Zak Turner - A Twist In Time (26 page)

The baronet took his fallen son’s hand in his own, and whispered, “Hold on Tallion, don’t give up, hold on son, help is on its way…” 

Then he closed his eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths before he swore quietly.

“Damn you Antares Malchus!  You’ll pay for this one!”

When he opened his eyes again he looked around to see where Barty was. 

“Did you see who cast the curses Barty?” he asked, as his employee jogged back towards him after having inspected Zak.

“No, my Lord,” called out Barty, dropping back into the formal method of address to the powerful and angry wizard before him.  As he got closer he could feel magical energy rippling round the baronet, and knew that the slightest thing might push him over the edge. 

“I only saw the curses, and nothing else.  I didn’t even detect any magic, not a person, or an object.  It’s almost as if the curses came out of thin air!”

The baronet looked piercingly at his employee. 

“Maybe he’s developed something new Barty, the ability to project magic from one location to another?  A fearful thing that would be, the holy grail of magical combat, to fight a duel, but from another place!”

“Zak is totally drained of power, my Lord, both physical and magical.  He needs a powerful rejuvenation potion, and then rest.  He’ll not be able to use his full powers, even with a rejuvenation potion, for something like twenty four hours.”

“We haven’t
got
twenty four hours Barty!  We haven’t even got twenty four minutes!  I wonder, can we take this many people back in time and stop it from happening?”

Barty was surprised.  He’d heard talk about time travel, and knew it was possible with the correct spells and talismans, but he didn’t know of anyone who’d actually travelled in time.  He’d also never heard about anything as extreme as taking a whole group of people, and an entire football match, back in time!  He stared wide eyed at the baronet who stared blankly back, his mind racing.  Very few wizards could travel in time, but it was an art perfected by the Middlehams, and kept hidden from the rest of the wizarding world!

“No.  It’s easier to put everyone back to normal, and then take the fallen students away and hide them until Zak can revive them.  Maybe we should take the whole team?  Then we can disguise it as a celebration, and implant false memories.  What a MESS!”

* * *

Nurse Salvae appeared behind the distracted baronet with a whoosh, medical bag in hand.

“Which one?” she asked rather pointedly.

“Tallion,” answered the baronet softly, his faced creasing up with worry and fear for his son’s life. 

“A Libra Mortis to the chest, Honor.  He’s not dead, but…  Do whatever you can, please.”

“Of course Sir Philip,” said the shocked school nurse, “but I’ll need Sir Titus Scott from the hospital in Edinburgh.  He’s the leading authority on how curses damage body tissue, and he provided the details of the potion we needed last time!”

Sir Philip nodded, and flicked his wand again, sending yet another lynx off for help.  Just as it bounded out of sight Orion Trell appeared behind the baronet.

“What happened?” asked the mediwitch, who was now on her knees casting an array of enchantments and charms on Tallion, trying to understand what damage he’d suffered.  “There are bodies all over the place!”

“Antares Malchus happened, Honor!” growled the baronet, the terrifying sorcerer inside him almost breaking the surface.  Honor Salvae flinched at the venom in the baronet’s voice, and no longer doubted that Lord Middleham of the High Wizard Council was a high wizard for reasons other than just his family’s long heritage!

She turned back to Tallion, and used a succession of levitation and manipulation spells and charms to remove his jacket and t-shirt, and lay him out comfortably on a mattress which she conjured underneath him.  Treating the victim of a Libra Mortis was new territory for them all, but the fact that the boy was still alive, again, was a good sign.  Barring a catastrophe they should be able to keep him that way!

Sir Philip stood up from his son’s side, and turned to face the headmaster, who was waiting patiently behind him.  The headmaster put a calming hand on his former student’s shoulder.

“You’re human too, Philip, take a moment to think calmly, you know it helps.”

* * *

Within fifteen minutes of the explosive end to the under- thirteens football match, the pitch at Netherdale Academy was crawling with shadow-wizards, and experts in memory manipulation.  The task was no small one, but it was relatively straightforward.  The Broughton Grammar football team and their parents were dealt with first, simply because none of them had been felled by Zak’s overpowered spell.  The shadow-wizards moved them all to the edge of the pitch nearest the car park, and altered their memories from the point just before Tallion’s Revertur exploded the invisible (to non-magic folk) Libra Mortis which had been aimed at him. 

The victory in the match remained clear in their minds, but the memories that followed would now be hazy for parent and student alike, with only vague recollections of the aftermath of their defeat, and watching a jubilant Netherdale team running round the pitch.

The shadow-wizards then relocated the perimeter charms that were round the football pitch so that all the Broughton visitors were outside them.  Timed yielding charms were cast on them all, and after having been magically stood up, they were simultaneously freed from the sleep charms that Sir Philip, Barty and the shadow-wizards had cast. 

Dazed and disorientated, but not wanting to let anyone else notice, they quickly gathered themselves, and went to their cars talking very little.  They would never talk much about the match at Netherdale that September, but they would all remember their overwhelming desire to get home quickly afterwards!  

The shadow-wizards dealt with the Netherdale parents who had ‘un-stunned’ children next, and sent them home with their sons in a similar manner, but in small groups to discourage them talking to one another.

Finally the coach, the referee, and the parents of the stunned students were moved and sent home after having had memories placed in their minds of giving their children permission to stay on to a celebration party that Zak’s parents were hosting.  It would be a convenient way to get the students back into the non-magical world after they were revived, and the party could, in theory, last all night if necessary!

Last of all they revived John Turner, without any memory modifications, and Sir Philip related the situation to him, together with the plan for holding a fake party for the unconscious footballers at the Turner’s home.  He added that they’d only come to The Copse when they were ready to revive them, but re-joining the non-magical world in the Turner’s house was a good solution.  John readily agreed to do what he could to help, and the baronet offered to plant false memories of the pretend party in John and Jenny’s minds so that they’d be able to talk about it afterwards to anyone who asked.

The concept was startling, and a bit worrying to John, and yet he was fascinated by the possibilities of putting false memories in people’s minds!  It sounded like science fiction!

“I’d like to talk with Jenny first Sir Philip.  I agree that it would make life easier, but it’s not something I can decide alone.”

“I understand John, and I would behave the same way if our roles were reversed.  Now, we need to revive this most admirable son of yours.  Did you see what he did with his spell?”

“I only saw two huge explosions in front of him Sir Philip, and one over at this side near Tallion; was there more to see?  We’ve noticed that we miss lots of things that the children see.”

The baronet nodded. 

“Imagine a blazing wall of light twenty feet wide and ten feet high sweeping across the football pitch, shining as bright as the sun.  That’s what you missed.  I have no idea what spell he cast, and I’m sure neither does he.  I expect he
thought
he was casting a rebounding charm, probably the one we call Revertur.  He’s very good at it, and it’s a magnificent defence, especially in
his
hands.  However, that’s not what came out!  I think his wand took over and did something special.  There’s a lot of magic woven into a wand that normal wizards cannot hope to understand or explain.  Only a wandmaker truly knows the wand he creates, and Zak’s wand is a remarkable and very special creation, more powerful than Zak himself according to its maker, and that’s saying something!”

By this time they’d reached Zak who was also lying on a mattress, this one conjured by Barty who was looking after his charge very diligently.  It was the first time John had met his son’s private tutor, and he immediately liked what he saw.

“He’s a great lad Mr Turner,” said the spiky-haired wizard after Sir Philip’s introductions.  “Truly remarkable.  He’s won a place in all our hearts, and I’m not the only one who’d willingly go into harm’s way to protect him and defend him, whatever the cost.  Although judging by today’s performance, I think it will be him who’s defending us as events unfold over the next few years!”

“Is he okay Barty?  He looks to be unconscious!” replied a very concerned John Turner.

“Well, he’s not really okay, but he’s not in any danger, at least, not while I’m here!  He’s just used up all his energy, that’s all, magical energy as well as physical energy.  That spell he just cast took everything he had to give.  It’s always the same with young wizards, they can’t control the power they put into their magic, and in a life-and-death situation like just now, even the best of us tend to overdo it, just to be on the safe side.”

Barty turned back to his sleeping student with an indulgent and protective smile.

“And he well and truly overdid it this time, many times overdid it, and that wand of his helped him along by allowing him to cast a spell far beyond the ability of any ordinary eleven-year-old.  It did the job though.  He just saved
my
life, and maybe others too.  Who knows what might have happened if he hadn’t withstood his attacker.”

John looked in surprise at the younger man who was looking after his son.  Zak had just saved the man’s life!  He felt a new set of emotions run through him, and a sudden close affinity to this spikey-haired magic tutor. 

* * *

Antares Malchus escaped first to the home of one of his henchmen high in the hills of the Peak District, and from there he went back to his own castle at Shrone Birrane in Southern Ireland.

A doubt was nagging in his mind about the mule he was sure he’d just killed at the football match.  The youngster had locked eyes with him, or appeared to have locked eyes with him, while he’d been hidden under his cloak.  He’d then
Hhhhh
given him what appeared to be a death glare!  Whilst he hadn’t felt any ill effects from the glare, probably because he was in the processes of porting away, the memory of it was very clear.  Maybe the boy had been a bit more powerful than he’d given him credit for, but he had no real evidence other than the stare.

He sat down in his throne-like chair, and after meditating for a few minutes, he dropped into a trance to calm his mind so that he could feel the vibrations of the mystical world, a world which he could never truly enter.  When he opened his eyes, he waved his hand over the crystal ball in front of him.  His Netherdale spy’s face appeared and he gave the witch her instructions; she bowed meekly in response, remaining head down until the image faded away.

17.  Magic To The Rescue

Bjarne Middleham was going through another relatively boring weekend.  Life since the summer holidays had definitely taken a turn for the worse for the nine-year-old, with his brother and Zak being away from the castle for long periods, and even when they were there, they were studying.  True, they’d invited him to come to some of their lessons, and on Friday evening he’d joined them for Alchemy and Feralogy.  He’d mostly just watched, but Barty had encouraged him to join in several times.

He’d hoped that Sunday would be better, with him being able to spend time with his brother like he used to, but then Tallion had gone off somewhere with their father, and Bjarne had ended up by himself, again!

He’d considered flying, but even though he had a new broom, his low spirits kept his feet on the ground.  He’d considered climbing trees, but he didn’t fancy that either.  He’d done his homework, and didn’t want to read for once, so he aimlessly wandered through the castle and found himself at the bottom of the LookOut Tower. 

There was always something interesting to do up the tower, and the young wizard felt his spirits lift slightly at the prospect of the climb.  Whottrels Door was on the first floor, and the brave young Middleham decided to open it, remembering that Zak had found Iseltal on the other side.  As always in Bjarne’s experience, there was nothing there, but just to be on the safe side he didn’t venture through it.

The young wizard went through each level in the tower, investigating some of the mysteries, but never doing anything risky, and by the time he got to the ninth floor he was getting a bit tired of all the stairs.  Here was another complete mystery though, and one that none of them had ever dared to interfere with.  His father had told them not to enter the room on the ninth floor, because of the dangerous magic inside, but to follow the passage round the outside of the room and go up to the next floor.

They had, of course, all put their ears to the door and listened hard.  They’d all even held the handle and dared themselves to open it, but fear of their father, and of the unknown magic within, had kept them back.  Bjarne once again studied the door and the curious inscription above it as he went past.

Tai Tuie’s Tomb.

Could there really be a mummy in there, the preserved body of some ancient person?  There
was
a sort of museum room next to the library with lots of ancient artefacts in it, but why would someone put a tomb on the ninth floor of the LookOut Tower?

He put his hand on the handle as he tried in vain to hear something from inside the room.  He thought maybe he could hear a clock ticking, but it was so remote that it could really have been anything, and it might not have been coming from inside the room at all.  Other than that it was silent.  He sighed, about to go on to the next floor.

“Caught you!” called out a voice behind him!

Bjarne yelled out in fright, even though he recognised it was Uncle Theodore.  He rounded on the ghost.

“You did
not
catch me!  I wasn’t doing anything!  I wasn’t going to open the door, I was just listening!”

“Ooo, someone’s a bit touchy today, that sounds like a guilty conscience to me.  Anyway, there’s nothing in that room.  I’ve been in there loads of times since I died, and it’s empty, apart from the clock in the corner.”

Uncle Theodore was an expert in making apparently innocuous comments that were deliberately designed to get people thinking.  He knew full well what was in the room, and thought it was about time Bjarne did too.

“So there
is
a clock?” asked Bjarne suddenly curious.

“Yes, the clock’s always there.  Sometimes there’s a table and chair in there too, or other stuff, but the clock’s always there in the same place.  Anyway, your mother sent me to remind you that it’s lunchtime, and to ask you to come down to eat.  Now!”

“Okay, okay, I’m on my way,” replied the frustrated young wizard.  He cast a calculating glance at the door as Uncle Theodore disappeared through the floor chuckling to himself.

Maybe it would be okay to just open the door and peep inside,
thought Bjarne. 
After all, if Uncle Theodore says there’s nothing there, then there’s nothing to fear…

Bjarne suddenly felt reckless.  He
would
just peep inside and then quickly go down for lunch.  His pulse was racing as he glanced left and right, saw no-one and no ghosts, and then plunged the handle down and pushed the door open.

The room was airy and bright, with three large windows in the circular wall.  Sure enough, there was a magnificent grandfather clock in the corner too, its pendulum swinging gently to and fro.  The young wizard nodded, congratulating himself.  There were also a couple of very comfortable looking squashy armchairs, with a large side table between them, close to one of the windows. 

What grabbed Bjarne’s attention though was the enormous bookcase that covered the curved back wall of the room.  Behind its glass doors were shelf after shelf of books, tantalising him, and calling out to be read!

Bjarne, the world’s worst book addict, was torn.  Surely it wouldn’t hurt just to go in and have a look at the titles?

The nine-year-old took his courage in both hands and stepped inside the door, ignoring the warning voices in his head that were screaming ‘DANGER!’ at him.

Nothing happened, and a smile crossed his face.  He stepped backwards into the corridor just to make sure that he could still get out, and sure enough he could.  Decision time.  To look at the books or not?  He needed to get to lunch…  Surely thirty seconds wouldn’t hurt?  He went back into the room and let the door close softly behind him.  He’d be very quick.

The young wizard’s eyes went wide as he viewed the titles behind the glass.  These were very advanced magic books indeed!  Bjarne had enjoyed the Alchemy lesson on Friday evening, and had already determined to go and look through the main library for books about Alchemy because the magic behind the science fascinated him. 

As he scanned along the shelves, his sharp eye spotted a book by someone called Silas Orr entitled ‘Pure Gold’.  The tiny notes on the spine suggested that it was about precious metals alchemy, specifically how to turn everyday objects into gold and silver, copper, zinc, brass, and just about any other metal you could think of!

Without a second thought, the curious nine-year-old opened the glass door and reached up for the book.  It was very old and dusty, and even seemed to moan a bit as he pulled it from its long time resting place.  He blew off the dust, opened the cover, and saw a drawing of a wizard on the title page, possibly the author, holding his fingers to his lips and saying, audibly, “Shhhhh!”

Bjarne grinned, it wasn't the first time that a book had spoken to him; at least half the books in the Lofthouse Castle library were sentient in some manner!

“Okay,” he replied, “I won’t tell if you don’t!” 

“Deal!” replied the drawing in the book with a wide smile and a wink!

Bjarne moved over to the window and turned the page, letting the bright sunlight fall across it.  The introduction was brief and to the point, and the index was even briefer and even more to the point, listing just ten transformations.  The first was to create silver from salt and sand, plus a few more crucial magical ingredients.  Without thinking about it, Bjarne lowered himself into the comfortable chair behind him and began to flick through the book; all thoughts of lunch fled from his mind.  This book was worth many times its own weight in gold that was for sure!

The pendulum of the grandfather clock continued to swing slowly from side to side, measuring the passing seconds, the hands keeping a perfect record of how long he’d been in the room.  The absolute silence, except for the clock, meant that Bjarne became well and truly lost in his book, and it was with a start that he suddenly realised he was already at the end of the seventh transformation some considerable time later!

A glance at the clock showed it was twenty past three and Bjarne jumped up in panic!  He was going to be in big trouble now, double trouble even!  Trouble for not coming down to lunch, and then even more trouble for going into the forbidden room!  His mother would surely ask where he’d been.  Lying never crossed his mind; you couldn’t lie to Lady Middleham.

The worried bookworm knew there would likely be only one outcome from this little adventure, a trip into the dungeon and a very painful ‘reminder’ about the importance of obedience.  His throat was dry and his hand was trembling slightly as he shoved the book quickly back onto the shelf, and wrenched open the door, heading down the stairs as fast as he could.

Unnoticed, the door closed softly behind him and a quiet whirring noise disturbed the silence of the room as the hands on the grandfather clock swiftly wound back to twelve fifteen where they stopped.  The pendulum continued its own ceaseless swinging back and forth, accompanied by the patient tic-toc of the ancient clock.

* * *

Bjarne raced down the stairs, leapt over the thirteenth step on the final staircase, and hurled himself into the secret passage which formed the shortcut back to the main castle.  He was heading for the drawing room where he knew his rather irritated mother would be waiting for him, and he was planning how to make his peace with her.

As he got to the top of the stairs in the grand entrance, the drawing room doors opened, and his mother and sister came out heading for the breakfast room.

“Just in time, Bjarne,” smiled his mother, “I thought you might have been up a tree, but Uncle Theodore just told me that you were up the LookOut tower.”

It took a lot of effort for Bjarne not to look completely clueless while his racing brain tried to work out what was going on.  It certainly
seemed
as though he wasn’t in trouble for being at least three hours late for lunch, but it also seemed like his mother and sister were three hours late for their lunch too!  As for the comments about Uncle Theodore, well, that didn’t make any sense at all!  He was determined to stay out of trouble though, so very sincerely he apologised for being late, and scuttled down the stairs walking meekly behind them into the breakfast room.

He glanced at the clock as they walked in, and to his great consternation saw that it was only twenty past twelve.  Now he really was puzzled!

This needed some careful thought, and maybe some careful questioning.

* * *

By one o’clock the Netherdale Academy football pitch was deserted.  It was fortunate that only the under thirteens were using the facility that Sunday, normally there would have been other groups following them on the pitch, but the other teams were all playing away games that week.

Sir Philip created a portal on the pitch back to Lofthouse Castle, and one by one the unconscious boys were taken to the safety of the baronet’s ancestral home.  John Turner drove his car back up the dale to The Copse, and used the portal in the back of Tallion’s wardrobe to go to the castle to be with his recovering son, after telling his worried wife what had happened at the match.

Zak was back in his own suite at the castle where Nurse Salvae had expertly managed to make the unconscious eleven-year-old swallow a rejuvenation potion.  It was only a few seconds before his eyes opened and slowly focussed on his surroundings, including the people by his bed.

“Hi Dad!  What are you doing here?  What am
I
doing here?!”

“You’re recovering your energy lad, I’ll let Barty here explain what happened magically, but you saved a few lives, and knocked yourself out in the process!”

Zak struggled to sit up against his pillows as he looked across at his smiling tutor, questions written all over his face.  As he opened his mouth to ask them, Barty held up his hand to stop him, so Zak said nothing and closed his mouth again.

“I’ll explain first, and
then
you can ask questions, if you have any left.  Someone, we don’t know who, decided to use the final whistle at the football match as a cover for casting five Libra Mortis curses at various people.  Lord Middleham, Tallion, Steven, you, and me.  Lord Middleham dodged the one aimed at him, you exploded the ones aimed at you and me, and Tallion exploded the one aimed at him.”

A frown crossed Zak’s face.  It was obvious that all was not well, and Barty hadn’t mentioned what happened to the curse which had been cast at Steven!  The young footballer had a terrible feeling of foreboding tearing at his insides again.

“We only have Steven’s word for what happened next, but he says that Tallion tried to cast another spell at the Libra Mortis that was aimed at him.  It seems to have fizzled though.  Now, Steven says that he saw the swirling magic behind Tallion, and it rushed into him, but never went down his arm the second time, like it had done the first time.  It just went into him and vanished.”

Zak blanched.  He instantly knew what had happened to Tallion’s magic.

“Our magical bond,” he whispered, a grief stricken look on his face.  “I took his magic and used it for my own spell.” 

Zak put his hands to his face as he whispered, “I killed him didn’t I?  I can’t sense him in my mind…  He’s dead isn’t he, because of me…!”

“No!  He’s not dead, Zak,” said his dad, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder.  “Steady son, no need to panic…”