A Change In The Weather

Chapter 20: The rings of illusion

15 January, 2008 – 3:17 pm

Tobias parked the van up on the verge outside the windmill and yanked the hand brake on. Hillary just sat in the passenger seat stinking of rotting vegetation. The windows were 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.

He unclipped his seatbelt and turned to Hillary.

‘These gold rings that they wear,’ he said finally, ‘they allow them to impersonate people?’

He wrinkled his nose up. The van stunk.

‘Yes.’

‘How can they do that?’ asked Tobias, holding a handkerchief over his mouth.

Hillary just sighed.

‘It’s too complicated to explain. Besides which you wouldn’t understand,’ he said, brushing a leaf of rotten cabbage from his shoulder. ‘They just do.’

‘Don’t fob me off Hillary.’ said Tobias, throwing the handkerchief away.

His face was like thunder.

‘And don’t patronise me either,’ he said. ‘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. Even for a cryptozoologist.’

Hillary sensed Tobias was being utterly serious.

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

‘Well tell me how the rings work then.’

‘They were created from of a blend of rare metals instilled with magic. They are also mildly radioactive, but not enough to be dangerous. The spell that created the ring was folded into the metal and then quenched in quicksilver. Because of the way it was forged, when the rings manifest their powers, there is no loss of energy involved.’

‘What do you mean by loss of energy?’

‘You probably don’t know, but every spell that is cast costs energy. 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. The rings have the twin powers of illusion – for themselves – and impersonation – for what they’ve become.’

‘So what’s stopping them from impersonating other people then?’

‘Nothing. But they do have drawbacks. The rings can only hold one complete persona, which means the bearer can impersonate only 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 reset them, so to speak.’

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

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

‘How do they get imprinted?’

‘The bearer has to put the ring on the finger of the person he wants to impersonate. And that’s it. Sounds easy doesn’t it?’

Tobias listened. Hillary continued.

‘The rings also shield their true appearances.’

‘Their true appearances?’

‘Yes, the spell placed upon them is a curse. It keeps them from dying, but doesn’t stop their bodies from decaying. In effect, they are zombies - the undead. But forget everything you think you know about zombies, Tobias. These zombies can think. 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 when they were first cursed.’

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

‘Yes.’

‘And what would that be then?’

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

‘Humour me?’

‘Alright then. Imagine for a moment 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 sighed, smiling 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?’ said Tobias, in surprise. ‘Didn’t you know who they were for?’

‘No, you see I was only twelve years old at the time.’

‘Twelve?’

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

‘You were apprentice to an Alchemist?’

‘Yes, and then the Fiery Brand arrived one night – although, of-course, 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 forged them. He instructed the commissioners to return a month later when the rings would be completed.’

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

‘They wore hooded robes so their faces were completely obscured. They masked the smell of their rotting flesh with jasmine and other oils and perfumes. They wore gloves over their hands. So, no they did a good job of disguising themselves, even then!’

‘So, what happened?’

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

‘Oh god, that’s terrible. What did you do then?’

‘I vowed to go after them. 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. When I did it was too late though. It would seem they’d been killed by Turks and buried in a ditch outside the city walls of Acre, and so I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders and 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 learnt 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 learnt 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.’

They sat there in absolute silence for a few minutes thinking about everything that had been said.

Eliza and Wendle ran out of the windmill and across the lawn towards the van.

‘This was delivered this morning whilst you were out.’ said Eliza, huffing and puffing.

She handed over a small envelope to Hillary.

‘What’s that god awful stench?’ she cried, retreating and covering her nose with her hand. ‘It’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced before!’

‘It’s Hillary.’ said Tobias, rather straight-faced.

‘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

‘That’s tomorrow evening,’ Tobias said.

Hillary nodded. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I think we should go. Don’t you?’

‘Oh, definitely.’

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.

The telephone numbers were one and the same.

Posted in A Change In The Weather |