Dark Tidings: Ancient Magic Meets the Internet Book 1 (5 page)

He began to explain how the plan would work. Tung shuffled from foot to foot and fidgeted with his sleeve when Madrick started with ‘we’ll strip naked and hold hands’. Ignoring his discomfort, Madrick finished describing the escape.

“It’s perfect. We have the ultimate escape plan and once we’re free we’ll get far, far away from this castle. Once we’re out there, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to steal some new clothes and maybe a few other bits and pieces as well. That shouldn’t be a challenge for an accomplished thief like you.”

“Especially an invisible one,” said Tung who could see all sorts of possibilities.

“Then we can ride off into the sunset, if we steal some horses, and fulfil all our dreams. Together, you and me, we’ll become legends.” Madrick ended with a flourish more suited to an over-acting actor at the end of an over-scripted performance.

In Madrick’s head, the speech was designed to remind Tung of the importance of ‘together’, to remind him of the importance of Madrick.

Tung pondered for a few moments. His newly discovered, and now overused, mind’s eye walked him visually through each step of the escape. It seemed like a sensible plan, it felt as though it had every chance of succeeding. Then his face dropped and his stomach turned a somersault as he realised there was one massive flaw.

Michael arrived at just after seven forty-five, well before his prescribed nine o’clock start time. When he walked into the main reception area he was, as usual, gobsmacked by the over-powering opulence. He’d been here on many occasions while working for Noviru, however, the lavishness of this entrance hall never failed to grab his attention and impress him. The gleaming, Italian marble floor reflected more gilt than Midas could have wished for. Imposing, white marble pillars dominated the panorama. A magnificently ornate painted ceiling oversaw the whole scene; the combined effect was incredible.

The most prominent feature by far was on the wall which faced the entrance… giant, three-dimensional, golden letters, which he later found out were 24-carat gold, spelled out ‘International Investment Bank of Europe’ and underneath in smaller letters, their strap line read ‘Serving Customers, Serving You.’

Yeah right, ‘Swindling Customers, Swindling You.’ would be nearer the truth.

The opulent display was designed to intimidate everyone who entered this building. Without a doubt, the spectacle would put even the most confident visitor on the defensive. Although he was awe-struck, Michael wasn’t threatened by this display of power; all his preparations had made certain of that. He knew what he was going to do to this organisation. He had nothing to fear, in fact, these people should fear him.

His shoes clacked on the marble floor as he walked towards the reception desk which was tucked away at the left side of the giant foyer. It resembled an eastern-bloc security station as it was totally enclosed in thick glass and manned by four rather intimidating looking men in paramilitary uniforms. It was not in the least bit welcoming. As he got closer, a rather pretty girl popped into view at a small opening in the glass. With more than a just little relief he ignored the uniformed guards and reported to her.

“Hi. My name is Michael Phillips, and I’m
(a hacker – don’t say that out loud!)
… I’m joining the computer support team. I was told to report to reception. I know I’m a bit early. Here’s the letter I was sent.”

She smiled and took the letter.

“Hi. I’m Faith. I was told you’d be starting today. Hold on while I check a few things out,” she smiled again and began typing on her keyboard. She quickly found what she was looking for. ,

Her brown eyes (yes, he did notice) darted across her screen as she scanned all the information. He wondered what they’d written about him; he’d find out later once he had access to the systems.

“Yes, here we are. Apparently you’re to be fast-tracked through the induction process. Lucky you.”

She smiled again. Wow, she was beautiful. Something about this woman intrigued and captivated him… he couldn’t put his finger on it, much as he’d like to. She called over one of the uniformed men who, after a short discussion, directed Michael to a large door at the right of the reception desk area.

The door had a sophisticated card-key entry system. He had no card-key, so he waited for it to be opened from the inside. He heard a heavy metallic whirring sound as solid, electronically-operated bolts slid to unlock the door. He was ushered in and, once the door had clunked shut behind him, the guard led him to a secure room where they photographed him, processed his forms and printed out his new identity pass and card-key. He was half expecting a full strip search, but that was just his over-imaginative brain working over-time.

After about forty-five minutes, they felt they’d done their job. However he knew they'd merely helped him with his first step to steal mega-millions from this immoral organisation.

Of course, Michael didn’t think of it as stealing, he was just getting the public’s money back… albeit he planned to keep most of it for himself.

Tung stood frozen on the spot. Why was it up to him to sort out the mess? He stared at Madrick. How could the old man not have spotted the problem? This guy was meant to be the smart one. A wizard was supposed to be wiser than a barn full of owls so how did he miss something so bleeding obvious?

“Your plan has a great big hole in it. You really haven’t thought it through at all, have you? The escape bit is fine, but we were supposed to use the Scroll to get rich, be deliriously happy and attract hosts of girls.”

He wondered whether that should be ‘hostesses of girls’. He was losing focus. That happened a lot. He began to think about other times when he’d drifted away from the important topic. Luckily, before he’d drifted too far, his common sense gave him a mental slap and snapped his mind back to the matter in hand.

“We were even going to change the world at one point in our imaginings. Your plan may well get us out of here, but what about the Scroll? If it’s only our bodies which become invisible, then we’ll have to leave all our stuff behind; our clothes, our shoes and the Scroll. We’ll have to leave everything in this god forsaken dungeon.”

He paced the cell, fists clenched.

“We’ll be free, but we’ll be miserable paupers. We won’t
even
have the clothes we stand up in. We’ll be a pair of destitute, alms people who’ll never be free of the shackles of poverty and we’ll always be on the run from Mifal’s henchmen. That sounds like a nightmare, what happened to the dream?”

Okay, he was being a bit melodramatic so he stopped talking. When he thought about it, he’d be happy just to escape the torture and execution, but he’d bought into the picture which Madrick had painted. He’d been handed a wondrous gift only for it to be snatched from his grasp before he’d even had the chance to unwrap it. He was distraught and he sunk his face into to his hands to emphasise the fact.

He was right. Madrick had completely forgotten about the Scroll. They couldn’t carry the thing out in their invisible hands. That would be ridiculous. A flying scroll would undoubtedly attract attention. Was that it then, dream over? Surely they could think of something?

They both sat in a dejected silence and pondered their predicament. They’d gone from despondency to joyousness and back to despondency in the space of a few minutes. And then, as if by magic, the answer dawned on both of them at exactly the same moment.

One of them would have to secrete the Scroll inside their body. It was a small scroll, but it was still too large to hold in the mouth or swallow. They both just stared at each other as they realised there was only one other option. Tung was the first to speak.

“It isn’t going to be me. I’ve already gone through enough pain for this escape. It’s not going to be me, no chance.”“I know,” Madrick said hopefully, trying to muster an argument even though he realised that Tung’s point was more than fair. Having said that, he didn’t care much about fairness, particularly given the consequences of this rather delicate situation. “I know a fair way to decide. Rock, Parchment, Knife. We’ll play Rock, Parchment, Knife… best of three?”“It’s not going to be me,” said Tung, who was having none of it. He loved a gamble and he was quite skilled at that particular game, but he was taking no chances. “I’ve already gone through enough pain for this escape. Not me, no chance.”

He’d repeated his argument pretty much verbatim as if to indicate he wasn’t going to enter into a debate about it. He turned his back to Madrick and grabbed a chicken leg from the banquet remains which were strewn all over the floor. He began to chew. Conversation well and truly over.

Madrick thought some more, but couldn’t come up with an argument which was likely to change Tung’s mind. Tung seemed adamant.

“You’re taking advantage of an old man. Have you no pity in your heart?”

A plea for sympathy had to be worth a try. Tung just ignored him and continued to gnaw on the chicken bone.

“All right, all right, you win,” conceded Madrick. “I’ll be the bearer of the greatest pain and suffering so we can take the wretched thing with us, but remember this moment well. You remember how it was me who gave us the opportunity to fulfil our dreams. I’ll conceal the damned Scroll. Turn your eyes away.”

He swiped the Scroll out of Tung’s hand.

“Look away and don’t listen,” he shouted as he lifted up the back of his robe.

Try as he might, Tung couldn’t help but hear the grunts and squeals of the old man as he struggled to secrete the tightly rolled Scroll. This was definitely not the fate anyone had ever envisaged for the magic parchment and it clearly wasn’t designed for this… container.

When the moaning and groaning had for the most part subsided, Tung looked round and immediately felt full of remorse. This was the second time he’d seen tears in the old man’s eyes in the space of a few hours. This time he understood, this time the tears were totally justifiable. He felt Madrick’s pain, but only a little bit.

The rest of the plan ran smoothly and without a hitch; at least it did at first. As morning approached, they undressed and, just to confuse the guards even more, Tung hung Madrick’s robe over the stallion’s neck. They held hands and Tung said the spell in his head. The pair disappeared. Everything was going according to plan until there was a loud cracking sound as Tung’s invisible head crashed against the rock hard floor.

“Damn. That wasn’t my fault this time,” said Madrick as he felt the floor to find his invisible partner.

When Tung came to, he looked around and was delighted to see neither Madrick nor himself. He was proud of his work again, however there was no time for back-patting even if he could have found one to pat.

“Press yourself against the wall,” said Madrick. “We don’t want the guards to accidentally bump into us.”

Tung did as he was told. He shivered and gasped as his skin touched the freezing stone, but he pressed himself hard against the icy granite. The guards weren’t going to trip over him if he could help it.

“I am getting good at this magic thing,” he whispered. “I have a skill to be proud of. I wish my friends could see me now.”

He smiled. His invisible joke was so much better than Madrick’s.

“Shhhh, I hear footsteps in the corridor. This is it.”

Bolts were drawn before the door slammed open and the guards burst in. No prisoners to be seen. All they found was a magnificent stallion gorging on what appeared to have been a sumptuous banquet. Frantic searching revealed nothing.

“Where the hell did they go?” screamed one guard.

“What in God’s name has been going on here?” yelled another.

Pandemonium reigned… how were they going to explain this to their chief? Someone’s head would roll; probably literally.

In the ensuing confusion Tung and Madrick slipped unnoticed out of the cell. Confused shouts echoed behind them as they moved silently along the corridor which led out of the dungeon. It was all going according to plan until Tung saw Bildon and Tad, the two jailers who’d tormented him mercilessly during his short stay in the cell. He couldn’t resist a little mischief on his way past.

He reached under the table and squeezed Bildon hard in a place which made him double over like a bear trap snapping shut. His face smashed into the table and he yelped like a little girl, although the same attack wouldn’t have hurt a little girl in quite the same way. His reaction was surprisingly swift. It certainly surprised Tad who, before he had a chance to work out what was going on, found Bildon’s dagger plunged deep into his shoulder. Blood poured from the wound; curses poured from his mouth.

The two men stared at each other with black hatred in their eyes, neither understanding why the other had launched the unprovoked attack. No time to find out. Bildon struck with the speed of a rattlesnake. He yanked his dagger from Tad’s shoulder and smashed it into his chest. The man dropped dead to the floor.

Bildon had no time to admire his handiwork. The sound of approaching footsteps told him he had to act fast. A troop of soldiers was quick marching down the corridor… the changing of the guard. Bugger, what now? He wrenched his knife from the corpse and flipped it into the pot of grey sludge which steamed in the middle of the table. He threw himself onto the floor. Lie still he told himself… pretend to be unconscious. No one was going to pin this killing on him if he could help it.

The soldiers streamed into the room led by their captain. Confusion reigned supreme. The stallion, still wearing Madrick’s robe was out of the cell. It pranced around Tad’s dead body, its hooves rattling and slipping on the cobbled floor. A bunch of jailers ran about like headless chickens, frantically looking for their escaped prisoners. The captain screamed orders, but no one heard him. It was a losing battle, total bedlam. No one would ever work out what had happened here.

Tung giggled silently to himself, he was proud of the mayhem he’d caused. He and Madrick slipped out of the dungeon complex and up the stairs to the main castle. The last thing they heard as they left that dreadful place was one of the jailers shouting.

“Bildon killed Tad. Look, there’s his bloody dagger hidden in the pot of semolina,” he screamed. “There’s the proof, it’s in the pudding.”

What an idiot, thought Madrick as he raced up the steps, the proof is always in the eating.