Faithfully Yours

Part 6: War is hell

 

Chapter 45

"The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means." 
 Oscar Wilde

Disobedience, in the eyes of anyone who has read history, is man's original virtue. It is through disobedience and rebellion that progress has been made. Oscar Wilde.

Francesca orbed into the Cotswolds village where Therold lived. Before she materialised she was very aware that the usual calm of the village was missing. She came out of the orb behind a tree, wearing some very sensible slacks, walking shoes and her hair in a tight chignon. She showed the calm middle aged face she wore for walking the mortal realm; looking every inch the sensible middle aged lady. As she materialised, she sighed deeply at the scene in front of her.

 

Parked in front of the old stone wall of Therold's cottage were four emergency service vehicles, five police cars and representatives of four media outlets all with cameras aimed at the ruins of Therold's cottage. The cottage had collapsed in quite a spectacular fashion, with only one chimney fully intact. The rest was a pile of rubble and stones and splintered wood.

 

Behind the police barricades, a large number of the locals as well as the tourists who had chosen that day to visit the village to check for themselves its reputation as the most haunted village in England, were having a very good time observing the evidence that just maybe the reputation was deserved. Their cars were parked all down the lane blocking access for several more cars with television logos on them.

 

Francesca coughed a little from the ancient dust that was still stirring in the air. Near the heap of stone and wood that had still been an upright cottage when she left, she could see Therold, bald pate as crimson red as his face, arguing with some of the local police, his hands going in all directions.

 

At the gateway, with relatively little effort, she convinced the police that she was not a tourist but a friend of the owner called by him to assist and went quietly inside the fence.

 

Therold was clearly too involved in his discussion with the police to notice her. Francesca frowned as his hands swung even wider and she heard him yelling something about all these people frightening his cats away. He gesticulated so widely she thought for a second he was summoning his magic, but he contented himself by angrily telling the police he did not need any assistance, and becoming even redder in the face while they helplessly tried to symphathise and appease him.

 

Francesca sighed again, knowing that with the best of intentions the police were going to make her job all the more difficult, and was about to approach Therold when she saw Proctor the watcher, quietly sitting on the stone fence, under a tree, overseeing the situation. A dark figure in the shadows, he was totally disregarded by the emergency workers and police all standing around scratching their heads as to why the cottage had collapsed.

 

Proctor smiled his satanic smile when he saw her, and frowning Francesca walked over to him.

 

He half stood but she waved him to sit down and perched herself on the edge of the stone fence beside him.

 

"A pleasure to see you" Proctor murmured as she sat down.

 

Francesca frowned at him then shook her head. She moved her hand toward the cottage and Therold who looked in danger of exploding himself.

 

"Oh dear" she said as Therold's gesticulation lead him to swiping off one of the police officers hats. The officer studied him for a second and then slowly and purposefully picked it up while Therold's hands continued to swing widely.

 

"Exactly" Proctor said, trying to hide the satanic smile around his lips unsuccessfully. "The cottage did not withstand the aftershock of Belthezor's visit. I fear the chances of convincing Friend Therold of Brother Belthezor's virtues are severely diminished.'" he said dryly.

 

Francesca gave him her best school marm look but Proctor was closely watching the ongoing argument Therold was having with the police and missed it.

 

Francesca pushed down an uncharacteristic desire to make him pay attention to her.

 

"Cursed spites" she said under her breath.

 

"Why?" asked Proctor still watching Therold.

 

"They are cursed creatures" Francesca said pursing her lips.

 

"Yes" Proctor answered still watching

 

Francesca shook her head, then laughed at herself, the golden laugh and it caught Proctor's attention. He stopped watching for a second and turned to her.

 

"So Cole went to Burvjara with his house guest?" she finally asked Proctor.

 

"Yes" he said, this time his eyes on her face. Francesca caught his expression and caught her breath at its intensity showed for a micro-second. She looked away at Therold who was literally jumping up and down, and Proctor half a second later also looked away.

 

"Eventually Belthezor listened to some wisdom from the Burvjarian and agreed to go" Proctor told her.

 

Francesca nodded. "Eventually?" she asked suspiciously

 

“When he is in a rage 'Belthezor's trail of destruction is …impressive,“ Proctor said his voice even more dry than usual. '"As you say 'Oh dear'" he added his tone sly, as some last stones from one of the remaining upright chimneys of Therold's house fell down.

 

Francesca gave him another school marm glare, which this time he saw and pointedly ignored

 

"Oh lord Cole didn't destroy the manor?" she asked finally giving into concern when Proctor did not rise to the provocation.

 

"The manor was built to withstand San Francisco earthquakes, so I am hopeful the witches' abode will survive" Proctor told her thoughtfully "Unlike Therold's cottage, but to be fair in any assessment of his of his powers, Belthezor had calmed down a little when he returned to the manor, so it is possible he could have destroyed it had he chosen."

 

Francesca murmured "Oh dear."

 

Proctor smiled satanically and continued. "I suspect from my observations of his family, Belthezor will be doing penance for some time to come as repentance for his tantrums'"

 

"Piper will kill him" Francesca agreed.'

 

"The witch Piper will be very angry with him" said Proctor calmly "And there will be justice in her anger" he added.

 

Francesca laughed with a small golden note.

 

Proctor for a fraction of a second drew his breath then in his most satanic voice asked "And on the subject of justice, what happened when you approached the Elders." Proctor asked slowly. "I take it the Minions of Good are heading to Burvjara. You were unable to convince them that their cause was not just"

 

"They will descend on Burvjara in large numbers" Francesca said her voice dark. She turned toward Proctor and did not keep the bitterness from her voice "I will not say that there were none who would listen, because there are those amongst the Elders and higher ones who would argue for the peaceful course." She frowned. "But those who seek the more … confrontational solutions are in ascendance'" she said.

 

"Again." Proctor murmured just stopping himself moving his hand toward her. He thrust both his hands in his pockets and starred straight ahead.

 

"Again" she agreed. "Í believe Proctor" Francesca said, also staring ahead "that there comes a time when those who see confrontation as the solution, are incapable of hearing any other voice or seeing any other way. They fly on the power of the aggression, on the thrill of it. They see a clear path and are blind to all reason. They see danger where very little danger exists and create a monster, a myth so fearful that it must be destroyed at all cost . They fear this monster of their own creation so much so they become incapable of considering the cost. They can only understand that the monster must be destroyed.'

 

"I have observed nothing to dispute your opinion" he said slowly, hands thrust hard in his pockets.

 

"No, I do not believe you would" she said "And those who point out the monster is of there own making, and sometimes of their own fantasy, are ridiculed, called fools and cuckolds of evil, misinformed and weak" she said "I have heard the words before.. When the hawks are soaring high they see doves as weak and foolish creature "she took a deep breath "they are caught on the power of their wings and the force of the wind and..'“ she stopped.

 

"And they forget that hawks can be shot down easily as a doves" Proctor answered.

 

“They cannot see consequence or hear reason "Francesca nodded. She was silent for a second. "And one again I rely on one of your brethren, on a guardian, to resolve the … folly of those who can only see reason as weakness, when it comes to Burvjara. Because they fear some other beings should control that damned magic pole." Francesca shook her head in school marm disapproval. "And I fear they will face terrible…justice for it. Because Proctor, they are wrong and I fear they are very close to evil. They are hell bent on their path."

 

Proctor nodded. " Brother Durand, when he… interceded last time told them right from wrong, and his reasons still stand as I observe. They have been told right from wrong and I have no doubts of my friend Durand's ability to make himself understood."

 

Francesca half smiled. Proctor pushed back his own demonic smile

 

"So knowing right from wrong and yet still unable to contemplate consequence, the hawks on the side of good, addicted to their own power, lead an army of the adherents of good to invade and control a realm that they have no right to control because they fear that Burvjara is outside their influence." Francesca said. "But they want it to be this way, because they want to invade it for the power they think they will gain."

 

"That view is supports my observations" Proctor said his voice at its most demonic dryness. "You told them that a leader may arise, that the landscape of Burvjara was …changing.. .developing.'

 

"Oh they knew about Glock" Francesca said "even suspected he was not dead, but they see him as.. .not on their side. He resists their influence and influences others to resist it and in this war he has supped with the devil. So for good he cannot… must not be the messiah. Or maybe they recognise that he can be this, and they fear it so badly, they see no other course but to invade and control Burvjara. Maybe even those who would protest war, fear a leader who has supped with the devil so badly they allow themselves to be overruled. They are so fearful of a dark messiah that they have called the archangels to their cause. And then justify themselves because the archangels have come."

 

"So in fear of one who had supped with the devil, they embrace the devil," Proctor shook his head. "The warriors hear the call of battle "he said "and do not always hear anything else but the call to arms until it is to late."

 

Francesca nodded. She was silent for a few minutes, then her voice calm, said "And having been told right from wrong once and still choosing to destroy the monster they created, despite what Durand told them, they must now face justice, if ,as you tell me, Cole has gone to Burvjara"

 

"He has "Proctor said bluntly. "It was prophesied "he smiled at the word "Belthezor would fix Burvjara.'

 

Francesca took a deep breath “I have hoped it meant only he saved the Burvjarian" she said. "And sent them back a messiah."

 

"'I too had hoped this" said Proctor said and his expression was totally demonic.

 

Francesca nodded "I tried to tell them Proctor. I tried this time as I tried last time and they will not listen, they close their ears and they close their hearts."

 

“As they have done before" he said, his voice very dark

 

Francesca nodded "I pray that only the guilty will face justice, that the corruption will not spread. I pray the innocents will be saved" She took a deep breath "I wonder when we who understand that ... the enemy monster is only a fable a fantasy, if we do not share the guilt when we no longer fight their fantasy.'

 

"You are not responsible for Burvjara. They do not listen. Do you take up arms to make them listen, or do you leave them to justice "Proctor said bluntly and jammed his hand harder in his pockets "and the Burvjarians are no longer the innocents.'"

 

"Are the witches, are the Minions of Good who go to war for them, innocents?" Francesca asked.

 

"That will be answered by their actions in Burvjara" Proctor said firmly, hands scrunched hard in his pockets.

 

Francesca and Proctor sat in silence watching the scenes around the ruins of Therold's cottage an watching a furious and frustrated Therold pointing in all directions, gesturing wildly and articulating the word cats over and over again, as police and emergency service people scratched their heads and media reporters took up advantage positions.

 

One outlet set up not far from where Proctor and Francesca sat, choosing a spot which gave a maximum view of the ruins of the cottage and Therold's histrionics.

 

Facing the camera the reporter said his piece. "Once again the seemingly peaceful village of Dewsberry has lived up to its reputation as the most haunted village in England. This 16th century building cottage, owned by a…" the reporter checked his notes "Therold Sidebottom, a retired historian, has inexplicably collapsed, under the force of what many villagers have described as a size 9 earthquake.

 

"Sidebottom?" Proctor asked Francesca, shaking his head "I never heard that."

 

"It was the name on the original deeds" she said not quite holding back a laugh. "It made it easier with deeds and taxes.' The pronoun is Siddy bo-tam in the old days "she explained

 

"Keep this information from Belthezor" Proctor suggested.

 

"However no seismic recordings have been made of earthquakes in this area…ever." said the reporter into his microphone, his voice husky in his pleasure at the mystery he was reporting. "Local villagers say the force which destroyed the all stone cottage was truly terrifying and describe how they rushed into the streets fearful for their own safety. Without any evidence of seismic activity, officials are at a loss to explain what caused the collapse that shook the whole village. Except one official who declined to be named who said, you know this village and the stories, when it comes down to it there is no explanation except the supernatural."

 

Francesca and Proctor exchanged glances.

 

Finally Proctor stood up "I have seen all I can see here" he said the satanic note of his voice hiding a ring of regret. "I return to my mountain to observe the realms."

 

"Good“ said Francesca also standing up. She dusted off her behind and Proctor looked away so she did not see his smile.

 

Near the remains of the cottage the police had obviously given up trying to deal with an angry and frustrated Therold and had walked off to move the press further away. Therold stood staring at the remains of his home, dejection written in every line of his body

 

"I will go and save what innocents I can'' Francesca told Proctor,'

 

"Which innocents?" asked Proctor frowning and concerned.

 

"I will help Therold find his cats" Francesca replied in her school marm voice.

 

"You are truly an angel "Proctor said "If you believe those accursed cats to be innocent. Such a pleasure to talk" he murmured, glanced round and as his dark clothing merging in the shadow o the tree he shimmered away unnoticed by the local villagers, tourists and media representatives who were all busy speculating on the supernatural forces in the village and not paying attention to seemingly casual observers.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………

 

At Glock's direction Cole came out of his shimmer in a part for Burvjara he had never been before. It was a dark eerie forest of great dead trees, reaching high into the ugly burnt orange sky. They were close together and it was clear the forest that they had once been must have been a majestic and haunting place, some of the dead trunks were storeys high. But now all around Cole and Glock it was as if the place had lost its soul; the remains of great trees, their trunks dark ugly orange, twisted and turned hard, evidence of a bitter death as a result of the damage done to Burvjara from the fighting and war. They towered all around Cole like long dead warriors, headless and armless, bows long since fallen.

 

As he came out of the shimmer, Cole found himself kneeling on the ground as if the weight of his own magic felled him while Glock watched him with a bemused air. As Cole struggled to his feet, the air sparked and cracked around him, sending shooting orange flames into the sky and severely singeing the mock Burvjarian robe he wore. Cole had to rapidly bang his hands against it before it burst into flames, while Glock's sparkling clean one, thanks to Piper's washing efforts, threatened to smoulder but fizzled out, leaving a black mark .

 

'"Anyone for thousands of strides in any direction will know we are here" Cole told Glock. '"Couldn't you have found somewhere hidden away to arrive?" he grumbled.

 

"Not close enough to where I wanted to be, and far enough away from my own clan." Glock shrugged nose twitching as he looked at the great dead trees "And where you could safely use your great magic?"

 

“Away from your clan?" Cole asked. "Wouldn't be better if anyone we met is your clan?"

 

"No" said Glock "It may appear I was leading my clan against the other clans if I walked with them. Better I first find my brothers amongst those who are not my declared brothers.

 

"If you say so" Cole said as he looked around, not hiding his discomfort at the ugly bare blue earth, and the dirty dark orange colour of the ghost like dead trees, and shivering in the biting cold. "I don't like this place "he said hugging himself to get warm "where are we?"

 

"We are as close as we can get to the magic pole, without your magic destroying us… me at least'" 'Glock told him in a matter of fact voice. "I am guessing the demons will be as close to the pole regardless of the cost, and that the Minions of Good will follow them“. He turned away and strode into the dead forest and Cole wincing at the weight of his magic followed.

 

"You think they will try and take the magic pole?" Cole asked slightly breathless as he struggled to keep up with Glock.

 

"I would if I wanted to finally control Burvjara" Glock told him. "The enemies of Burvjara would know that capturing the pole, they could hold magic to ransom. Some-one would have told them."

 

"Some-one would have told the demons" Cole corrected

 

"Or told good. Glock answered. "Some one would have told the enemies of Burvjara, Good or Evil," "he corrected and then he shrugged.

 

Cole took a deep breath. “How close are we to your brethren?" Cole asked.

 

"We walk" Glock told him firmly understanding what he was not asking.

 

Glock looked around clearly checking his direction in the dead forest and then strode off, his hob nail boots occasionally making an iron clattering sound on the dead roots.

 

Cole followed, really struggling at times to keep the up with the pace, as Glock strode along. Glocjmoved through the broken rough ground with the ease of a lifetime spent traversing the land, the Burvjarian robe almost fading against the trees. As he walked behind Glock, Cole, in between avoiding falling over half hidden roots and grumbling to himself, decided Glock had coped better out of his environment than Cole did in Burvjara.

 

"What?" said Cole as catching up with Glock he noticed him scowling.

 

"On previous visits you were … you appeared more stoic" Glock mused.

 

Cole grinned "You're right. I appeared more …stoic. I just kept my thoughts to myself. I was not thinking stoic. You've lived in my family. You know me.'" And then he flushed as Glock eyed him, clearly thinking of the explosive anger back at the manor.

 

"You tell the truth. I know you" Glock mused he put his hand in the air as if to connect to the magic. The air sparked but the only thing that caught fire was Cole's robe. "You did not lie about this either" Glock told Cole.

 

'“Did not lie about what?" Cole asked innocently as he slapped the sparks out.

 

Glock's trunk-like nose twitched. "You did not lie when you said the fighting had stopped and the air was clearing.'

 

"Not much better" Cole muttered still slapping at his threatening to burn robe. "The damned air is still burning

 

"It is noticeably better Glock commented as he sniffed the air. His trunk like nose twitched as Cole fought to keep the flame away from his robe. "Where we are, the flames from small magic threaten but they never quite take off. That is how it has always been here. That is the power of this place."

 

'"What about large magic?'" Cole asked.

 

"Here the large magic can… function" Glock said still checking the air and the magic with his hand out, connecting to his own magic "Any closer to the pole" Glock's nose twitched with concern, "Best great magic stays away" He shook his head and his twitched "This place knows how to protect itself" he said. "Do not use you great magic as we go closer" he warned "small magic is …safe. Burvjarian magic is safe. Your great magic...is not."

 

"No-one's great magic." Cole asked "Good? Evil?"

 

"Great magic is not safe here" Glock repeated firmly.

 

"The demons must have used great magic to get near the pole." Cole told him.

 

"Probably lost many of their numbers getting here" Glock shrugged uncaring s he walked.

 

"And Good" Cole asked sucking his breath "Phoebe, the girls."

 

"I pray to god they have the sense to leave Great Magic alone" Glock answered.

 

"Phoebe and common sense are not always on even nodding acquaintance" Cole said swallowing hard.

 

"I noticed" Glock replied and continued to stride away.

 

Cole followed in silence, lost in his concerns or Phoebe. "Why?" Cole finally demanded shifting uncomfortably as if his magic was giant weight. "Why is Great Magic dangerous here?"

 

"Great Magic has no business here. Magic here protects itself." Glock answered "Piper told me her Book of Shadows protects itself. Nothing different."

 

"You had some cosy chats with Piper didn't you? Coles snitched because the weight of his magic felt so heavy and he was worried for his family.

 

Glock's face became dark orange. He uncomfortably pulled the hood of his robe over his head, then swung to face Cole, his nose twitching violently.

 

Cole sucked his breath, for a second he and Glock eyed each other, then Cole gave way “Should you be telling me the great secrets of Burvjara?" he asked.

 

"Can I not trust you Ogre?" Glock countered gruffly.

 

Cole sucked his lips.

 

"Can I trust you Cole?" Glock asked his nose twitching.

 

"More or less" Cole answered.

 

"You do not lie" Glock said. He put his hand out to test the magic and the flames danced in the air. Then chose to walk on again, his boots scraping hard against the bare earth.

 

Cole found himself looking up at the stark deadness all around him. He shook his head thinking he was far from home and before he could stop it a shudder came over him.

 

"It is not green" Glock said noticing.

 

"No" said Cole "It is not green. Like my realm…is now" he said.

 

"This forest was once glorious orange" Glock said He looked at the deadness "Melinda made me watch a show on your television about the tall trees in your realm. These must have once been like those."

 

"Only orange" Cole said grinning

 

"Not green" Glock agreed." They were the first to go" Glock explained "when the fighting started.".

 

"Like the big green trees would have been the first to go in my realm?" Cole asked. "If I let … if I made the fighting start, chasing after …rivals for Phoebe."

 

"I am no prophet" Glock answered carefully. "Maybe you should have asked your mate. She has that power.'

 

Cole looked up at the stark dead trees. He took a deep breath '"Ask Phoebe whether she saw a future where I could destroy such things, out of jealousy. Even thinking I could do such a thing would…upset her. "Cole drew a hard breath. "Better I don't ask her. She may blame me just because I could, not because I did. Whether they happen or not, she experiences things as they have happened in her premonitions. Blames me as if they happened. Pisses me off." He added, smiling the special smile, the one he saved for Phoebe.

 

Glock stopped and going a deep orange that seemed even harsher against the dead trees, his nose twitching violently. He turned to Cole "Your mate Phoebe, she said she saw me as the messiah of my people" he said bitterly. "It is not a fate I want. I fear it" he said his voice rumbling with emotion.

 

Cole sucked his breath "Phoebe pisses other people off too, with her damned connections to the truth" he said finally. He half moved a hand toward Glock. "I can take you back if you do not want to do this." he offered watching Glock intently.

 

Just for half a second he thought Glock was going to agree then, the tall Burvjarian shook his head and wordlessly turned and moved on.

 

They walked for so many strides that Cole lost track of the distance and time. Everything became a blur of giant trees small openings and clambering over mouldy brown mossy ground, and dead roots. All the time he strode along behind Glock, Cole became increasingly aware of the weight of his own magic, and had to fight down a rising panic that his magic was to strong and to heavy for him.

 

Once as he fell behind and almost gave into the overwhelming feeling that he needed to shimmer away, Glock turned and ordered "Do not?" his voice taken on a sense of urgency that pulled Cole out of his panic. "This is a place for creatures of lesser magic" Glock warned again. "Do not use your magic. It is to dangerous." then he walked on, leaving Cole to shrug and follow and try and ignore the sense of hysteria his magic was causing in him.

 

Glock suddenly stopped and bent down. He faded so much into the landscape,. Cole almost fell over him

 

'What?" he said

 

Glock touched a small orange weed. "I have never seen life here before" he said "It must have been a great peace my death caused…my going created." He sucked his breath "And now I return " he said bitterly "To fight, and maybe destroy this ..life."

 

“Or Others will destroy it" Cole told him. “If you don't fight.“

 

"Or we will destroy it destroying Others' Glock commented and purposefully turned away to walk on.

 

Cole had been used to the movement of Burvjarians across the country but this time Glock was a being possessed. When Cole asked when he was going he said simply to join his brethren and it was necessary to make haste.'

 

And when Cole asked what he intended to do when he found his brethren all Glock would say was "Not fight them...if they let me."

 

"Good are arriving" Cole said "and if your people are fighting with demons, they will be fighting Good.

 

"They are not this time" Glock said. "The demons are asking a price that Burvjarians who have had a break from war are not prepared to pay...yet.

 

"How do you know this?" Cole demanded.'

 

“I hear it in the stones "said Glock while Cole shook his head and glowered at Glock.

...................................................................