Child of Time Read online

  ‘My dear Ramusio,’ said the Grand Master. ‘You say you have done nothing, and yet my observers tell me that you have been expressing concerns and doubts to your fellows. What say you to that?’

  ‘I... I have not, my Lord.’

  ‘And who then should I believe, Ramusio? You? Or my friends?’

  Ramusio found a little strength within himself and looked around. ‘Friends? What friends are these, my Lord? Would friends spread rumour and gossip for the sake of a little sport?’

  The Grand Master chuckled to himself. ‘Oh, my friends love a little sport... and where are they? Why, they are right here.’

  He frowned in concentration, his lips moved in incantation. The floor seemed to shift, and a cry of alarm went through the gathered people. Suddenly, something large crashed through one of the high windows of the room. It seemed to be a giant, horse-like creature, and it thundered across the room, its feet crashing against the floorboards, coming to rest just in front of the Grand Master.

  Honoré recognised it instantly as one of the stone gargoyle-like creatures. It stood before the Grand Master and moved its head balefully back and forth, scanning the crowd with its glowing red eyes.

  ‘So, Ramusio,’ said the Grand Master. ‘You didn’t answer my question. Who should I believe?’

  Ramusio was rooted to the spot in stunned silence, as were the rest of the crowd.

  ‘Have you nothing to say for yourself?’ The Grand Master concentrated again, and his lips moved silently. The stone creature rounded on Ramusio and slowly approached him.

  Ramusio started backing away, and the rest of the crowd drew back from him, leaving him alone and facing the stone monstrosity. The creature paused and drew back on its haunches.

  Ramusio looked at the Grand Master. ‘I did nothing!’ he protested. ‘You have to believe me!’

  ‘Oh, I believe you...’

  And with that, the creature suddenly leapt at Ramusio and landed right on top of him with a sickening crunch.

  Some of the ladies in the crowd screamed, and the men gasped. Maria stood with her eyes tightly shut, and Honoré swallowed drily. More death. Wherever he went there was death.

  The stone creature shifted its body from side to side, grinding whatever was left of Ramusio into the floorboards, and then shuffled back to the side of the Grand Master, leaving nothing more than a large sticky mess of blood and pulp on the floor.

  ‘So my friends... where was I? Ah yes, is there anyone – else – who would like to express their concerns at this point? Anyone?’ He scanned the crowd, a smile pulling at the sides of his mouth. ‘I thought not. Now...’ he clapped his hands together twice. ‘We can begin.’

  Two attendants pulled a large rug over to cover the stain on the floor, and others set a low table out in front of where the Grand Master was standing. The men carrying the book and the chalice placed them deferentially on the table and then stood back, while the Chancellor stayed where she was, watching everything from behind her mask, her mouth twitching in a slight smile.

  The large stone gargoyle moved to the side of the room where it stood, poised, a sentry on duty.

  The Grand Master picked up the ancient book. It was large and bound in a rough, hide-like substance, which Honoré suspected was probably human skin. The robed figure opened the book and selected a page. Then, with a sweeping glance out at his audience, he began to read. Strange, garbled syllables spilled from his lips in a language that – for once – Honoré could not understand and that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to bristle.

  As the Grand Master spoke, so the Chancellor moved behind him and picked up the chalice. She then started parading it up and down the hall, raising it to the heavens in time with the cadences of the Grand Master’s voice. Listening and watching from above, Honoré was trying to hold on to his earlier conviction that this was all just theatricals, but was finding it increasingly difficult... He nevertheless maintained his composure as the ceremony continued to take its course below. Maria stood motionless in front of him, entranced by the spectacle.

  After about five minutes of incantations, bold gestures and chalice-raising, the Grand Master’s chanting came to a crescendo and abruptly stopped. There was silence in the room; all the guests stood in anticipation. There was not even a cough.

  Then, somewhere high above, a bell started to toll. It was midnight. A cool breeze seemed to riffle the air, and the candles all around the room twisted and guttered. Some were extinguished, and plumes of smoke ascended from them, twisting and curling around the faint currents of air that filled the room.

  The Grand Master set his feet apart, placed the book in the hands of one of his acolytes, and raised his arms to the ceiling. ‘As my will, so mote it be.’

  The assembled crowd caught on quickly; or perhaps they had done this sort of thing before. Almost as one, they replied, ‘As my will, so mote it be.’

  Honoré picked up on the response part way through; Maria the same. It wouldn’t do to be seen to be dissenting. But everyone’s attention was fixed on the imposing figure of the Grand Master at the end of the room.

  Another cold gust of air blew through the room and more candles guttered and went out.

  ‘Eko, Eko, Dæmos,’ said the Grand Master.

  ‘Eko, Eko, Dæmos,’ repeated the assembled people.

  ‘Eko, Eko, Mastho.’

  ‘Eko, Eko, Mastho.’

  As the chanting continued in the alien tongue, the doors behind the Grand Master opened to reveal three guards and, between them, six young children. Honoré looked at them carefully. All were ragged and shivering, and all were between about four and 12 years old.

  Maria dug Honoré in the ribs with her elbow and spoke without turning. ‘See their arms and faces.’

  In the dim candlelight, he could see the scars and wounds that covered their skin – the same markings that Maria bore. One of the children started crying and a guard batted him offhandedly around the head. The boy raised his own arm to protect himself, and Honoré noticed with a shudder that the arm was mechanical. A network of cogs and gears worked away inside its metal frame... It was monstrous.

  The children lined up in front of the Grand Master, then dropped to their knees before him, snivelling quietly and obviously totally confused by what was happening. The Grand Master’s lips moved again, and a susurrant chant emerged from them – a mixture of exhortation and summoning, some of it in that alien, backwards tongue, but some in words and terms that Honoré understood. The Grand Master was calling upon some sort of creature, asking that it appear before them here and now.

  The light flickered and Honoré looked around. A gasp went up from the crowd below, and those closest to the centre of the room stepped sharply backwards, bumping into their neighbours, as a dark pool formed on the surface of the wooden floor. It flickered and sparked, and a slow column of greasy black smoke started to form, writhing and churning above the wood, which gave an audible creak. Someone cried out as the wood started to push itself up out of the floor itself, forming a crude nose and brow. The crowd stumbled slightly as the floor shifted, forming a mouth below the nose. A hollow, echoing cry began; low at first but then rising in cadence and power. The swirling dust cloud thickened, and the very floor seemed to extend up into it, adding to the bulk of the whirling entity.

  The crowd shuffled uncomfortably as the spinning creation edged nearer to them. The moaning became a howl and a word could be heard echoing and reverberating:

  ‘Bbbbbbb – llllllllllll – ooooooooooooooooo...’

  Honoré realised what it was before Maria. ‘It’s blood... The thing wants blood!’

  Without warning, one of the masked guests nearest to the edge of the vortex was snatched into the maelstrom, closely followed by two others. The howling tornado turned a scarlet red, and droplets of blood started to spatter the faces and clothes of those watching.r />
  People were screaming now, women fainting, faces whiter still than the powder they wore. A few of the men were trying to open the doors, but in vain; they were immovable, trapping everyone inside the ballroom.

  The Grand Master smiled broadly. ‘We welcome you, o Dæmon. Welcome. Welcome!’

  The spinning slowed, and the echoing howl died away. The room quietened, save for the panicked breathing and shuffling of the speechless onlookers, and the cloud of smoke started to drift more slowly.

  Honoré saw that there was a shape within the cloud, and he leaned forward to get a better look. The dust and smoke dissipated and, in the middle, slowly revealed to them, was a massive figure.

  It was man-like but huge, perhaps eight feet tall. It had large, powerful arms, its torso rippled with muscles and its trunk-like legs were firmly-rooted and stable. Honoré saw with a start that the legs were backwards-jointed like those of a goat, and that coarse fur covered the lower part of the creature’s body. Its head was misshapen and over-large, and two curled horns protruded from its brow.

  The massive head turned from side to side, and Honoré could see the cruel mouth and intelligent, glinting eyes. As those eyes passed over him, he felt his heart shudder in his body, and Maria stiffened against him. But then the Dæmon’s gaze moved on and the feeling subsided.

  ‘Oh God,’ muttered Maria. ‘They’ve done it. They’ve actually done it.’

  ‘I know,’ breathed Honoré. ‘They’ve summoned the Devil.’

  5

  Emily was relying on Violet to remember the way out of the Palazzo. She would never have been able to retrace her own steps; everywhere looked the same. Miles of damp stone corridors, branching off at intervals and giving onto numerous spiral staircases leading back down into the hell they were trying to leave behind. Smoky torches lit the passageways, but to no apparent purpose – the few rooms she looked into were silent and cold, and the whole place seemed oddly devoid of life, save for the ever-present shadows that danced across the walls, making her imagination work overtime. Several times, she thought the doorways contained watchers – of the stone variety as well as the human – and she wondered how she’d cope if she encountered one of the gargoyle-creatures this close up.

  Why was the place so deserted? She crept along yet another seemingly endless empty corridor, Freia held in the crook of her arm and Violet helping Jimmie behind her. She wondered how long her heart could keep beating at this rate. At least it meant that there was no-one around for the children to hurt; she could sense that Violet in particular wanted to hurt as many people as she could at this moment, despite her suggestion to the contrary in the cell. But nevertheless she had a growing sense of nagging unease at the lack of apparent activity in the place.

  She wriggled Freia up onto one hip as they ascended a narrow stone staircase to emerge into the stale and greasy air of what appeared to be a kitchen. Taking cover behind a large dresser, Emily gestured for Violet to stay down and be quiet as she heard someone clattering pans close by.

  She bobbed her head up to take a quick look, then ducked down again.

  ‘It’s a cook,’ she whispered. ‘He hasn’t seen us. Stay still and quiet.’

  Violet nodded and rested back on her haunches.

  Emily listened as the clattering of pots continued. She risked another look. The cook had his back to them and was engaged in the unedifying task of washing up.

  ‘It’s okay,’ hissed Emily. ‘He’s washing up. Quietly now...’

  She moved out from their hiding place and, keeping low and under cover as much as possible, headed for a doorway that she hoped might lead out into a scullery or even into the open air. The door swung open easily and she slipped though, then glanced back for the other two. Jimmie was propped up against the wall, his head lolling on his chest, and there was no sign of Violet.

  Emily shook her head in annoyance. Where had the girl gone? Glancing around her new surroundings, she realised that she had indeed entered a scullery. Set into the wall on the opposite side of the room was a huge, metal-studded wooden door with a think reed mat in front of it. Next to the mat were several pairs of muddy leather boots. It had to be the way out.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of pans falling to the floor, followed by a low gargling sound, from the room she had just left. Quickly, she placed Freia gently on the floor and turned back, peering around the door frame. The cook was bent low over the sink and thrashing about in the water. Just to one side, Violet stood motionless, her small hands clenched into fists and her arms ramrod straight.

  Looking closer, Emily could see that the cook’s face was actually below the surface of the water in the sink. His legs were kicking and thrashing and his arms flailing uselessly as he tried in vain to pull his head back and away from out of the swirling water.

  ‘Violet...’ hissed Emily.

  No response. With a muttered curse, Emily swiftly crossed the room and grabbed Violet by the shoulders, spinning her around. She reeled as she saw that the girl’s eyes were a glistening black; there was power rolling off her in waves.

  ‘Violet! Stop it! You’re killing him!’

  Violet started to shudder.

  ‘He’s not your enemy. None of them is. Save your powers... you may need them another time, another day. Don’t kill an innocent man for what others have done to you! Violet!’

  The small girl blinked suddenly, and the blackness of her eyes cleared like clouds shifting to reveal the sun. The cook gasped as he was released and collapsed to the floor by the sink, wheezing, spluttering and clutching his throat.

  Emily continued to hold Violet’s gaze. ‘This is not the way. You know that.’

  The girl glanced dispassionately across at the man by the sink. ‘I was so angry... He was the first we had seen...’

  ‘I know,’ said Emily. ‘Trying to control the rage is the hardest thing, but it’s also the most important. If you lose control, then you and your friends will ultimately suffer. You know that.’

  Violet nodded, seeming to regain her composure. ‘I know, Emily. And thank you.’

  The girl turned and walked back to where Jimmie was struggling to rise to his feet by the dresser. She helped him up, while Emily returned to where she had left Freia. Together they then crossed the narrow scullery to the metal-studded door.

  They met and saw no-one else as they emerged into the night. It was black as death, and Emily could barely see to place one foot safely before the other, but the four of them managed to make their way through the gardens and out onto the lanes surrounding the Palazzo with no further problems.

  When they were a safe distance away and there was no chance of anyone coming after them – not that anyone seemed to have raised a hue and cry, or even noticed that they had gone – Emily paused and looked back at the Palazzo. The building was a sharp silhouette against the black sky, dark except for one set of windows, which flared with yellow and red-tinged light. Emily hoped that wherever Honoré was, he was safe...

  The Dæmon gazed around the room, and people flinched as its stare fell upon them. Even those who had been shrieking were too terrified now to utter so much as a whimper, although one or two were dribbling freely, eyes rolling and clearly in deep shock. The only people who appeared unaffected in any way were the Grand Master and the Chancellor, who were standing in rapt adoration at this monstrous creature that they had summoned.

  Honoré wanted to look away, to blend into the brocade drapes that curtained the balcony, anything other than let the monster slide those eyes over him. But he couldn’t: he was caught like the others, hypnotised by the sheer power of the beast. Then he caught a glimpse of something flickering around the creature and narrowed his eyes, blinking and fighting the spell. It was almost like... yes it was... it was the creature’s timesnake.

  He followed the bizarre, coiling, twisting snake, Möbius in complexity. Its colou
rs were unlike those of any human timesnake he had ever seen, and he could sense it extending far into the past and also away into the future; this creature had a greater life span than any human. He touched the snake tentatively with his mind, acutely aware that with Maria pressed back against him, he could accidentally time jump if he wasn’t very careful. He had no desire to find himself somewhere in the history of this being, in a place and time he might well not recognise and, indeed, from which he might have no way back.

  The brief touch was enough. Honoré drew breath and withdrew his mental probe. As he did so, he felt Maria tense against him – whatever he’d done had jolted her out of the creature’s thrall too. He wondered how long both of them would be able to resist it for.

  Without turning, Maria spoke softly. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I tell you something.’ Honoré shook his head. ‘Whatever that thing is, it’s not a demon from hell.’

  Maria nodded, ‘I’ve seen many strange things. What do you think it is?’

  ‘Its timesnake... it’s like nothing I’ve seen before. It goes off the Earth, entwines with other worlds, other cultures. I think this creature is an alien. Something from another planet...’

  He concentrated again and began further gentle mental probing of the undulating timesnake before him. ‘It’s... a Dæmon,’ he whispered. ‘Like the Grand Master said. That’s the name of its race. If I go back far enough, I can sense its homeworld.’

  Maria nudged Honoré, for below them in the ballroom the Grand Master was addressing the creature. He’d lost some of his previous air of confidence now, perhaps because he was clearly no longer the most powerful being in the room.

  ‘Welcome to Earth, o Dæmon.’

  The creature turned its bull-like head and regarded the Grand Master. Then, with a deep and booming voice, it spoke. ‘Why have I been summoned a second time?’

  ‘Second time... ?’ The Grand Master was clearly puzzled. ‘This is but the first time we have summoned you, o lord Dæmon.’