The guardian of the gate, p.1
The Guardian of the Gate, page 1
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Lachesis Publishing
www.lachesispublishing.com
Copyright ©2009 by Richard Blackburn
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Dedication
THE GUARDIAN OF THE GATE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
About the Author
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THE
GUARDIAN
OF THE
GATE
by
Richard Blackburn
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www.lachesispublishing.com
Published Internationally by Lachesis Publishing, Inc.
Spencerville, Ontario K0E 1X0
Copyright © 2009 Richard Blackburn
Exclusive cover © 2009 Carole Spencer
Inside artwork © 2009 Carole Spencer
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher, Lachesis Publishing, is an infringement of the copyright law.
A catalogue record for the print format of this title is available from the
National Library of Canada
ISBN 1-978-897370-81-4
A catalogue record for the ebook is available from the
National Library of Canada
multiple ebook formats are available from
www.lachesispublishing.com
ISBN 1-978-897370-82-2
Credit: Erin Haley, editor
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To Ebony-Rose, my granddaughter, whose love of stories has kept me writing.
[Back to Table of Contents]
THE GUARDIAN OF THE GATE
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 1
John knocked softly. “Jenny. Are you awake?"
"No!"
"That's helpful."
"I'm not paid to be helpful. Hey! Don't come in!"
Jenny lunged for the door a split second too late.
"Get out of my room,” she said.
"Hold on! Calm down a bit. Mum told me I've got to give you a message and make sure you listen."
"Okay, crawler."
"Don't be like that. You know how Mum worries. It's bad enough you're going away on your own for the first time, but she's stressed out that you're leaving everything to the last minute. It's Friday, already and you go tomorrow. You still have all your—"
"Packing to do,” Jenny said, finishing her brother's sentence for him. “Well, you can go back and tell Mother that I'm not in the mood to pack. I haven't got the energy."
John gave his sister an impish grin.
"Don't you ever get tired of being lethargic?” he asked, ducking just in time to miss the pillow aimed at his head.
"If you've come here to lecture me..."
"Hold on! Just listen to me for one minute. You'll be glad you did. Honestly."
Jenny sat on the edge of her bed, her face set in a stubborn frown. She was ready to evict her brother if he didn't keep his word.
"Look, like it or not, Mum wants me to talk to you. So here it is: Don't do just about anything I did overseas last year, and you'll be okay. There. That's it. Now for something of a more practical nature."
John cleared his throat theatrically and put on the kind of voice so often heard on TV commercials. He pulled a few much-used travel guides out of his pocket and fanned them like a hand of cards.
"Look this way, young lady. Have I got a deal for you! Take into your dainty little hand this set of lavishly illustrated booklets. There's one for every country you'll be visiting on your three week tour of Europe."
Jenny accepted the guidebooks with the beginning of a smile as her brother continued his sales pitch.
"Don't go away, now. There's more! As well as these fabulous brochures, you'll receive a bonus, pocket size guide to London's most famous pubs."
Jenny pulled a face through her grin. She didn't drink, so a hotel guide was of little use to her.
"But that's not all, my friend,” John continued. “You're going to be astounded by this offer. No, not a set of steak knives. I'm going to give you, absolutely free, this beautifully handcrafted money belt. It's been made extra thin so you can wear it under your clothes for added safety. As well as the usual places to stash your cash, there are five secret pockets hidden in the inside leather and each one contains a disk of pure silver."
He now moved closer to Jenny and whispered from behind his hand, as though giving away a trade secret. “They're only worth a few dollars at the bank, but they're invaluable if you're buying strange looking weed in a Moroccan souk."
Jenny pretended to be disgusted despite her giggles. She was pretty sure her brother hadn't done half the incredible things he often laid claim to. She usually treated his ramblings as entertainment, but today he kept his story short.
"That's it my friend, and it's yours for just the two little magic words...."
"You're joking,” Jenny said, jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck in a rough hug.
"Just a simple thank you would have done,” John said, pretending to be nearly crushed to death although it was not all acting. Jenny was fit, from a lifelong enthusiasm for horse riding and her black belt in karate. Even though she was otherwise unashamedly lazy and often quite shy, she was definitely not as vulnerable as her family seemed to think.
"Thank you,” she said quietly. “That's a wonderful going-away present."
John had known she would like the belt. Twins seem to be able to communicate that sort of thing to each other without words and his sister had the gift stronger than most.
"There's just one more thing, though. Just a minor sermon,” he said in a more serious voice. “This is your first time away from home. Hold on. I know. You've been told all of this a thousand times before, but there really are bad people out there. Even though you're travelling with Auntie Iris, she won't be there all the time and your karate mightn't be enough when you need it most. So, if you're in a really serious situation, just stick this into the bastard."
"I beg your pardon,” Jenny said. “Remember what your instructor has to tell you all the time. Swearing is a loss of self-control."
"Alright. So, I'll never be a second Bruce Lee, but this might help. It's a loan for the trip."
John handed his sister a soft leather sheath that contained a slim knife. Jenny hadn't seen anything like it before. The handle was long and flat, its heavy plaiting designed to provide a grip that no attacker could wrench away. The blade was also very special.
"Wow! This is fantastic. It's all made of bamboo and it's as sharp as a razor."
John helped her put it on. “And, look at this. You wear it flat against your arm under your sleeve. No one will know it's there. What do you think of it?"
"It's fabulous, but I couldn't take it with me. It wouldn't get through customs."
"Just pack the knife separate from the sheath and tell them it's a letter opener you've brought as a present. That's what I did."
"But a lot of things have happened since then. They'd throw me into gaol as a terrorist if I tried to do that. Anyway, I'd never need it. We're on a conducted tour and Auntie Iris insists on staying in top class hotels in the better part of town. I'm not complaining, of course. Unlike you, I need my home comforts. I couldn't survive without soft beds, hot showers and three good meals a day."
"You really are a fussy fruit fly, aren't you?” John teased.
"Rather that than a marauding maggot,” Jenny answered with a laugh.
The twins often made jokes about each other's eating habits. Jenny seldom ate meat, but John made up for that with his excesses, hence the nicknames they'd invented for each other.
"And, the salads in Germany are what fruit flies would commit murder for,” John said.
"Mmmm! I've got a feeling I'm going to enjoy every lazy day of this holiday. But, why am I wasting my time talking to you?” she exclaimed, bundling him out of the room. “I've got packing to do."
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Chapter 2
Jenny Cowan sensed danger. A shadowy figure edged towards her, just beyond her line of sight. She'd been warned about beggars and pickpockets overseas, so she slipped out of her sheltered spot and blended into the crowd, hoping to sneak back unseen in a few minutes.
As more spectators moved into the area, pushing forward to get a better view, she saw the shadowy figure jostled to one side. She quickly resumed her place behind the colossal stone.
Outside of her refuge the tension mounted quickly. Everybody was looking to the east where the horizon was alight with the first glow of dawn. Conversations became more excited as groups of modern Druids droned the words of an ancient mystical chant, giving the scene a strange aura of expectation.
What Jenny couldn't see from behind the vast monolith, however, was the hooded form frantically pushing through straggling groups of spectators, trying desperately to catch her attention. As the dark figure neared her hiding place, the atmosphere of the crowd reached its peak.
"There it is,” an American accent told the world as the first rays of the mid-summer sun speared the eastern horizon and struck the ancient ruins.
"Noooooo!” the dark figure wailed and dove straight at Jenny.
The force of the tackle sent both of them flying, but in that fleeting second Jenny realised that something was very wrong. As she sprawled on the ground, the well tended turf of Stonehenge turned into mud. Rain pelted from what had been a cloudless sky.
As the storm swirled above them, the chill of the dawn intensified. Lightning flashed. Thunder nearly drowned Jenny's frightened squeal, but not quite. A hand clamped over her mouth and a harsh voice told her to lie still and be very quiet.
"Do everything exactly as I tell you or we're both dead!"
The cold steel of the hooded woman's voice silenced her, but when Jenny lifted her head slightly and peered around she was astounded. The massive columns, weighing many tons each, were strewn about like matchsticks. The whole area looked different. Where was the car park, the kiosk, the road?
That's when Jenny noticed the other people.
At first she thought these were also survivors and that the crowd of visitors had been reduced to this small group of Druids dressed in tattered cloaks. Then she noticed that the dark figures had stopped chanting to the dull rhythm of their shuffling steps. They were cautiously approaching her side of the ruins. With a feeling of panic, Jenny realised that it was her voice that had attracted them. They were searching for an intruder and they looked deadly serious.
The old woman beckoned Jenny to join her among the broken pillars.
"You must be ready to run when lightning next strikes,” she whispered.
Jenny was certainly not going to argue. She watched the approaching figures with mounting terror.
Time stood still.
"Come on, lightning,” she said through clenched teeth, but nothing happened. Long seconds passed. The men closed in on her hiding place, shouting menacing orders in a language she didn't understand.
Suddenly a blinding flash lit the sky, followed by a crash of thunder that stopped her assailants advance. The cloaked forms threw themselves to the ground in fear of the elements.
"Now!” the old woman snapped.
A second burst of lightning followed on the heels of the first, smashing into the ruins. Jenny was paralysed by the fury of the storm, until she was grabbed roughly by the front of her cloak and dragged away from her hiding place. Stumbling behind her rescuer, she glanced back, fearful that their escape had been discovered. What she saw in that brief glance struck terror into her heart, but she was not allowed to stop.
"Keep going and keep down. We must make it to that clump of bushes before the men get to their feet again and see us."
Scrambling over the slippery ground, Jenny pushed her body to the limit. The world as she had known it no longer existed, but somehow she was still alive.
"Get in there. Quickly!"
She was thrust into a thicket of brambles. Ignoring the sharp thorns, the two fugitives crawled in the dirt to get as far out of sight as possible. When they were deep in the bushes they crouched together, listening for any sign of their pursuers.
Jenny started to tremble. She remembered her last glimpse of Stonehenge. In that flash of lightning she'd seen a dark liquid running from the slab above her head. It had splashed onto her. She looked down at her arms and saw that they were stained with blood.
"You saw what was on the altar stone?” the old woman whispered.
"Yes,” Jenny answered in a quavering voice. “A human sacrifice."
Despite the old woman's warning to keep silent, Jenny had to whisper the obvious question.
"Who are you? And, what have you done to me?"
The old woman leant her face close to her companion's ear.
"My name is Gwenelda. I guard the time warp, what the ancients called the Time Gate. And all I did was to try to stop you from standing near that stone.” Her whisper was more resigned, now, than angry. “You were on the real site of the ancient Druid altar. I've guarded it for centuries during the few brief seconds each year it becomes a gateway into the past. But hush!"
Men searched the bushes nearby. A stave penetrated their thicket, but Jenny had curled into a tight ball, her arms protecting her head. She knew that if she made a sound it would be her last so she kept absolutely silent.
After a few minutes the searchers moved on.
"Those fools are trying to act like Druids, hoping to stumble upon the secrets of our ancient sect. It's a dangerous business though. The church will burn them at the stake as heretics if they're caught, so they'll kill anybody who witnesses their secret meetings. Now they know we're here, they'll be desperate to find us."
Trying not to rustle the leaves of the bush, the old woman peeked out.
"When they're searching on the far side of the columns, we'll have to run to the ditch over there,” she said, pointing to the opposite edge of the ruins.
Jenny felt as though she'd just been through one round with Muhammad Ali and was in no shape for even the shortest sprint. Fit as she was, her mental condition had taken a considerable battering. But when Gwenelda croaked for her to run, the memory of the dead eyes of the pagan victim spurred her on. She threw herself the last few metres into the ditch.
"Well done,” Gwenelda whispered.
Jenny couldn't imagine how the old woman got there first, but she didn't really care.
"Can I say something now?” Jenny pleaded weakly.
"Not yet,” she was told. “We've got to get well away from here. We can relax later, when we're sure we're not being followed, but even then we must stay alert. We have to avoid human contact like the plague. I'm going to take you to a cave I know. It's nearly a day's walk from here, but you can hide there until I can return you to your own century. So up you get. The coast's clear. We must away."
Twenty minutes later, they slackened the pace and walked side-by-side.
"Please tell me what's happened,” Jenny begged. “I'm sure I'll be of more use to you if I know what's going on."
"Alright. I'll tell you the little you need to know for now and when we reach safety I'll fill you in on the rest."
Jenny could feel in her companion's voice the coldness of a dangerous situation. As they followed the winding path across the lonely moors she heard a story so incredible that, had she not been physically involved, she would never have believed it.
"There are a few places on the face of the Earth where it's possible to walk through time into the past,” the old woman explained. “They only occur on significant occasions and in very special places. The Egyptian Pyramids, the Easter Island statues, and the Inca temples are just a few of them. Oh, and Stonehenge, of course.
"Not many people these days would know how to invoke the magic to travel through time, but in Stonehenge it's different. Every year the words of the ancient incantations are chanted exactly when the time warp occurs—at dawn on the mid-summer solstice.
"But modern Druids don't know what they're doing. It's just by chance today that the right words were being said at the right time. That was the command for the Time Gate to open at the real site of the original Druid altar, and you fell into it.
"If you look at any really old painting of the ‘'Henge', you'll see that the columns used to be scattered all over the place. It was in Victorian times the authorities took it upon themselves to put the stones in an order they thought was right—but they were wrong. The real place for the altar was exactly where you were standing.
