Dark Tidings: Ancient Magic Meets the Internet Book 1 (29 page)

Marcus Buckingham was enjoying his third holiday of the year in the south of France when he was told the news of his father’s death. He said nothing for over a minute while he assessed the information. He tried to show proper grief, like he felt he should, but inside he was joyous. He’d been looking forward to this moment for as long as he could remember.

“That is dreadful news. What happened?”

“I’ll explain everything when you get here. I must ask you to come home immediately,” the voice on the phone told him. “I’ll make all the arrangements. Please get yourself ready to travel.”

He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face while he packed and prepared himself for what lay ahead. He was looking forward to everything. Let the good times roll.

The journey home took less than four hours which was a credit to the man sorting out the logistics… a private jet and two helicopter rides helped.

He stepped out of the jet black, twin engine Sikorsky onto the manicured lawn which fronted the fabulous Buckingham stately home. The sleek aerodynamic lines of the helicopter contrasted starkly with the architecture of the house. The beautiful Elizabethan limestone building had been the family ‘pile’ since it was built in the late fifteen hundreds. It was a massive mansion with over ninety ‘proper’ rooms supplemented by numerous halls, corridors, bathrooms and service areas. Home sweet home.

He strode purposefully towards the entrance. Two of the house menservants stood by the doorway.

“Welcome home, Sir Marcus. We’re so sorry it’s in these awful circumstances.”

He ignored their greetings and marched through the grand hall into a reception room where two women were seated. It was used as the family room even though it was massive and would have seemed a very formal place to most ‘ordinary’ folk. Grand oil paintings of ancestors adorned the walls and in one corner there was even a suit of armour which a medieval relative had worn in some ancient battle. Everything in the room had a history, even the two ladies. They were drinking tea and both deliberately and pointedly ignored his arrival.

“Mother, Aunt Lily,” he said, more to the room than the women. “This is the most dreadful news. It seemed so sudden, after all he’d showed no sign of illness. I’ll miss the old man dreadfully. He was the mainstay of our family, but I’m ready to take on his responsibilities. I’m ready to step up and do my duty.”

Neither woman so much as acknowledged him. His opening lines fell on deaf ears; two of the four ears were literally deaf. He wasn’t in the least bit bothered. He crossed the floor to his mother and kissed her formally on the cheek. He placed a hand on his aunt’s shoulder and squeezed it gently.

“This is a sad sad day, but there is much for us to do to make sure father’s legacy does him justice. I’ll get started straight away.”

That was enough. He hated them both so there was little point in prolonging this embarrassing masquerade. He’d made the appropriate gesture towards his mother and her sister so it was now time to get down to business.

“We can talk again later,” he said, hoping the sarcasm wouldn’t be lost on them.

He made his way to his father’s study, his study as it was now, where four sombre suited gentlemen awaited him.

“Sir Marcus. May we convey our deepest condolences? Your father was a great and honourable man.”

He waved away the comments dismissively with his left hand and took his place behind the early Georgian walnut desk which had been his father’s pride and joy. He remembered well, as a child, trying to attract his father’s attention away from the sheaves of papers which always littered this highly polished desk. He never succeeded. The most humiliating times were when his father summoned one of the servants to take him away. This indifference had sown the seeds of the contempt he now felt for his father and everything associated with this family.

“Thank you, but enough with the platitudes, gentlemen. There is serious work to be done. Let’s get on with the real business of the day.”

He could see the men were disappointed that there was to be no time set aside to reflect on the life of Sir Samuel. Tough, there was a new boss in town and they were duty bound to serve him.

One of the men placed a great, leather-bound volume on the desk in front of Marcus. It was beautifully embossed and showed all the signs of age, without any signs of aging.

“This book is nearly a thousand years old and it charts the history of the Buckingham family; your family. It will reveal secrets which will change your life forever. Once you’ve read this, you will understand your destiny and…”

“Hold on. Let’s get some of the basics out of the way first. Do I inherit all the money? And the house? And the title?”

“Of course, Sir Marcus, as the eldest son you’re entitled to everything, however as you know you have responsibilities for the other family members… in the same way your father had.”

“We’ll see. They never treated me with much respect, maybe now they’ll be a bit more generous with their…” he paused while he struggled to find the right word, “tributes.”

The four men stayed silent, ‘tributes’ was a strange word to use. They needed to be very wary of someone who was looking for tributes.

“OK, that’s good. I inherit everything. Now, tell me about this book.”

“Sir Marcus, what you have before you is the great tome which charts the long and prestigious history of the Buckingham family. The book is nearly a thousand years old and can be read by no one except the head of your family and the executive of the Occultus Populous.”

“Occultus Populous, what on earth is the Occultus Populous?”

“You must read the book. The book will reveal all. You must read it carefully because it sets out both your history and your destiny. We’re here to answer any questions you may have and to guide you through the process as you take your rightful place as leader of our great Society.”

“This makes no sense to me. All I want is my title, this house and all the money. The rest is irrelevant. Why would any of this ‘history’ be of any interest to me?”

“Sir, I beseech you. Please, take the time to read the book, learn your history and understand your destiny. The world as we know it depends on you.”

“That’s a bit dramatic. Look, why don’t you just explain it to me and then I can get on with my life and enjoy the privileges which I’ve just inherited?”

“Sir, there are parts of the book which even we have never seen. You must read it so you can inherit everything which is rightfully yours.”

He drew a long breath just to indicate his frustration. Then he opened the great leather volume and began to read. He’d expected to lose interest quickly, but within a few minutes he was completely engrossed. His ancestors were incredible. The history itself was mind-boggling, but surely all this magic stuff in the early days was merely ancient myth.

He began to question the four men who had watched in silence as he read the ancient pages. They answered all his questions about magic, spells, Gravalar, the Scroll and the Occultus Populous.

The session went on late into the night as Marcus worked his way through the historic book, guided by the four Under Masters. He became more and more excited as he learned the secrets of his family and the true source of their unimaginable wealth and power.

From early childhood, his parents had told him he was in line for great privilege, but he had never imagined anything as spectacular as this. If this was true, if even half of it was true, then there seemed no limit to what he could do.

There was so much history, so many great men and so many great deeds. The Under Masters dealt matter-of-factly with all his questions and used their collective experience to explain the mysteries which surrounded the family. It was a gruelling, yet exhilarating session. He now understood where the family had gained its unequalled power. He was a part of an incredible dynasty which had spanned a millennium.

The book revealed secret after secret to him. What had once been his father’s secrets were now his and it appeared it was his duty to guard these secrets right through to the day of his own death. No problem, as long as he could exploit this new found power for his own personal ends.

His father had been hard-nosed and greedy, but underneath his tough exterior, he’d felt some compassion for those less fortunate than himself. The man didn’t exploit his power ruthlessly which, as far as he was concerned, was a sign of weakness. He had no such scruples, no such weakness. He’d maximise the opportunity. There was no reason to respect anyone else in the pursuit of his own individual goals. He didn’t even care about what happened to other members of his family. This was an opportunity for him, Sir Marcus Buckingham, so why should he give any consideration to anyone else? This was his birthright and it would be a sin to squander it.

Marcus was unmarried and had no children. If something happened to him then the story would pass to Matthew, his younger brother. What a waste that would be; his wimpy brother inheriting unfettered power. Matthew had spent his adult years being a ‘home-maker’ and had three sons already. Worse still, his brother was a do-gooder if ever there was one. He wouldn’t know what to do with this immense power if it hit him in the face. It was time to find a wife, time to produce some heirs.

“Remember gentlemen, I don’t care what anybody thinks. Since my father died I’m in charge. I will do what I want. It’s all about me now.”

His first task, his priority task, was to cement his own position and protect the organisation he now led. He’d ensure it continued to prosper because it was what gave him his power. He would therefore address the Council and set out his short term plan. He instructed the four Under Masters to open communication channels.

He’d show everyone what a dynamic leader he was by identifying and punishing the people who were causing his organisation so many problems. From the briefing he’d been given, he knew exactly who the culprits were. The evidence was stark and clear. He couldn’t understand why his father hadn’t seen it too.

In parallel, he wanted to be chairman of IIBE. It was the perfect cover for his activities and he liked the public prestige which went along with the position. This appointment wouldn’t be a problem given the size of the shareholding he had in the bank, coupled with the influence his family had over each of the other directors. Again the Under Masters were instructed to make it happen.

He was restless and wanted to get everything underway immediately. There were however inconveniences which needed to be dealt with first. Inconveniences like his father’s funeral. Then, there was the rest of the family to deal with. Have patience. No need to rush into anything. After all, he had a lifetime to mould everything to his will.

He dismissed the men from the room and sat in silence for a long while. His thoughts were filled with some of the terrible atrocities his family had engineered; the wars, the famines, slavery, mass poverty and devastating global financial crises. His ancestors had shaped the world with their greed and their contempt for the poor.

“Well done, my forefathers. I am proud of your efforts, but I will outdo you all.”

Five days had passed since Michael leaked the footage of the Occultus Populous meetings.

“You guys carry on relaxing, I’m going to check out some of the news channels again to see how my magnificent Internet exposé is playing out.”

Surprisingly, his ‘magnificent exposé’ had turned out to be a bit of a non-event. He’d exposed the ultimate conspiracy, the biggest global saga for many years, yet the media was virtually silent about it. Inexplicable, and as disappointing as damp gunpowder.

Wherever he looked, his entries had been removed, so he re-posted them and added a few more copies to less-well used channels and blog sites for good measure. Got to get the information out there. The Occultus Populous must die. He hated it more than IIBE and anyway this was two birds with one stone given the many ties between the two pernicious organisations.

What he didn’t appreciate was the stranglehold these people had on the world’s media. They were working frantically in the background to stop the story leaking out. The global television networks had been completely stifled and his entries on the main Internet sites had been deleted. Some sites had actually been shut down so they couldn’t be re-infected with the story.

He was frustrated, but not despondent. He’d certainly damaged IIBE and the negative messages about the Occultus Populous was bound to leak out eventually, wasn’t it? A lump formed in his throat and a tear perched itself on his left eyelid as pride welled up inside him. He’d achieved a lot so far, and he could do more.

As well as causing further damage to IIBE and the Occultus Populous, he had a couple other tasks to tackle. The first was to keep moving the money he’d stolen. The bank wasn’t getting that back. The second task was to create modern identities for both Madrick and Tung. They weren’t being hunted, but they’d need the relevant paperwork and reference documents if they were going to survive comfortably in the contemporary world.

Creating identities was reasonably straightforward, although it required a bit of time and patience. He knew the process well, after all he’d successfully created a completely new identity for himself already. His alter-Michael had every conceivable form of documentation from a passport to a driving license, from a bank account to utility contracts.

The first thing you needed was a birth certificate. You always started this process by finding someone who was of a similar age had they not died as a child. He smiled when he remembered that both Tung and Madrick were about a thousand years old.

In another room, Tung and Madrick worked on the next spell. This time they weren’t looking for something to protect them from their enemies; this time they were looking for something which could inject some magic into their futures. Tung had become extremely adept at spell casting so it was now a quick and virtually painless process. Madrick marvelled at how the young man had come on, he was genuinely proud of him. Mind you, the more adept Tung became, the less crucial Madrick was; he just hoped their friendship would keep them together. He couldn’t imagine surviving if he was abandoned in this crazy new world.

As was always the pattern, the first few spells were totally valueless, however one did produce a rather unusual tree which now grew in the corner of the large lounge. It had numerous interwoven blue branches and perfectly round, red leaves. They hoped Michael would like the new addition to his décor. Truth be told, he’d have little choice really because it was very big and looked firmly rooted.

Tung kept on creating and dissipating spells. He’d become quite blasé about the process and no longer marvelled at the smaller feats of magic. After another string of innocuous creations, he gave birth to a giant crystal ball which seemed to tickle Madrick’s excitement button more than just a little.

“This will show us pictures of the future. It won’t show us our personal futures, which I think is a good thing. Personally I’d rather not know what life holds in store for me, particularly if the last few weeks are anything to go by.”

“So what will it show?”

“It’ll show great events and significant happenings which are destined to take place sometime in the future. We can choose how far ahead we want to see. The longer we hold our hands on the orb, the further into the future it will portray. From my memory of this rather obscure spell, you can see as far ahead as two hundred years.”

They called Michael. They wanted to share this beautiful and wondrous contrivance. Michael reluctantly paused his work and joined them in the lounge. It was probably time for a break anyway, he thought, as he entered his favourite room in the house.

“What the…” he yelled. “What have you done to my beautiful room?”

The random debris from useless spells littered his lounge. It was like the flotsam and jetsam you might find on a beach after a particularly violent and surreal storm. Most of it could be tidied, but what on earth was the bizarre and enormous tree growing out of his floor?

“I know,” said Madrick. “It’s an interesting feature. I think it’ll grow on you… it’ll certainly grow on. I think it’s well rooted.”

A few deep breaths calmed him down a little. What was the point in getting upset? They were all learning to deal with their new situation and a weird tree was just another part of the adventure they were on. Anyway, it might be nice to sit under it in the summer. It might even start a new trend. He’d definitely seen stupider things in some of the televised makeover shows.

“That’s not what we wanted to show you although it’s good to get it out of the way. We were worried you might be cross. Look, this is what we really wanted you to see. It is the future.”

Both Madrick and Tung dah-dahed as they ostentatiously presented the great orb, much like a cheesy conjurer would show the results of his grand finale trick.

“This marvellous crystal will show us great events from the future,” said Madrick. “Let me demonstrate and show you what will befall us as we progress through time.”

He laid his hands on the crystal ball and they all peered into its centre. Misty images began to form. Indefinable shapes shifted and morphed. Madrick took his hands away and the images started to come into focus. They all moved in closer and eventually recognised soldiers racing into battle. The scene then focused on the king of one of the armies who’d been speared in the eye with an arrow.

“That’s not the future,” said Michael. “That’s the Battle of Hastings and it happened in 1066.”

Madrick tried again, this time holding his hands on the great crystal globe for much longer. Again it showed an ancient event. After some thought, Madrick reckoned he’d worked out what the problem was.

“The future ball is trapped in the past. It’s stuck in the age which the Scroll travelled from, so I guess it’ll never be able to show us the future.”

They all looked disappointed.

“It doesn’t really matter, guys. We’re not under any pressure right now. No one is chasing us so we can create spell after spell at our leisure,” said Michael.

“What a shame we can’t see the future,” said Tung, “but the ball will make a fascinating centre piece for the room. And it’ll distract attention from the tree.”

“Let’s take a rest,” said Michael. “I think we’re all tired. We’ve plenty of time. We don’t need to kill ourselves by over-working. A life without rest is like…”

“I know,” said Madrick, “it’s like a day without sunshine.”

“Let me try just one more,” said Tung. “I’m feeling lucky. I think the next spell is going to be the one we’ve been waiting for.”