F
antasia M W Stanhope stared with frustration at her personal physician. “I’ve been under your exclusive care for a week, Halliday, and you can’t stop the bleeding. Look at the state of my hand.”
“I’m sorry Ma’am,” said the doctor, “but all the usual things I can try haven’t worked. It’s as though the skin doesn’t want to heal.”
“It’s not a deep cut,” said Fantasia. “That knife must have been cursed.”
“I can’t say, Ma’am, but it seems rather unlikely. I truly can’t work out how to stop the seepage. I would recommend we get you into the private clinic for tests.”
“Can’t you see I have work to do? I have lost that little bitch. The cameras are all connected again, but she simply doesn’t show up. I need to find her.”
“Have you any trusted deputies you can leave in charge?”
“Sorry Doctor, but you’ve known me for a long time. Do you think I can trust anyone? If I put one of my clowns in charge, they would be sitting here, and the creature could pass right under their noses without them seeing. No, it’s something I have to do myself.”
“Don’t you think you’re getting a bit obsessed?” said Halliday tentatively.
“What?” Fantasia stared at him in amazement. “How dare you say that to me?”
“Fanty!” The man sternly reverted to the name her father used to call her when she was pulling the heads off grasshoppers. “You are not in the best of health. If you don’t have some proper treatment soon, you could lose the hand... or worse. I’ve been with you all your life: Hell, I delivered you from your poor mother, God rest her soul.”
“You can forget using words like that in this house,” said Fantasia. “You know my opinion on religions.”
“Sorry, but if I can’t give you advice, who else can you trust? Listen to what I’m saying. The girl will still be around when you are better. Leave her for the moment. She will get cocky and give herself away if you’re not permanently on her heels. Turn off the monitors and let me book you in to the clinic.”
“Damn you, but you’re probably right.” Fantasia sighed. “I’ll have to leave Jenkins in charge. He’s trustworthy and loyal, but a bit lacking in imagination.”
“Best kind of deputy.” The doctor picked up the telephone. “May I?”
Fantasia switched off the big screen.
“Look Anna, we’ve got to, like, stop for petrol soon,” said Jo as they traversed yet another country lane. “While I admire your faith in the supernatural, this is a normal car, and it doesn’t go if you don’t put fuel in it.”
“It’s The Chariot,” insisted Ankerita. “It doesn’t need petrol—look, the gauge still says ‘full’.”
“I expect it’s broken. Look, humour me. At the next garage we see, stop the car, and put some in. If the tank is full, no more will fit. Do we have a deal?”
“I don’t want to stop.”
“We could get some sandwiches too. That way we don’t have the risk, or the waste of time, stopping at a pub or café.”
“I suppose it makes sense. Okay, plot us a course to the nearest garage that’s not on a motorway.”
As they approached the service station, Ankerita suddenly slammed her foot on the brake. “Cameras,” she said. “They always have cameras in these places, don’t they?”
“That’s to catch people driving off without paying. They won’t be linked into the Web.”
“But Bitch-woman said that she was watching all the cameras.”
“Event those in gas stations?” Jo was incredulous.
“All of them. This woman is powerful. I don’t want to take any risks. I’ll get out here. You drive in and buy the petrol, sandwiches and drinks and anything else.” She handed Jo a wad of notes. “Will that be enough?”
“I think there will, like, be some change.” Jo smiled.
Ankerita pulled the coat tightly around her against the brisk sea breeze. She felt small and alone as she watched her car drive off towards the petrol station. The smell of salt from the ocean tickled her nostrils, and as she gazed across empty fields towards the grey haze of the sea, her eyes lighted on a ruined tower. It was lit starkly against the dark sky by a brief shaft of sunlight. “Lord, we were going the wrong way,” she muttered. “Forget Edinburgh; over there is where Clydno Eiddin hid his treasures. The witch has given me poor directions.”
She stared at the tower in the distance, and as she looked, it seemed to grow and reform into an impressive fortress, with flags and coloured bunting. “Yes, that is where we must go.”
“Alright Doll?” Jo stopped the car next to her. Ankerita jumped; she hadn’t noticed it returning. “As I suspected, the tank was nearly dry,” Jo said. “I had to fill it right up. We couldn’t have gone much further. Let me drive for a bit. You can lie low in the seat as we go past the garage again. The cameras won’t pick you up. We’ve still got a long way to go.”
“Good idea, but you won’t have to drive for long. That’s where we’re going.” Ankerita pointed across the fields.
“I can’t see anything.”
“It’s there, trust me.”
“Always... now, like, get in and tell me where to go.”
“It says the place is like closed until April.” Jo climbed into the warmth of the Ford. They had stopped at a field gate, and the castle was occasionally visible in the distance as the wind and rain battering it off the sea gave a respite.
“Is the gate locked?”
“Yes, it’s a wild place.”
“That’s a shame.”
“What do we do, turn back?” suggested Jo. “I guess we could walk, but we would be soaked in minutes. You might have a new coat that, like, turns away the weather, but mine isn’t so good.”
“I’ll go and open the gate.”
“I don’t see how. It’s locked.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll open it. You drive through.”
Ankerita got out of the car, and forced her way through the gale. There was a large padlock on the gate. She got out the rondel, and pushed it into the keyhole. It took only a single twist, and the lock sprang open. She swung the gate wide, and beckoned to Jo to drive through. Before re-joining, she closed it again and clicked the latch into place.
“I didn’t know you could pick locks,” observed Jo, as her friend settled beside her again.
“I didn’t need to,” said Ankerita. “The blade has many uses, as, you will find, do the other artefacts.”
“Yeah, right. It’s still a load of mumbo-jumbo to me. The thing must have already been broken.”
“You saw the monk. You felt what he could do. Does that not convince you?”
“It could have been a dream. I might only be in remission.”
“And what you saw in the shower at the pub?” prompted Ankerita, smiling as she remembered her friend’s outrage at the appearance of the ghost.
“That could have been my imagination... or wishful thinking. It’s been a long time... You might have warned me.”
“You do take some convincing.”
“I’ll take some convincing that this is a good idea,” said Jo ruefully, as she coaxed the Escort across the bleak clifftop. “We will be wiped out in this weather. Are you sure this is like where we should be?”
“Where else should we be?”
“That fire last night was wonderful. I’d love to be there after another good meal.”
“Humour me,” said Ankerita. “I promise that if there is nothing to find, we will go and get a nice cosy room for the night. We can dry out there.”
“I hate this game.” Jo pulled the wheel sharply to avoid a hidden gulley.
“You can stay in the car if you like. I’ll climb over the wall and see if I can find anything inside.”
“You expect to like find something? How will you know what to look for?”
“I’m sure it will all make sense, eventually.”
“You optimism does you credit.”
“That’s how life works. Expect something to be, and if you have no doubts, it will certainly be.”
“One day, I might begin to understand. This will do, I guess.” Jo parked the car on grass next to the ancient walls. “I’ll come with you,” she decided. “You’ll need help getting over, and it will be nice to do some climbing again. I haven’t had a proper adventure since I was in NZ.”
“Apart from the wraiths you attracted at the hotel we worked at.”
“I prefer to forget about them.” Jo shuddered. “Are we getting out?”
The wind almost took their breath away as the girls stood beside the castle wall. “This looks to be the lowest point,” shouted Jo over the gale. “I’ll give you a leg up.” She locked her hands together and bent down.
“Thanks, Hun.” Ankerita reached for the top, as Jo lifted her effortlessly by the foot, and almost threw her over. The stone was cold and slippery, but the drop on the far side was much less. Ankerita sat on the top, and was going to reach down to Jo, but her friend had already climbed up beside her.
“That was easy,” said the girl. “I’ll lower you down this side. Hang on to my wrist.”
Inside the castle, the wind was considerably less. The rain seemed to have abated for a while. It felt warmer. Ankerita opened her coat.
“Does it feel different to you in here?” Jo took her own coat off completely. “Like, more hospitable somehow.”
“Yes, that is odd, but nothing more than I would expect. I didn’t tell you, but as I saw the castle across the fields, I also saw the way it would have looked before it was ruined. That’s how I know there’s something for us here.”
“Like that?” Jo grabbed Ankerita’s arm, and pointed.
Standing in the centre of the courtyard was a man in armour. His head was bowed and he held a long sword by the hilt, its point resting on the cobbles.
“Something like that.”
Jo gaped, and then suddenly laughed. “Stupid me, it’s only a statue. I’m getting spooked without reason. On the other hand,” she gazed up at the sky, “is it my imagination, or is it getting darker?”
“It is getting darker,” said Ankerita. “I can feel that this place is changing. We’ve triggered something by coming here, or at least I hope we have.”
“You want to see something?” Jo glanced around nervously.
“Of course. I’d be disappointed if we didn’t. We still have the rest of the treasures to track down. Why shouldn’t this be where to find the next one?”
“And why should it be? Oh my God.” Jo grabbed her friend’s arm. “The statue like moved.”
The girls stared in fascination as the knight raised his head and looked directly at them. He took a step forward, and then another, as if uncertain of his footing. They shrank against the wall.
“I didn’t expect this,” said Ankerita, nervously. “I thought I would simply get the crystal out and it would show us where the next artefact is hidden.” She drew the rondel from her bag. It seemed pathetically small compared with the broadsword the knight was wielding. He strode forward, towards them.
“Keep back.” Ankerita waved the dagger. “I know how to use this. It’s devilish sharp.”
The knight stopped. They caught a glint from his eyes inside the helmet.
“We mean you no harm.” Jo grabbed Ankerita’s other hand. As she came into contact with the ring, the castle solidified into sharp focus. It was still dark, but she could see every detail, every blade of grass, every link in the knight’s chain-mail, and the keenness of his broadsword blade.
“Who are you?” Ankerita demanded. “Tell me your name, Sir Knight.”
“I might ask the same,” boomed the man over the roar of the wind. “Who are you to enter my citadel uninvited?”
Ankerita thought quickly. “Lady Ankerita Leighton, former anchorite, and my maid, er, Joanna of Zealand Abbey.”
“Maid?” Jo snorted.
“Shh.” Ankerita squeezed her hand.
“I know not of this place, Zealand,” said the knight, “but I see you are well-bred and pious, and know of your family, my lady. They are good people. You are welcome here. I am duty bound to provide the necessary shelter for the fair sex, unescorted on this stormy evening.” He struggled, and removed his helmet, revealing a grizzled face with a trimmed beard. “You will be my guests.”
“Thank God for that,” said Ankerita quietly.
“Follow me.” The knight set off towards the ruins of the massive gatehouse. “I will show you your quarters.”
“Come on.” Ankerita took hold of Jo’s arm. “Keep up; we may be about to cross worlds.”
“I hope the new one is a bit drier,” muttered Jo.
As they passed through a broken doorway, the building seemed to shift. Instead of a bare room, open to the skies as it was, they were in a chamber with a roaring fire.
“Come,” said the knight. “Upstairs there is food ready on the table.”
The girls followed the armoured man up a wide staircase into what must have been the great hall; the room took up the whole of the floor of the building. Another fire was burning in a huge fireplace, and a rough table was laid with places for a dozen. In the middle was a roasted pig, and a jug of liquid.
“I hope you’re not a vegetarian, today,” whispered Ankerita to her friend.
“I gave all that up when I knew I was dying,” replied Jo. “It looks delicious, Mr Knight. I’m starving.” She sat and used the big knife beside it to saw a hunk of meat off the pig. She poured a tankard of the liquid and smacked her lips. “Bang on,” she said. “What is it?”
Ankerita sniffed at the jug. “Mead,” she whispered. “Don’t drink too much; it’s very strong.”
“Please do eat and drink your fill,” said the knight. “What do you think of my home? It has the latest defences and devices of war, impregnable, but I need it to be that way.”
“Who are you, actually?” asked Jo, through a mouthful of pork and rough bread.
“Forgive me, ladies.” The man pulled himself up to full height. “I am Thomas Plantagenet, Second Earl of Lancaster, and lord over the north of England and the Scottish Marches.”
“What year is this?” asked Ankerita thoughtfully.
Thomas shook his head. “Do you know, I’m not sure?”
“Perhaps we can guess. When did you complete the castle?”
“That would have been the Year of Our Lord, 1319,” said Thomas after a pause.
“Are you trying to tell me that we are in the 14th Century?” Jo sprayed pork and mead across the table. The knight seemed pleased.
“Your wench has a good appetite,” he said. Jo Scowled.
“Yes, Zealand Abbey brought us up to appreciate the finer trappings of life,” said Ankerita, quickly.
“You must belong to the ‘Poor Clare’ order,” said the knight. “I’ve heard things about your sparing use of sustenance. You both look as though you could do with some good food.” He stood up to poke at the fire.
“Don’t be taken in. These may simply be visions,” Ankerita whispered to her friend.
“It feels very real,” replied Jo. “And the pork is delicious. You should try some.” She stopped. “Hang on, if this is medieval, didn’t the nobles all speak French?”
“I am conversing in French.” The knight returned. “As are you. You speak very well.”
“I spent a year in France,” said Jo, “and picked up a few words. I guess you were, like, brought up on it?”
“And Latin,” said Ankerita. “It’s this ‘English’ thing I have trouble with. So tell me what you remember, Sir Thomas,” she added, politely.
The knight’s face clouded. “Gaveston,” he said. “He was my downfall.”
“Piers Gaveston, I remember reading about him. The King’s favourite at that time.”
“I was a loyal subject of King Edward Longshanks,” said Thomas. “We fought the Scots together, curse the Scots.” He raised his mug, and took a swig.
“Curse the Scots,” echoed Jo, drunkenly raising hers too.
“Shhh.” Ankerita poked her.
“When he died,” continued the knight after staring at Jo for a moment, “I swore allegiance to his son, but the boy was more interested in his strange friends than defending the Crown.”
“Drôle?” suggested Jo.
Ankerita put her head in her hands, but the knight merely nodded sadly. “I killed Gaveston, but the boy king never forgave me, even though it was best for England. Then we got slaughtered at Bannockburn, curse the Bruce...”
“Shut it,” said Ankerita, as Jo opened her mouth. “What’s got into you?”
“...and for a few years, I had control, while I tried to get the masons to complete the castle. I was virtually king for a while, but the boy latched on to the Earl of Winchester, and I had to make a run for it. I was coming here, when they caught me at Boroughbridge. The Winchesters gave me a show trial, and they wouldn’t let me defend myself. I was sentenced to hanging, drawing and quartering as a traitor... but I never was; I only ever wanted England to be strong.”
“What a horrible fate,” said Jo. “It was barbaric.”
“Because of my Plantagenet blood,” said Thomas, “they commuted the sentence.”
“That was a relief.”
“Not really, they altered it to a simple beheading. A more noble way to die. The same as we did to Gaveston, who didn’t deserve it. I wish we’d have also done the Winchesters as we were purging the country.” He looked thoughtful. “They found some useless monk to do the deed. He took three blows to have my head off. It hurt like Hell, I can tell you.”
“So, you’re like dead?” said Jo, nonchalantly. “Are you a ghost?”
“I don’t know,” said the knight. “Am I?”
“You must be. We are from the twenty-first century. Can’t you see our clothes look different?”
“I agree you look strange,” said Thomas, “but I put that down to your monastic lifestyle. And you say it is a different millennium?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I must rightly be a ghost.” Thomas regarded his hands, as if he expected them not to be there.
“And if you’re a ghost, shouldn’t you be like walking around rattling chains and carrying your head under your arm?”
“If I’m a ghost,” said the knight, seemingly riled by Jo’s sarcasm, “I can appear how I like. You will show me respect, madam, or I will show you my dungeon.”
“She didn’t mean anything by it.” Ankerita butted in. “She is foreign, and they don’t understand these things.”
Jo glared at her.
“I will forgive her this time,” said Thomas, “but watch your tongue, madam, or I will have it cut out.”
“Sir Thomas,” said Ankerita, after a break to chew the meat on the table, “I have heard tales of a treasure interred in this fortress.”
“Of that I would not know,” said Thomas. “But there is a hidden passage out on the cliffs. It is said to be haunted. I have not gone down there. It might be a good place to try.”
“A ghost being afraid of ghosts?” giggled Jo.
“Please be quiet, babe,” said Ankerita. “Sir Thomas, would you show us please?”
“Have you eaten your fill?” The knight leaned on his chair and put his hands behind his head.
“It was lovely, thank you. Your hospitality is faultless.”
“So it is said.” The knight stood up. “We should waste no more time. Come with me.”
The courtyard was breezy, but seemed warmer than before. Stars were showing through the clouds. “It can’t be that late,” said Jo. “Let me check my phone.” She drew out the device, but the screen was blank. “I charged it in the pub this morning,” she said. “The battery can’t be flat.”
“I don’t know,” said Ankerita, “but keep up with the Earl. He seems to know where he’s going.”
Thomas collected a burning torch from a sconce in the wall, and led the girls through a gate on the clifftop, and then down a winding path clinging to the rocks. “This is the way to the harbour,” he said. “The entrance is down here. We use it for shelter and rest when unloading. I keep the secret way sealed.”
Half way down the cliff, Thomas showed them into a sizeable cave, and went to a door at the back. He drew out a large iron key, fitted it into the lock and with some difficulty turned it. “Beware the spirits of the dead,” he said. “If you return, I will be awaiting you in the Great Hall.” He lit another torch from his and handed it to Ankerita. “Take some spares. When this one starts to burn low, light the next. The passages go deep.”
“Is this, like, a good idea?” asked Jo nervously, as they started their exploration of the tunnel. All trace of the effect of the mead seemed to have disappeared as soon as they left the castle building.
“We have to search,” replied Ankerita in the lead. “Surely down here is a likely place for a treasure to be hidden?”
“I guess so. I’ve got some chalk out of your car. I’ll mark the walls, so we can, like, find our way back.”
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, and a sudden draught rushed along the tunnel. The torch guttered and went out.
“That’s the end of our adventure,” said Jo. “We can’t search if we can’t see.”
“No, we’ll have find the entrance again to relight the torch. Next time we’ll have a couple at the ready. I should have thought of that. Ow, that’s my arm!”
Jo’s fingers dug in. She pointed, but the gesture was wasted in the darkness. “What’s that there?”
As Ankerita’s eyes became used to the gloom, she could make out a dim glow down the tunnel ahead. “Yes, there is something. Is it getting brighter?”
“Looks like it’s coming nearer. We should run?”
“No, this is what I would have expected.”
“You’re mad.”
“But right, again. Hang on to me, if you’re scared.”
“Of course I’m not scared. Cautious perhaps.” She gripped her friend’s arm. Ankerita smiled in the darkness.
The light approached slowly. There was a flash, and standing in front of them was a hideous old man, a black cloak swirling about him, as if in a breeze. The air, though, was still.
“We search for the Halter of Clydno Eiddin,” Ankerita challenged him. “You will know where it is.”
The old man stared keenly at the girls, and spoke in a cracked voice. “You are most perceptive. You may follow me if you search for that treasure,” he said. “The way is dangerous and you might not return. Do you dare?”
“That’s why we’re here,” said Ankerita brightly, before Jo could reply. “Lead on, ancient guide.”
They seemed to be walking down the ancient stone tunnels forever. The old man gave off a dim glow, which led them through a labyrinth of passages. Jo tried to continue marking the walls as they passed, but it was difficult to keep up. They went down spiral stairways and along twisting passageways. There were many branches to the warren that showed up in the old man’s ghost-light, too many to try to remember a route. There would be no going back.
When it began to look as though they would spend the rest of their lives underground, the old man stopped.
“Up here.” He indicated a wide staircase.
“After you,” said Ankerita, and then as an aside to Jo. “I don’t trust this crossbiter one little bit.”
“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” The man was hesitant.
“Lead the way,” said Ankerita, “or we will assume patchery, and you will feel my steel.”
“As you wish.” The old man gave her a shifty look. “You have no need to be distrustful. We are at our destination.”
He pushed open a pair of solid wooden doors. They re-emerged in the courtyard of the castle they had recently left.
“That was a waste...” Jo began, and then she gaped. It was dark; the air was heavy, warm and dreamlike. The whole of creation seemed to twinkle in the stars overhead, but where the enclosure had previously been empty, on the ground, spread out as far as they could see...
“Here is your treasure.” The old man gave a cackle, regarding the expressions of horror on the girls’ faces.
The space seemed to be packed with bodies: men and women, mostly in uniforms from many different cultures and times. There were horses, dogs, and some other creatures that were difficult to identify in the cloying dark.
“Are they all dead?” asked Jo nervously.
“Sleeping,” said the man. “I welcome you to Kathartirion, the world between the worlds. This is where the souls of warriors await judgement... or forgiveness on their way to their new resting places. You will find many people here, evil or good; as you know, it is all about perspective.”
“Shit, we’ve died,” said Jo. “Like, at least it didn’t hurt.”
Ankerita peered at the face of the nearest sleeper, and gasped. “I’m afraid we’re rather in unfortunate company,” she said. “This ‘pandar-toad’ here is none other than Fantasia’s thug, Chris Praed, and that one looks like someone else I knew. O Lord...”
“What, this one?” Jo poked the cadaver with a foot. “He’s not going to wake up.”
“Where is Yolo Jones?”
“Who?”
“The worst of the lot of them, Yolo Jones. He should be here too.”
“I expect he is somewhere. From what you said of the battle at the warehouse, he wasn’t going to, like, walk away from what happened, was he? We will be good as gold, as long as they don’t wake up.”
“They’re not going to wake up, are they?” Ankerita challenged the old man.
“You have to make a choice. See.” He pointed, and they saw in the centre of the crowd, a raised white stone slab.
“Oh my Lord, look who it is.”
“Gorgeous hair,” said Jo. “I wish I had some of that.” She began to step carefully between the sleeping people. “Is she okay?”
“This is what you seek,” said the man. “This is your treasure, far beyond any trinkets you might find. This is the resting place of Genet of Siwaldston.”
“Can she be roused?” asked Ankerita, unimpressed.
“Er, of course,” said the old man. “You can awaken her with a simple choice. Go, stand at the side of the tomb.”
The three of them stepped over the prone figures and stood by the stone. Jo gave a squeak. “O.M.G., look at the carvings on this thing.”
All around the raised slab were horrendous images of torture and violence, murder and worse. Ankerita gazed down at the face of the witch. She was young and beautiful, with a mass of striking red hair. At her throat was a necklace set with pale blue stones that seemed to reflect the light of the stars. She was wearing a richly embroidered smock.
“What has she done to deserve this?”
The man said nothing. He was watching Jo intently.
“What are these for?” Jo broke the awed silence. She picked up a horn lying beside Genet. “Do I blow it? What about this?” She fingered a sword that was placed on the other side of the witch.
“The fate of the maid depends on you,” said the old man, finally. “Which will you choose to awaken her? A simple choice, sword or horn.”
“One or the other?”
“If you want to wake her, one of the items will work. The other will arouse everyone, be it through the noise of the clarion or the sound of steel, calling to arms.”
“A choice between life and death,” mused Ankerita. “And these people are all pending judgement? I assume that normal folks would not be held here, so we are in the company of very bad people?”
“You search for treasure. There will always be risks.”
“I’ll do it.” Jo looked thoughtful. “I suppose the horn might waken Genet, but again, it might wake everyone else too.”
“Yes,” agreed Ankerita. “I don’t want to meet my dear friend Praed again, especially here, where we have no protection at all.”
“But the sword might call them to arms,” continued Jo. “Which to choose? It’s like fifty-fifty, so I’m going to risk the horn. I’ll blow it quietly in her ear.”
Ankerita glanced at the old man. His face was split in a sneaky leer. “Jo, wait,” she said. “Put them back on the slab, I think I might know the answer.” She bent over to gaze at Genet’s sleeping face, took her shoulders and shook her. Nothing happened. “Right.” She gave the witch a resounding slap on the cheek. “Wake up bitch.”
Genet gave a cry and sat up. “Fie!”
The old man cursed, and scampered away, a lot more sprightly than he looked. Ankerita let out a sign of relief.
“The others haven’t moved.”
“Nice one, Kid,” said Jo. “I didn’t think of that.”
“It was a trick of course. Both the items would have aroused the horde. I seem to remember reading about it in ancient mythology.”
“My lady.” Genet swung her legs off the tomb and slipped to the ground. “You have found me at last. I thought you’d never do it, despite all the clues.”
“Clues,” accused Jo. “You were sending us to Edinburgh. This is miles away.”
“I didn’t know where I was. I’m an enchantress, not a festering cartographer. These places all look the same. How was I to know?”
“We have found you.” Ankerita put her hand on her shoulder. “I’ve kept my side of the bargain. You owe me. Now, tell me how to properly read the Book, and where is this treasure?”
“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable first.” Genet took a deep breath. “Have you brought Liber Manes with you?”
“Of course.”
“And I’ve got a score to settle with the Mynde, who put me here in the first place.” Genet rubbed her hands.
“Sorry,” said Ankerita, “but I think you’ll find they died out long ago. There is nobody around today with that name.”
“Curse them,” said Genet. “How long has it been?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Time and place are nothing when one is between worlds. Waiting could be a few minutes or...”
“Five-hundred years,” said Ankerita.
“God’s teeth! It is no surprise that the enemy has departed from the door. I will not have my justice.”
“Probably best to leave it,” agreed Ankerita. “So, I need you to help with the spell to cure my friend here.”
“What?” Jo started. “I’m sorry, I was feeling so sleepy.”
“We should leave this place,” said Genet. “The slumber will return upon us if we do not get out. Is there somewhere warmer? I’m miserable cold.”
“This looks like the courtyard of the castle,” said Ankerita. “I’m wondering if we go through this door here, we’ll get to where we started. Get the Earl to send us back.”
In the Great Hall, there was no sign of the knight, but the fire still burned. Genet warmed her hands gratefully. “Bloody stone slab,” she said. “Why was I there, when everyone else had a cosy floor to lie on?”
“No idea,” replied Ankerita, “unless it was something to do with the spell. What was that about?”
“The custodian was trying to trick you.” Genet shrugged. “Using either of the items beside me would have woken everyone up, and you’d have both been trapped there until judgement was called. It could be forever.”
“A bit like the US taxation service,” said Jo. “I worked in the States for six months, and they took years to refund the tax I shouldn’t have paid. We’d never have got away.”
The other two shook their heads.
“Sorry,” said Jo. “By the way, why aren’t you talking in some old language, if you are from the Middle Ages?”
Genet scowled. “I might have been in here for that long, but I have listened and watched, and adapt my speech for this new era. Do you want me to revert?”
“Only asking.” Jo backed off.
“Then let me see the tome.” Genet settled on the bench nearest to the fire. The others joined her. Ankerita fished in her bag, brought the book out and passed it over.
The witch flicked through the pages. “This is the one we want.” She pointed at a specific section.
“I thought so,” said Ankerita, “but I understand nothing.”
“Look again.”
“Ah.” As Ankerita stared at the parchment, the marks and symbols all came together. The writing began to make sense. There was a pentagram and colours and writing, the full setup and main chant of the spell. “I see. Yes, this should do perfectly,” she said. “The items though. How will I find the items?”
“They are the Treasures you have been seeking. We only need five, and you have those already.”
“I only count four, and to place them at the points of the drawing is not simple; one is a motor car. How do we get that into the location?”
“Tricky. I think, though, that once the planets align, we will manage. Look.” Genet indicated a list: “Jupiter, Mars, Saturn, Venus and Mercury; each corresponds to a point of a pentacle. Once in the right place in the night sky, the magic will run itself, as it did on the fateful night of your death.”
“Five hundred years ago.” Ankerita put her finger on a line of text. “It says here that now is one when full alignment happens. If we miss that, how long do I have to wait?”
“Another five hundred.”
“One chance. I cannot miss it. There are three opportunities this year. The dates are here. We’ve missed the first one already. The next conjunction comes in the summer.” She lowered her voice. “Has Jo got that long?”
“I’ll bloody make sure I have,” said Jo. “You’ve not been through all this, only for me to, like, keel over on you before you do your mumblings.”
“That’s settled.” Ankerita shut the book with a snap. “Are we finished here?”
“I should think so.”
“Do we need to go through all those tunnels to return to actual time?” asked Jo.
Genet smiled. “No need; we simply go out through the front gate, the portal, and that will return us to your own world. I can join you, now I am released.”
“Of course,” said Ankerita. “How does it feel to be coming home at last?”
“It’s strange in this new era,” the witch mused, “but I’m sure I’ll manage. I expect there is ever a need for proper healers and enchantments, these days.”
“Too bloody right,” said Jo with feeling.
Passing through the main castle gatehouse, the three girls stood beyond the walls. Genet went forward into the sunshine and stretched her arms out. “It feels wonderful,” she shouted. “Come on, the weather is gorgeous.”
“But it was cold and rainy and dark when we came in.” Jo blinked in the new light.
“I thought it was,” said Ankerita, “but look, it’s sunny, and there are leaves on the trees. What’s going on?”
“I should have thought to warn you,” said the witch. “As I mentioned, Time goes a lot quicker for the rest of the world, compared with Kathartirion. I think you’ll find some weeks have passed.”
The girls followed her out into the warmth. Jo’s phone bleeped. She stared at it. “My God,” she said. “We were only in there a few hours. According to this, we’ve missed over four months.” She gave a cry. “Hell, the pain’s back! It’s worse than ever. I...”
She folded up in agony.
“What’s happened?” Ankerita stood bewildered, staring helplessly, as her friend writhed on the ground.
“All the life force that Brother Francis gave her must have been used up during the time we’ve lost,” said Genet. “She’s dying as the disease takes her again. I hoped it wouldn’t happen, but while Jo was in Kathartirion, she was fine, and could have spent years there, albeit asleep. The moment she came out, that time would have caught up.”
“You mean if I waited any longer, I might have been older than my normal life would allow, and dropped dead on the spot.” Jo spoke painfully. Ankerita kneeled down beside her, trying to make her comfortable.
“Yes, it looks like it,” said Genet. “It would be worse for me of course; I’ve been there a lot longer.”
“How are you still alive?” Ankerita looked up at the witch.
“My necklace, it’s the Halter of Clydno Eiddin,” said Genet, “and the last piece you require. Look.” She pointed towards the horizon. “See that star. That’s Jupiter; the others have yet to rise. When the five planets are in conjunction, we must perform the ritual. We use this band as the missing point of the pentacle. I had hoped it would not be needed, but there is now no time to track down any of the other treasures.”
“And that will rekindle your life, and we can save Jo?”
“No.” Genet shook her head and her hair whirled in a cloud. “If I take it off to complete the spell, I could revert to my true age,” she said. “It might kill me where I stand.”
“That is not an answer,” said Ankerita. “Go back into Kathartirion. Give me the necklace, and I’ll find another way to rescue you. I’ll do the spell on my own, Once I’ve healed Jo, I will find you again, and release you. I give you my solemn oath.”
“But I’ve waited so long to return.” Genet stretched her arms towards the setting sun again. “It feels so good.”
“Can you live with this life on your conscience? Hasn’t everything we’ve done been for my friend?”
“It was to free me, so that I could help you,” said Genet. “The rite of the Forgotten Path is dangerous for one untrained. You might save Jo, but you could lose your own life if you are not especially careful.”
Ankerita cradled Jo’s head, and stared at the witch. “Can you save ordinary people from death? No, I can see from your face that you can’t. I will risk it. Lend Jo your necklace, and you wait in Kathartirion until later.”
“You may manage, if you follow the Book to the letter,” said Genet. “If I give you the artefact, you can perform the necessary enchantment. Follow the instructions, and if nothing goes wrong...”
“You’ll wait a bit longer for me to find you again?”
“I can’t see another answer,” said Genet sadly. “At least I’ll be asleep.”
“Are you sure you can get through the portal?”
“No.” The witch sighed, “but you should take the necklace. I suppose I owe it to you, after everything you’ve been through.”
“What we’ll do is find the border between the two worlds,” said Ankerita. “You get right up to it and hand over the necklace a moment before you go in. That should work.”
“I can’t see another way.” Genet walked up the castle gateway. A shimmering curtain of light seemed to obscure the inner courtyard. “This is it,” she said. “Take the trinket, and good luck. Here.” She unclipped it from her neck and held it out. Ankerita grabbed it, and dashed to the unconscious Jo.
“We will meet again.” Genet pushed at the curtain, and then again, more forcefully. She did not disappear. “It’s not working,” she wailed. “It’s not letting me in.”
“Quick,” said Ankerita, “have the necklace back.” The two young women raced towards each other. Genet reached out and gripped the chain, but it passed through her hand, and fell to the ground. The witch was gone. A cloud of dust drifted away on the light breeze.
Ankerita stared in bewilderment, and gave a cry of dismay, as she remembered Jo. She scooped up the necklace and sprinted back to where her friend was lying. She fumbled the clasp around her friend’s neck.
Jo rolled on to her back. “Oh my God, that was, like, awful. I’d forgotten how painful it was. This must be the right treasure? I should thank the witch.” Jo looked around blankly. “Where is she?”
“Genet gave her own life to pass it on to you,” said Ankerita, her eyes filling with tears. “We’re on our own.”