otherwise would just decimate all our ranks."

"So there will be repercussions for tonight?"

"There will be."

"So what worries you?"

"Why they would attack. To do so suggests they wanted to stop me from interfering in something else. They didn't want me on this world."

"So they were already here?"

"Yes. I think so. I thought they might be here for me, but then they wouldn't have attacked, they would have had me lead them to what I have."

"And what do you have."

"I will not tell so do not ask."

VII

He walked into the office and laid a cup of coffee on his desk.

"Your coffee," he said.

"Thank you, Wendell," Dr. Fozz smiled up at him. "I heard you had some excitement last night."

Wendell blushed.

"The Shadowers," Dr. Fozz said with a cocked eyebrow.

"Right, yes."

"And you performed admirably?"

"I did as I could."

"It is vexing, is it not?" Dr. Fozz took a sip of his coffee.

"I don't understand it enough to know."

"No. It is for the best, Wendell, it really is."

"So I hear."

"Well I have some news too, I think you should hear it."

"What is it?"

"Wait for Barbara."

"What's going on here, Doctor?"

"You know me, Wendell, I like to be able to talk from knowledge, but I am still somewhat in the dark here. It seems that the more I study the less I understand.

Wendell nodded, that sounded like the Doctor.

"Ah, here she is," he chimed.

"Morning, Wendell," she smiled and he blushed a little.

The Doctor looked between them with a bemused smile.

"Did you sort out," she looked at the Doctor and blushed, "That thing with your student?"

"What?" Wendell asked in confusion. "Oh, yes. Yes, it's fine, thankfully."

"Well that's good," she said quietly.

"It is, it is," Dr. Fozz said. "But we have more important things to attend to. This article in the paper, something I would have been interested in normally, but now it worries me."

"What is it?" Wendell asked.

"50 Berkeley Square. You know it, Wendell?"

He thought for a second or two.

"Most haunted house in England? At one point."

"Yes indeed. But there was something unique to it. It had the normal reports of hauntings, but also of a beast, a thing that attacked people in the upper bedroom."

"But there haven't been reports of hauntings for decades," Wendell protested.

"No there haven't. But see this article. It's about a group of four students who have gone missing, they were supposed to stay in the house overnight. It is unsure whether they even arrived as no one from the bookshop was there to let them in. They had a key."

"Bookshop?" Barbara asked.

"That is what inhabits the building now."

"I don't understand, Doctor," she confessed.

"I've considered this house to be connected with my studies, it was always strange that there should be a monster in there along with the ghosts, that's not normal for haunted houses. What if it was something from what you call the Outerfield?"

"Yes, it could be so, sometimes in activity, with the books, the walls between the corporeal and the spiritual thin. In fact this is what the King's Marks hope for, in order to break out the King."

"The King?" Wendell asked.

"Not now," Dr. Fozz said sternly.

"I think I see where this is going, but what are the implications?" she asked.

"I'm lost," Wendell admitted.

"The article is only in the paper because of the notoriety of the house, its sensationalism; the students haven't been gone long enough to be deemed missing. They might just be locked up somewhere writing up their results."

"Seems likely," Wendell said.

"Unless you travel in certain circles, which I do. If you did you would have heard stories that the hauntings had begun again. I'm assuming the students, who were doing research into parapsychology, also knew of this and that's why they went there."

"OK, back up," Wendell stopped him. "Let me get this straight. A haunted house that hasn't been haunted for years starts to be haunted again and four students go there to investigate and then go missing?"

"Exactly," Dr. Fozz sat back satisfied.

"And this has to do with us..."

"Perhaps the wall between this world and the Outerfield is thin there," Barbara explained. "As the wall thinned further so ghosts could pass through and if it thinned enough, it would let this thing pass from the Outerfield and into this dimension."

"And the Outerfield?"

"Dimension between the Universes," she said curtly. "What do you think this has to do with us, Doctor?"

"It is troubling. These Shadowers came to you, but you don't think we're the reason they were here in the first place and now there is a suggestion that the wall is thinning. I think it means that something serious is happening, something we are not aware of."

{+}

Wendell had a key to Dr. Fozz's office and he found himself there later that night to read. Though he did it in secret he knew that both the Doctor and Barbara must assume he would do this. They couldn't talk about such things, and not talk about other things, without expecting him to research it. The first thing was the Outerfield, Barbara had said it was a dimension between the Universes. That was the second thing, Universes plural.

He grabbed books at random and flicked through trying to find what he was looking for. There was nothing definitive, no 'The Outerfield for Beginners', and so he had to piece together the bits of information he came across, noting down all the mentions he could find. It wasn't much, there was a lot to read and he couldn't stay here all night and so after two hours he locked up and went home.

He laid in his bed thinking about last night and the ghastly apparitions that had appeared in Barbara's room. What were they? Truly? She said he was taking everything in his stride, and he was, he'd spent enough time with Dr. Fozz to believe in the weirder things in life. But his acceptance of these happenings, these Shadowers, was down to the fact that his brain couldn't, perhaps wouldn't, process it all. It's one thing to read tall tales in books, it's quite another to face and fight such things.

He switched off the light and closed his eyes, but images of those things played through his mind and he snapped the light back on. He was safe, he told himself, Dr. Fozz had done some magic that protected them, but also the Shadowers weren't after him, weren't interested in him. Because he didn't know anything. He understood now why Barbara hadn't wanted to tell him too much and he suddenly regretted his two hours of reading through the books.

He didn't know how long he lay there, but when he awoke in the morning the bedside light was still on.

{+}

Life continued on quite normally after that, he worked and studied while Dr. Fozz and Barbara researched the books.

"It's quite incredible to be able to link the story of Fraymar with 'The Prettias', I'd never have made that link without your knowledge," Dr. Fozz said from behind his desk.

"What is more incredible is this knowledge of the Ten Kingdoms," Barbara said. "I've not heard of some of the books that the information is drawn from."

"I wish I had more to give you."

"I wish I had this 'Histories' book that keeps getting quoted or referenced. Have you ever heard of it?"

"Only in these books. I had a look for it, talked to colleagues, people at the British Library and Museum. No one had heard of it. People tend to think I'm crazy, you know?"

"I'm not surprised if you talk to them about some of these things."

"I don't often anymore. I used to when I started researching the Book of Five Worlds."

"You know of it?" she looked up surprised.

"You have to look hard, into the nooks and crannies of the World's myths, but it is there. Not that anyone can see it."

"The Black Queen has it; that is what my information says."

"It was a book from your Library?"

"Yes, it was obtained."

"Your tone tells me there is more to say."

She stood and stretched her lithe figure.

"You have on Earth some ancient structures attributed to a people group that seemed to defy the construction abilities."

"Of course."

"And then there are structures that appear to be even older than those who they are attributed to."

"Yes, Baalbek in Lebanon is a Roman site built upon much older, megalithic sculpted blocks which some say are beyond even our modern day construction capabilities. And even the Sphinx could be much older that the Egyptian Dynasties due to erosion. And of course the Gӧbleki Tepe, built at the end of the last ice age. Simply unbelievable."

"And so these things are not widely held by the general populace because it starts to create errors in the widely held beliefs of engineering and technical skills. Conspiracies grow up around them."

"Yes, they're a mystery at the moment. As I have said, the blocks at Baalbek would have been impossible to move and Gӧbleki? How would you even feed that large of a workforce while still hunting and gathering?"

"And it is the same through the Universes, how much more difficult is it then to try and imagine the time before the Great Sealing when there was no gap between the spiritual and corporeal worlds?"

"I can see what you are saying, but what has this got to do with the Book of Five Worlds?"

"The Library was built to hold the knowledge of the times before the Great Sealing and then to build on new knowledge and histories. The Book of Five Worlds was written after the Great Sealing, during the rise of the first civilisations, because of the portals.

"You see, portals exist everywhere, think of them as tears in the Sealing, but they are mostly hidden, undetectable. But the Five Worlds? They were linked by portals from the very beginning, it was a perfect place to study the portals and how they worked. Along with those studies came much more knowledge of the Universes and the Outerfield. Most importantly the book helped us to refine our own crude portals. It was, is, an important book, linking the pre and post Sealing eras."

"I had never considered it like that," Dr. Fozz mused. "As a way of understanding, getting a grasp on, the Pre-Sealing era."

"There are some things in these books that you might have missed as they don't reference the Book of Five Worlds directly, let me show you."

{+}

And of course, her and Wendell continued to see each other. They went to films and plays and looked around London. They spent one day of the weekend travelling to other parts of the country, to see Hadrian's Wall, Stonehenge, the City of Bath, sometimes staying overnight. He was her teacher in the history of the world; something she should have done before she ahd arrived.

She was torn by it all. She knew that this could, no would, end badly; that she would have to leave and she didn't know if she could take Wendell with her. It wasn't really feasible with her job in the Sect. She knew that now the King's Marks held the Library there might be a major offensive to get it back, though that was only important if they could retrieve enough books to need it. Without the books the Library still held importance to the Sect, but she didn't know why, was not high enough up the ranks to know some of the deeper mysteries.

If they had the Library she could have asked to be transferred there, a sedentary job. Even still, could she be transferred to some kind of administration role? Something somewhat normal so that she and Wendell could have a life? But what if it didn't work out and she had taken him, not just away from his home, but his world, his Universe?

So she should put a stop to this now, explain it all to him, but that made her feel sick in her stomach; she didn't want to be apart from him. This was what she had lost at such a young age, this was what she had been searching for, happiness. A sense of everything being right in her life, a sense of peace and belonging. Perhaps she should quit her place in the Sect, retire from it. She knew it was important work, work that could save the Universes from great evil and war like they had never seen, but hadn't she done enough to help? Didn't she have a right to be happy? What she had done was more than most to help the Universes and those normal people got to be settled and happy, why not her?

But could she? Could she be settled, live a life of cooking and cleaning and watching TV at night knowing what was going on out there? She just couldn't know.

'Why I should be lost with no answers? Why should I have questions with no one to answer them? I saw you die in the gritty half-light of a winter's dusk. But how can you leave no trace and no answers, how can you disappear without a trace and leave so many questions? Where am I to start? Where am I to end?

The light is still on in his office so I brew him up a cup of his aromatic coffee. He is working, after all.'

{+}

In a way the questions were taken away from her as there was so much to study and learn on this planet. Not just in reading the books Dr. Fozz had, but also spending hours reading and taking notes from the Book of Jhendda au Morkil. It was important knowledge for her to have, important to help her link other stories and treatises and important for her to be able to separate the truth from propaganda. For instance there was an essay in the book on 'The Rape of Orthantica', where it originated and what, if anything, was the true story before talking about the variations that the story had been given. Sometimes used as a morality tale, sometimes to teach, but most famously as propaganda for both sides.

So she played a game of two sides, continuing to work towards leaving while still spending time with Wendell and she tried not to think about it. And another month passed and she started to feel that she knew everything she could, she felt that she had helped Dr. Fozz as much as she could. It was time to make a decision.

Should she stay or should she go? She could send all this information to the Sect, it would help them in so many ways, would help others to do her job more successfully, or she could go out and do her own job more successfully. Perhaps with this knowledge she could rise in the ranks to be a Teacher of Knowledge, someone not unlike Dr. Fozz. Would Wendell come with her if that was the case?

She should sit down and talk to him, she regretted now putting it off for so long. Perhaps she would go and present everything to the Sect and then come back and see where they stood with time apart, time to think.

'Does any man come out on top?' I asked him.

''Well that depends, doesn't it?'

'On what?'

'On what the top is.'

'Another riddle, doctor?'

'You asked a riddle, I answered in one.'

'Are there no straight answers with you?'

'Straight answers are for straight questions, "what is the time?" for instance.'

I begged my leave and walked out into the rain. Is it then possible for me to come out on top of all of this? Is there a chance to succeed? Seemingly to Doctor Fozz it all depends on what my basis of success is. Surely those with low expectations are more successful; but then what of those who had big ambitions and succeeded, surely they are the bigger success?'

And then the email arrived.

It came from the United States, from a Detective Howell. It said that he was investigating a possible cult and that this cult might be formed around a book called the 'Book of Ani'. He had called her to come to his office and showed it to her.

"Yes, I've read references to it in your books, but I've never heard of it before coming here."

"The little I've read while waiting for you claims it was written by an Egyptian many years ago, I can't find a date. He wrote down his dreams, dreams of the Outerfield."

"So it's an Earth book, that's why I don't know of it. Doctor, this might be why the Shadowers are here, looking for this book. As we have done nothing in connection with it we have been left alone."

"It would make sense, them not being interested in us if there is something of more worth that they want," Dr. Fozz agreed.

"We have to look into this," she urged.

"Yes, my dear, we do, but it could be dangerous for us."

"Yes, you're right. Say nothing of it to Wendell, and you, Doctor, you don't have to get into this, it is not your job."

"My curiosity won't allow for me to take a back seat. You know that."

"And you've never heard of this book before?"

"Perhaps," he lit his pipe. "Listen, my dear, I only began my studies on this a few years ago, must be five years now at least. I had a mentor who never mentioned any such things until he died on an Archaeological expedition, he was old, there was no consideration of foul play. Though having met you I wonder; you see he left me letters and he left me most of the books you have around you.

"So I read them all, on his insistence and became fascinated, but I was particularly taken with his mentions of the Five Worlds and their appearances in Earthly myth. It took me a long time to begin giving real credence to what I had read, but by then I was fixated. Until you came along, tales of the Outerfield or stories from places other than Earth was only a side interest."

"Then we must look together. If someone has started a cult from this book, it cannot lead to anything good," she said.

"Let me dig out a few books that I know will help, but we will need to read through them all with this new objective."

{+}

It took them two months of reading and plotting, piecing together references. They had some of the stories that were said to be told in the Book of Ani, and others that were different versions of the same stories. She would read the 'Cordiu'ka' which ends on the Plateau of Ilsgiriant and there would be a footnote alluding to a different, abbreviated version told in the Book of Ani. A mention in another book as if the Book of Ani was widely known, which Dr. Fozz told her was not true as far as he knew. More research led them to a book called 'The Inscaderaeon' which was allegedly written soon after The Book of Ani. Dr. Fozz reached out to his contacts and they were both aware that they were raising their awareness level to the Shadowers and whoever was leading them.

"One thing I don't understand," Dr. Fozz said.

"Only one?" she smiled a tired smile.

"You said you travelled here, that you could plan a route to arrive at a certain time. Could you not use your portal to travel back to when and where you know this man to have the book and take it? Before the cult?"

She shook her head.

"We travel distance, not time. Even then it takes complex algorithms and a number of anchors to do it and you can't go too far in either direction in time. It's also dangerous to spend too much time in the Outerfield. My arrival here so much earlier than I thought is a rarity. There are three reasons, either I made a mistake with the algorithms or did not set an anchor deeply enough; someone was trying to piggyback my journey, use it to follow or track me and that disrupted the algorithms, or it is the work of higher beings."

"Fate, you mean?"

She shrugged.

"Not many believe in that last one. So no, I could not travel back far enough now and anyway," she smiled at him, "the portals don't allow for travel within a world. It would be quicker for me to fly there than use a portal."

"I see," he nodded.

{+}

Their research, and what they heard from other scholars finally landed them in Germany where they had discovered an edition of 'The Inscaderaeon' in a small library-cum-museum in a small Bavarian town.

"Not a lot of people come this way," the old man told them. "But that is for the best; I am old now."

"You have an interesting collection," Dr. Fozz mused.

"It is, but only to a few. You said you were interested in looking at 'The Inscaderaeon'.

"Yes, sir," Barbara said.

"Haven't looked at that in many a year, I must say. Even in my collection it is unique."

"Can we see it?" Dr. Fozz urged.

"Yes, yes, of course."

He laid it out on a table for them, gave them gloves to use and then went to fetch tea and refreshments for them. It wasn't actually a book, it wasn't bound, but a loose manuscript. They turned the pages of the 'book' to the contents and scanned it. The first thing that popped out to them was that a chapter seemed to be an interview with Ani and then, to Barbara, was what seemed to be a chapter about the Tenth Kingdom's first search for the Shores of Dawn. To Dr. Fozz it was a chapter that claimed to be the first chapter of The Book of Five Worlds.

They separated the book so that they could extract these chapters whilst still knowing where to put them back and they sat down to read. After that they took a turn each to read the interview with Ani and then read through the rest, taking notes. She read a version of 'The Rape of Orthantica' and when Barbara flicked back to the interview with Ani she noted that, yes the author had read this version of the story and questioned Ani on his version. There were two or three stories that were supposed to be in the Book of Ani, but not having read it, they couldn't know if they were the same or not.

Dr. Fozz read a story called 'In the Court of the King' which he had never come across before and he passed it to Barbara who first finished what she was reading. It was 'A Recount of the Darkness that Befell the Palace of Vertreem' about the struggles that helped to found that legendary Kingdom.

She took the pages from Dr. Fozz and read through them. She had never come across such a work, never even heard of it. Supposedly set in the Court of the King Imminent in the last days of the War of the Sealing.

"This wasn't written after the Book of Ani," she exclaimed. "This is not one book, but a collection. This story is much older, as is this one I read about the Palace of Vertreem. It's possible that it actually comes from the 'Book of the War of the Sealing'."

"This is an amazing find then."

"No," she put her hand to her mouth in horror.

"What is it?" he asked urgently.

"Knowledge," she said slowly. "Very few people have read this and those that have have believed it to be a much newer book. That's why it's never been flagged up. But I just said... Stupid, stupid."

"The Shadowers?"

"And whoever's behind them. They're here for the Book of Ani, this is linked. They'll surely sense it now."

"What are we to do then?"

"Put ourselves in more danger, I'm afraid," she shook her head in frustration at her own stupidity.

"That sounds none too wise."

"I must contact the Sect, someone must come now and retrieve this book, but in doing so it will raise the suspicion even more. They will sense the book and the call and they will come."

"So we prepare for battle?" Dr. Fozz asked with a gleam in the eye.

"No, they won't make it here in time, I hope, but we must get back to London, straightaway."

"Then make your call, my dear."

She took out an amulet that she wore around her neck and clutched it in both hands with her eyes closed.

When she was finished they went back to the book and read all that they could, taking copious notes on it for the next hour, waiting in tense silence for either Shadowers or Sect to come.

It was just in the hour that a portal opened and a woman appeared, unfortunately just as the elderly curator walked in.

"What is this?" he asked astonished.

"Your book is too dangerous to stay here," Barbara said putting the book back together.

"But, but what is this," he gestured to the woman standing in front of the portal.

"Never mind yourself," the woman said in a deep, velvet voice.

"Here it is," Barbara said handing it over.

"It will be kept securely and studied. This is good work," the woman said and Barbara nodded.

Then the woman walked back into the portal and it disappeared.

"My book," the curator whined.

"It would only lead to your death," Barbara said. "It is better this way."

"You should leave," he said.

"Exactly our plan," Dr. Fozz said good-naturedly. "You have been more than helpful."

"You are now interfering," the Shadower said as it walked out of the darkness behind a shelf of pottery.

"Not at all," Barbara said as the curator fainted.

Dr. Fozz was spritely enough to leap forward and catch him and laid him on the floor before turning back to the Shadower.

"The Treaty does not stand," the Shadower said and she could see movement in the shadows behind it.

"It stands. We found something of interest and dealt with it. Unless you are saying that we might be getting close to whatever it is you are here for."

"We are merely searching, the same as you."

"So why are you threatening me?"

"Be careful where you step, that is our message. Step into our territory and we can strike."

"Step into mine and I can strike. You are breaking the Treaty."

"We are merely messengers," it said and dissolved back into the darkness.

VIII

They got back to London the same day and Dr. Fozz sent off an email of what they knew. That, yes, it was very likely there was a cult around the book and they could be into some very nasty things. He typed and deleted sentences again and again, he wanted to say things, but not knowing what the Book of Ani held, he didn't want to say too much. It was quite possible that whatever was happening over there was simply a man driven by what he had read, or had been driven mad by it without any further context. That was something Barbara had told him over in Germany, that many went mad with the knowledge of what they read, the evil of it; the vastness of it. That he himself had not gone mad turned out to be a nice surprise, Dr. Fozz thought, it seemed to mean he had a strong mind and good heart. It pleased him rather.

So he stuck to the facts that the Book most likely told evil stories, that it could be taken as an instruction manual if one were so inclined and could lead to bad things. Very bad things.

And then they heard nothing on it until the phone call, but everything had now changed. Barbara had changed, she had an urgency and a mission.

"I must know what's in this Book of Ani, I must know why it's important enough for a King's Mark not only to be looking for it, but to be employing Shadowers in the search."

"Why haven't they found it yet?" he asked her.

"I don't know. It's an Earth book; the Shadowers were formed to sense and hunt down books of the Library so they won't be able to get a true fix on it, but this man seems to be using it wantonly so they should be able to fix upon the knowledge."

"And wouldn't then you too? Your Sect?"

"Yes. Unless there is some magic protecting it."

"Why would there be magic protecting it from both sides?" Dr. Fozz asked sitting behind his desk and putting his pipe in his mouth.

"It happens. Rogues. Generally from their side, those who want power and knowledge for themselves," she sighed.

"So you're back," Wendell said from the door.

"Wendell," she said and stood.

"I didn't know."

"But you brought me a coffee anyway?" Dr. Fozz smiled around his pipe.

"I saw the light in the window. How did it go?"

"Splendid," Dr. Fozz beamed. "Put a few more pieces into the jigsaw; it will really help my book."

"The one you say no one will read?" Wendell arched an eyebrow and Dr. Fozz laughed.

"That's the one."

"And you?" he asked Barbara.

"It's good to see you again," she smiled.

"It's good to see you too," he returned the smile. "Are you staying long? I've still got some work to do before tomorrow, but I could give you a lift home."

"That would be excellent," Dr. Fozz said.

"Very well," he walked over and put the coffee down on Dr. Fozz's desk. "I'm sorry, I didn't get you anything."

"It's fine," she said and put a hand on his arm.

They looked at each other for a second before breaking into smiles that reached and filled their eyes before Wendell took his leave.

"And him?"

"Oh, don't, Doctor. I don't know what to do."

"Because you have a job to do."

"Yes. I have to know of this book, but anymore research could endanger us."

"Then let us spend some time in research," Dr. Fozz nodded.

{+}

They stood in his office as he recounted his phone call with Agent D'Angelo about the 'Rape of Orthantica' and Barbara affirmed his own thoughts from what they knew. The version this suspect had was one that was supposed to be propaganda for the King Imminent. The mention of his name was enough to call Barbara and summon her this early in the morning.

"So they have this man who had the book?"

"It appears so."

"Can we get there?"

"To the States?"

"Yes."

"We couldn't get there before he was put in prison, but we could talk to him there."

"No. A prison? With the evil in his veins? He could convert terrible people to terrible things."

"He mustn't go to prison?"

"Think about it."

"No, you're right. A breeding ground with the worst people in society. But we can't stop them, they won't listen to us."

"Try anyway. Call him back, let him know that this man is living a web of lies, tell him not to let him into a prison with others."

"What are you thinking? I can read your face."

She couldn't help but smile.

"I have been trained over years to keep my face unreadable, yet you do it with such ease."

"What is it then?"

"I can send an assassin."

"An assassin? From where?"

"A Portal assassin, but it will bring us again to the forefront of the Shadowers vision."

"It must be done. But who are these assassins?"

"Skilled portal users, they can appear, assassinate and then disappear."

"Why don't you use them more?"

"It's dangerous. Those higher up on both sides can detect portals, it is too likely that they would be ready, kill the assassin and then use the portal. For those not protected, well it is understood that both sides' ranks would be decimated, mutual destruction of our forces. Plus it takes a lot out of the assassins to travel so directly."

"I see," Dr. Fozz nodded and reached for his phone.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"This is going to attract a lot of attention, they will surmise we are going after the book too. That allows them to attack to protect their find."

"And are we? Going after the book?"

"I am. Yes."

"Well contact your assassin."

"Give me this man's location as precisely as you can, ring when I tell you."

He did so and she took out her amulet and closed her eyes. After what seemed like five minutes to Dr. Fozz she opened her eyes and nodded to him. He rang the station.

{+}

She had excused herself and gone home. She needed to think, to plan. So there was another man involved. Definitely sounded like a rogue, but that made him all the more dangerous, who could he be? They were hoping to get a name or a description. Something to help them. Had he gone by now? If so she would have to find out how he had left. She needed to talk to these Agents and that meant going to the United States. It also meant heaping more trouble on herself, more danger.

Unless this man had already left, they would come here for her, make sure that she couldn't interfere more and for that she needed protection, but she needed something more. A loose plan formed in her head and it was the best she could hope for. She contacted her superiors, risky, but needed in case she fail and then walked briskly back to Dr. Fozz's office.

'At night I walk down empty, dark corridors with lightened windows. In the windows are the faces of all those I have helped and all those I have cursed. One for each window and in the last one, before the final light, is your face and you beseech me to follow you.

Or you beseech me to leave you be. That I cannot make out no matter how many times the dream comes.

And now I sit in a lonely bed, cold sunlight streaming through meager curtains and I wonder again how you could be here. I saw you die in the gritty half-light of dusk.'

"I do not like it," Dr. Fozz said puffing on his pipe, a hot coffee sitting before him. She was both glad and sad that she had missed Wendell. She would like to see him, but he could not hear this. She would have to see him, of course, but not now."

"I don't know of any other way to keep you both, us all, safe."

"Hand it off to someone else, you belong here now."

"I can't do that, Doctor, you know I can't. I can't sit here and play librarian when there is evil out there. This cult is not finished, there are new Marks out there, and this other man."

"A rogue?"

"I think so, but still one not only with the understanding to initiate, but with the willingness to."

"What does that mean about him?"

"It means that he is not siding with the Marks, but is still either willing to see them succeed or knows how to use them to his own end. That makes him powerful."

Dr. Fozz nodded.

"I received an email from our Agent d'Angelo. Or at least at his request, it gives details of the man."

"Let me see it," she urged and he handed over what he had already printed out.

"This helps, this helps greatly."

"So you wish to do this?"

"I must," she replied sadly.

"Very well," he said and reached for his copy of 'Throe's Magic' and for another book that he laid in front of him.

IX

She found him studying and urged him to come and walk with her. He complied and they walked through London streets almost deserted now that the Winter's Sun was setting. A bitterly cold wind swept around them, but didn't bother them as they walked.

They walked a fair way in silence before he spoke.

"You're going away," he said flatly.

"I have to."

"It's OK, I knew this time would come."

"I didn't."

"Of course you did," a hint of bitterness in his tone.

"No. I wasn't sure, I was never sure after I met you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"So what has happened?"

"Oh, Wendell, I have told you so little and I wish I had told you more, because now I really do need to keep secrets to keep you safe."

"So you are going into danger."

She couldn't reply, didn't want to; perhaps it would have been better to just have left.

"I hope not," she tried a smile, but it failed on her lips.

"I could come with you."

"No, I can't risk that, I can't risk you."

"So it is dangerous. Why not have someone by your side?"

"No, I couldn't bear to think of you in danger," and tears filled up her eyes.

"I think I love you," he said quietly.

"I think I feel the same," she replied.

They walked on in silence, filled with their own fears and joys until they got to London Bridge, the place she had wanted to come, to see Tower Bridge once more.

She remembered that fun, carefree day when they had wandered up and down the Thames, seeing the sights and walking across the top of Tower Bridge. It was there that they had nearly had their first kiss, but they had both shied away from it, afraid that the other didn't feel the same. Afraid of this very moment that had arrived for them.

They stood and looked at the Bridge as the dusk settled.

"Will you come back?" he asked.

She put her arm around him.

"That is my plan, Wendell, I do not wish to leave you."

He smiled out over the river.

"Tell me one thing."

"Anything."

"What is your real name?"

"What do you mean?"

"Dr. Fozz called you Barbara, you forget that I know him too well. It means foreigner or traveller from a foreign land".

She laughed.

"I didn't know that. He is wily is our Doctor. You must look after him in my absence."

"Don't I always?"

She laughed again and then took his face in her hand, kissed him deeply and whispered her name in his ear.

And then she felt them. No, it was too soon, it couldn't be here, not like this. Not in front of Wendell, but then they were there, the Shadowers.

She pulled away from him.

"You must go."

"I won't leave you."

"He has nothing to do with this," she said loudly.

"Oh, we know; we can sense his lack of knowledge," one of the three Shadowers said, still unformed in the half light of dusk. "But you. You were warned and yet you continue."

"I will not see evil thrive."

"Then you will die," another sneered.

"No," Wendell shouted and charged forward, but the Shadower, fully formed held out a hand and he was thrown backwards, sprawling to the floor. He tried to get up, but couldn't. What had happened to Dr. Fozz's spell?

He watched the three Shadowers close in on Barbara, pushing her to the bridge's wall.

"You are but slaves, dogs with a master and whoever holds your leash is a fool if they think the King is imminent. He is locked up in a filthy, dank cell where he belongs."

"You won't see His glorious return," the Shadower snarled as it grabbed her by the throat with both hands.

Wendell lay there helpless as he watched her struggle, the Shadower was lifting her up, choking the life out of her. Her feet scrambled for purchase on the top of the wall.

"Long will the King abide," the Shadower said.

"Fuck the king and fuck you," she rasped as she brought both hands up, a knife in each and sliced off the things hands just below the elbow.

It screamed in pain and dissolved to mist, but she didn't have her balance and toppled backwards, plummeting into the Thames below.

The other two Shadowers moved to the edge and looked down for a while.

"I see her not."

"Nor do I feel her."

"If she is unconscious she will drown, if she survives somehow we will feel her."

"And what of him?"

"The Master wishes to keep to the code, her death is rightful, his is not."

"Very well."

And with that they dematerialised back into the darkness.

He lay there for a few more seconds as feeling came back into his body and then he shoved himself up and ran to the wall and looked down.

There was no sign of her and it was getting too dark to see. Could she have survived? Not if she landed on her back, but if she had gotten into a dive...

{+}

She didn't turn up either at the hotel where he collected her few belongings, or at the office. There was no news of a body washing up and he kept his search up for months before Dr. Fozz nixed it, made him face the reality that he had to presume that she died from the fall. Mysterious in death as she had been in life. He mourned her.

"Where are we when we dream?" Dr. Fozz asked.

"In our beds," I replied.

He twisted a smile. "Very pithy."

"We are in our minds; it is a way of ordering events and thoughts."

"So some say."

I put his coffee down and took a seat.

"What do you say?"

"Me? I don't know, I am not a studier of such things," he lit his pipe.

"I don't believe there is anything in this world that does not fall under your study."

"Perhaps," he puffed quietly for a few minutes. "In our dreams are we shackled to the things of this world? The laws?"

"Laws? Of physics or the laws of the land?"

"Either or both," he sipped at his coffee. "Another fine concoction."

"Thank you," I paused. "No, we are not shackled by either."

"What are we shackled to in dreams?"

"To themselves, we can't control them, our actions. It is almost like a play that we follow."

"Much like life then."

"No, in waking life we have choices."

"How do you know that those choices you make are not predetermined? That the choice you make is not written by the playwright?"

"Without seeing many alternate realities, how could we know?"

"Alternate realities, yes," was all he said.

"Where do you go when you dream, Doctor?"

"To Other Worlds."
TO DIE BEFORE THAT DAY

It is certain and obvious now that monsters walk this realm though it was never so certain. I had always fancied it, through my studies into ancient and modern books of esoteric lore and the gossip and rumour of old generations of folk in the rural areas of the United States. And those tales seemed to come from older times, from the islands of Britain. From the countries that make up Great Britain, but also from Ireland and the multitude of islands that make up the Sceptred Isles. Though geographically all land masses are the same, those of Europe are so much older than North America in certain things, certain knowledges. It is as if the ground there is tainted in a way that, at least North America, is not.

North America has it's fair share of history through the peoples native to the land, but we have let that slide, it's not ours. Nothing seems quite so arcane as that found in Europe and South East Asia and the even darker mysteries of Africa. It is as if something found root there, particularly in Europe that led to a certain aesthetic and thought. I feel that I am doing these other rich, ancient cultures a disservice and that is not my aim. Rather that the things I have been a party to seem to match so much more the tales and myths of Europe than any other, thus giving those tales more credence over others. Still, a wise man or woman will note the similarities to ancient demons all throughout the World's mythologies.

Of course much of this I learnt from her, the story of the Thing in London that could break through to this World. Of beings of mist and monsters that sat on thrones. I learned that maybe something had happened to let other things through.

But her.

I should talk on her now so that I can get it through and out of this terrible narrative that I now, at last, feel compelled to tell.

I still think on her.

She was beautiful.

She stood tall as a man and I am still taken by the curves of her body, of her hips and her breast and I still wish to put my hands and lips to those curves, but I know that that was to play into the hands of those others. Those that wanted me to play to my basest nature and not see her intellect nor goal. Not that she had eyes for me, no. I felt that body, that heart, belonged to another.

For though that is what I talk about first, it was not her body that made me attracted to her, but her spirit. Yes, she was desirable in body, but it was her spirit, her personality, her otherworldliness that made her so desirable, so unattainably beautiful. I should thank whatever God I can believe still exists that I had the chance to meet her. In a way that God smiled upon me, for I could not have suffered that which I suffered without her appearance.

I still think of her in bad ways and I can flagellate myself for it. For the most part; there are still times that I cannot help myself and I spend the rest of the night fearing for my life. Fearing that I am too close to them. Those that she spoke of and those that I saw. I wish she had seen them with me, but I guess she knew of them from the very start.

Though what did I really see? I would like to put it down to madness, I tried for so many years to do so, but that can't do for now. My years are making the most of me and soon I will travel the Lands of the Dead; lands that I don't believe I will meet her in yet. What will they hold? Will I traverse the Desert of Yolgolduin? Or the Forest of Gu? Will I find the protection of Goldat or the Harryment of Kalady? I wish not to know, though my dreams give me different ideas.

Long now I have studied arcane texts and what I have encountered has given me insight into them that others lack. Lucky for them. But I too am lucky, for though I have continued to read books that hold knowledge I should not know, no one has deemed me important enough to visit. There have been times on dark and stormy nights that I fancied the dreaded Shadowers were near and kept a light burning all night, but they never appeared. For all that I know, I believe that these books I have read do not hold enough knowledge to make them worth the while of those who collect books and knowledge. But there was a time that I was seeked out, seeked out by her for the knowledge I had and the knowledge she hoped I might have.

{+}

It was because of Dr. Fozz that she came to me, I had had contact with him in the past about various texts and myths. It was, but no. Before I talk on her further, I should speak about myself; everything in life is context.

There are people who go through life as nothing more than the sum of what they are and that is no bad thing. They are brought up and they fit into the world within which they are supposed to fit and they take in all those things of life, but do not take in anything too much. Then there are others who take in one facet above all the others, become fixated with that one facet and become that. When that is numbers and they become an accountant; or computers and become a software programmer; or entertainment and become an actor it is seen as a good thing, but then there are others, like me. We become engrossed in things that others do not understand and we are stricken off to one side. In its earliest days this could be said of those that had an interest in computers, but I am talking of darker things, at least for myself.

It started with the great myths, from the Greeks and older, it will be to no one's surprise that an interest in this from a young age ostracised me. It is simply not something that many in this day and age have an interest in. When all around are talking of sports and all you want to talk about is bygone stories. Well.

But there was something there, something that had such a great pull that I could not deny it for the affirmation of my peers. It is a terrible thing having to wait until University to find others who hold your interests and an even more terrible thing to find in University so much more that alienates you.

My family is middle class and nothing of note, neither is my upbringing. My parents were wonderful and doting, knowing how to reward and chastise a child. It was a happy life, I don't want you to think that all of this stems from some unhappy past. No. There are things, things between the descriptions of old stories that the imagination brings alive, there is a craving in some such as myself to know just how life was lived in times we can never experience. And there are deeper considerations of the wilder aspects of those cultures. Things that we now see as silly, foolhardy. Yes, they worshipped gods and believed in magic, but it was because they were primitive.

Except they weren't.

And that makes some of us wonder what truths they may have known that are now lost to us. It drove me; I should have been a novelist rather than a scientist with all the outlandish things I wished to know or concocted from what I read. And yet now it is clear I should have been a scientist not a novelist, for the things I have experienced tell me that there are real things beyond the realm of the entertainer, things that are scientific, but not known to science.

There are monsters out there.

But this is not me as I promised, I am getting away from myself, but there is not much else to tell. I should perhaps tell of who I was, where I was that led me into this.

Despite all that I have said up until now I actually became a chemist in University. I found a deep interest in it at school, the idea that Chemistry lay behind everything in the world. That and Maths, but Maths held an abstract charm where Chemistry was very real. Myths and legends or real life, everything came back to Chemistry; it is what drives us. It is the very substance of our brains. Or that is what I thought. I thought that the brain was merely chemical reactions, synapses firing, but since I met her I believe more in thought and knowledge; things outside those chemical reactions. Yes, reactions, for it could be that the chemicals and synapses in the brain fire not to make thought or decision, but as a product of thought and decision.

Ahh, but I am still not talking upon myself, maybe it is because 'myself' in terms of this story is the least important thing, perhaps it is that there can be no basis, no explanation other than laying down what happened.

That then is what I shall do.

{+}

It was Dr. Fozz as I have said, it was my communications with him that led her to me. He was always the expert in these thing, though of course, no one paid him much mind.

She had come from him and she had wanted to know what I knew before she went on. She was thorough like that, she was driven to know all that she could; driven to complete her goals. I resented it at first; that I was nothing more than a source of information, but then I understood what she seeked and knew that her impertinence was not from choice, but necessity.

She'd been in touch with two Agents, Wilde and d'Angelo already, but she was stopping by me first to find out what I knew. I should be honoured by that, I guess.

It's funny isn't it, that some of us get that one glimpse of things. We think that once we are in, that we are in forever, the artist that finally gets to release a single thinks they are now famous only to find that they are a one hit wonder and have to go back to a normal job. That's me. But that's OK when the other hits are those things I was told of just recently. What has made me tell of this now after so many years. I should get on and tell it then, shouldn't I?

I couldn't travel to London and so I found him instead, someone with an interest in the esoteric lore who had also read the Book of Jhendda. I needed to know a few things that would help put other things in context. I realise now that I was a fool to have such an interest in the stories of Cyclo the Wicked. I assumed then that he was fictitious, he may still be, but I have learnt that those stories I studied were not as much fantasy as I had at first thought. I shiver even now in my old age at the idea that Cyclo would find out about my interest and visit me.

Let me digress, yes I know you want the real story, but I want to tell this one story of Cyclo. It's hard to date anything because different stories talk of different ages in different tenses so that an older story tells of Cyclo in old age when a more recent story talks of his youth in the present tense.

This story tells of what are known by historians as his 'Travelling Years' when he was alleged to have travelled between Universes. There was a man with great knowledge on many things and though Cyclo was still travelling, still learning, he felt that he knew more than any other.

He found this man and they struck up a friendship, well a mutual admiration of knowledge, but it burned Cyclo that this man could argue against his points, could defeat him in philosophical debate. For most of what Cyclo could tell him he could add to that knowledge with information or new insight. Whenever Cyclo thought he had something that this man knew nothing on, the man would mention another fact or two and it made Cyclo seethe.

Cyclo spent days and nights trying to find something that the man did not understand, did not know, until after a week of wakefulness he fell into a long and peaceful sleep, knowing the one thing that he knew and the man did not.

The man came home from his job one evening to find his wife and two children dead in the house, their organs laid out on the floor in front of them and Cyclo sitting comfortably waiting for him. Cyclo spent a long time detailing exactly what he had done to each of them before he had begun taking out their organs while they were still alive. He detailed the process of keeping them alive for as long as possible. Alive and in pain, and as the man wept upon his knees, Cyclo left knowing that now he had taught the man something he did not know. True pain.

But as he reached the door the man called to him. Cyclo turned to see him holding a long knife and laughed at him.

"You will kill me now?" he mocked.

"You have done this to teach me something," the man said. "Something you knew but I did not."

"Turns out you don't know more than I," Cyclo gloated.

"That would have been true if you hadn't shown me. Now I still know more than you, you fool," the man said and slit his own throat.

There are reports of a man who fits Cyclo's description throughout the bars in town, sitting alone and drinking and a number of grisly murders before he was suspected and disappeared.

{+}

I had to leave it there, but now I am back and I should tell my own story. She was looking for information on a book, the Book of Ani. Well, I had never heard of it and she was disappointed, but not surprised. Instead she quizzed me on my knowledge of things and, I like to think, found me rather knowledgeable.

"I am in a terrible quandary," she said shaking her head.

"In what way?"

"You are not knowledgeable enough to be in danger."

"Oh," I said dejectedly.

"No. It's not like that, you are very knowledgeable, but they do not think you are enough to be a threat and that is a good thing. However, if I tell you things then you might put other things together until you are a target. But I need to tell you things so that you might be able to enlighten me," she shook her head again in frustration.

"A threat?"

"There are those that crave information and will stop any others from knowing the same things, lest they use it to stop them."

"But these are just legends, none of this is true," I said, but her face said differently. "Are they not?"

"I would not be here for mere stories," she said seriously.

"But how can they be true?"

She sighed.

"I'm sorry, I forget."

"Forget what?" I asked.

"That most do not believe."

I looked into her face, into her expression and her thoughts and I knew that she was serious. I knew too that she was not mad nor deluded and that meant that what she was saying was true. She had said that she didn't want to tell me 'things' lest I became a threat, did not want to enlighten me, but she had done so in just those words. Everything I had read and studied suddenly took on a new light. Everything I had read, true?

"Truth wrapped up in myths," I said.

"No," she shook her head. "Truth."

"But other Universes? The Outerfield? The Thither? Oh, Cyclo the Wicked? Surely no one as evil as he could exist in this Universe or any other."

"Yes, but also Cyclo's Bane. You must have heard of him if you have heard of Cyclo."

"I have," I replied weakly.

"Then you know that not all are evil."

"You know Cyclo's Bane?"

She laughed.

"I wish I could meet one such as he."

"So what does this mean?" I asked more to myself. "We have to start again."

"I am here to find a man who has a book, I need leads," she said.

"I can get in touch with Miskatonic University and ask. There are others, a bare few that might have heard of someone with a book."

"I doubt he will be looking for help understanding the book, more help in using that which is within it."

"What does he want with it?"

"I don't know for sure, but I believe that he will try to open a portal."

"A portal?"

"Yes," she nodded solemnly.

{+}

She left again to see her Agents and though she had urged me to be swift in my explorations, I had to stop and go back through my own knowledge in this new light. It just couldn't be so; that all I had studied was true. I mean wasn't that why I studied it? Because I believed there were truths to be learnt in those stories? I was not a student of literature, but of science, but had I ever really believed those stories to be true? Yes, I had believed that they had some truth in their basis, or at least some of them; the rest I had believed were stories that somehow illuminated the mind and society of those who told them.

So I had to start again, had to go back through books and notes and know, really know, what I was reading. It is a strange, perhaps the strangest of all, feelings when you start to try and believe fairy stories. Fairies were real, no they couldn't be, I've never seen one; no one has. Dragons are real, no, there is no proof of that; no giants, no goblins, nothing under the bed; no proof of any of it except the stories that everyone thought were made up. To find that fiction is fact; not a novel, but a handbook.

Here was a good example. A story from the planet of Sylvae about a great and evil snake called Nadanpha. Putting aside giant, evil snakes, Sylvae was supposed to be one of the four worlds that were linked by portals to each other and were once linked to Earth in the same way to form the Five Worlds. It's an incredibly old story and hard to pinpoint it's location, where Sylvae was in terms of modern geography. That was what I had believed to be, the splitting of Earth into areas or 'worlds', but now I had to try and consider that it was an actual other world and that it had once been reached through a portal here on Earth.

It was too much for me, my mind felt giddy and I put the book down and closed my eyes. It was all too much, all too much of a change in so short a time. You couldn't just jump into someone's life and turn it upside down like this, it wasn't fair. But then another thought came into my mind that made me open my eyes and pull the book towards me again. This woman had been sent to me because of my dealings with Dr. Fozz and that meant that he had gone through the same as I and had believed, though perhaps he had always believed. Still, it was not impossible to change the way you thought, not impossible to believe this impossible girl and her stories. I read on.

{+}

It happened and I accepted it, she became the investigator and I the researcher. She sent back regular emails and texts, long phone calls filled with any and all information she could glean and I in turn put it all together, cross referenced it with books and notes from my studies and tried to put together what this man was doing and where he might be. Even if she found him she would not move against him without a good working knowledge of what he was trying to do and how he was trying to do it. One thing nagged me though, something I had to speak of even though I feared the conversation. On one of the few occasions she came back I asked.

"What about Cyclo the Wicked?"

"What about him?"

"He's real?"

"As far as I'm aware, there are many stories about him," she replied pouring over a mind map I had put together.

"Is he still alive?"

She looked up at me.

"I couldn't know. Different Universes are at different times. In this Universe he could be long dead, or not yet born whilst still dealing wicked deeds in another."

"That seems confusing," I admitted.

"It is," she nodded and went back to her study.

"How do you know the stories are true?" I persisted and she looked back up at me.

"Because true stories have truth in them."

"But these stories have truth in them and I thought they were fiction."

"Because you didn't know any better."

"Then how do you know?" I pressed.

She smiled at me.

"Because I know better."

I said at the beginning that I am now certain that monsters walk this realm, but it has been, all these years, that monster that has not left my mind. That one known as the Wicked. I spoke to Dr. Fozz again, many years after these events, and he told me that in the Four Worlds many people did not have surnames; instead their description was their surname. How could it be that this man could be so evil that it was his one identifying trait?

Despite wanting to have nothing of what I had seen on that fateful day; despite the danger of knowledge, I continued to need to know more about this Cyclo, spent the rest of my life seeking all knowledge of him. Trying to understand the nature of evil.

I should tell you another story of him, it was my life's work hunting them down, after all. Most of the stories that I could find were set in the Four Worlds, but here is one that is not. A man, now widely considered to be Cyclo, appeared in a bar in the city of Delith in the country of Flagir. Now, it should be noted that no one knows how he could have travelled from the Four Worlds to this planet in another Universe and that has led many to question its veracity. On the other hand it is too like him and too widely and accurately portrayed as to make many believe it truth. Some say he can travel through the Outerfield due to his acquaintanceship with Nargel; still others believe he can somehow travel through the Thither.

Still, on with the story. Here he was, in this bar claiming that he had found a way to the Shores of Dawn. It was a strange claim in a strange place as it is widely documented that, at that time, belief in things such as the Righteous and the Shores of Dawn was low. Certainly no one in a working bar like that would have time for such fairy stories. But still he crowed about it as he sat at the bar and drank; telling how he had found the wreck of the Theotarkin, which meant nothing to anyone, though he got some interest in the talk of the treasure it held.

Still, though most were uninterested, many put off by the man himself, there were some that were bewitched by him and crowded around to hear what he had to say. He talked about a star map, about other universes and about wars, Gods and monsters and when those people went home that night they talked about it. They talked about it at work the next day and the next evening Cyclo was found in another bar saying the same things with the same results. A third evening found him in a third bar, this one more upper class, and so it went on.

The first impact that this talk had was a resurgence in interest for the Shores of Dawn and the like. People began questioning whether it was true or not. Why? Because enough people were talking about it. Things do not have to be true to be believed; if enough people are talking about something you will start to wonder; if enough believe in something, others will too believe. If something is said enough times it has to be true, does it not?

Well, in Delith there was a small but devout gathering of those who still believed and their leader was very happy to have all these people come to question him on the Shores of Dawn and what it meant to their lives. Of course he wanted to meet this man who said he knew a way and so it was that one evening the man, Kolos, entertained Cyclo in his home. Only one version of this story has dialogue between the two and it is widely held to be invented and so I will not bore you with it. Whatever was said was enough to impress Kolos and it wasn't long before both men were being entertained at the Lord Mayor's house at a dinner party.

I suppose you don't know of the Shores of Dawn. I don't know much either, I don't think anyone does. That doesn't stop it being the most enduring myth of all the Universes. I shouldn't say myth, it is not anymore impossible than other things that I have learnt. The thing is that no one has enough information on it, no one knows quite where it is, though some have said to have such knowledge. There were ships launched from the Tenth Kingdom, but considering the Kingdom fell and the whole solar system became lost to legend, it is assumed they did not make it. And there is the aforementioned Theotarkin. Some say that it was one of the ships that fled the Tenth Kingdom (some saying it was Lord Naylor's ship) while others say it came from a variety of different places. Strangely everyone seems to agree that the Theotarkin was wrecked even though there is no information to say it was. It just appears in writings as 'the wreck of the Theotarkin'.

I've got away from myself again. I'm not used to talking to other people, even through this missive.

You see, to find the Shores of Dawn would be a very good thing, I won't wander off into the legends, I am boring you enough with my ramblings, but the Shores of Dawn are said to be where all questions originate, where there is all goodness, all knowledge and therefore all power. To stand upon those shores is to conquer all.

Power is too tempting to powerful people.

They couldn't truly believe that Cyclo had done the impossible, but he had charm and a way with words and they couldn't pass up the opportunity. Just in case. And so he was feted because of his information, not just on the Shores of Dawn, but on many matters, and for his charm and eloquence. It is said that he was bedding the Mayor's beautiful wife even before the events that the story concerns. Not just her, but also Kolos' wife, perhaps both of them together. But he wasn't just tainting them, he was also leading young men astray with tales of freedom from rule. Teaching ideals of being free by doing what they wanted; what was good for them was good and they shouldn't worry of others.

What exactly would people do to know the secrets of the Shores of Dawn? It came down to a simple equation: what would you give to know?

Now, I should digress slightly to say that those who believe in these things do not believe that Cyclo had been to the Shores of Dawn, if he had he would have wielded that power, not be selling it. What he could tell them though was immense knowledge that he had gained from his travels all over the Universes and that was enough for them.

He played them against themselves. The rich and powerful wanted more and they were willing to sacrifice for it. He wheedled his way in and knew their desires, knew their weaknesses. What was a wife or husband compared to all that could be had? What was a child? And even more so, what were the poor? If he wanted a body, he got it. Trumped up charges were laid and people were taken, the rich did not care.

I will not recount the stories of what he allegedly did to those bodies, but you can already guess that rape and murder were involved.

The poorer classes were not ignored, however, they hated what was happening and there Cyclo was, back in the bars where he had started, telling them how they could have the power, that those that ruled them were willing to take all the power for themselves, even sacrificing their people for it. Of course this was not what Cyclo wanted and he hated them for it and the people rallied behind him.

I should say, as I have been amiss in doing so, that those that did go missing, those that were tried for made-up crimes, included those that might speak out against Cyclo, might challenge him.

I should end this story as it is not the one I am supposed to be telling. In the end the town ripped itself apart in revolution, the whole country did, but there was no sign of Cyclo once it began.

{+}

Here it seems pertinent to write up my notes as they were taken.

It has been a long while since I wrote in my journal as I have been kept ever so busy. I, I of all people, made a breakthrough. I cannot keep it as all my own as it came from what they were finding in the field and now I find myself in that very field. Far north of the United States, close to Canada (if anyone can know out here where one ends and the other begins). I do not wish to be here, I make that known only to this journal, but I was called after my breakthrough.

We are in the deep forest and there has been a small camp set up. The Agents are here and they seem as happy to be camping as I am. I have tried conversation with them, but they prefer to keep to themselves, as does she. Therefore I am stuck in my tent writing this, wondering what tomorrow will hold. The one thing the Agents have said to me, I don't know if it was Wilde or d'Angelo, was to get a good night's sleep, that I would need it.

It is early in the morning and the sun is shining through the trees, though not yet enough to be warm. The Agents have got a good fire going and are cooking up a breakfast. She is away in the trees and I am sitting outside the flaps of my tent writing this. I cannot but tell of the striking beauty of the place, the clean air and light, warm breeze. Even the breakfast smells good, though the Agents argue about the best way to make it.

Today we will go to where I think we should and I have already gone over all of my notes, making sure that I am correct. I still am unsure, but that may be due to my uncomfort at being away from my books and study.

Here I need to break away from my notes to tell of what it was that I had found. I mentioned earlier a place in London, England where there was a, how best to say it? A thinness in reality that let a beast, a Thing, pass between realms. I think I have found one here in the endless forests that span the North of the USA and into Canada. There are stories from around here that do not fit into modern science; stories that fit into ghost stories told around a camp such as this. I would not have found them if it was not for information that the Agents had turned up. The ins and outs are dull and procedural and I will not note them here, but I will go back to my notes of that day.

As we ate, the Agents asked me if I believed all of this. I told them that I studied a lot of it, but had never thought any of it to be real. They seemed surprised that it was available for study and I had to explain that it was not, that there were few people and books from which to read on such things and that many of those texts were taken to be fiction.

"Like finding out Hansel and Gretel was a police report," d'Angelo joked.

I had to agree with him. I asked what they thought and there was a good amount of time where they pulled faces. It was obvious that they had become ensnared in all this, but did not want to believe that it was true. They told me how they had gotten involved, but I wanted to know why they had stayed on, why they had followed her out to this wilderness. Once again they seemed to be without answer, or perhaps without an answer they wished to give.

Instead they began to recall cases they had investigated; it was almost pleasant for them as they recalled 'normal' human evils and I did not judge them on it, well aware that they were trying to come to grips with this new evil; this evil beyond 'normal' human ability. It was a way of bracing themselves for what could be to come, but also for me. Letting me get a taste of what man was capable of, the disgusting things people do for a sadly variety of reasons. Then they wanted to know what I knew, wanted first hand an understanding of the things I had researched and it was not until they began on lunch (with even more discussion on how best to cook) that she returned and conversation stopped.

It was in that afternoon that I wrote down those notes as we were to wait so that we could go to the area I had found at dusk. I have been amiss, I have not told why we were there. What I had found. I have said above that there was an area that seemed to be 'thin' in terms of the wall between our dimension and what she referred to as the Outerfield. There were stories stretching back centuries from campers and hunters; trappers and loggers, of things or a thing that walked amongst the trees. Once again they were hard to find as they were viewed as old ghost stories; no not that, it was that they were too horrific to be told. Tales of Bigfoot were all well and good because they harmed nobody. Everyone likes a ghost story if they can believe it is just that, a story. No one wants to hear truly horrific tales that have too much of a truth about them. People want to hear ghost stories, but do not want to hear police reports of what men and women actually do to each other or, worse still, their children.

The tales, I should say, of the area we camped in went back to the time of first settlement of the area and there are more tales that come from the native peoples of this area. To recount them would take a book in itself and the variety might cloud that which I am writing to tell. Therefore I will not tell of them, but I will go back to my notes of that day, or rather the following day when I scribbled down all that I had seen.

It was not what we thought, if we could ever have thought such things. I am still struggling in both my heart and mind to be able to say exactly what it was, so let me say what I realise now was what I thought.

I thought this man was using this book to create a portal, she had said as much, and I thought that this 'thin' part of reality would be where he would try to do it. This, I realise now, was a great misunderstanding of how and what portals are. Yes, it was not an attempt to use the book to open a portal, but a meeting, a conversation between this man and the thing that haunted those trees.

I said earlier that the two Agents told me of cases they had investigated, I said that it was almost a balm, a way of building up a thick skin against these new horrors and so I will begin with the horrors of man that we came across. It was a clearing in the forest, a place where the ground was sandy and devoid of nutrition, an area where the plants and trees seemed not to be able to, perhaps not want to, grow. Metal poles had been erected in a circle and each one held a body, but even worse to my senses, every other one had been set alight to make torches. The smell was sickening, but I cannot remember smelling it for long, as if my senses shut down, or that my brain was so assaulted by the images before me that it no longer bothered with smell.

In the middle was the man with his book in hand and before him was a beast. Are there words to truly describe it? No, but I do my best, for no other reason than to try and rid it from my mind. It was grotesque and I cannot help but think on how we have misused our language so that such words no longer hold the impact of their original meaning. A long neck that was shaped like an S and at the end of it a head that looked like a bird's, but in that terrible firelight it did not seem to be a beak, but the shape of it's face. It's upper torso was emaciated, but it's belly was fat and it had long, powerful legs that ended with large, flat feet. It's arms, in contrast, were short giving the brief image of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

There was no plan, none of us expected this and she ran for the man and his book. Everything happened quickly, but seemed to be in slow motion. The beast turned to look at us and in an instant it was gone, the man turned and fled into the trees and she gave chase leaving us useless to do anything. The Agents were much better than I and scoured the area for clues, despite the horrendous nature of our lighting. I sank back into the trees, wishing there was some source of water. It was from there that I watched the Agents take down the unlit bodies, but they had to leave the others for fear of starting a forest fire.

We went back to our camp to wait one more day, but she has of yet not returned. Did she get him and leave or is she still chasing him? We cannot know.

She did not come back and we were forced to leave due to food, water and the fact that the Agents had to work. I do not think the Agents slept at night, tortured by their inability to do anything; I know I did not and am still awakened by my dreams of that night.

I never saw her again and I only saw the Agents once more. Come to tell me that they had met him and that he wished to meet his biggest fan. I can only hope that I die before that day.
THE BOOKSHOP

Agents d'Angelo and Wilde walked into the second-hand bookstore to be met with dust. It idled through the sunbeams that just managed to get through the grimy windows and disappeared from view as they walked, single-file, between the tightly crammed bookcases.

The books looked old, variations of faded brown, greys and the other cracked leather, and as if they had sat on those shelves for a very long time. Wilde wondered how a shop like this managed to stay open, but as he did so he noticed a dust-free gap in one shelf. A recent purchase.

"Someone shops here," Wilde nodded to the gap as they passed.

"Some of us like to read and study," d'Angelo answered.

"Some of us have sports to watch."

They made their way to the back to find a counter blocking their entrance to the back of the shop. All they could see was a doorway, either side of which were shelves containing old records.

"Old," Wilde commented as his partner stood beside him.

"Your modern fads will never catch on," d'Angelo said before hitting the bell on the counter.

After a minute of waiting an elderly man came through the door and walked all the way to the counter, resting his hands upon it, before greeting them.

"This may seem like an odd request, but we're looking for a book."

"Doesn't seem odd in a bookshop," the man commented.

"He's a smart cookie, this one," Wilde grinned.

"The odd part," d'Angelo continued, "is that we're looking for either a book called 'The Transcendental Dream Journeys of Coderhone and the Wisdom There Of'."

"Or a book about the book," Wilde finished.

"I see," the man looked at them closely. "It is an odd ask."

"We were told you might have a book that mentions it, maybe an extract?" d'Angelo said.

"I don't have the book, never heard of anyone that did. Well, I have heard of people that had it, but no one can prove it."

"You know anything about it?"

"I've heard talk. A Warlord who went to another plane or planes, maybe other Universes, in his dreams and believed he had been taught great truths by a god-like being."

"About what we heard," Wilde shrugged.

"Did your source mention it is not from Earth?" he raised his eyebrows.

"You mean Mars?" Wilde asked.

"You are not serious," the man frowned.

D'Angelo pulled out his ID.

"We are serious. You mean that this Coderhone was from a different Universe and that he probably travelled in the Outerfield."

"I am impressed, Agent d'Angelo," the man smiled.

"It's been a weird year."

"Why do you want the book?"

"We're not here to share," Wilde told him.

"OK, OK," the man held up his palms.

"We can't," Wilde said softening his tone.

"No, I guess not. Wrapped up in some mysterious things if you're asking about such books," the man mused.

"So?" d'Angelo asked.

"So as I said, I don't have the book, but, yes, I might still have a book or two that mentions it. I need to look."

The old man reached under the counter and pulled out a large, thick ledger and opened it. He started to flick through the pages. As he did so d'Angelo walked back to the shelves of books and had a look while Wilde looked at the records and hummed a tune before he started singing the lyrics quietly to himself.

"What is that?" the old man barked suddenly.

D'Angelo raced back to find the old man staring at his startled partner.

"What?" d'Angelo asked.

"What were you singing?" the old man insisted.

"Alright, old man, calm down," Wilde said.

"Where did you hear it? Sing it again," the old man insisted.

"Er, I dunno, I think I heard it out on the street as we walked here," Wilde said, still flummoxed by the old man's fire.

"Sing it again," he demanded.

"How did it go?" he thought for a second, hummed it and then sang:

'Wibbaliwoo,

Who's the Wibbaliwoo?

Are you the Wibbaliwoo?

The wibberly, wobberly, bibberly, bobberly

Boo!'

"Yeah, I think some kids were skipping rope and singing it," d'Angelo said.

"Are you alright, old man?" Wilde asked.

The old man had gone very pale and his hands trembled on the pages of his ledger.

"Calm yourself, man, what is it? It's just a kid's song," d'Angelo said.

"No," he shook his head and gripped the counter to steady his hands. "Not just a song."

"What is it then," Wilde asked.

"The Wibbaliwoo?"

"Seems like a silly name to me," Wilde said looking at his partner.

"Maybe so. Childish even. That's what it is these days, a story to scare children. The Wibbaliwoo will get you."

"You're not making much sense," d'Angelo said.

"The Wibbaliwoo. A monster most foul, born in the Forest of Gu from rape and hatred. The pet of he that some call King. They say that he tore the mind from Gover and placed it inside so that the monster could never reconcile it's base nature with it's higher intellect. That it could understand all things and was driven mad by it. Some say that it was mad already."

"Doesn't sound good," Wilde said and d'Angelo nodded.

"Some say that the great king Gylar defeated and chained it, others that it was the Righteous Himself that was the only person who could do it. Chained in the Outerfield it enters people's nightmares and feeds on their very souls. Making them do terrible things before they are empty shells and it is sated."

"Doesn't sound like something kids would sing about," Wilde shrugged.

"No. Just a story now. Be good, go to bed, or the Wibbaliwoo will get you," the old man said.

"So why so scared?" d'Angelo asked.

"Because it is not a song nor myth known on this world," the man said.

Wilde pulled his gun and looked back down the space between the shelves, back towards the door.

"That won't help you," the old man scorned.

"Special bullets," Wilde said without looking back.

"We need what you have on that book," d'Angelo urged. The fear was dripping within the shop.

"Yes, yes."

The old man began flicking back through his ledger.

"Here. That shelf, second shelf up, fourth book along."

D'Angelo went and retrieved the book as the old man instructed him to get three others.

"Now some on the Wibbaliwoo, yes?"

He continued to instruct d'Angelo until there was a pile on the counter.

"Nothing happ'ning?" d'Angelo asked.

"Nothing happ'ning," Wilde acknowledged.

"We'll buy these then," d'Angelo said.

"No, no. Taking them away would be dangerous. Come back tomorrow morning, early. Read them here, I can help you understand them."

He walked them to the front door.

"Here is a key to get in in the morning," he said holding a key out to d'Angelo.

"I don't think..."

"Yes, yes, but I don't want to open, better that you let yourselves in."

"Alright, come on," Wilde said impatiently.

His partner thought he might be more spooked than he was letting on. Spooked by that song and when and where he might have heard it. Nothing was normal anymore.

  SHAPE \\* MERGEFORMAT

They let themselves in early the next morning as they had to be away by noon. The shop was quiet and d'Angelo was immediately on edge. It had that still vibe, the vibe of a place devoid of life. That wasn't an issue, he didn't expect the owner to be there so early, but he always tensed in places that felt different from what he either expected or was used to. But it wasn't that this time, he looked back at his partner and he knew Wilde felt it to, that unnatural stillness, that lack of life where life should be.

He pulled his gun and Wilde did the same as they went between the bookcases and came to the counter at the same time. He looked at Wilde who gave a little shake of his head. He nodded to where the counter could be lifted up and Wilde went over to it as he kept his gun trained on the doorway behind the counter.

Wilde moved slowly to the door, gun first and looked through. There was a short corridor with a door on either side and an open door at the back. He slowly opened the door on the left to find it a storage cupboard filled with cleaning equipment. Now d'Angelo was behind him and he nodded to the other door before moving down the corridor to the open door at the end. It was an empty kitchen that had a microwave, fridge/freezer, sink, toaster and a door out to the back. Wilde walked to the sink and looked out the window to a tiny yard that only held two bins.

"Wilde," d'Angelo called.

He walked back and looked in the door. It was a lounge area or maybe a reading room. It had two armchairs with side tables and a sofa. The side tables each held a couple of books from the shop and the sofa held the dead body of the old man.

"Dead," d'Angelo said. "Looks like natural causes."

"Looks like," Wilde said with a sneer.

He looked at the spines of the books on the tables, but none of them offered a clue as to whether they were books for them or not.

"What do they say?"

"Nothing that means anything to me," Wilde replied.

He picked up the top book and flicked through to the contents. It seemed to be a book on Native American Flora.

"I don't think this is for us."

"They're onto us," d'Angelo said.

"Maybe. Maybe just onto him."

"Left him alone as his death might bring attention to his books; killed him as soon as he started talking," d'Angelo nodded.

"What do you think did it?"

"Looks like a heart attack."

"It'll go down as natural causes. Smart," Wilde ironicalised. "You don't think..."

"No."

"But he said it got into your dreams."

"I don't want to think about it, man, I want to sleep at night."

"Yeah, I guess."

He didn't want to think about it, he didn't like thinking too hard. You couldn't, not seeing the things you saw in this line of work. You couldn't take it home, 'less you were a strong man or woman. Someone like his partner. He thought in clues and motives, what he had to to catch the criminal he was chasing, but outside of that he didn't want to think too hard. Didn't want to think of beasts that came to you in your dreams and ate your soul. Didn't even want to think about whether he had a soul or not. What if he did? That would change everything, every aspect of his life.

"Records," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"The records."

He was out of the room and d'Angelo had to chase him until they were both standing on the other side of the counter again.

"The records," Wilde said.

"Aren't records," d'Angelo realised.

On the left side of the door, where there had been records were now books. The books in the reading room were a bluff. The old man knew they would notice, but anyone else wouldn't know. He'd put the books there, and others judging by the number. He'd stayed up late and fetched all the books they would need before collapsing into sleep on the couch.

"He knew," d'Angelo said sadly.

"I don't want to think about it."

"But he did, man. He got it all sorted before he slept because he knew he might not wake up."

"I said I don't want to think about it," Wilde exploded. "I'm sorry," he said meekly.

"It's alright, man."

"We're losing here."

"We're not."

"We are. We need her back."

"That's not going to happen."

"How do you know?"

"I dunno, I feel it, don't you?"

"Yeah," Wilde said dejectedly. "You wanna look through these books?"

"Not especially," d'Angelo admitted.

"But we're gonna."

"Yeah. Yeah, we are."

D'Angelo walked around and started pulling the books out and putting them on the counter. As he did so a piece of paper fell to the ground. He picked it up.

"What's that?"

D'Angelo read it and then passed it over to Wilde.

It read thusly:

"The song you sang, Agent Wilde. What does it mean? Or should I say, what does it ask? Who is the Wibbaliwoo? Well I told you that much, but the next line asks, 'Are you the Wibbaliwoo?'. What does this suggest? That we all have the ability to be it?

I told you that it gets to you in your dreams, makes you do terrible things. That means anyone unless you are strong, unless you are protected. You must be strong, you must believe in what you do and the goodness of it.

And you must know. There is more to all this than books and monsters and knowledge is your best protection."

"What does it mean?" Wilde asked his partner.

"It means we need to read these books."
Extracts from the BOOKS d'ANGELO READ
1.

Tales of Actaeon

It sounds foolish, I know, but I fear for my life. Just two scraps of information and I feel I know too much. You will laugh at me I know, if you read this, for you do not know the nights I have stayed awake listening to the wind beating against my room. I am, I know, a fool, but I still feel the need to write of these two things that I know. Get at least this down before I search further. I have heard of the Library even if you have not and I know that there are those that search for information that was held in it or information that would have been held in it. Does that make sense? If you do not know then know that there was a library that held all knowledge and that knowledge was dispersed so that no one could use it. Knowledge of all the Universes. Yes, Universes. I do not think these stories were in the Library, but I think they would have been if it was still concurrent.

Concurrent?

Who can know? The Universes work at different times. For all I know it is still one, or has been remade, I know that there are those that wish it to be.

This is apart from that which I wish to write down, damned be my scholarly training, why can't I get to the point? I have information of Blagdon. He that followed the one they call King. He that searched for the Library, looked for the information that it once held. He knew something that others did not, he discovered a truth that others knew not. Damn myself once again, why even write these words? But please do not damn me. I wish not to be damned, but I fear that I damn myself by continuing this study. Let me write what I already know.

I came across an account from a prisoner and it was nothing in itself had I not come across another only two years later.

This is the first, from a prisoner in New Tannock Prison:

"I think I will be safe here, I write because I can't stand the thoughts in my head. I don't sleep because of them and when I do sleep I have the most terrible nightmares. Maybe writing all this down will assuage my guilt.

Is it my guilt? Did I know? Yes and no and it doesn't matter. He comes for me and so I hide in this prison. No one escapes from here, surely he cannot reach me here. Surely? My insomnia and nightmares tell me that that is not true and I have trapped myself. I willingly gave up the suitcase for this sanctuary and now I wish I had not. I wonder who has it now and what worlds they roam through it.

Is this how a traveller feels when they finally settle down with a family? Willingly giving up their freedom and then wishing they had not so fast. Held not by bars, but by the children they have spawned? But of course children are a blessing and I have done nothing to bless anyone, nor bring it upon myself. If I had only known about him then I could give that information freely, but I had to indulge. I had to be seduced by him.

Seduced?

I mock myself. What I did I wanted to do and I would have no regrets if he wasn't chasing Blagdon. There I said his name. I fell under Blagdon's spell and I did things willingly, but I was left hung out to dry as Actaeon came after him. Of course he was not to be found, but I was.

It all came down to one question, but that doesn't matter now, does it? What matters now is the retribution. He is on a Quest and he won't stop until it is done. I've looked, I've read, oh, knowledge is a terrible thing. They didn't know who he was, those fools. All of the Ten Kingdoms, for all their glory, they never knew anything else other than their own splendour. They never travelled to the Port, let alone beyond, they didn't know whom they sent.

He was watching, Actaeon, watching the Kingdoms, I'm sure of that now. Waiting for what they attracted. Like a beast to a trap. The eternal hunter and I can only be thankful that I was too small a trophy for him to bother with at the time. But now? Now he will wish to know what I know, what terrible knowledge I hold. No. He will want to know what I know of Blagdon. The trail will have gone cold and he will turn his attentions upon me. I have done evil and he will wish to punish me for it.

The inmates here ignore me. They showed me interest as a new inmate, but never did anything. I think it is my eyes, I think they show the horrors I have seen and done, or perhaps they show my lack of a soul. The other inmates turned from me in disgust and now simply ignore me. But this means I hear things, like the plans for a riot, some kind of escape attempt. I want to stop it, but I know not how. I know that it is a too perfect opportunity for him to come and find me. No one breaks out of this prison, but I now understand that Actaeon will break in, nothing would come between him and his quarry.

I would like to now say that I am sorry for what I did, but I cannot bring myself to do so. I am not sorry that I did them, I am sorry that I was caught. I'm sorry that I learned enough to make myself a target. What did I learn? That evil rises from the ashes of the Ten Kingdoms. Yes, in this Universe they are already no more, though it is strange and fascinating that they exist at all, across multiple Universes.

I killed a girl, not more than twenty years of age, a pretty thing she was. Not the first, I had already had to prove myself to Blagdon through blood, but this was different. This was ritual, divining. He had to share with me in order for it to work, the stretching out into the dark spaces between the Universes. The timeless horrors that await there; the tortuous prisons that some inhabit, the dank gloom that others roam free within. It was not these that he looked for though, not evil, but good. Stretching out to find those that might harm him and his plans. Running from one hunter, he did not want to run upon another.

I know now why he had me do it rather than himself, for when you look you can be seen. It was how Actaeon found me and I wonder who else might have seen me, it is this unknown that keeps me awake at night more than the one who I know hunts me."

This is all that the man wrote. I know not of his fate, I know not who he was nor where this New Tannock is. I only know the name because he mentions it in his opening address that I have not copied here. These two facts, without the content, would make me think it was fabricated, or at least unusable. The ravings of a madman, who else would talk about seeing into the space between Universes? But then there was this second piece that I came across:

"Of course, you have to wonder whether Actaeon knew or not. I, for myself, believe he did. But that raises bigger questions as to what he really hunted. Blagdon found his fate betwixt the Universes, in the very place that he sought and surely someone such as Actaeon knew he would. But then why bother to chase him? Scoundrels find solace in evil as heroes find solace in goodness, but there is a difference. For evil does not impart rewards, but rather strips a person of their flesh and soul for its own greed and desire. A good person knows that another good person will treat them with goodness, surely evil people know that other evil people will treat them in kind? It seems not. If the Forest of Gu has a bosom then it's milk does not nourish, but poisons.

Here is the second snippet, recounted in an essay on something called the Thither (I should say that the essay itself was a part of a more pedestrian essay on myth and religion):

"There was a man who walked the Corsabaird Plain to know the truth of desolation and another joined him.

"What is it that you seek here?" the other asked.

"Desolation," the man answered.

"Surely that is all you find in a heart."

"I pity you if you think that way," the man frowned.

"Then you will not find desolation here," the other replied.

"You make your home here?"

"Not at all; that home is for those with hope. Hope, I have none."

"You are a fool," the man said

"It is you who is the fool if you think there is anything other than desolation at the end."

The man shook his head.

"You have not looked deep enough."

"Hope gives way to despair; that is the way of time," the other told him.

"Time moves freely of man and woman; as it still moves towards a tomorrow there is always hope."

"Do you think such hope motivated Actaeon or Blagdon in their long chase?" the other asked. "What became of them we all know."

"Blagdon met his demise here between the Universes. He searched for evil and he found it."

"Is that what he hoped for?" the other asked.

"It is and it is not. Evil holds a false promise."

"Very well," the other nodded. "And what does desolation hold?"

"Determination."

"You are wrong."

"Determination leads to hope," the man said.

"How so?"

"It is what drove Actaeon. The knowledge and spurning of desolation."

"It did not help him in the end," the other man noted with a shake of his head.

"You are wrong. He finished that which he started."

"The Shores of Dawn are still untreaden," the other said.

"Of this you know?" the man asked looking at his companion.

He had to smile.

"If I had seen them for myself then I would not be here."

"Perhaps. And perhaps not," the man said. "If Blagdon met his end finding that which he seeked; is it not true also for Actaeon?"

"No. For you still have hope.""

It's not much, but it is said to be a conversation between two great legends, one of which is said to be Actaeon, the other changes (I am told by the one expert I could find), but is usually attributed to a Corinnossi. It's import, other than their meeting on this Plain (I know not where it is) is in it's suggestion that the known death of Actaeon is not true. That he survived, or perhaps engineered the whole thing.

It is, I am told, dangerous knowledge.
2.

A Missive by an Unknown Hand

Dearest Galena,

I write to tell you of the most fabulous story from a few nights ago. Knowing your penchant for all things horrific and spooky, I thought I should share it with you.

I met a battered old soul in the local drinkery where I go for my weekly quiz. We did shockingly as usual, though I got a good number of questions correct. Hannnerry was there and sends his regards and hopes that he might see you the next time you visit. Still, I am getting away from the juiciness. He was such an interesting looking fellow that I had to say a greeting to him, quite rudely took a chair at his table (you know how I am) and enquired of his wellbeing. He was surprisingly good natured about it, I had taken him for being a gruff trucker type, though he was none to impressed with my choice of beverage (a double Moll's, of course).

"You don't look like the normal clientele for this place," says I.

"Do you?" he asks.

"I suppose so."

"Then no, I don't," he says and I chuckle.

He liked that, my laugh. He smiled at it and you could almost hear the muscles creak from lack of use. He asks me what I do and I tell him, a little sheepishly if I'm honest, but he nods and takes a drink. Tells me he enjoys the theatre though hasn't been in a long time.

"You done Agrarigus?" he asks.

"I played Jamone," I say and he nods and takes a drink.

Well, we talk about the play for a while, he is very astute, but that is not what I am writing to you about, now is it? So I end up asking what he does and he goes all coy on me, but I coax him; I have a way with words as you know.

I can't say I believe a word of it, or, if I'm serious for once in my life, I don't want to believe a word of it. So let me tell you about it already, I can picture you now, getting cross with my endless rambling, wanting to skip down the page, but not wanting to miss a single word.

He's a sort of bounty hunter, but he's been tracking one man almost his whole life. Can you imagine that? Well, I couldn't either, the world isn't that big, but oh no, not across the world, but the whole galaxy. Can you imagine that? Not solar system, but galaxy. I haven't even been to Chartree! I know! Shame on me. Still, I bet you think this man is mad, a crazy old fool and I can say nothing to dispel that from your mind other than that I believed him. His eyes didn't lie, if I'm allowed a little dramatics and you know I am.

So who has he been chasing and what had this person done? Well, before he told me his story he looked at me as if I were a child and he was trying to think of a way of explaining that I would understand.

Once there was an evil King who was imprisoned though no one really knew where. He still had many followers and they brought more to their cause over the years. That's how he told me. Anyway he has been chasing this man, Cannadine, who was an acolyte of a person called Blagdon. Acolyte, that was the word he used, honestly he talked like he was from a Ligfear play. This Cannadine raised a group of followers to his cause. They killed a whole village. It sounds like the start of one of those horror films you like to watch.

I told him I would have heard of it and he said:

"Happened in Freeoi, that's on Colbin." I looked at him blankly. "That's a planet, five solar systems from here," he said matter-of-factly.

Five! Five solar systems from here. I told you it was a fabulous story, in the real sense of the word. Well, this killing didn't go unnoticed, how could it? But I'm not talking about the police, no, I mean this man and his friends. Oh, yes, there are more of them, a little bounty hunting gang, all sworn to stop the followers of this evil king.

Well he was on the trail, but he was too late to stop this Cannadine from killing again. This time it was a family, but he took the Father. He thinks that he convinced the Father to kill his family and join him, but this Father was found murdered in the most grisly (that's all he'd say in detail) way some days later. Always was this bounty hunter behind, I should say that we never introduced ourselves to each other, strange I know, but it didn't seem necessary at the time.

They were crafty and clever, these followers of the king, they took it slow and steady, they were not rash and that made them hard to track. His face was sad when he told me that he could only hope for another ritual murder to give him fresh clues and hope that he was close enough for it to lead anywhere. But the galaxy, you see, according to him anyway, is rather big. The only other thing he could do was hunt out books. Not just any books, but ones that came from a specific library. The Library, he called it. That was what they were all looking for, though he didn't say who these 'all' were.

I feel rather pleased at my life's persuasion hearing from him that it is books and words that are the most important, most powerful things in the galaxy. Universe he said, but that's getting too big for my liking.

Anyway, one such book is the centre of my story to you, has it taken me this long to get to it? Are you surprised it has? Corinnossi's Pilgrimage, that was the book (did I spell it right? I guess you wouldn't know!) and it was a famous book. No one had a copy, just copies of some of it. Let me do my best to recount his story with as few 'me-isms' in it as possible:

Corinnossi had a vision, or so it is said, while living in a hut on the shores of the Xufy Lake. Where it meets the Balaveev River and the fishing is the best (he assured me that at least was true). He saw people on fire, screaming as they ran and fell; engulfed by the flames. And he saw a man in the midst of them holding a torch and laughing. Then he was in a hall filled with dead men and amongst them were bound and raped women and again the same man in their midst. The children, he would not speak on them. It was these women, he knew, that would then be set alight, but his vision jumped to a pool, fed by a waterfall in a serene jungle and he fancied that he would bathe in it. As he reached the edge and looked in he saw that it was full of the dead; both people and animal. It was then that he noticed a woman at the top of the waterfall weeping into the water. And then he was standing next to her.

"You weep for your dead. How did this happen?" he asked and she looked up at him from her knees.

"No, Sir. It is my weeping that has drowned them."

"What horror could make you weep such?" Corinnossi asked.

It is not recorded what she said to him, but the very next day he was in the town of Erindani just an hour after the famous massacre. He walked through the streets littered with men who had had the muscle flayed from their arms and women who had their wombs pulled out through their birth canals. The strength of each destroyed. No reason nor clue as to why, only the single brand:

And the footprints in the mud.

For a while there he was known as the 'Mournful Ghost' as he kept appearing after great tragedies. And then he disappeared for good out of records. At least in that Universe. It was here that he was walking the Mountain Jungle of Mangadascra. A vast tract of land that was still not (according to my story teller) completely mapped and holds many secrets only guessed at.

He turns up in writing again by an exploration team. The writings up to this part are full of excitement that they are venturing into parts of the jungle no one has ever set foot in. They are finding new species with every footfall until they come across a man. 'Wandering with purpose' is the description along with one that fits Corinnossi. They admit in their report that they are somewhat upset that not only had someone beat them to it, but he didn't seem that bothered by the whole thing. He casually described ancient ruins that he had stayed in that no one had seen or even heard of for a thousand years. He showed them it, he seemed in no hurry (though the reports repeatedly describe him as 'antsy' and preoccupied) and it was later confirmed to be the Lost City of Taranscrad. He wandered off and the writings don't bother with him, rather with their 'find'.

I should tell you, because I know you love such gruesome things, that those writings were found along with the shredded bodies of the original exploration team. They had radioed a second team to come and help so they were found before they had completely rotted and it seemed as if something had eaten their organs, but left the flesh. Needless to say that Taranscrad has yet to be explored, even to this day.

There is a mention of someone that fits his description in an account of the passenger list of people transported off of a planet during something called the Laikan War. He is described as he caused a scene. Refused to leave the planet of Dwituf Minor, insisting that he needed to get to the planet of Callevetto.

"He never made it, at least according to records," he tells me.

"Not much of a pilgrimage," I say all cocky.

"I haven't the time and you haven't the inclination," he says back. "The Wolrendad, Lazanbruk, Pelegrey Fields. You don't understand their importance nor the sequence. The path he was following. To the Shores."

"Then why tell me all of this?" I ask a little annoyed, I must admit.

"Because in he walks now," he nodded to the door.

"Corinnossi? But how is that possible?" I ask somewhat, I must tell you, aghast.

My weathered friend cares not though. He is standing.

"Cannadine?" he roars.

A man is walking with intent through the bar, obviously towards the man at the door. They both pull weapons, but it is Cannadine that falls. I manage to pull my eyes away long enough to see the other man (Corinnossi?) flee back out of the door. I saw his face, just briefly, but it was enough. Enough to feel that I had seen him before. Perhaps in the bar? That seems strange doesn't it? Well, it's all rather strange, but... well let me finish the story.

My friend sits back down.

"How?" I ask. "How is that possible? Was that...?"

"It was."

"But it can't be," I protest.

"I knew he'd be here," he says and there's pain in his breath. He's clutching his side.

"How?"

He fumbles in his bag and pulls out a book enough for me to read the spine: 'The Pilgrimage of Corinnossi'.

"The Universe? Time? More than we can understand. Now," he holds up a hand and it drips with blood. "My work is finally done. Another drink?"

"You need a physician," I said with horror.

"Perhaps so. Perhaps so."

I got up to the bar where people were shouting and crowding around the dead body. It seemed that no one realised where the shot had come from as no one had come to me or my evening's partner. I tried to get them to listen, but the men were all drunkenly insisting on the right course of action (all wrong) and theorising on what had happened and why, while the bar staff tried to get some kind of order and find out who the man was. In the time I stood there not one of them even checked to make sure the man was actually dead.

I gave up hope, surely I'd only been there a few seconds, but when I turned around the man was gone.

There! I told you it was fabulous and gruesome, didn't I? What a twist, I bet you think I'm making it up, and I can only swear to Hrbula that I'm not, (though you know I don't believe in such things) I had to tell you, not only because I knew you'd simply love it, but because I had to tell someone. Had to get it all off of my chest. It's all I've thought of, I can tell you. Even went back and tried to find this man, thought there might be a trail of blood like in "The Candid Murder" (there wasn't).

I will try and come and visit you soon as I am considering an extended holiday; I have money saved. All he spoke of, surely it can't be true? Other solar systems, galaxies? Other Universes? Whether it be or not it just reminded me of how little I have seen of our solar system. I should go now, while I am still young.

I will be in touch.
3.

Article from the Karzak Daily News (On the Failure of the Trontime Accord)

ASSASINATION PUTS ACCORD ON ICE

Today the controversial Trontime Accord has had another blow with the assassination of businessman Huvil Frojell.

Shayton Nargle missing and wanted by authorities in connection.

Two divisive and controversial figures in a controversial deal.

"At this time we just want to talk to Mr. Nargle, there is no connection between him and the murder," Chief Watchmen tells press.

Let's start with the basics of this sordid tale and look at what is the Accord and who was involved.

The Accord was a deal being set up to open up trade between the Ten Kingdoms and the Port of Karzak and, indeed beyond. The Ten Kingdoms do trade with the Port, but it is very restrictive and weighted heavily in favour of the reclusive Kingdoms.

The deal would see a two-fold change. It would allow traders and visitors to travel on from the Port and into the Kingdoms (though with no trade allowed within the Kingdoms at the present draft) and it would form an overall governing for the Kingdoms for this capacity.

Most of the opposition for the Accord came from the Kingdoms, arguing that giving the Ten Kingdoms over to centralised rule would harm each planet's culture, especially if said ruling body was more interested in outside trade. They have a point of course, there are still those that rue the direction the Kipline system took.

There are those for the Accord within the Kingdoms, wishing to become linked to other systems, to move forward rather than be stuck in tradition. These voices argue of all the good things the Kingdoms could have from other places. Look at what they have achieved on their own, what more could they achieve by embracing the learning and cultures of other places? Though such cries are falling mainly on deaf ears.

What is it then that others want so badly from the Kingdoms? What do they have to offer? Well, tourism is a big one, not least for this Port. The number of people who would want to visit both the ancient and modern sites of this closed realm would be staggering and would make a number of people very rich. Again not least in this Port as the key place of ingress.

There is also the case of minerals and ores, remembering that the Ten Kingdoms are not the only planets in the system, not even counting the moons and asteroids. But then, as you have surely heard, at least in rumour, is their connection to the Shores of Dawn. Now I tread into tabloid territory here, all salacious rumour and myth, but I am willing to do it for this article for I believe it has some bearing.

Some would say that as the Ten Kingdoms are all that are known in that Universe, there must be more beyond that they have never bothered to search. Or that they know exactly what is out there and keep it a secret. It should also be remembered that the Shores of Dawn feature more heavily in the myths and legends of the Kingdoms than anywhere else.

Here are two things I came across in my research that really shouldn't be published in a paper of this integrity. The first is that the Shores of Dawn themselves exist just beyond the Ten Kingdoms, the mythical place where all answers are found. Well I could go into all the stories of what is there; the beginning of the Universe, the end; the Creator of the Universes; the place we go when we dream; a gateway to the place between the Universes, the so called Thither. Well, what they all seem to agree on is that you can find all the answers there. It is said that that is how the Ten Kingdoms gained their wisdom and prosperity, though people argue whether they still realise the Shores are so close.

The second is that the Ten Kingdoms (and our beloved Port) are situated in what is called the Niccolian Plane (named after the author of the idea). What this boils down to is that the Ten Kingdoms reside in every Universe. The maths and physics get too much for a mere journalist to comprehend, but it is something like a tear in time and space. We of course know this in terms of the multitude of Universes that visit us, but what it means is that whatever Universe you were in you could actually fly to the Ten Kingdoms, if you knew their coordinates.

The point of this? Well, all of these things (And yes, there are people who are willing to go to extreme lengths for crackpot theories) are reasons that people would want access to the Ten Kingdoms, not just access, but free reign; and that brings us to our Mr. Nargle.

He was certainly the most enigmatic person in the deal, which is saying something as many of those involved in deals like this are too rich or powerful to be known to many. Deals on this magnitude are made by people who own banks not use them. Still, this was not a shady deal, or at least it was kept in the public eye and many politicians and leaders of commerce discussed and debated it in the many public forums at our disposal. Mr. Nargle was not one of these, but he was spoken of and about, a torch bearer for the deal; a man who believed in a Universe open to everyone; the ability to use your last coin to earn your fortune; privilege through hard work and respect rather than bloodline. And some people bought it, but others, such as this writer, did not. There was not one person involved in that deal that wasn't doing so for their own gain and it was just a question of to what degree they were honest about it.

A quick search for our Mr. Nargle would turn up nothing. That's not completely strange as most people probably couldn't name the owner of Durham's and a quick search (I know you're checking) will also turn up nothing, though I can tell you it's... well perhaps I shouldn't. The point is though, that no one had heard of Nargle until he came into this deal and when I pushed further I came into a lot of brick walls and a lot of pressure to stop looking (That's also not unusual for a journalist). What this meant more than anything was that he was the only one in the deal (that we knew of) that couldn't be assigned a reason for wanting or not wanting it. As he was pro, the question has always been: what will he profit from it?

He certainly wouldn't have profited from Huvil Frojell's death as both were for the Accord. In fact, Frojell had become so much of a lynchpin to the deal happening that his murder has put it on ice for the foreseeable future. And that is why I come to write this article. If you want all the hard facts on either the Accord or the murder, there are plenty of articles already out there.

I cannot see that this Shayton Nargle would have benefited from murdering Frojell unless his involvement in the Accord was all a ruse in order to carry out the attack. And there is another name, just as fanciful as things I've already covered, if not more so. Around the Port there have been whispers; rumours in the deepest, darkest, oldest corners, that another may have visited our fair soils, some even claim that they saw him. Someone who might have killed Frojell exactly because he was a lynchpin to the deal. Someone who would protect the Ten Kingdoms for reasons that are known only to himself. A figure in lore and myth; tales in the Outlands.

There are whispers that Actaeon was here.
If you enjoyed this book, perhaps you would consider helping a brother out and rating or reviewing it? IT really could change my life...

Still, while you're here, why not check out the following extracts by the same author:

The ADVENTURES IN SPACE series

The TSAR Trilogy

Book 1

The Trimedian

A NOT SO QUIET SATURDAY (extract)

"Jase? Where you been? I've been trying to call you," It was Jason's best friend Milk. Though he had no idea why he was called this and neither, seemingly, did Milk.

"Yes, that's why I've had my phone off."

"Well it's not off now."

"No, I can see that. I'm trying to have a peaceful Saturday."

"Ahhh," came Milk's voice down the line, it was one of those 'ahhh's that says I'm about to ruin whatever it was that you were doing before I came along. "Well, we need to meet up and chat, well I say chat, more like incredibly long, serious conversation that is best taken place in a pub over a number of beers, the effect of which will help you to believe it was all a dream the next day until I turn up and say it again."

"I've got a free Saturday," said Jason frowning.

"Great, I'll come over now."

"No, I mean I have a free Saturday and I'm enjoying it that way."

"Ahh, valkswagon. A free Saturday is hard to come by in this day and age."

Milk was vexed, he had seriously life changing news for Jase, news that could not wait; but at the same time you don't want to be the person to spoil a free Saturday.

"Weeeeelllll, why don't we just go to the pub for a pint or two? That's still regular fare for a free Saturday, is it not?"

"I guess..." said Jason feeling lured.

"Brilliant, see you at the 'Horse's Arse' in thirty minutes," and he hung up the phone.

Jason turned his phone off and got back to his sandwich. His phone promptly switched itself back on to pass on the information it had just heard, little did it know that this was the beginnings of the best piece of gossip in history, gossip that would make the phone famous across the globe, or at least as famous as phones can be.

As he ate, Jason thought about his friend, Milk. He had known him five years, which equated to his whole life as Jason had come out of a coma five years ago with no memory about anything before. The only thing or person he vaguely recognised was Milk who filled him in with everything and helped him get back to life.

Allegedly Jason had been in a car crash, though he had no knowledge of how to drive when he woke up. The doctors were quite frankly astounded that he could remember absolutely nothing and more astounded that despite this he made a full recovery. And even more astounded that said full recovery took him a mere ten minutes after he awoke. Jason Wellgood, they would say, was a strange case. Just how strange a case the man himself was about to find out over a pint of local bitter.

***

"Well," said Milk once they were seated with a pint each, "where to begin? Hmm, I think I'll begin with a drink."

He began tipping the booze down his neck and Jason took the chance to peruse his friend. Milk was a quite frankly huge Indian guy who had a penchant for wearing a turban merely for the look. 'Makes me feel like a real Indian' he was want to say. Milk must have been seven foot if not a bit more and was built like a brick outhouse for want of a more polite turn of phrase. He also had an incredibly posh voice when they first met, though that had slowly included more London mockney as the years went by. He was dressed in a silver tracksuit that was beyond hideous, but how do you go about telling a seven foot Indian he looks like a nonce? Jason, himself, was wearing the classic American combination of white T shirt and jeans along with his standard faded red leather jacket.

He took a deep drink of his own beer, which was logical, and asked, "So?"

"Right, yes, well. More beer?"

"No."

"No, right, well, so, er... the accident, then, five years ago."

Jason suddenly had a deep sense of unease, he also had a shallow sense of unease, but no one ever seems to care about them, do they? Did Milk know something that he wasn't telling him?

"Do you know something you're not telling me?"

"In a word, yes. That whole accident thing was a bit of a lie."

Jason put his pint down a little too hard. "A bit of a lie? What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, basically, it never actually happened. We wiped your memory."

"You... you what?"

"Wiped your memory."

Jason sat in bewilderment. He'd never been there before and though it seemed an interesting place in a Jackson Pollock sort of way, it was not a place he wanted to stay in for more than a few minutes. Much like student poetry recitals.

"Wait a minute. We? You said 'we' wiped my memory; who's we?"

"Well, I think we ought to come back to that later. There are more, er, puzzling things for you to discover first. Go and get us a pint each whilst I collect my thoughts."

Jason could have argued, but there didn't really seem any point, and he could do with more booze. Milk sat there staring at the back of his huge hands, he slowly turned them over and let his eyes follow the lines of his palms, more like crevasses than lines really. He sighed; he would miss Earth and this thought surprised him, he was disappointed to come here five years ago, hidden away from the rest of the Universe, but he really didn't have much choice if he was honest with himself and it was a cushy gig. That was what he couldn't work out, and still hadn't, why those in charge had let him come, done something so, well, nice. It was out of character.

Still he'd grown to like the planet; it was famous for a number of reasons, despite its backwardness. For one, Earth seemed to have a regenerative effect on those who did not live there and so had many famous (and hidden from Earthens) spas. Just a week on Earth could have you looking and feeling a year younger.

Secondly, the thing with Earthens was that their backwardness meant they concentrated on things no one else did. Like perfecting a good pint, inventing the guitar, jokes, TV. No one else in the Universe bothered too much with TV because if they wanted to escape, wanted adventure, they just went out and found it rather than get it vicariously through a box. On the other hand, you'd never find Jimi Hendrix on any other planet as no one would spend that much concentration on a musical instrument. He was glad Earth was as it was for this reason; the Universe without Jimi wasn't really a universe at all.

Jason plonked himself down with two pints and a packet of pork scratchings.

"So where were we? Ahh, yes, you were drivelling on about wiping my memory. I'd think you were joking, but you don't really get jokes do you?"

Milk was aggrieved. "I think I've gotten a lot better at understanding them over the last five years, I even made that girl laugh last week at the Jamestown Club!"

"Well, I'll give you that; it was pretty funny, though I can't actually remember what you said."

Milk sighed, no he couldn't either, damn his penchant for vodka jellies. He just remembered the warm surge of pride as they all laughed and now he was glad he had got one good one in before they left.

"Anyway, we're getting away from ourselves."

"I'd like to be getting away from you."

"Not going to happen anytime soon. Listen your name isn't really Jason Wellgood, you're not really a writer, and you don't even really come from Earth."

"Excuse me?" Jason didn't really believe his ears, his friend had always been a bit odd, but it seemed he had finally snapped.

"Your name isn't really Jason Wellgood, you're not really a writer, and you don't even really come from Earth."

Best to take this calmly, don't freak out, help your friend, listen to his delusions and then ever so gently suggest some help.

"So what is my name?" this was an ever so wrong moment to take a sip of his pint.

"Chase Darkstaar."

Jason splat his pint across the table, gagged and coughed at the same time, belched and then laughed. "Chase Darkstaar? That's ridiculous!"

"Yeah, I know," said Milk somewhat gloomily.

"You're serious aren't you?" Jason frowned.

As previously mentioned Milk wasn't the greatest punster and this kind of trickery would be beyond him even if he had gone mad. Jason didn't know why, but something in his friend's face convinced him that Milk was telling the truth. I guess that is what friendship is, isn't it? Being willing to trust your friend on a look; believing the most farfetched truths.

"Your name is Chase Darkstaar and you are an intergalactic hitman. Basically you hid something very important and then came to Earth and had your memory wiped so that even if someone found you, you couldn't tell them where it was."

"Er... why?"

"That I have never been able to work out."

"Right and so a/ where do you come into all this, b/ why are you telling me now and c/ what did I hide?"

Despite the obvious lunacy Jason kind of wanted it to be true so that he would not lose his friend to an asylum and so that his life might be somewhat more exciting.

"Well, c/ I don't know; a/ I'm your friend and assistant in all things, when you chose this job I had to come and make sure everything was OK. Make sure you settled into Earth life etc. and b/ I'm telling you this now because there is an intergalactic WAR brewing and it is very possible that people will come looking for you to get whatever it is that you hid."

"Right. Sooo..." He took a long gulp of beer. "What's the plan?"

"Well, I have to prove all this to you I suppose."

"Good place to start."

"Then we need to try and get your memory back so that you can find whatever you hid and divert the WAR."

"Right. So how come nobody on Earth knows about said intergalactic shenanigans?"

"It's a long story best told in space, but you will quickly discover that Earth is a very backward planet, heck Earthens still war against themselves. Idiots."

"But we are Earthlings."

"Well yes and no. We are human, our ancestry is on Earth, but neither of us were born there. Again I will fill you in in space."

"In space?"

"In space." Milk got up and Jason followed suit.

"Tell me one thing."

"OK"

"You say I was a hitman?"

"That's right, the best."

"Was I a nice guy?"

Milk blushed and looked at his canoe-esque feet. "Erm, no not really."

"Oh."

Pray for Rain

Part 1

The Casinos of Haffir

CHAPTER 1

"This has to be your worst idea yet," Rainsford Tsyrker shouted into her comms.

"Worse than Tornin?" Stephen Regrette asked.

"It's OK for you, you're not out here."

The 'out here' she referred to was crawling along the roof of the high speed train between the cities of Rachain and Faloo. It hovered over a rail that was held high above the ground by boosters and she could only be thankful that the entrance hatch was on the roof and not between the train and the rail. She was on the roof of the cargo carriage and though she was close to the loading hatch the wind was making it hard to get anywhere.

She unlocked one of her grip magnets and pushed it forward before locking it again. Then she did the same with the other hand. How had she gotten this job? Grant was in the train somewhere comfortably while Regrette was in high altitude ready to swoop in once the package was secured.

It was her own fault, back on Lancow II, the last job they'd done, she'd poked fun at them for nearly failing because they weren't fit enough to cope. They hadn't said that, but she knew that was why it was her stuck on the roof. Though to be fair, she smiled to herself, either of them would have been sucked under the train by now.

"I'm at the hatch," she said.

"Nicely done," Ben Grant replied.

"How're the cocktails?"

"A little sweet for my liking, but I'm surviving."

"Poor you."

"I know, but taking one for the team."

He sounded smug, she knew he was baiting her and she wouldn't let him.

"How's it look in there?"

"Hard to get too close, but the guards seem bored, but alert."

"OK, well attaching the breaker now. Gulch?"

"I've got the signal," Gulch said from the ship. "Breaking the alarm now."

The breaker made a helpful ping and a little light went from red to green.

"Now for the lock," Gulch said as the light went back to red.

The hatch was big, used for cranes to lower large cargo in and she was going to have to use the slipstream from the train's velocity to fling it open. That would alert the guards and then they had a very small window of opportunity to grab and escape.

"Ahh," said Regrette.

"Ahh, what?" Tsyrker said angrily as she was trying to manoeuvre into position.

"Readings on the long range scan. Moving in fast."

"Company?" Grant asked

"Looks like Durden Raiders."

"Shabbus. Come to steal what we're stealing," Grant swore.

"We're not stealing it," Rainsford reminded him.

"Retrieving didn't have the same ring to it."

"Either way, you need to move," Regrette urged.

"Gulch?"

"There, lock is open."

Rainsford had left one of her grip magnets down by her leg and held onto the other as she pulled a crowbar from her suit and pried open the hatch. She let go of the grip and skidded back before grabbing the other, just far enough away not to get smashed by the hatch as the wind got under and yanked it open. She then threw herself forward, grabbing the closer grip and swung herself inside.

***

As she was doing this Ben Grant was sauntering up to the guards at the door to the cargo carriage. They were bored enough not to notice him until he got nice and close.

"Stop there."

"About that," he said when there was a loud crash from the roof of the cargo carriage.

The two guards pulled guns and as they did so Grant fired an electrode at each. Hitting them in the neck it sent through enough electricity to knock them out.

He ran up and attached a breaker.

"Gulch?"

"Easy this one," Gulch replied and then the breaker beeped and the light went green.

Grant pulled open the door to find Rainsford already in.

"Where?" she shouted over the din of the wind.

He looked around.

"There."

He turned around as she went for the case.

"Trouble coming," he shouted.

Guards were coming down the train. Heavily armed guards.

"Get us out of here," Rainsford shouted.

"Here we come."

Above them their ship, The Wraith, dropped through the sky and thrust forward until it was keeping track of the train. A rope with harnesses fell through the open hatch and they both strapped in.

"Up," Grant commanded as the guards closed in.

The rope retracted and they were pulled through the hatch. As they did so Tsyrker dropped a smoke grenade through.

"Definitely Raiders," Grant said and she looked behind her.

There was one larger ship with three fighters and they were closing fast.

"How'd they know?" she asked.

"Let's worry about that later, shall we? Can you hurry this up a bit?"

"The winch winches as the winch winches," Gulch philosophised.

"Nice," Grant replied.

"Worse than Tornin," Rainsford said to herself.

She swung around and managed to pull her machinegun off of her back as the Raider ships got ever closer.

"You'll make us a target," Grant shouted over the wind.

"You don't think we already are?" she shouted back.

"What? Little old innocent us?"

Rainsford humphed and tried to get aim on one of the fighters. She opened fire just before their ship did and the Durden Raiders split up to avoid the laser fire.

Grant looked down to see guards in the now smoke free cargo carriage aiming up at them. He pulled Tsyrker's pistol and fired down at them. He tried his best not to actually hit them as they swung wildly on the rope.

One of the fighters was coming around behind them and Grant twisted his body so that they swung around on the rope and Rainsford blasted at it. Not that her laser fire would dent the ship's hull, but they couldn't just dangle there. It would look unprofessional and a little lazy.

The ship peeled off as it got blasted by Regrette from The Wraith, but that left the larger ship to try and swoop in.

"4 o'clock," Grant shouted and watched as Regrette re-aimed.

They were finally reaching the ship as the Durden ship tried again to get close enough to snatch them off of the rope. Or at least the case they had taken from the train. A door was opening in the Durden ship as Regrette focussed his firepower on the two fighters. Rainsford could see a man with a long range rifle in the doorway and she sprayed at him with her laser. The man ducked inside and then reappeared, but it was too late, they were finally being taken up into The Wraith.

"We're in, let's go," Grant shouted as they stripped off the harnesses.

The hatch slid shut below them and they ran to the bridge.

"Take the guns," Regrette ordered as they entered.

He was vacating the gunner's chair and taking the helm. Rainsford took the gunner's chair and pulled down the screen. From here she could control all the guns, front, roof and hull, using a joystick on each of the chair arms. There was a second gunner's chair to make the whole thing a lot easier, but she could cope on her own using a three-way split screen.

The ship pulled up and away and she spun the hull guns to blast at the larger Durden ship as it wheeled around to give chase.

"Be ready for more in space," Grant warned.

"Long range scanners aren't picking anything up," Gulch said from the navigator's seat.

Gulch was a Petruthsian, a race of large slug-like creatures who could raise up on their stubby tails to use a number of tentacles.

"Probably keeping back for exactly that reason. Didn't want to tip their hand," Grant said leaning over to look at the scanner.

"Well, game's up now, they'll be moving in."

"Not just them," Regrette said. "InterG ships inbound."

"Great," Grant sighed. "Don't shoot them."

"What am I, a criminal?" Tsyrker shot back.

"They seem to think so," Grant shrugged and walked out of the bridge.

The Wraith shot through the atmosphere and into space. The Durden Raider ships followed with the InterGalactic Police ships behind them. Neither were giving up the chase.

"What's so damned important about this thing?" Regrette said angrily.

"One of the Stones of Tampala," Gulch said. "Very rare, very expensive. Stolen from our client. Very interesting, the Stones, go way back in the mythology of the Kadinar people. You see..."

"Mssh, time and place, Gulch," Regrette said tersely as he jinked the ship left to dodge laser fire. "Coordinates plotted?."

"Right, yes, well, another time perhaps. Plotting now."

"Look forward to it," Regrette ironicalised as he dodged more laser fire from the Durdens. "Can't you do something about them?"

"Surprisingly, they're being evasive," Rainsford sarcasticised.

The arrival of the InterG was to her advantage though. The larger Durden ship had held back as the faster fighters dived in and out trying to cripple The Wraith. With the InterG ships coming up behind them, the Durden ship was forced closer and the fighters were forced to hang back and protect it from front and rear. She got a good shot at the Durden ship as it dodged fire from the InterG.

"Here we are. Durden cruiser on the long range, closing in," Gulch said.

"They won't get involved, just rescue their ships from this mess," Regrette said.

"Agreed," agreed Gulch.

"We still here?" Grant asked from the door.

"Just about to leave," Regrette said spinning left to avoid laser fire. "Coordinates?"

"In," Gulch told him.

"Then let's get out of here," he said and hit the lightspeed boosters.

***

They slowed down in the black void of deep space. Except it wasn't completely void. There was a ship there. Much larger than The Wraith which came and docked in it's hanger.

"Not using the secret hanger?" Grant asked.

"I'm not sticking around," Regrette replied.

"Busy busy."

"I actually think I need a holiday; I only get shot at when I work with you."

"Hey, now, that's because you hide in the shadows normally," Grant said.

"Use, not hide. We've been through this," Regrette chided. "Sort of the point about assassinations, y'know?"

"What about you, Rain?" Grant asked.

"I also don't get shot at. Unless I'm with you," she added as they walked down the ramp.

"What about my money?" Regrette asked.

"I've made contact, you'll have it in a few days."

"Good," Regrette nodded to himself and then turned and walked back up the ramp and into his ship.

It took off as they reached the end of the hanger bay.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Rainsford asked.

"What?"

"What he does."

"You thinking calling it Naval Special Forces is better?"

"Yes," she replied angrily. "I work to protect the UTN and it's people."

"Different packaging, same product," Grant shrugged.

"Oh, get off your high horse, Ben."

She strode off.

"You're mouth moves faster than your brain, Ben," Gulch said.

"Yeah," Grant sighed and ran a hand through his short mop of curls. "Valkswagon."

"I'll get us moving, go and apologise before making contact. I do think we should return the package before it kills us," Gulch said and slithered off.

The Book of Five Worlds

Book I

The Foreshadow of Balance

CHAPTER I

It was a horrible day, not because it was cold, but because Brandon had taken his money again. He still had his secret money so that was OK, but Brandon hadn't left it there. He had been teased through English for answering too many questions and then they had ruined his science experiment and he had been sent out by the teacher. By the time he came home he was miserable and went straight out into the garden. His Dad had some big talk coming up and was still busy in his study and that suited Dylan just fine. The evening was cold; his Dad had taught him that heat goes up from the ground and gets trapped by clouds keeping it warm when the Sun goes down. But there were no clouds this evening and it was still light outside though not for much longer.

He was playing with his plastic knights plus an evil wizard and a big stuffed toy dragon. He had gone through the portal in the shed and the red dragon was a lot bigger than him and his fellow knight and there was no way they were going to beat it unless they could convince the evil wizard to help.

He looked again at the shed; he hated school and studying and those stupid bullies. They thought he was stupid, but he wasn't, he was smart and they didn't like him for that. He wished he really could go through a portal; he wished he could find the magic on Earth and use it to go away. Take him and his Dad somewhere, bring his Mum back.

But she couldn't come back, not even with magic. He didn't really understand it, but his Dad said she had gone to a better place. If he could learn magic, maybe he could take him and his Dad to that better place to be with Mum.

And then the shed door exploded out and a great big grey pig ran out into the garden squealing, steam coming out of its nose, its snout, in great clouds and then it stopped suddenly. It looked left and then right and then straight at Dylan. He wanted to scream, but nothing would come out and then a huge man ran out of the shed.

He wore thick fur instead of a coat and Dylan could only think that he looked dirty. The man stopped just like the pig and looked around. He looked at Dylan and moved towards him and then stopped and looked at the pig which was looking between them. They both looked surprised.

And then Dylan screamed for his Dad.

The pig turned in a circle looking for somewhere to run, and the man moved again toward Dylan, who could now see he had long thick hair and a beard to match with some kind of dirty green trousers on and a metal shirt under the big fur coat thing. And on his back a big two bladed battle axe.

"Dad! Help!"

And then Dylan's Dad ran into the garden with a cricket bat in his hand and stopped as suddenly as the pig and the man had.

"Who are you?" Dad demanded.

"How do we go?" the man asked back in a deep voice.

"Get out of my garden now."

"Your garden?"

"Get out now or I'll use this," he held up the bat, but the man unslung the axe.

"And then I would have to use this. But I don't want to," at the sight of the axe the pig finally made up its mind and ran back to the shed and disappeared inside.

"Now I've lost my dinner," the man said and seemed sad.

"Sorry," said Dylan.

"It wasn't your fault, I should have grabbed it. But where am I?"

"I'm going to call the police now," Dylan's Dad said.

"The what?"

"What's wrong?" Dylan asked the man.

"Dylan, come here," his Dad said. "This man has been drinking."

Dylan understood this. When you drink something called booze you got funny in the head and did stupid things. Sometimes Dad drank booze and got sad about Mum and cried. He didn't like that.

"I haven't had a drop all day," the big man argued. "I wish I had some now for this is greatly vexing."

"Dad has some booze."

"Dylan, stop talking and come here," and Dylan walked past the man, as far away as he could, and Dad relaxed a little when he was next to him. "OK, put the axe away, man."

"Once you put down your... what is this strange weapon you carry?"

"It's a cricket bat, it's for a game," Dylan told him because the man didn't seem dangerous, just confused.

And then the man threw back his head and laughed.

"You threaten me with a bat from a game?" and he laughed again and Dad lowered the bat.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"From the shed," Dylan answered.

"The shed?" the man asked. "No, I come from the forest town of Capel in Collyshire."

"Right," Dylan's Dad said.

"And where am I now? Is this Shed?"

"No, that's the shed," Dylan said and pointed. The man looked at it and then slowly looked back at them.

"What world am I on?" he asked slowly.

"That's enough," Dad started.

"What world am I on?" the man asked more angrily.

"Earth," Dylan said and the man seemed to go white through the dirt and suntan.

"No."

"Yes."

"The Fifth World."

"What did you say?" Dad asked.

"The Fifth World."

"You better come inside."

"What's going on Dad?"

"What's your name?" he asked the man, but he didn't answer, just looked around. "What's your name?"

"What? Lucas."

"You better come inside, Lucas, we need that booze."

{+}

They sat in the study, it wasn't very big and it was stuffed with books, a desk and two comfy chairs. It seemed even smaller with Lucas in there. He stood and just looked around while Dad poured him a glass of something which he took in his big hands. Everything seemed small compared to Lucas, Dylan thought.

"Sit down, Lucas, let me find something," Dad said and started looking through his books. Lucas took off his axe and squeezed into a chair and Dylan stood next to him.

"Why do you need such a big axe?"

He looked down at Dylan. "I don't if I think about it, I just like it."

"Do you kill people?"

"Sometimes, if needs must."

"Right, here it is," Dylan's Dad said holding a big old book.

"What is this?"

"It's a collection; most people thought the writer was an idiot. He put together all the ancient references to the Five Worlds. Look," he flipped open a few pages and showed them to Lucas while Dylan craned to see.

"This can't be true," Lucas shook his head.

"But it is, isn't it? You come from a different world."

"No, this is some magic cast upon me," Lucas shouted and stood up. Dylan staggered backwards and trod on the remote control switching the TV on to the news.

"AARRRGGGHH!" Lucas cried staring at the box. "What by thunder is that?"

"It's a television," Dylan said.

"How do the people get inside?" he was scared.

"They're not inside, silly, they are somewhere else, we can just see them."

"Like a Seer's Orb?"

"No," Dad said, "it runs on electricity, look," he bent down and picked up the remote and showed Lucas how the channels changed.

"Quickly, man, what is your name?"

"Connor James and this is my son Dylan."

"Connor James, explain quickly what this electrickery is."

"Well, you burn coal to make it and then it powers just about everything we use."

Lucas stood and thought about it.

"Coal comes from the ground?"

"Yes, it's animals that died millions of years ago."

"I must go," Lucas said.

"No, stay," said Dylan.

"I will be back, but this is all too much for me. I am not a clever man."

They followed him through the house as he looked at everything, touching things here and there until they were back at the shed. And then he stopped.

"I don't know what to do. Who can I talk to?"

"I don't understand," Connor James said.

"This is too big for my understanding, yet I understand that this is important. Who will use this information for good? The wrong people would use the portal to change the Balance. What if the Chinerthian Queen finds out? But maybe we can use this to defeat her, but, but I don't know."

"Who is the Chinerthian Queen?" Dylan asked.

"I will be back, I don't know how long, but no longer than a week," Lucas said. "Farewell Connor and Dylan of The Shed," he said and then strode through the shed door and disappeared.

Dylan moved towards it, but his Dad grabbed him.

"No. We don't know what is on the other side, or whether we could get back again."

{+}

The next day at school went past as if in a dream. The bullies tried to take his lunch money, but he didn't even notice them.

"Where's my money, pussy?"

"What?" Dylan asked not really even hearing as he continued to walk around the playground.

"My money. What are you deaf?"

"Hmm, no," kept on walking.

"Hey, come back here!" they ran around in front of him, but he changed direction and kept walking and thinking about Lucas and the shed and, what was it called? The portal.

"He's talking to you," someone shouted, but they gave up chasing him as he wandered. He thought he heard someone say something about being 'crazy'.

That evening he stood in the cold back garden staring at the open shed. The doorway was pitch black even though there was enough light coming from the house to see inside. He tried to remember all the things that he should be able to see, the lawn mower, their bikes, a hose, some gardening tools. But he could see nothing. He wondered what was on the other side really. A forest he thought. Lucas had said he came from a forest town and he'd been chasing a big pig. Would the forest be bright and green or dark and scary? Was it winter there too? Lucas had been wearing big furs so he thought it must be. But what he had been thinking about all day in school was what his Dad had said about five worlds. Not just one, but five.

And now he heard his Dad come out of the house, felt him come and stand next to him and they both stood and stared at the shed.

"Can you believe it?" his Dad asked.

"Can you?" he asked and looked up at his Dad. He wasn't sure he could, but if his Dad could...

"Come inside and let me show you a few things."

They walked inside to the study and his Dad sat down at his desk and lifted Dylan onto his lap. Then he opened the big book he had shown Lucas.

"OK, so throughout all the old mythologies; you know what they are?"

"Like a story?"

"Yes, exactly. Throughout them all there are hints and thoughts and stories about the Five Worlds. From Old Norse to ancient Chinese. They were never very big because even back then people thought it was silly, right?"

"OK."

"But this guy, Dr. Fozz..."

"That's a funny name."

"Yeah, it is; anyway, he studied it for years, all the clues, travelled the world and wrote this book. You see a lot of stories and myths never got written down, but they got passed on verbally."

"Verbally?"

"Verbally means speaking. So what Dr. Fozz found was that there are five worlds all connected by portals."

"Like in our shed."

"Exactly, but as people on Earth became more interested in science, medicine and money, they stopped believing in myths and magic and the portal to Earth closed."

"Why?"

"Because something can't exist if no one believes in it. If someone was walking in the forest and they thought they saw a unicorn in the forest, just somewhere in the trees, they wouldn't believe they saw a unicorn, they would believe they saw a horse and the light or the trees made it look like it had a horn. You see?"

"I think so. But why would there be a portal in our shed?"

"I don't know. But we have to be careful; we can't go through the portal, OK?"

"OK."

"Really."

"OK, OK."

"And we have to be careful; we don't know what might come out. Remember the pig?"

"Yeah, that was scary."

"Right."

"Do you think Lucas will come back?"

"I don't know. I think so, but I didn't really understand what he was talking about before he left, I need to read more now, OK?"

"Yeah."

His Dad put him down and turned him so they were looking into each other's eyes.

"Don't go near the portal. We wait for Lucas, OK?"

"Yes, Dad," he turned to leave. "Can I at least go out and look at it?"

His Dad smiled.

"If I said no, you would sneak out anyway," he got up and found a metal poker from the fireplace that had never been used. "If you do, keep this with you in case another animal comes out. And then shout for me," he smiled and Dylan smiled back.

In the Valley of Elah

CHAPTER ONE

The door creaked open in the same way my secretary does her job, stubbornly half-hearted. It couldn't even be bothered to open all the way and the man who was trying to enter had to give it another push. I wished straightaway that it had been better at keeping closed, or that my secretary was better at telling people I was out to lunch.

"Mr. Harker," the man said holding his hat in his hands.

I held a palm out to the chair in front of my desk and he walked over and sat. I scratched my throat with the back of my fingers.

"What can I do for you, Houngan?"

"So you know who I am," the man said simply.

I did, his name was DeSalle, he was a good twenty years older than me (which tells you nothing at this point, though my secretary might tell you that only makes him thirty) and had skin so dark it had a blue tinge in the dusty electric light. His eyes were dark and the sclera, you know the white part, was more a milky yellow, like cigarette stained wallpaper that used to be fancy. He wore a cheap suit with a crumpled pork pie hat that I admired before answering.

"You're a Houngan, a Voodoo priest. It's DeSalle, isn't it?"

"It is. I'm not local so I'm impressed you know me," he nodded to himself in some form of approval.

"It's kinda my job," I shrugged. It was on the door, I mean what's the point of words if people aren't going to read them?

"It is, and that's why I'm here."

"So you can read."

"What?"

"I like your hat," I said and I did. I like hats.

"You like hats."

I said that.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

He pulled a crumpled newspaper from inside his suit.

"I get the paper," I said, but I often didn't. Have I mentioned my lazy secretary?

"Then you will have seen this," he opened the paper and showed me.

Maybe he had already heard about my secretary.

"Voodoo sacrifice."

"That's what the papers are saying," he said, but not before a tired sigh.

"And you disagree."

"I do."

"And what's it got to do with me?" I asked.

"You're a private detective specialising in the occult," he said and the sign on the door paid for itself.

"So I'm thinking you want me to show it had nothing to do with Voodoo."

"Yes," he nodded earnestly.

I shook my head for effect.

"Can't do. This is murder, this is police business."

"I don't want you to trouble them. I just want someone who knows what they are talking about to point out that this is not a Voodoo sacrifice. We don't do things like that, Mr Harker."

"I know that."

"So you already know that we are being targeted unfairly," he was getting more upset about it so I looked at the article.

"All the hallmarks of a Voodoo sacrifice," I said.

"Which you know we don't do."

"Someone in your congregation might have."

"Then you don't know my congregation."

"I know you are meddling with Satan, Houngan."

"We do good; Voodoo does good, Mr. Harker."

"You're playing with spirits, Houngan, there's only one type that would go along with another religion," I said in my best stern voice.

"I was told you would be like this," he said.

"Celebrity," I said.

"And I was told to come to you anyway because you wouldn't let innocents suffer, because you know the truth of these things," he kneaded his hat.

"Alright," I said with hands up.

He was right. Practitioners of Voodoo didn't go around sacrificing people, at least not anymore, and even a quick read through of the article made the whole thing seem suspicious. It was too much like what you thought a Voodoo sacrifice would look like. It was Voodoo in a way that anyone with a little knowledge (probably from a film) would not look any closer at.

"You think someone is trying to pin this on your temple," I said.

"Yes," he seemed relieved. "Who we are and who people think we are is very different."

"Yes, it's much worse," I frowned.

"We see things very differently," he said.

"Yes, you are wrong, dangerously so, and I am right," I said leaning back in my chair.

"So be it," he said looking down.

"No," I said forcefully. "Not so be it."

"I was told you would be like this," he said as if it was a mantra.

I tossed up between angry and resigned and went for the latter, as I so often did.

"They won't let me get in the way of a murder investigation," I said.

"Not one of us can stop nor change the media, but we can present the real facts anyway. I worry that we will be persecuted, or someone will be prosecuted just because of how the media sees us," he said.

I felt sorry for him. Voodoo was famous in the media, especially films, and none of it was positive. It was all witchcraft and Voodoo dolls and actually they had quite a positive religion. They thought they were doing good for their god, Bondye, a bastardisation of Bon Dieu. The problem being that they were deceived. Being deceived by evil spirits to keep them away from the one true God.

I looked to the print on my wall, Hopper's 'Nighthawks'. I was being asked again to help someone, asked to do His work. Oh, yes, I already knew it was His work, I could feel it. This wasn't Voodoo, this was something else that they wanted people to attribute to the movie version of Voodoo. It was a cover and the question that burned in my gut was, for what?

"Alright. I should be able to see the body, should be able to show that this wasn't Voodoo."

"Oh, thank you," he almost deflated in my chair, you know, like someone had put a pin in him. "You don't think it is Voodoo."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. It has all the hallmarks of Voodoo, the problem here is that it doesn't have any meaning behind it. I don't want to find that meaning, Houngan."

"You won't," he said standing.

"See yourself out, my secretary won't," I said.

"My card," he said putting it on my desk before leaving. He stopped at the door. "Thank you, Harker."

"Get out," I said staring at the ceiling.

He left and seconds later my secretary entered.

"You're surprisingly eager," I said to the ceiling.

"This isn't the Mash is it?"

"I don't think so."

"You think we're on, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" I asked looking at her.

"The sad resignation on your face."

"You say that with scorn, Adelaide, but you haven't seen the things I have," I said deciding to look at the ceiling again.

She left. I played the game of trying to decide how old she was. At least ten years older than me, but she was in incredible shape and that twisted things. Much better shape than I was in now. Her face was unlined and that made me think younger, but the way she carried herself, talked to people all pointed to older. She could be twenty years older than me. I really didn't know her that well at all, knew little to nothing of her past.

I stared at the ceiling. My chair had a good recline feature, and thinking of it now, Adelaide chose it for me. Apparently she knows me better than I know her.

This wasn't the Mash, of course it wasn't, this was murder. The Mash, if you must know, is what I do most days. Nix that, what I do most days is very little. I like to stare. At things, in things, out of things, it's not much of a hobby, but a man has to have something.

When I'm not staring at things I'm investigating the paranormal. Well, I say 'paranormal' and hell, I say investigating, but as ghosts and the like don't actually exist I don't have to do much investigating. You might be surprised though at how little time I have for my hobby; spirituality and a belief in the occult has risen steadily in the last howevermanyyears despite the progress of science and technology. So I charge people to tell them that their ghost is a banging water pipe or tricks of light and/or sound.

You know of infrasound? It's sound below 20Hz, which is the limit of our hearing. Basically noises below this can cause feelings of fear and dread and some can cause hallucinations. A lot of the time my job is finding out what in the building is causing those sounds.

But then there's the other work I do, the real work. The whole paranormal stuff is just a front, a way to pay the bills. This was definitely the other stuff if it was anything at all. I really hoped it would be nothing; that I could show that it wasn't Voodoo so the police wouldn't bark up the wrong tree and then go home. Maybe stare at something for a while. But I had a feeling in my heart that told me different.

†

I'd managed to get an appointment with the detective leading the case, a Detective Garrett, and she hadn't sounded too enthused at meeting with me. It's tough to get taken seriously when you're a ghost hunter and I can appreciate that. No wonder Adelaide was so grumpy, what would her friends think of her job? Or future boyfriends?

"I don't have time for this," Detective Garret told me.

"It is prime staring time," I nodded and she gave me a quizzical glare as we entered a little office.

"What?"

I sat down without being asked.

"I just need to see the body," I said as I had on the phone.

"So you said. Not happening."

"It's not Voodoo," I said.

"That's not what I'm told."

"It kinda looks like Voodoo," I replied.

"I already know that," she frumped.

"But it isn't."

"Oh no?"

"Nope."

She sighed and stared at the corner where the ceiling met the walls.

"I have work to do," she said.

"As do I."

"Do you?" she looked at me.

"Well, outside of this, no. Not really."

"Then I'm the only one here having their time wasted."

"I'm here to save you wasted time. That and to help the Voodoo community," I said.

"Because this isn't Voodoo despite our experts saying that it is."

"Did they?"

"I just said they did."

She had a point there.

"They said it was definitely Voodoo, did they?"

She thought about it briefly.

"Not definitely, no."

"Here's my issue, the issue of my client. Why would they do it? Why would you do a Voodoo sacrifice and make it so public? There's nothing in Voodoo that says a sacrifice should be public; as long as it's done, it's done. There are plenty of places to do it and never get caught."

She thought about it and I liked her for it. Thinking is becoming overrated in society and that's a problem.

"Criminals aren't smart," she said finally.

"This isn't a criminal activity to them, it's part of their religion."

"Why would anyone else do it? Why make it public and try and frame someone else? Like you say, there're plenty of places to do it secretly."

"I'd need to look at the body, the crime scene photos, the crime scene if I could, to answer that question."

She laughed.

"You really think I'm going to let you go to the crime scene?"

"No," I shrugged. I was used to this.

She looked around the room again. There was still nothing to see so I guessed she was weighing it up. In these instances it's wise to keep your mouth shut. Says a lot about me. I had a quick stare out the window.

"I'm not trying to jump in on your investigation, my client just wants something to say to the media when the inevitable happens."

"Oh yeah?" she turned on me. "And what is that?"

I stood up, this was a standing moment. I paced for effect and to not look like I was challenging her.

"Two things bug me. One is that the media already has this and has so much detail," she grimaced about that. "The second thing is a minor detail in the form of a Star of David."

"What of it?"

"It's got nothing to do with Voodoo. People connect Voodoo with Satanism and so don't think about it."

"So it's done by amateurs, but it still begs the question why."

I didn't answer, but thought about it again. It was really the sole reason that this wasn't the Mash, wasn't just something linked to the occult. There were plenty of murders that got linked to Satanism and other such things, and no doubt Satan got a kick out of them, but they weren't for or by him. The idea that Satan wants human sacrifices is a myth, that's not what he's interested in, that's lowbrow for him.

A little off topic, but I remember a case I was asked to advise on where a Christian had been killed in a supposed satanic ritual. I pointed out that the last thing Satan would want is a Christian to be killed and go to Heaven before Satan had a chance to break their faith.

"It's a sign," I said at last. I didn't want to say it. I didn't want it to be anything more than the Mash.

"A sign?" she asked with eyebrows raised. "For who?"

"That doesn't matter to you, it really doesn't."

"If you know something you'll be obstructing justice by not telling me," she said.

I laughed. I shouldn't have, I didn't mean to, but I did. When it came to justice I often didn't, couldn't, work by the Law's definition.

"All I need is to see the body and then I've done what I've been paid for. I won't get in your way after that."

She looked at me and I looked at her, our eyes pierced each other until she looked away.

"OK. I can't see the harm, but if you're holding out..." she left the threat hanging.

I plucked it up.

"I'm not."

†

There wasn't much of the body left, but there was more than would have been if it had been a Voodoo sacrifice. You see, in Voodoo the sacrifice means something, every action and the way it is performed, means something. This body was roughly hacked up and anything to point it to Voodoo was at the crime scene rather than on the body.

This wasn't a Voodoo sacrifice, this was all about the show, there was one reason and only one reason for this sick murder and that was for it to be found, to be seen.

I sighed when we got back outside.

"So?" she asked in the cold air.

"So it's not Voodoo, there's no precision, no meaning to it. In Voodoo every cut means something, is special, part of the ritual. This was a hack job.

"And like I said, they don't do this kind of thing. At least not officially, so they don't flaunt it like this."

"So someone is trying to frame them."

"No."

"No?"

"Look, it doesn't matter. This is what is going to happen; you and your fellow officers are going to follow the Voodoo route and you're going to find a suspect. Everything is going to fit despite the person strenuously denying it all and then you are going to suddenly find a piece of evidence that ties them in. It'll be a lucky break that closes the case and it'll be forgotten."

"Except that the church..."

"Temple, it's called a Hounfour," I taught.

"The Hounfour will deny it is Voodoo thanks to you."

"And everyone wins. Except whoever you send to prison for it."

"But you have more information."

"No," I said looking at her directly for the first time. "That's it. That's everything."

I turned and walked away. She had done as I had asked and I really didn't have anything more to tell her. We were done, or so I thought. She wouldn't, couldn't believe anything else that I had in my mind; and it had nothing to do with her investigation. It was my investigation now.

I shouldn't have baited her though, shouldn't have told her how I thought it would have gone down; that was foolish because I was tired and annoyed at getting pulled in again. I was frustrated that I couldn't tell her more, frustrated that I couldn't tell anyone outside those that already knew.

Southern Hunter

PROLOGUE

It has been said that only ten percent of the Bush remains in Australia since Westerners arrived, but it still covers vast tracts of land. Enough that each year, even in this day and age, people get lost and some die. There is still Bushland that isn't crisscrossed with roads or tracks; areas that no one goes in where undiscovered flora and fauna are living and dying in the circle of life. And it is on such a part of thick Bushland in the South West of that great country that two men find themselves.

"Was this worth the boats?" the man asked sitting in a small area where the undergrowth was sparse enough to set up a little camp.

"It's just for now," his companion answered. "We're illegal, we can't expect a job in a nice office in Perth, can we?"

"No, but this? This, what do they call it?" he raised his arms to the trees.

"Bush."

"I mean we're in the middle of nowhere, no roads, no people. And you hear stuff about Australia, all the dangerous creatures."

"Snakes and spiders are more scared of us than we are of them," the other man said.

"Not when we're asleep. The Sun will set soon and then what? Kangaroos, crocodiles."

His companion laughed.

"One, kangaroos are not dangerous and two there are no crocodiles this far South."

"I still don't like having to sleep out here."

"Well it's just a few more nights. We've marked the trees and surveyed the land, tomorrow we'll start hiking to that track and get picked up. We'll be paid more money for this than we've ever been back home."

They both sat there around the small fire as the Sun sank to the tops of the trees.

"Do you miss it?"

"What?"

"Home."

"We haven't been here long enough to."

"I do," the man shrugged. "This country doesn't smell right, and it's all so, I don't know, neat and tidy?"

The other laughed again.

"It's the food, Australians eat pies and chips and drink beer. They don't cook like us, they don't live like us; you'll get used to it."

"I guess," he said and looked out into the darkening Bush.

He didn't really know what would happen. They had paid a lot of money to get here on a boat and he was glad they were one of the lucky ones, lucky not to die, lucky to land without being caught. He'd rather die than go to a detention centre.

Then they'd been moved around, from here to there, all the while disorientated by their new surroundings and finally he and his friend had been taken to a mining company.

They'd done odd jobs for awhile, they were told they would work on a mine, but couldn't fly there, so they had to wait for a chance to be driven. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of a mine you had to fly to, it would have to be in the middle of nowhere, out in what the Australians called the Outback. It would not be comfortable living, but he had to think of the money, and his family back home who would receive most of it.

But instead they'd been taken south to a small town in the hills. It was surrounded by trees, Bush as they called it, and the company wanted them to look at a certain area, mark trees for cutting down so that a road could be cleared. Survey the area where they could to work out the best place for crews to come in and clear land. They were digging a new mine here or something.

He hated it; every minute of it out in this strange Bush with its strange animals and snakes and spiders. Australia was famous for all the ways it could kill you: the animals, the reptiles, the plants, the sharks, or you could just get lost in Bush like this, it went on for ever, the same in every direction.

Was it worth it? Life was hard back home, hard to have enough, but there was television. Television that told you of all the things you could have, should have. The West taught the rest of the World one thing, that you should own more things. More things meant more happiness and where once people had been content with their traditions, now they were unhappy and poor.

Yes, he was the same; that was why he was here. He wanted a good life for his family, he wanted good schooling for his children, but that was never going to happen tending bar to tourists back home. He had to do this for them, he had to remember that. There was a reason for this and maybe, maybe he could get legal, somehow bring his family here; have a good job.

But for now he was stuck in this Bush.

"It's not so bad," his friend said.

"What isn't?"

"This. No distractions, no noise, no complaining wife or begging children, just peace and quiet. And we get paid for it," he relaxed out on his swag.

"I miss them," the man said morosely.

"What is it they say here about glasses being half empty?"

"I don't know what you're talking about; do you really not miss them?"

His friend sat up angrily.

"Why do you think I'm here? For my family, to give them a better life. Of course I miss them, but I know that because I do this they will have a better life."

"I'm sorry," the man said.

The Bush stirred behind him and he looked back sharply.

"Relax."

"What was that?"

"Who knows? We're in a forest."

"What's out there?"

"Nothing that can hurt you."

"That's not true."

"Not this again. Snakes and spiders aren't going to come here and once you're in your, what are they called?"

"Swag."

"Right. It covers you completely, nothing can get to you."

Noise came from the darkening Bush again.

"And that?"

"Wind? A kangaroo? Who knows, but it won't bother us, it's not like they have tigers here."

"No, you're right, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just worried."

"There's nothing out here."

"Not that. I mean this job is nearly over, what if they drop us?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we're illegal. We don't have any rights here."

"I don't know, I try not to think of it."

The Sun sank below the tree tops and the spaces between the trees went from bright and beautiful to dark and ominous. Those creatures that lived by the light began to scurry home as those night hunters awoke and readied themselves. Kookaburras flew and called to each other in their distinctive monkey-like laugh. One began to wind up as others joined it until the trees around the men were full of the laughter of the birds, as if mocking the men their fate.

"I'll never get used to that sound," the man said.

"I can't believe they are birds and not monkeys," the other agreed as the birds fell silent as one.

There was a crash in the Bush and the man looked that way.

"Just a tree falling."

"You've an answer for everything."

"Did you never camp back home? Forests make noises."

"I preferred the comforts of the city," the man complained.

The Bush was silent as if waiting to see what might happen next. The man turned back and began to get into his swag, a sleeping bag with a semicircular tent pole at the head so that the person could be completely enclosed. And that was what he wanted now, to be enclosed, shut off from the world and whatever might be out there in the dark.

The Bush rustled and twigs snapped. Something else cracked, a branch maybe and he was sitting up again peering around in the last of the light.

"It's big," he said and saw that his friend was also sitting up.

"Yeah. There are some big kangaroos, maybe we should make a noise to scare it off?"

"Yeah, OK," he replied, though the last thing he wanted to do was make noise out here. It was irrational, he knew, but that wasn't going to take the fear away.

His friend whooped and he cringed before shouting out himself.

They listened. There was not a noise, not the sound of something coming nor something running away.

And then the whole Bush around their little clearing shook and thrashed and he couldn't believe his eyes as a giant head, mouth open, hundreds of razor sharp teeth, burst out of the dark trees and grabbed his friend. His head disappeared into the gaping mouth and it bit into his chest. Two clawed hands appeared and grabbed his friend, tearing him in two. Blood sprayed and poured as the beast flicked its head up to swallow his friend's torso.

He shrieked, struggling up out of his swag, hands up and forward to protect him, as if that would help.

No one knows we're here, no one will ever know or care. We're illegal, was his last thought as he staggered backwards and the giant beast leapt forward and sunk its giant claws into his chest.
The Haunting of Berkeley Square

PROLOGUE \- 1840

It is a cold night in London, the fog hugs the streets and wise people stay inside enjoying warm fires and families.

Others find themselves enjoying ale and friendship in any one of the city's many pubs. It is in one of these, in the Holborn area, that Sir Robert Warboys and his two friends sit drinking.

"And do you believe it?" Jeffery Anderson asks him.

"Of course, I don't," Sir Robert replies taking a large swallow of beer. "Merely native myth."

"I know of a story closer to home," Michael Roberts tells them leaning in. "That of Berkeley Square."

"The Thing?" Anderson asks and Roberts nods.

"They say that a man, a Mr. Dupres, lived there and his younger brother had gone mad, perhaps from war, violently mad," Roberts takes a sip.

"Get on with it, man," Warboys tells him.

"Well, he took over charge of his brother and had to lock him in the utmost room. They could not but let him out so they fed him through a hole in the door. Poor chap died in there, some say from lack of eating, others say he tore himself apart over many years. Fingers off, then toes," Roberts shudders at the thought.

"It is entirely plausible," Warboys offers, "but what is the point of this yarn?"

"They say," Anderson joins, "that it has been haunted ever since, perhaps even before. Neighbours tell of strange noises as if things are being dragged along corridors or down stairs, of doors banging and the signal bells ringing though no one lives there."

"Oh, what unadulterated poppycock," snorts Warboys. "You two are young and foolish, hiding behind your mother's skirts rather than adventuring."

"Fine, you go and stay in that upper room, the haunted room, see how brave you are," Anderson challenges angrily.

"My dear boy, I am merely twenty years of age and I need not tell you the things I have seen and done. You think I believe in ghosts? I don't, but I believe in money."

"One hundred guineas," Roberts says for his pride is equally hurt.

"Then I wholeheartedly accept your preposterous harebrained challenge!" Warboys raises his flagon of ale into the air with a grin full of gusto.

They pay for their beers and stumble out into the street. The cold air hits them and Anderson realises quite how drunk he has become and wonders briefly whether this was a good idea after all.

They reach Berkeley Square as the lamps are being lit and find the house. It is tall and adjoined to those each side. The square is quite lovely and upmarket except for this house, this house has seen a much better day and is in good need of a clean and paint. Anderson shudders, not for the cold, but for the truth. Why else would no one want to buy and live in such a luxuriant square in the heart of London?

After knocking a man opens the door. He is a tall, thin man with greyish skin, but black, black hair.

"Are you the owner of this property?" Sir Robert asks. He has sobered up somewhat, but is still drunk enough to be belligerent. Even sober he is quite belligerent, but it has got him so far so young that he sees nothing to change.

"No, sir, I am but the landlord of the residence."

"And no one lives here?"

"No, sir."

"Very well then, I would like to sleep in your upper room for the night."

"That is not a good idea, sir."

"Why? Because it is haunted?" Warboys laughs.

"Because it is not a good idea," the man merely replies.

"Come, let us go, this was a foolish idea," Anderson tries.

"Hush," replies Sir Robert. "Look, my good man, there is no such thing as ghosts and this is your chance to prove it. Maybe sell it on.

"Plus I will give you a nights rent and some pounds to do the place up, it is in a dreadful state."

"Very well, sir, it is you not I that will be sleeping there," the landlord says and steps aside.

They walk into the front room which is cosy enough and the landlord wanders off.

"Very well," Roberts says. "If we are doing this then we will do it right. You will ring the service bell once if you see anything and we will come and see it as well. You will ring it twice if you need help."

"This is nonsense; do not come on the first bell as you might scare the spirit off. But I will ring it if I see something, which I will not because I will be fast asleep."

"Take this with you," the Landlord says re-entering.

"What is this? A pistol? I need not a pistol for sleep, my good man."

"There will be no staying up there tonight nor any night if you take it not."

"Very well," sighs Sir Robert and takes the pistol. "Good night, gentlemen."

With that he and the landlord take to the stairs while Jeffery Anderson and Michael Roberts take chairs.

The landlord joins them and they talk about the area, about how London is growing and the price of properties. Until forty-five minutes past the stroke of twelve when they hear the tinkling of a service bell in the kitchen.

"He sees something," Anderson jumps from his chair.

"Or he is jesting with us," Roberts replies sleepily.

"Come let us look," Anderson says and so the three walk out to the bottom of the stairs.

As they get there the service bell rings twice and then starts ringing continuously. The three men run up the stairs, (the bell falls silent) to the landing and up to the next floor. As they reach the third and top floor a gunshot rings out from the front room and they speed up, slamming the door wide open.

Sitting wedged into the corner of the room sits Sir Robert Warboys, gun in one hand, the bell pull, ripped from the ceiling, in the other. His lips are pulled back in a rictus of terror and eyes popped out so that they dangle upon his cheeks.

His friends run to him and the landlord looks across the room to see what he had fired at. There is merely a bullet lodged in the wall.

Sir Robert Warboys is quite dead.

Dead from terror.

WELCOME TO THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSES

WHAT IS THE LIBRARY?

The Library was built at the centre of the Multiverse and contains histories, biographies, treaties and stories from all the Universes. Particularly those involving the likes of the Righteous, the King Imminent and those that play their parts in this wider story such as the Ten Kingdoms and the Five Worlds.

Read the book sand you will find clues and truths of this greater story within them. But beware that you don't' gain too much knowledge as knowledge is power and power gets you noticed by dark and terrible beings.

THE BOOKS

Each book is written to be read as a single story (or series), but there are overlaps so that the more books you read the more information you build of other stories.

Not only that, but they gradually build a bigger picture, a meta-narrative, a greater tale of good vs evil.

Find them here:

 https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/DangerousWalker

FACEBOOK

Join the fun at:

www.facebook.com/dangerous.w

or get news, updates and message the author at:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Walkerverse

THE VIDEOS

"Extracts with Dangerous" is a series of (comedic) videos where the author reads extracts from his books as well as poems and how to tie a bowtie.

Find them on YouTube.

TWITTER

Pretty much everything goes on the feed here:

https://twitter.com/DangerousWalke1

