Chapter 20: The rings of illusion

Tobias parked the van up on the verge outside the windmill and yanked the hand brake on. Hillary sat glumly in the passenger seat reeking of rotting vegetation. The windows had been kept open for most of the journey back to try to let the foul stench out and the fresh air in. Tobias turned the engine off and sat there in silence, looking blankly ahead. Something was bothering him and he unclipped his seatbelt and turned to Hillary.

‘So, tell me again – these gold rings – they allow them to impersonate people?’ He wrinkled his nose up. The van stunk.

Hillary closed his eyes and nodded.

Tobias held a handkerchief over his mouth. ‘But how?’

Hillary took a deep breath. ‘It’s too complicated to explain.’ he muttered, brushing a rotten cabbage leaf from his shoulder. ‘Never mind comprehend.’

Tobias threw his handkerchief down. ‘Don’t fob me off Hillary.’ His face became thunder, which took Hillary rather by surprise. ‘And don’t patronise me either. I’ve gone along blindly with everything you’ve said so far. I can’t see any reason now not to just walk away. Things are getting too weird for me.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Even for a cryptozoologist.’

‘I’m sorry Tobias, please forgive me.’ Hillary looked terribly apologetic. ‘Don’t do that. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.’

‘Tell me how these rings work then.’

Hillary rubbed his wrinkled forehead. ‘They were created from of a blend of rare metals instilled with magic.’ He raised his eyebrows and stared ahead blankly. ‘Mildly radioactive if I recall,’ he muttered, and then shook his head. ‘but not enough to pose a danger. I think.’

Tobias smiled nervously.

‘You see,’ said Hillary, ‘the spell that created the ring was folded into the metal and then quenched in quicksilver to prove it and hold the magic. After that it was re-forged, folded and quenched again one hundred times, until it retained the correct properties. Because of the way it was forged, when the rings manifest their powers, there is no loss of energy involved.’

Tobias frowned. ‘What do you mean by loss of energy?’

‘Every spell that is cast costs energy.’

‘Cost?’

‘Yes. Usually the toll is a month of life. The bigger the spell, the more energy is required. The upshot is that if you cast lots of spells you get tired very quickly, and need to recuperate. Because the rings are enchanted using a special method, there is no loss of energy, and the wearer can use the properties of the ring every day with no fear of exhaustion. Their energy cost is taken from the land around.’

‘So what’s stopping these people from just changing their appearance when they want to?’

‘Oh, absolutely nothing. But they do have drawbacks. The rings can only hold one complete persona, which means the bearer can only impersonate one person at a time. Once the rings have been imprinted, the only way that they can be re-imprinted would be to take the rings away from the bearer for a long period which would blank them, so to speak. Reset them to their factory settings as you people say…’

Tobias nodded, but he was unsure as to what he was hearing.

‘But that is something that they can ill afford to do at the moment.’ added Hillary.

‘How do they get imprinted?’

‘By slipping the ring on the finger of the victim…’

Tobias listened. Hillary continued.

‘The rings also shield their true appearances.’

What do you mean by that – their true appearances?’ Tobias looked confused. ‘I’ve got a funny feeling I’m not going to like what you’re going to say am I?’

‘The Fiery Brand are cursed, Tobias, and have been for the last two thousand years. The curse prevents them from dying, but doesn’t stop their bodies from ageing – from decaying. In some respects they are no more than zombies, while in others they are anything but. You must forget everything you think you knew about zombies, Tobias. For the Fiery Brand are not mindless killers. They are diabolical in the extreme and have no remorse, or empathy, or fear of anyone, or anything. In short, the passage of time and their relentless pursuit for revenge have made them even more maniacal than before they were cursed.’

‘So, theoretically, if they took their rings off, we would see them in their natural state?’

‘Yes.’

Tobias gestured with his hand as if to hurry Hillary up. ‘And?’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘What would that be then?’

‘Trust me, Tobias, you wouldn’t want to know.’

‘No, no. I do. Just humour me.’

‘Alright then. Imagine for a moment, if you will, a decomposing corpse.’

Tobias nodded.

‘You’ve got that picture firmly in your head?’

Tobias nodded again. He hadn’t actually seen a decomposing corpse before, but he tried to imagine what it would look like nonetheless.

‘Doesn’t sound too bad,’ he said, lying.

‘No?’ replied Hillary. ‘Now imagine a corpse that can walk, talk and kill.’

‘Not sure if I want to,’ muttered Tobias. ‘How do you know so much about these rings anyway?’ he asked, suspiciously.

Hillary smiled wearily. ‘Because, Tobias, to my eternal shame I helped forge them,’ he said, continuing to stare into the distance ahead. ‘And that is why I will never be able to forgive myself.’

‘You made them?’ Tobias looked incredulously at Hillary. ‘But why, for god’s sake?’

‘I was only twelve years old at the time.’

‘Twelve?’

‘It all happened a long time ago. Seven centuries ago in the thirteenth century – 1270 to be precise – I was the apprentice to a great alchemist called Cornelius Taffleshaw, who was ancient himself even before I met him. We both worked together in a little back-street house off Watling Street in London. Its whereabouts were a closely-gaurded secret, known only to a select few people.’

He paused, as if trying to recall events in his mind’s eye. ‘And then the Fiery Brand arrived one night – although, of-course, at the time I had no idea who they were – with designs for four rings; rings which had instilled into them the power of change. Cornelius, being who he was, took up the task with great relish and started to forge them. He instructed the commissioners to return a month later when the rings would be completed.’

‘Didn’t they look like corpses though?’ said Tobias. ‘I mean, if they didn’t have the rings yet?’

‘They wore hooded robes and gloves so that their faces and hands were completely obscured, and they masked the smell of their rotting flesh with jasmine and other oils and perfumes. Even now I shudder at the smell.’

‘What happened next?’

‘They returned, but they had no intention of paying for the rings. Instead, they cruelly murdered Cornelius by casting him into his own forge. I escaped the same fate because I was in the loft above, moving stock. I saw – and heard – everything.’ He shook his head, sadly. ‘You cannot imagine how scared I was. Even now, I replay that fateful night in my head every day.’

Tobias looked horrified. ‘Oh god, but that’s terrible. What did you do then?’

‘I vowed to hunt them down. And that is what I did. I followed their trail, which lead all the way to Palestine. It took me years, but I eventually found them. But when I did it was too late though – they’d been killed by Turks and buried in a ditch outside the walls of Acre. Even so, I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders. I thought no more about it. I didn’t leave immediately though. I spent years in Palestine and Arabia before travelling home. All the time I was there though I never for one moment thought that they’d survived their ordeal.

‘Whilst I was in Arabia I learned of the legend of our two worlds and the city of Talistay. It was then that I decided to become a mage and learn everything that could be learned about magic.

‘After decades of learning, I found my way here to Blakeby and the resting place of the last dragon. I met Eliza, who had also heard of the legend, and together we swore to protect it from harm before the last vestiges of the old ways were swept away with time.’

And there they sat, in absolute silence, thinking about everything that had been said.

* * * *

Eventually, Eliza ran out of the windmill and across the lawn towards the van, holding a small envelope.

‘This was delivered this morning while you were out.’ said Eliza, still huffing and puffing as she rested with her hands on her knees. And then she stepped back from the car. ‘Good God! What’s that awful stench?’ She covered her nose with her hand. ‘It’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced before!’

‘It’s Hillary.’ said Tobias, matter-of-factly.

‘Dear god. What have you been doing?’ said Eliza.

Hillary slid the card slowly out of the envelope. ‘Oh come now. I just need a bath that’s all…’ He looked at the card. It was a hand-written invitation on thick card in meticulous copperplate calligraphy.

It read:

To Hillary Bellock and friends,
You are cordially invited to the inaugural meeting of The Vale Dragon Society.
Winterton Hall, Blakeby, May 5th 7pm. Cocktails and canapés will be served.
Mayor Godfrey Bickersnap.
RSVP by return mail or confirm by telephoning Edgar on Blakeby 662553

‘Erm, that’s tomorrow evening,’ said Tobias.

Hillary nodded. ‘I know.’

Something struck a chord with Hillary and he pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and looked at it. Then he reached for the invitation and read it again. Then he frowned and looked at the piece of paper again.

‘I think we should go.’

The telephone numbers were one and the same.

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