Dark Tidings: Ancient Magic Meets the Internet Book 1 (17 page)

Since the creation of the magic pouch, Madrick had used, gifted or cashed in twenty-one of the gold Aethelred II coins. As far as he was concerned they were just a source of money which allowed him and Tung to live in the lap of luxury at the Ritz. He’d no idea what happened to the coins after he’d disposed of them, and frankly, he didn’t care. The fact of the matter was these Aethelreds were bought and sold by a series of traders, each one along the chain making a very healthy profit, thank you very much. Eventually, sixteen of the coins ended up on a deep brown, highly polished mahogany table being stared at by four, rather sombre looking, suited men.

These were the rarest of rare coins and six weeks ago there were only a few known examples in the world, and not one of them was in anything like this uncirculated condition. Now, within the space of a few weeks, sixteen perfect examples had turned up in the city. This was just one of a series of strange occurrences which these men were now investigating.

They examined the coins in great detail and marvelled at their beauty. Just touching the old gold was enough to warm the cockles of a man’s heart; well, the average man’s heart. These men were different. These men showed no emotion and the coins merely presented them with a problem. They had to find out exactly where they had originated and why they were now appearing in such numbers.

“We need to keep a close eye on this phenomenon,” said the tallest man carefully replacing the coin beside the others.

The sixteen circles of gold were identical. They all had the same date and they were all in pristine condition. It was as if they had been taken directly from the engraver’s die and stored in protective isolation for nearly a thousand years.

“Maybe a secret collector decided to sell off part of an illicit collection.”

“No, it’s something different. Any collector worth his salt would know the value and wouldn’t have sold them all over the city for a fraction of their worth, even if his collection had been gathered illegally.”

“Maybe they were stolen and the thief didn’t know the value of what he’d got.”

“Very unlikely, because a thief would usually off-load his proceeds to a single fence. I think there is more to this than we can explain. We need to find out quickly what is going on.”

They researched the history of the coins, consulted experts in the field and checked with listed collectors. They tracked down unlisted collectors by trawling the Deep Web, the murky parts of the Internet which Google doesn’t reach. Their inside connections allowed them to talk to the directors of banks whose vaults contained secret stashes of gold, like Nazi gold, but no one could shed light on the mystery. They came up with no logical or reasonable explanation, because there was no logical or reasonable explanation.

As a last resort, they sent out sixteen of their trusted agents; each was tasked with tracing a single coin back to its source. Once they knew where the Aethelreds had come from, they were confident they could decide whether they needed to take action.

Even though the agents were all loyal servants, they wouldn’t be told the whole story. They would be blinkered in their search, so they could focus exclusively on their own individual tasks without the distraction of the big picture and without the pressure of knowing the importance of their mission.

“This is the right thing to do. Our agents will track down the source. They’ll find out if there’s more than one individual selling these coins. All we can do now is wait and see what they discover. I’m sure it won’t take them long.”

The four nodded in agreement. They wanted to find a simple explanation, but they weren’t hopeful, nothing simple was going to explain the growing number of strange incidents which were being reported around the city. They knew they had to move with great urgency because their guts told them that something big was stirring. They needed to understand everything about each event and work out if, and how, they were all connected.

As if there wasn’t enough pressure, now their boss was demanding a formal report, so they had even less time to gather all the detail. That demand was not to be treated lightly, because their boss was the Great Grand Master of the Occultus Populous.

Madrick, Tung and Michael were enjoying yet another splendid lunch at the Ritz. This was definitely a perfect way to spend an afternoon; except he missed Faith. He was there again without her because he’d decided not to share this secret until he knew what direction things were going to go.

“Where’s Faith?”

“She’s still not feeling the best. Does that girl get hangovers, or what?”

“My guess is yes,” said Tung.

“That was a rhetorical question,” said Michael.

“What’s a rhetorical question?”

“It’s a question which doesn’t want an answer.”

“Then what’s the point of asking it? That’s just annoying.”

“Is there anything more annoying than a rhetorical question?” replied Michael smiling.

“No, I don’t think there is,” said Tung as the joke flew silently and unnoticed over his head.

They got back to their meals and the talk began to get more serious. It was time to get down to business. By the time they’d finished their main courses, they were revisiting their personal priorities.

“I want to live it up at the Ritz; forever,” said Tung.

“I want to destroy IIBE and become wealthy in the process,” said Michael. “Oh yes, and make the world a better place.”

“I just want a quiet life of luxury,” said Madrick. “And I emphasise ‘quiet life’ because there are people out there who’d do anything to steal the Scroll. We need to keep a low profile and make sure the Spell Spell remains our own well-guarded secret.”

They chatted easily about how they could achieve their aspirations. Michael started again to try and explain the outline of his hacking plan. Once again, it soon became clear they weren’t going to grasp any of it. He decided it was better to hear what way the travellers wanted to go.

Tung, Madrick and Michael now shared an increasing level of trust. They all knew secrets about each other and that was a good building block; you spill my secret and I’ll spill yours. On top of that, as a nice little bonus, there were true friendships developing within the group.

Madrick, therefore, had little hesitation in asking Tung, in front of Michael, to create the next spell. They’d decided to leave him ‘empty’ for a while because Madrick suspected that constantly carrying round an active spell might cause problems. He didn’t know for sure, but they had seemed safe in the Ritz haven so it had definitely been a good time to let Tung’s mind rest. It had worked out fine so far, but Madrick knew they could cope better with anything unexpected if they had a protective spell up their sleeves. Also, it would be the final proof for Michael and should permanently cement his belief in their story.

“No problem,” said Tung, who relished any opportunity to show off. “Let’s go up to the room and do this.”

They adjourned to the suite and Tung duly obliged with a demonstration of saying the Spell Spell. Michael watched in fascination; he was slightly disappointed with the event, because nothing particularly dramatic happened. Tung merely wobbled a bit on his feet, as if he was going to faint, but then he was back to normal almost immediately.

“I see a giant fish. A great big silver fish with intense black eyes and two pointy fins on its back,” said Tung without being asked.

“This is an easy one. You’re going to create an enormous, delicious fish which will be so big it could feed a small village. In fact, two of these fish would be enough to feed five thousand people. It’s of no worth to us so you might as well do it and get it out of the way.”

Tung did the business. SPLOOSH, and then there it was. It was indeed an enormous fish and actually not so easy to ‘get it out of the way’ thought Tung. The monster now lay in the middle of the lounge area, half of it on the floor and half of it draped over one of the leather sofas. Michael gawped, and his mouth dropped open, as he watched big magic materialise in front of his very eyes. His face froze in amazement, mouth agape, so now he looked quite a lot like the fish, which must have been equally surprised by events.

“That is going to be very smelly very soon,” said Tung as he prepared the next spell.

Michael watched totally transfixed as Tung formed spell after spell. He used them to create a white marble statue of a beautiful woman, a black bearskin fur cape, a small sack of gem stones, a great bronze battle shield and an elephant’s foot. There had been many rather silly and pointless spells up to now, but not even Madrick could conjure up any sort of reasonable explanation for the foot.

Michael didn’t say anything, but he knew now, for certain, for absolute definite, that the amazing tales of the Scroll, time travel, hunters, escape and adventure were all true. Strap yourself in, he thought, the rollercoaster is heading up the first big incline.

Michael surveyed the mess in the room and made an instant decision.

“You’re going to have to get out of here before that fish rots. Why not come and stay at my place, it won’t be as comfortable, but it’ll give us some time to work out how to keep you guys out of trouble?”

After a short confab, Madrick and Tung agreed. They packed up their small collection of possessions into their backpacks and said a final goodbye to their luxury room. It had served them well, much like the hotel staff who had served them well too.

Before they left, Tung put the fur cape on the statue and wobbly-walked it across the floor so the hand ended up in the giant fish’s mouth. Then, just for good measure, he attached the great battle shield to the side of the fish. That’ll surely confuse whoever finds this he thought; as if they weren’t going to be confused enough by Moby Dick and his lady friend.

“Time to go,” said Michael.

“Time to go,” said Madrick and Tung in unison.

After they checked out of the Ritz, they walked the short distance to the nearest underground train station. Michael bought tickets and led the way to the stairs which descended to the platform.

Tung always struggled with new adventures and he became quite agitated as they descended farther and farther into the bowels of the earth. Madrick, on the other hand, took each fresh experience in his stride, although his first attempt to ride an escalator didn’t go well. Not realising the stairs were moving, he choose the up escalator just because it was less crowded. Why is no one using these stairs, he wondered, as he stepped faster and faster, but seemed to be getting nowhere? When he stopped stepping he was astonished to find an invisible force propelling him in reverse. Before he could adjust, his heels hit the top of the stairs and he toppled backwards. Michael had seen the problem coming and managed to catch him before any real damage was done.

“Escalator,” he said, trying to be helpful.

“Excalibur?”

“Follow me,” said Michael sidestepping any discussion about King Arthur.

He led the way onto the down side and, after a bit of wobbling, the others managed to get on safely behind him. They’d beaten the rush hour by ninety minutes or so, so at least they didn’t have the added scariness of packed trains and thousands of bustling bodies. They stood on a relatively empty platform and waited.

WHOOOSH.

Tung and Madrick screamed and dived against the wall, clutching their heads; covering their ears. The violent rush of air and the screechy shriek of the approaching train had frightened the life out of them.

“Calm down, guys, you don’t need to be scared,” said Michael. “It’s just the train coming. It’s not going to hurt you.”

The tube drew into the station and its doors slid open. Michael coaxed the pair to follow him into the guts of the monster. To make matters worse, the beast’s orifices closed behind them as soon as they’d passed through. They were trapped, but before they had a chance to panic, the mammoth wormy-beast shuddered, rocked and crawled away into the total darkness of a pitch black tunnel. Things didn’t get any better, the journey itself was an increasingly frightening experience; this train was a lot faster and noisier than anything they’d ever experienced before. Every so often, it careered into the light, blinding them, but before their eyes adjusted, they were plunged back into the darkness of hell’s tunnels. They both held on tightly to their seats; seats they wouldn’t have had if it’d been rush hour; they mightn’t have survived the shaking and jolting if they’d had to stand.

In less than thirty minutes they arrived at the station nearest the apartment. The doors slid open and both Madrick and Tung rushed out onto the platform… free at last. They weren’t taking any chances; the monster might change its mind about releasing them. They took a couple of deep, deep breaths before they were capable of following Michael’s lead away from the beast. They were safe, except for the stairs of course, where Madrick made sure he was tucked in behind Michael so as to avoid a repeat of the earlier ‘wrong escalator’ fiasco. When they all eventually surfaced, a brisk ten minute walk took them to Michael’s first floor flat in a converted warehouse. It wasn’t as plush as the Ritz by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a fantastic home for one so young.

Michael gave them a lightning tour of the place, ending up in the spare bedroom which would be their resting place for the foreseeable future. Tung looked disappointed; his aspirations having changed dramatically in the short time he’d been in the twenty-first century. He flopped onto one of the beds as he composed his complaint in his head, but he promptly fell asleep before he had the chance to air his grievance. Madrick lay on the other bed and thought about the crazy twists and turns his life had taken over the past few weeks.

“You know what, Tung? Right now, I’m happy for the first time in years, and I mean genuinely happy. I’m actually looking forward to whatever the universe has planned for me.”

He looked over to see Tung sleeping the sleep of the contented. He smiled, closed his eyes and soon he too was asleep; dreaming his dreams.

Michael did what he always did when he got home; he logged onto his computer and started to trawl through his emails, messages and monitoring programs. These programs kept an automatic electronic eye on IIBE. They helped him keep on top of his job and told him if all the bank’s key systems were functioning properly.

More importantly though, his programs allowed him to monitor what other people were doing. Information is power after all, so his programs gave him that power. He scanned his boss’s emails, and those of the chairman and the most influential of the bank’s directors, but today there was nothing of particular interest, so he logged off.

He was still fairly relaxed about IIBE because he hadn’t activated the next part of his plan yet. During phase two, he was going to siphon money into random accounts to distract the security department. That was the point when he’d have to start being more cautious. That should have happened already, but all the adventures with Tung and Madrick had delayed his plan. Enough delay, he thought, now is the time to act. He knew that once phase two was in play he’d have to spend a lot more time monitoring the bank’s reaction and taking evasive action as necessary… no worries, he was ready.

As he relaxed, a ravenous hunger took hold of his body, so he wandered down to his small kitchen to rustle up some food for himself and his new house guests. He rooted through the freezer and chose two meat feast pizzas, they were easy to heat, easy to eat and they always went well with a few bottles of beer. And he felt like a few bottles of beer.

The gas oven didn’t flick into life… it did that sometimes. He rummaged around the ‘stuff’ drawer and eventually found the electronic pilot-light lighter. He went back to the oven, held the tip against the pilot and hit the button. The bright blue spark jumped from the tip to the gas. It wasn’t a big explosion, but it was enough to singe off most of Michael’s eyebrows. It also brought the others running to see what had happened.

“Are you OK? You’re not out here messing about with magic, are you?”

“No,” he smiled at the thought, “just a small problem with the gas.”

“What have you done to your face?”

He rubbed his hand over his face and felt the prickly remnants of his eyebrows.

“Just a minor sinjury,” he said as he popped the pizzas into the now lit oven.

An hour later they were all in front of the big television dribbling melted cheese down their chins. Tung had forgotten the sheer joy of simple food, and beer, so now he was thinking Michael’s place mightn’t be so bad after all. In his past life, he’d been so easily pleased, but the Ritz had spoiled him more than just a bit. Happily though, the beer was gradually bringing back Mr Easily Pleased.

The TV news was on in the background.

“Look,” said Michael, “we’re on the box.”

A reporter was talking about an inexplicable discovery at the Ritz. He was standing outside the hotel trying to describe the bizarre scene which one of the chambermaids had come across. They cut to an interview with the maid.

“It was unbelievable, seriously, you wouldn’t believe it. I opened up the room as usual and wheeled my cart in. And there it was, a giant fish eating a statue which had a black fur cape on it. I couldn’t stop myself, I started screaming. It was the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen. Seriously, we’re talking weird, weird, weird.”

They cut away from the interview and showed a photograph of the room. It certainly was the weirdest thing ever. The three of them laughed out loud and clinked bottles.

“All in a day’s work,” said Michael. “But hold on. That’s a bit strange.”

“Of course it’s a bit strange,” giggled Tung, “I made it that way.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Look, remember the shield? The shield’s gone.”

They all looked at the image. There was the scene exactly the way Tung had left it. There was the statue in the fur cape with its hand in the mouth of the big silver fish; but Michael was right, there was no shield. They started to speculate about what might have happened when the hotel manager appeared on the screen.

“Can you tell us anything about the person who had been staying in the room?” asked the interviewer.

“Well, it was actually a bit unusual. There were two of them, a father and son. They gave their names as Tung and Madrick Tide. The father, Madrick, had the longest of long grey hair and a matching grey beard. He seemed very… I don’t know how to describe it… old-fashioned. The son didn’t say much, but he seemed strangely old-fashioned as well. Unusually, they paid us with cash and, we’ve only realised now, they didn’t give a home address. It seems they told the receptionist they were from a ‘place far away’ and that’s what they wrote in the register… a place far away.”

“And where are they now?”

“I don’t know,” said the manager. “They checked out earlier today and left no forwarding address. We’d like to talk to them because it seems the statue and fur cape are extremely valuable. We have the items safely stored for them. We pride ourselves in returning anything our guests have left in their rooms. We’re not planning to store the fish though,” he added with a smile.

The manager was relishing this opportunity to promote the Ritz on national television. He would have continued to talk about his wonderful hotel had the interviewer not cut him off in mid flow.

“What a fascinating story. There are so many unanswered questions. We’ll keep you posted about any developments, but in the meantime, please contact us if you know who these men are because we’d love to talk to them. This is John Black, Channel 6 News, reporting from the Ritz Hotel in London, England. Now back to the news desk.”

They watched for a few minutes to see if anything more was going to be said. There was nothing. Michael flicked round the other news channels, but there didn’t appear to be any more coverage for the time being.

“We certainly made an impression,” said Madrick.

“The fur cape on the statue was genius. They’ll never work out what happened,” said Tung proudly.

“Let’s hope not. Media attention is the last thing we need,” said Michael. He wasn’t as happy as the others and tried to get them to understand how dangerous this was. His aspiration to maintain a low profile had been spectacularly scuppered. Tung and Madrick outwardly agreed, but inside they were both quite enjoying their fifteen minutes of fame.

That evening, the Ritz restaurant had its busiest night for years because of the excitement generated by the extremely strange findings in one of their hotel rooms. The fish pie special was particularly popular.