Atticus And The Orb Of Time Read online

  Dedicated to my wife and my two beautiful children.

  And to my parents. All of whom have made me who I am today.

  To my wonderful brother and sister, who remind me how blessed I am each and every day.

  Kindle Link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00SEK47B6

  Atticus and the Orb of Time

  Prologue

  2500BC

  “Kill the elders, take the child,” says Alvarez, “Those are our orders,” the demon stands hooded and cloaked in black garments, as if Death himself has come to Earth without his Scythe. He feels his heavy robe caress the sand as the wind swirls around him. This Earth realm smells revolting to him, the stench of blood and death tainting the night air, so stained is his attire of perished innocence, it is the only thing stopping him from vomiting onto the contrasting purity of the desert.

  So many souls swallowed by order of his master, the symphonic screams of his victims, these tasks handed to him have always been met with glee. Alvarez relishes in these memories, his piercing red eyes, pupils pulsating, betray his humanoid form as he joyously reminiscences on each begging voice, each drop of blood. The hunt for his latest prey is different though. This one he cannot harm, for his master wants that honour.

  Alvarez turns and addresses his group of unworldly creatures within the moonlit shadows. Their faces are clothed with the blackness of night; their skinless, dog-like shadows are all that is visible. He gazes at them as they stand. Some are hunched; some stand tall, their silhouettes reminding him of the charred stumps and branches of a burnt-out woodland, such is their number. The desert sands are slightly misty, as a light breeze blows the loose grains across the plateau of rock Alvarez stands upon, and around the dunes that sit, jutting out of the desert surface. The effect is soothing, almost as if the wind is comforting the sand, reassuring it that the sun’s torture ends with the night.

  Alvarez breathes deeply, taking in the air as he stares at his target. Not too far in the distance lies the silhouette of a small, makeshift home. Candles flicker and shine out a faint beam of light from the windows. The front door of the home is made from wood, its smooth finish and carvings telling all who see it that it is the work of a skilled carpenter. Visitors’ suspicions are given further weight when they view the wooden horse and elaborate fencing. An area outside the rear of the single level house can be seen to contain a makeshift play area. Another, much smaller wooden horse lies on the ground, not quite finished, along with wooden balls and sticks.

  A clear night sky aids visibility as the Moon’s light skims the ground. Behind the house, barely a mile away, lie the walls of the great ancient Persian city of Aria. Its skyline blends into the distant mountainscape. Candles flicker from tall steeples, and the town folk can be heard faintly in the distance. Domes and citadels all make their presence felt as darkness against the faint blue of the moon’s light, their lifeless nature betrayed by speckles of light and movement behind their open windows.

  “We must be sure Alvarez; our King does not look kindly upon mistakes,” whispers a figure who hides himself deep within the darkness.

  Alvarez snorts, “You humans never fail to amaze me, in your willingness to betray your entire race, your very existence for power or profit. Still, my King offers his thanks for your information, and will reward you accordingly.”

  “We still need to be sure. We get just one chance at this. The Majjai will not be fooled twice, they will not allow this intrusion again.”

  “Our King has given us this to be sure,” responds Alvarez as he pulls a large opaque globe out from his robe.

  “What is it?” asks the person hidden in the shadows.

  “Its name is not important. What is important is that it will show us if this child is the one we seek,” Alvarez holds the globular object high above his hood, revealing pale, human-like hands with pinkish veins protruding outwards. He regards this traitor, this human with him on this dark night with contempt − the urge to destroy this pest is great, but the knowledge of the punishment if he does so is enough to divert his thoughts elsewhere. He chants something that the person in the shadows is unable to hear. It’s an old language, archaic enough to only be known to a few scholars of the dark arts. As Alvarez finishes the chant, a tiny stream of blue light shoots outwards from the globe and onto the ground. It heads towards the house, slithering through the sand and up onto the walls until it gets to a window. The light ebbs faintly, barely affecting the candlelit ambience of the room. Almost alive, the light actively seeks what it is looking for. The room is square and small, draped in coloured blankets. A wooden crib sits in the centre with various shelves leveraging on the walls. The light pauses for a moment as it detects movement just outside, knowing it is safe to continue, it carries on its journey, snaking, towards the crib and latches onto a sleeping baby.

  # # #

  The maid of the house is tidying just outside the baby’s room. She sweeps quietly trying not to wake her masters who are sleeping further down the hall.

  She opens the door to the nursery very carefully and walks towards the baby; she doesn’t notice the blue light as she softly strokes his head.

  “Sleep well little one.”

  She covers his arms with a blanket, and proceeds to blow out the candle. The room is immediately imbued with a blue hue, and she sees it, the baby’s birthmark, a small circle entwined with a vine like line on his left forearm, begins to glow as the snake-like blue stream pulsates outwards.

  The maid snatches the baby from the crib and runs out of the room, breaking the connection of the light, which dissipates with a hiss and a fizz. She runs as fast possible, trying to focus in the low light. She grapples against the walls; all she can think is to alert the parents.

  Awakened by the commotion, the boy’s father appears first. He stands in his robes, wearing sandals, heavily bearded but still with a youthful appearance. His face is stoic and strong, but it does not hide the fear in his eyes.

  “What is wrong, Sima?” he asks hurriedly.

  Sima explains what she saw, and the sense of danger is all too apparent in his reaction. Waking his wife and trying to escape is all he can think about.

  “Quickly, Nasreen, get dressed. We have to leave,” he pleads to his wife, desperate to escape the confines of the house where he knows they will be easy pickings.

  Startled and scared she listens and prepares herself, “What is wrong? What is happening Omar?” she asks.

  “They have come for him. I do not know how they found us,” the father replies

  “Betrayal − it is the only answer − but who?” Nasreen tries to query as they attempt to sneak out. But it is too late. Alvarez and his demons have already surrounded their home.

  Omar signals to Sima and his wife to stop; knowing that there is no way out for all of them, he turns to his wife, “There is only one chance, we must hold them.”

  The parents both look towards Sima, “You must use the tunnel to get to Aria. Find a Majjai named Elric Griffin, show him the mark. Our son is your responsibility now, keep him safe,” says the father.

  The mother cries as she strokes her son’s head for what she knows is the last time, “Goodbye my sweet Atticus, may angels keep you safe.”

  Before Sima can stop them, they run outside with a makeshift blanket, pretending they are holding the baby. Sima knows what she must do. She goes to the tunnel, and closes the hatch behind her. She follows the cold stone walls taking her to the outer edge of the city of Aria in the darkness. Her hands sense the coolness of the walls; they feel soothing compared to the hot, desert air. Slowly she makes her way, making sure Atticus is safe in her arms. She hears strange noises above her, explosions, roars from large creatures. She know
s she has to carry on; the impending sacrifice cannot be in vain. Suddenly all is quiet above her, in the silence she hears two screams, one male, one female and recognises them instantly. A tear falls from her cheek onto Atticus, “Goodbye my friends,” she says to herself, “I will keep him safe, at all costs.”

  She finally reaches the end of the tunnel and looks around; in the far distance she can see the demons ravaging the house. She hears them shout in anger.

  “Where is he?” shouts Alvarez, “He was here!”

  The demons ransack the home. Sima spots one of them breaking off from the pack and run towards Alvarez, suspecting they have found the tunnel entrance in the debris, she tries to hurry again to the city, cursing that the tunnel has not taken her far enough.

  “Alvarez! Out here!” screams the betrayer, from his hiding place in the shadows.

  “What is it?” Alvarez demands.

  Sima turns to see the traitor point in her direction and senses his betrayal go further.

  “In the distance, close to the city, a woman.”

  Alvarez calls to his demons and points at Sima, “Bring her to me.”

  Sima is filled with dread, knowing she has been spotted. The demons whelp and howl into the night air as they charge over the two smoking, charred human bodies. Sima hears them but is too scared to turn around. The city walls are still too far for her to run, but in vain she tries, willing for a miracle to save her. Sharp stones jutting out from the surface cut into her feet as her sandals fall away, but still she carries on. Her feet bleed into the sand, leaving a red trail as she struggles forward.

  She runs, faster, as fast as she can. But the demons are too quick, and in moments are upon her.

  They grab her clothes, taunting her, tearing small bits and pieces, yet she does not let go of the baby. She can see one or two of them eating the sand where her blood has stained it, rabid with glee, as if they have not eaten for weeks.

  Sima can see Alvarez walking slowly and patiently towards her and the child, looking nonchalant, confident that his prey is well and truly within his grasp. Sima closes her eyes and prays. As she does so, a faint breeze swirls around her and grows stronger. The sand whips up from the ground and surrounds her like a whirlwind. She looks up and can see a formation of clouds growing in size in the night sky above her. The clouds swirl faster and harder. The demons try to grab Sima through the wall of sand, but the force of the wind throws them back.

  Another funnel of wind appears, this one is much more violent. It crashes into the group of demons and smashes them against each other. They try to run, but the funnel grows larger and more violent, sweeping them all into the air.

  Sima can see Alvarez shield himself, sensing his fear that if he gets too close the same fate will befall him.

  “Majjai,” the demon mutters with disdain as he looks towards the betrayer, “Our master will not be pleased.”

  He holds up the globe, “This will have to do for now.” Alvarez raises one hand while the other touches a hidden object concealed within his garments; in front of him an oval red circle appears, it grows larger creating a portal into which he and the traitor quickly disappear.

  Sima closes her eyes tightly, praying for the end or a saviour, not knowing if she is now alone or still being hunted.

  # # #

  Minutes go by before Sima finally finds the courage to open her eyes. To her surprise she finds herself deep within the city of Aria, that the baby, Atticus, is fine and her own scrapes are fully healed. She notices an extra weight to her side, a heavy pouch; she peers inside to find a large number of gold pieces and a note.

  “You are the guardian, and it is your time to watch over the chosen one.”

  Sima sighs, “Thank you, whoever you are.”

  She stares thankfully into the night sky for several moments before starting out on her quest, to seek out the Majjai known as Elric Griffin.

  Chapter 1

  Gooyeh Partaab

  Present Day

  Wysardian Manor lies silent. None of the hustle and bustle that is present during school hours is apparent at this very early phase of the morning. The air hangs heavy and the sky remains confused, still haunted by the night and its moon as it slowly crawls against the dark blue canvas. Only a single lit window is visible on one of the higher tower floors of the inner courtyard shows any sign of activity. The four towers that corner the structure impose themselves as dark shadows, tainting the moonlit landscape.

  A spider climbs the wall just to the left of the lit window. It scurries and pauses, wary of any noise in the area while sensing for its next meal. Attracted by vibrations coming from the lit room it veers closer, actively sensing the area around it for any signs of danger or prey, it stops as it detects a powerful vibration; spying two large creatures in the room, it lies still, observing their movements.

  Another powerful vibration rattles the window as one of the large creatures slams a goblet onto a table. The spider continues to lie still, watching the large creatures in the room. It appears that the two creatures are trying to communicate with each other, the sounds coming from them become louder.

  “Are you sure Elric?” one of the creatures says, waving its arms in an agitated fashion.

  “I am sure, Geoffrey, I was there remember,” replies the other creature, this one has silvery hair hanging from his face and head and is sitting in a large chair, facing away from the window. In front of it lies a large desk. The spider finds a better place to hide as it moves closer to the bottom of the stone window frame; it has seen many brethren squished by similar creatures, simply for wanting to say hello.

  The room is covered wall-to-wall with antique-looking shelves and cupboards filled with hundreds of books, some old, some new. Their spines vary in colour, age and size. Other shelves are heavy with strange ornaments and scrolls while some contain vials and an assortment of strange containers.

  “I know you were there, my friend, but, how can you be sure? You know how much is dependent on this − the birthmark could just be a coincidence.”

  “Yes, it could be, but there are other elements to the prophecy that are known only by myself and those that are no longer with us. Many things have been hidden for the boys’ safety,” the hairy creature pauses for a moment. It raises its hand, and at the hint of a wave a book floats towards it from a nearby bookcase, “Look here, Geoffrey, if you need more convincing, there is a way for you to be sure − a chant you must use while the boy is in contact with the Gooyeh Partaab.”

  The other creature steps towards the book that now lies open upon the table, “And if this reveals that he is not the one, what then? We never searched for a possible alternative; and how is it he hasn’t found him yet?”

  “On the contrary my dear fellow, he actually has found him, but thankfully, he is too weak to act on his discovery, and is unable to be sure.”

  “How do you know all this Elric? If he has found him, surely he should be protected? The Partaab is limited in its power, it can be fooled,” says the standing creature.

  “He is being protected, he has been protected ever since he entered this time. And as for the Partaab, yes, it can be fooled − but not when it is mine,” another wave of the arm coincides with the opening of a large, dragon-encrusted cupboard door on the far side of the room.

  The standing creature turns and walks towards the cupboard, then lifts an object covered in a purple fabric, “Is this the first? But, how?”

  “Full of questions today, Geoffrey,” says the seated creature; “I hope you keep this up when you quiz him tomorrow?”

  “Sorry, it’s just, well, you must have sensed it too; he may be weak, but he is getting stronger every day. If he finds the Quantorbium, then, all of this will have been for nothing. Our spies tell us that he has found a scripture left by the orb’s creator and…”

  “Enough, Geoffrey,” the sitting creature with silver hair says calmly, “I already know; you forget who I am sometimes. The scriptures are known to me. I foun
d them a long long time ago, and let’s just say, whatever was left in their place will benefit us all in wasted months for our friend over there.” The creature chuckles, and coughs harshly.

  “Easy old man, have you been taking the medication that Madam Healsey has prepared for you?” the standing creature ventures over to the older one, placing its hand on the others shoulder to comfort them.

  “Yes Geoffrey, it’s been working well, but, my last adventure has taken a rather large toll. I’m not as young as I used to be,” still sitting, it pats the standing creature’s hand in thanks, “I may not actually be around forever, after all.”

  “Exactly why we need to be sure if we are right. Who has been protecting the boy?”

  “That will be revealed in good time; for now, it must remain a secret. But rest assured, he is known to you, known to us all.”

  The standing creature walks to a fire in the wall at the far side, picks up a metal stick, and rummages the stones within the fire forcing the flames beneath to breathe new air, “It will be difficult for him, he has no knowledge of our ways; the others, they knew of us through heritage and through fighting a war they knew existed, because it directly entered their lives.” It breathes a sigh, and turns back towards the silver-haired creature, “If he is the one, it means the final battle will be near. I fear we are not ready. From what you have told us, the other side may be too strong this time − he knows what to expect, and he will be ready.”

  “This is why we must assemble them, we must train them, and quickly. The power is within them all, we just have to show them how to utilise it. Olof − he will be invaluable − he knows the way of Norse Magic already, he needs little time to learn how to unlock his potential.”

  The seated creature reaches for a large stick. The spider fixates all eight of its eyes towards the room. It watches everything, trying not to be distracted by the dancing shadows cast by the flicker of the fire. The seated, silver-haired creature uses the stick to stand and walks towards the window. The spider quickly darts to a shadow in the corner.