Atlas Cloud And The Amulet of Thieves (11 page)

“Come on Atlas. I have to introduce you to them properly.” He said, appearing in front of me. The hallway opened up into a study area, from the looks of it. Bookshelves, tables and chairs. This place was massive. After walking through the study, one of the bookshelves slid across the floor and closed the entrance to the portrait. It was an entire house! I gazed blissfully at the double stone steps that led up to the bed chambers. Alistair was stood in front of them with Roko and Eli.

“Finally, it's time for all of you to get some rest. There is a bed each but you to will have to share a room.” He said pointing with his two fingers at me and Eli. We shrugged our shoulders, we've slept in the same room loads of times, I’m just glad that the walking has stopped. “There are supplies in the kitchen if you need anything, just help yourself. I would eat whenever you can; we don't stay for very long.” He said. Which I found very hard to believe, this place was a paradise compared with the inn we came from.

We all retired to our rooms, ours had a double bed and a sofa in the corner. After much deliberation Eli gave up and took the double bed. I mean I don't sleep much anyway and even though he tried not to show it he was as much exhausted as the rest of us. After tossing and turning trying to get comfortable on the two-seater, I gave up. I put on my t-shirt that I have worn for days now, smelling like I found it in a skip. The old pair of jeans that have accompanied me on my travels had holes ripped into them, mud and grass stains sewed into the fabric. I looked like stig of the dump for god sake. I decided to take a wander around the haven. Hoping that they had a working toilet around here or I might start to cry. After opening several doors I found the bathroom. It was clean; the toilet was an actual toilet, not just a shallow hole in the ground. Pipes feeding into it, a long chain flusher, I don't think I have ever had such a pleasant reaction to a toilet before. Except the time Eli bet me to drink a gallon of water in one minute, if only the bathroom was an inch closer I could have made it. I examined myself in the mirror above the sink, taking off my t-shirt. The hole in my heart was bulging; the medicine hasn't seemed to slow it down. The veins in my chest were pulsating, the blood flowing through them was a dark purple. It felt as if liquid mercury was crashing through them. The rim of the wound was like a crater in the moon itself, except it didn't feel like it should be there, but foreign and evil. It had taken a life of its own devouring me slowly, bit by bit. My whole left shoulder now was starting to change colour. It was unbearable. The pain was excruciating, it feels as if the fangs of the beast that inflicted it were still embedded into my very being, trying to tear my soul from my mortal flesh and feast on it. Looking at my face I realised the toll it was taking on me. My skin was white and sickly, all its energy transferring to the cancer within me. The skin around my eyes was darker, the sleepless nights were bad enough but the constant fear and danger that has befallen the journey was deafening. My heart felt like it was beating a hundred times a second. I took a long, deep breath. Taking in as much oxygen as possible, I washed my face with water and closed my eyes concentrating on my breathing. My heart beat slowed, the urge to explode was lessening. The thought of waking up sweaty on the sofa was a pleasant thought. But this wasn't something I could wake up from. I was stuck in this nightmare. And it was going to kill me.

After pouring more of the yellow liquid into my chest I made my way back to the room. I could hear voices coming from downstairs, it was late everyone was asleep. I wandered down onto the staircase, taking little and silent steps to make sure that I couldn't be heard. I wanted to look over the bannister to see who was talking but the last time I did, all I saw was my dad packing his bag, on a journey he wouldn't come back from. The candle light in the room was casting shadows on the walls. I crouched outside, pressing my ear up against the wall.

“Gillian caught one of the enemy spies; he is looking for the Amulet.” A voice said.

“What?” Farro said taken off guard by the comment.

“The Amulet is just a story, a fable. People have been looking for it for two hundred years, nobody knows where it is.” Another voice uttered.

“We have to strike now, while he doesn't suspect us.” A voice said. By the tone of the voice it sounded like Alistair.

“No, that's exactly what he wants; we will be falling into a trap.” Farro said slamming his fist onto the table.

              “What Amulet?” I said as I stepped inside the room. The room’s attention focused on me, Farro, Alistair and another person who I have not been introduced to yet face me.

“What are you still doing up?” Alistair said

“You guys are making such a god damn racket, I'm surprised the whole gang isn't down here.” Alistair looked at Farro, asking him with his eyes if it was alright for me to stay. Farro nodded. Alistair walked over to me.

“I haven't really introduced you to myself or my brother.” He said. My name is Alistair Underhill, leader of the Apostles and this is my brother Jacob.”

“You can call me Jake” He said

“We are all Apostles, keepers of the gateways.” Alistair said.

“What does that mean?”

“The gateways are the portals, like the one you travelled through to get here. We keep them hidden and safe. I'm sure you've heard of Cain, Atlas.” He said almost with a quiver in his lips.

“Yes.” I replied “He's the bad guy right?”

“No!” He shouted. “He is much more than that; he is the combination of hate and cunning. He is the most powerful foe you will ever come across and if he ever crosses the borders between our worlds then we will all perish.” The room was filled with silence, death was on the air. I decided that it wasn't time to make jokes.

“You see, Cain cannot cross the mirrors, like you or I. It is said that the Elders themselves branded him with the Elder Mark. A branding that stops him crossing the windows using normal means.” Farro said, talking to me in a much calmer voice than Alistair.

“He has spent millennia trying to cross. Generations and generations have fought him and kept him at bay.” He said.

“But we are getting weaker. Day by day men and women die by his hand or by a hand he controls, turning them, changing them.” Alistair added. I paused for a moment, trying to soak up all the information that was just spat at me.

“Why will it be the end of all things if he crosses?” I said “Surely the army or someone could defeat him?” Farro smiled and closed the gap between us, Alistair gathered with his brother behind the table. They were looking over maps and other parchments.

“Cain is magical by nature. Which means that he cannot be slain by those wielding swords or axes.” Farro said, he swallowed hard before he carried on, just talking about him sent shivers up his spine. “He is an old creature. Some say that he was one of the first who roamed these lands. He is filled with so much anger and malice that he can absorb your very soul when you perish into the afterlife. There are over six billion people on the other side. None with magical ability, and they would be wiped out, every soul entwining with his, making him unstoppable. He would become a god.” He said with a crackle in his voice. This whole journey was brought into perspective; they want me to help fight this evil. What can I do?

“If he has been branded with this mark that stops him crossing, why are we fighting him?” I said. Alistair stopped talking to his brother and looked at me.

“There are more ways to cross through the mirrors than the enchantment you used. This Amulet is one of them.” I walked over to the table, maps, scribbled notes and markers covered the oak furniture. There was also an open book, with a drawing of a dark purple gemstone held by a necklace, it had a silver chain and the gemstone was beautifully crafted cradled into the metal cage. The majesty of the jewellery wasn’t from the cradle or the chain; it was from the gemstone itself. It was only a drawing but the scribbles on the page were uncertain and wild, the gem in the middle becoming more than colour on a page. It became something so much more than the sum of its parts, an item to be treasured and nursed. It was an old amulet, you could tell by the scratches and marks on the chain but it was cared for, the damage caused from love. “All you need to know right now is that if this amulet gets into his hands then he will be able to cross the mirrors.” Alistair said flicking through the book on the table.

“The problem is we don't know where it is.” Jacob said “The manor where it was made and last seen has been searched through vigorously by adventurers, thieves and even the descendants of the Highwell family whose ancestor created it.”

“There are even rumours that it was cast into the sea, never to be touched by another person.” Jake said.

“It must still be in reach, the spy that Gillian captured said that his master was searching for it.” Alistair said. “He said that his master was going to Highwell Manor. That must be where it is.”

“Are you mad, you are going to believe a spy of the enemy? It is a trap to lead us away from the actual burial place.” Farro said, getting frustrated.

“It's the only lead we have. We could set a potential trap or we could search all of the known world drawer by drawer for it.” Alistair said, silencing Farro. As bad an idea as it was to fall into a trap, it was a hell of a lot better than the latter.

“It is the only option we have.” Jake said. Farro reluctantly agreed. The room went quiet, no one liked the idea but it was all we had. They left for bed, attempting to sleep off the bad decision. I gazed over the maps, so many places. All as tempting as the others, if only we weren’t on a quest for the Holy Grail we could explore a little bit. There was a book on the table, it was open and was showing a drawing of the Amulet. I picked it up flicking through the pages. It was a journal.

‘September 2nd – Yrmbren’

‘Today I met him, I watched him through the mirror, gazing at his work. He is a painter, and he is magnificent. I can’t keep my eyes off him; he has entranced me with the stroke of his brush. He doesn’t know I watch him, and I doubt we will ever meet, but I hope every second of every day that one day we will…’

I took the journal; hoping that it will shed some light on this Amulet thing. The rest of the night was silent. Farro gave me a drink, it was filled with maggots, frogs brain and squids legs. He said it would help me sleep. As disgusting as it was, dreamless sleep was a welcome reward.

15 –WINTER’S NIGHT-

We all gathered at the bottom of the staircase for a briefing before we ventured forward. It was this time that Alistair introduced us to the rest of the Apostles. He said there were twelve in total. Seven stood before me and the other five were inconvenienced somewhere else. Alistair Underhill and his brother Jacob I had met already. Gillian Varga, a man who wore black leather armour, with a small bone handled dagger saddled into his belt and a curled whip tightened to it also. He was accompanied by his son, Edmund Varga. Normally they would be classed as an apprentice and not an Apostle, but he has shown great skill and Gillian has influence within the group. Ingram Plomer, another Apostle, was an old woman, but I was warned that she is deceptively brutal and powerful in the ways of nature. She can uproot a tree with her totem, turn it into a beautiful flower and expel it into an enemy, making them explode into pollen. Standing next to her, fiddling with his pen and notepad was Gib Gahn. A writer of poems and novels, he writes what he sees which then becomes alive. His totem is his pen and in this case the pen really is mightier than the sword. He had a nervous demeanour, not standing still for too long, always looking around caressing and writing with his pen. It was an old fountain pen, yet ink was not needed. It had several gold bands that graced its grip. The stylus end was also gold plated.

The last Apostle that was introduced to the group was Leopold Finn. He carried a cutlass, sheathed to his belt. He wore an outfit with puffed out shoulders. It made him look like he was from an old interpretation of a Shakespearean novel. He had long blonde hair and had many gold and silver rings on his fingers. I counted six; I looked around puzzled for a moment until Alistair pointed over my shoulder. Sebastian Farro, the long dark yellow trench coat and his hat and staff. For a moment I forgot who he was. Who was this mysterious stranger who took me from my world? Stealing me from the world I knew, plunging me into a world I didn't. He was number seven, Roko was not classed as an Apostle. She was an apprentice to Farro, learning from him, watching him. A master and apprentice never leave each other’s side until the training is complete.

The training can take a lifetime, or it can take only a couple of years. Roko has been with Farro for most of her life, becoming stronger and stronger. She loved Farro. A father and daughter love that made them both far more powerful magicians than any one man. This was a band of misfits and strangers. Where did I fit in?

We made a hasty departure from the safe haven. Before we left Alistair gave Eli and I something to wear. He gave us leather armour, straps, belts and even a small dagger on the side. I was glad of the gift; I had been wearing a hoodie and shirt for way too long. It was a little late coming though, I would have preferred going up against the hunter with leather armour and a knife rather than a jumper and a zipper. My clothes were blood soaked and wrecked and I was happy to get rid of them. We were on the road to Highwell Manor. Alistair made it clear not to mention the possible trap that might entangle us to the others, like a bear trapped in a vice grip, waiting hopelessly to be put out of its misery. Eli, Roko and I fell back so that we could evaluate the rest of the group.