Shape of Things to come

Shape of Things to Come

Part 2:Times they are changing

Chapter 20

Let me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
..........(Henry VII Scene 5 William Shakespeare )

After leaving Proctor, Cole stopped at his favourite Irish beach, taking time to allow the wild beauty of the rough Atlantic Sea to calm his demon spirit. It would require all the beach’s magic to ensure that Therold did not aggravate him into a temper, as well as prepare him for the inevitable ritual of tea drinking because no-one visiting Therold could escape. As he watched the beauty of the old coast and despite his intent to create a calm aura for himself, Cole’s thoughts unwittingly turned to Phoebe’s relationships with his brother Guardians and the complications it caused.

Therold blatantly and platonically worshipped her which was why Cole did everything he could to avoid him, something Therold made easy by doing everything he could to avoid Cole. Phoebe however bathed in his adoration and made a point of visiting the Guardian when she could. Phoebe’s most-often ride to visit Therold was the whitelighter Mark who like everyone else indulged Phoebe in her whims. Mark excused this lapse because he enjoyed listening as Therold mused about lore and its role in magic, even when he had to suffer Therold’s tea ritual.

Cole who could not believe that anyone could enjoy Therold’s company, or his stories snorted derisively. Paige, Phoebe’s other regular ride to visit Therold was slightly miffed at Mark’s attention to her sister, but she loved Mark. She also suspected that the Elders’ half-knowledge of his friendship with a Guardian provided Mark with a layer of protection, when as he was prone to doing, he disregarded their rules and generally indulged himself in listening to his conscience at the Elders’ expense.

When Cole had questioned Mark at the wisdom of the lowly whitelighter’s sort of friendship with a Guardian Mark shrugged and in his soft voice reminded him that no one questioned his sort of friendship with Cole.

“Somewhere some type of elder does” Mark pointed out. “If you believe one small realm is not the total sum of magic. And you do.”

At Cole’s responding eye roll, Mark shrugged awkwardly. “Therold’s understanding of lore and myth and its place give me perspective.” he explained “He helps me deal with hierarchies and administrators, so he helps me help charges.” Rather uncomfortably he added “Its helped… the girls have a… much less derisive relationship with the Elders. I can…mediate...using what Therold tells me. And no” Mark explained. “I am not learning the secrets of Great Magic. Therold tells me only things that I could find out myself…if I cared to spend years searching for them.

“He only helps you because he thinks he’s looking after his beloved Phoebe” Cole snarled.

“Whatever” Mark grinned. “His beloved Phoebe hasn’t been kicked out of magic because I have some of his wisdom to fall back on, and its not for want of trying on her part.”

So, despite his reluctance to believe anything Therold did was altruistic, Cole had left Phoebe to play Therold’s Madonna, as well as flirt her way around the other Guardians. Arturo, the longest serving of the present Guardians, felt a very avuncular affection for her. Proctor had a bemused respect and understanding for her knowledge of truth.

Phoebe only had one failure amongst the Guardians. Cole some years ago had been forced to make the acquaintance of the Guardian Durand and found his crudity, bluntness, and insensitivity every bit as bad as he had been warned. However, he did learn to respect Durand to an extent because like all Guardians he had to rely on Durand’s great gift of knowing right from wrong.

It was nevertheless with Durand that Phoebe finally failed to flirt or charm her way into a connection with a Guardian. Durand simply ignored her, to her chagrin. She was a good witch who through many hard-won battles, understood the difference between right and wrong, so she had no interest to him a practitioner of magic and she was Cole’s wife not a Vladivostok prostitute and she was mortal, so she had no interest to him as a woman.

After sitting on the Irish beach for quite a while, Cole reluctantly concluded that Phoebe managed relationships with Guardians much better than he did. He finally stood up, took a deep breath, and summoned his courage to face the Guardian Therold, the ex-scribe who understood lore.

Cole orbed to Therold’s isolated cottage in the Yorkshire Moors, a location that was always a sore point with Therold. More than ten years ago, in a fit of rage Cole had destroyed Therold’s previous residence in the most haunted village in England. As Cole materialised, Therold whose mortal form was a small nearly bald, whinny little man dressed in baggy trousers and a cardigan and slippers, was hunched over a computer, comparing something in a large manuscript beside him. He looked up at the sound of a shimmer and was no more pleased to see Cole than Cole was to see him.

Cole glanced uncomfortably around Therold’s living room. Therold’s house was a mess of documents, books and papers covering every surface where a cat was not curled up asleep. Visiting Therold was always a battle to navigate the tea rituals and the cats, animals that Cole disliked intently, although Melinda’s passion for the creatures meant he had shared a residence with them for some years. Therold’s cats lying comfortably on every free surface were a whole new generation from when Cole first knew Therold, except for a very large ancient tabby that woke up from snoozing by the fire to spit at Cole.

Therold with a scowl on his face, as Cole moved away from the spitting tabby cat.

“Cats have long memories” Therold explained also keeping his voice amiable. “Brother Belthezor” he greeted Cole rigidly.

“Brother Therold” Cole greeted him but kept his hands stuck deep in his pockets, so he did not have to shake hands, not that Therold offered.

“And to what do I owe the honour?” Therold asked his voice becoming more whinny and higher, a sure sign of his deep unhappy emotions at Cole’s presence.

Cole swallowed hard. “I had some questions… about the changes from the eclipse, and how they are affecting my family” he muttered “and Brother Proctor suggested… I talk to you. Ask you.”

“I see” Therold interrupted his voice almost a squeak. He stood up. “I will make tea” he told Cole. “You prefer lemon I recall.” Then disappeared through an open door into his kitchen.

After what seemed an age Therold finally appeared with a beautiful ancient, china teapot and cup and saucer laid out on an equally antique tray. Cole muttered his thanks and Therold nodded then disappeared to get his own tea.

He reappeared with another teapot and tray and sat down at his desk, only turning slightly so Cole could see him behind the computer.

“You want to talk about your family? And how is your beautiful wife?” Therold asked his eyes clouding slightly as he thought of the beautiful Phoebe.

“My family is well” Cole muttered. Then he spoke awkwardly “I think the new demon in town may be targeting Phoebe and my family,” Cole replied. “Trying to expose her and other magic.”

“She must be protected” Therold bit out in concern “You must find a way.”

“Its witch’s business, certainly nothing to do with justice, not Guardian justice.” Cole told him hastily. He thought about it “Does have something to do with mortal justice.”

“So… you are not…protecting your beautiful wife.” Therold in a tone that Cole immediately interpreted as scornful.

“As an arsehole lawyer, I am” Cole informed Therold tersely. “But it does not have much to do with being a Guardian, any halfway good lawyer who knows magic could help her.” Cole prowled around Therold’s room, then turned to face the scribe, summoned his courage to explain why he came. “Look, I don’t give a stuff about magic being exposed. It will take care of itself and Elders and whitelighters will patch it up, but I do care about my family being exposed, my kids being… ridiculed so I’m not going to let it happen. Will … does that cross any boundaries?” he asked bluntly.

“Such wisdom to ask. Why not go to Durand? He knows right from wrong. Why come here?” Therold asked him sourly.

Cole assumed he was being sarcastic and snapped. “I want to know what is written, not right from wrong” he clarified barely keeping the tension out of his voice.

Pleased he had aggravated Cole into showing anger, Therold smiled quite demonically, crossed his arms, and continued “I feel certain that Brother Durand would tell you that while you have a family you have the right, even the responsibility to protect them. As does anyone mortal or magic and if you can do it without crossing any magic boundaries, I do not see why such a gracious, beautiful creature as your wife should not have protection. I would protect her” stated Therold grandly.

Coming from a short rotund, bald creature wearing baggy pants, a shabby cardigan, and slippers, to most creatures that boast would have had a certain amusement. To Cole who had in the past tested both his wits and power against Therold and at best scored a draw, it was a declaration.

“I can do it, but I get quite intense messages on the spirit winds about the changes and this being witches’ business” he interrupted “Only Phoebe is not getting much help from her side. I had the bloody Elders order me to let the witches suffer as if it was their lot. They don’t like my law practice keeping witches out of jail or from starvation.” Cole stopped. “They seemed to think something was written that meant they could...ditch the Charmed Ones.”

“Annoying petty creatures” observed Therold pompously which rather amused Cole because he thought Therold had a fair-size ownership of the annoying market.

That Therold gave him a smug smirk, confirmed that Therold was aware of Cole’s opinion. “What are you asking me? Therold demanded prissily.

Cole shuffled his feet awkwardly “I guess I am asking what is written about the changes happening in magic? Is it written that Phoebe…my family don’t need protection?” he asked. “Proctor tells me this accursed new demon believes he has the means to … break their Power of Three. Even though Tempus usually ignores the Charmed Ones. I want to know if it is written that their Power of Three … fractures.” He told Therold brusquely.

Therold sat up straight, pondered the request and to Cole’s surprise answered with genuine concern. “Your family, the Charmed Ones are…by birth at least, for the most part, mortal” he said carefully. “It is written that their Power of Three will…must fracture… eventually, to be replaced by others as the needs arise.” Therold eyed Cole’s reaction “It is also written” Therold continued “That your safe haven and life … happy life in their midst must…end.” He watched Cole’s expression intently.

“Soon enough” Therold replied, seriously disappointed that Cole did not burst into uncontrollable wailing. As Cole’s expression remained stoic, Therold continued “But soon for one … can be a lifetime for another.”

“Then” stated Therold with a smugness that Cole longed to wipe off the scribe’s face, only he did not know how to do it “I will tell you something that you do not know. I will tell you something I have not told Arturo of Francesca yet. Something that is written.”

Cole swallowed and narrowed his eyes as Therold continued “I will tell you that after searching since the last eclipse, hidden in the darkest places of the underworld, hidden so deep that Tempus believes it will never be found” Therold to Cole’s surprise was intense with the ardour of his calling and the smugness had left his voice. “I have discovered that Tempus’ nemesis, the one that causes his annihilation in five hundred years around the time of the next eclipse, Tempus nemesis is the beautiful, the courageous… it is the witch Phoebe Halliwell.”

Cole stared at him “She said she would find a way to stay with me, when she passed” he murmured.

Therold shook his head as Cole considered the implications. “The beautiful Phoebe is instrumental. How I do not know…yet. Tempus may. Such a heroine” he sighed even longer. “The beautiful Phoebe is a courageous witch, both as mortal or spirit” he exhaled and Cole lost in the notion of what Phoebe would sacrifice to be with him, ignored Therold’s devotion.

Cole began to prowl the room as Therold watched him. “More tea” Therold suggested. “I have a blend that is most suitable for calming the nerves after bad news. It has a slight lemon tang.” Therold stood up and then shuffled off to his kitchen.

Cole finally stood still in front of Therold’s fire, realising why knowledge about what was written was a huge burden, perhaps for the very first time understanding the pain of Therold’s journey.

Therold finally came back to the room with Cole’s tea, and another of his own and sat at his desk. Cole with less resistance than usual drank his tea finally muttering, “Does Tempus know he only has five hundred years?”

“Yes and no” Therold answered quietly. “On some level he knows his fate but does not believe it and at some deeper more painful level he does.”

After a few minutes silence, Therold swinging on his chair a little awkwardly told Cole. “As for the present magic crisis, it is Lore that after some years spent strengthening his evil and defining his craft, the new source begins his sojourn as the most powerful voice of Evil in the dark realms. It is also lore that by recognising and…confronting that craft, Good finds ways to…balance that Evil. It is written for this to occur there must be changes in the way Good confronts its enemy because their new enemy is not the old one” Therold met Cole’s eyes. “In answer to your question about what is written about your family,” He stopped speaking then while Cole watched expectantly Therold began to fuss at the manuscripts on his desk. He stood up several times to check other manuscripts. Finally, Therold explained. “It is written that change comes, that some who are here are gone, to greater powers or further… callings… or rebirth as their soul, as their desires, as their wisdom choses.” He stared intently at Cole “Just who I do not know. It is not written.”

Cole curled his lip “My brother knows his own wisdom” Cole finally muttered.

“I do” Therold smirked. “It is also Lore, that exposure of magic is a hallmark of each new source. There is a certain … um… level of exposure and … the changes often result in some of the greater evils of the previous epoch ...being … exorcised.”

“The change from the previous epoch, witch burnings, heresy trials” Therold told him “Although at the same time the Guardian Hilma, a difficult very beautiful female,” he remembered not completely with pleasure “had a great calling … to ease their passing. Something she did nobly.”

“They passed through to their greater attainment” Therold corrected him pompously “As I understand it, the destruction of some of the older witch covens in such a public way, and the exposure of heresy as a vindictive tool of evil led to the age of Enlightenment and the rise of the line of witches that the Charmed Ones, that the beautiful Phoebe now so graciously represent.”

Therold nodded sagely. “As can be predicted, Proctor has observed Tempus taking full advantage of his new learned powers to absorb the evil collected by his predecessor as do all sources. All goes as Lore predicts, as it has done for thousands of mortal years. Tempus is a clever evil.” He crossed his arms primly in front of him. “Proctor also observes demon sects in disarray as has been predicted. Some sects come to power, some fall, some are completely lost.”

“Brother” Therold told him with sincerity “their machinations are of little interest to me also. Just enough to understand that the Lore of Magic happens as decreed. I know only that evil is recycled in the beginning of source’s reign.” He smiled his whinny demonic smile. “It will be Tempus great pain that as the years pass, he will never achieve greater evil or power than in his first years. To my satisfaction. The time lord was not a friend to scribes. I know that the numbers in the pits of evil diminish and when I seek the liber deperditarum animarum, Book of Lost Souls, many that were once recorded are gone, erased. Tempus takes as other sources before him have taken. As you would know if you could visit the pits.”

“I’ve no interest in visiting lost souls or the underworld.” Cole snapped “Leave them to Evil. It would suit me if everything there was lost.”

“I do have an interest” Therold informed him pompously “And we do not know all are lost.”

Therold pulled himself to his full not very impressive height. “Do we know that? In fact, I would be very certain there is at least one there that is not evil.”

In a very terse voice Therold snapped, “You must realise that since you crossed into the light the time of Brother Arturo’s pain draws to an end. He waits only for another to answer their calling.”

It was Therold’s turn to be scornful “It is evident to anyone who understands Lore there is a human/demon soul finding its path. And the journey is neither easy nor short. The penance is long and the pain harsh for Guardians. There is one or maybe more souls as sometimes some are lost rather than cross, that are not evil, and they torment over the evil around them. As it was with me, as it was with Brother Proctor… as it was with Belthezor. Dare we abandon such souls just because there are not many. I do not believe so.”

“I dislike the place” Cole insisted “and fortunately I am forbidden from there.”

“So was Arturo in the beginning” Therold was enjoying giving Cole unwanted news. “But things change.”

“Is it written that Arturo‘s time is ending?” Cole asked his voice cracking with pain.

“Sooner than later but there is ...time” Therold replied, enjoying Cole’s discomfort “And time is Tempus’ calling, so we require vigilance,” he ordered in his Guardian voice.

“Those who call you? Are they the same ones who call me?” Therold spoke carefully “I believe so, but they appear in a form that is recognisable to each of us and that which you and I recognise is not always the same.”

Therold stared at him. “Yes” he finally answered “I recognise them, and it grants me much in the way of comfort. I will tell Belthezor something he needs to know. I was not granted the privilege of recognising those who called, until after I was disconnected from the underworld even though I sought those beings in the myths and lore. Yet when I finally saw them…more clearly in the spirit winds I easily recognised… them.”

“I will tell you something else” Therold informed Cole, resentful of Cole’s less than warm gratitude. “Brother Arturo as he nears the end of his journey is very familiar and at ease with ‘them’, those that call him, call us.”

Before Cole could respond, orbs sounded, and a harried and suspicious Francesca materialised in a cloud of light.

“We don’t need a nanny” Cole snapped “Which does not mean we are not pleased to see you” he added relenting.

“Tea?” Therold asked her a little to brightly “It’s a pleasure Francesca. Delighted to see you” he wheezed. “I did not expect you. Thought it may have been my good friend the whitelighter Mark.” he commented primly enjoying Francesca’s harried expression. Therold met Cole’s amused eyes “but my brother is correct. We do not need a nanny.”

Therold toddled off to his kitchen as Francesca sighed. “What were you talking about?” she demanded.

“Brother Arturo’s demise and the nature of prophesy” Cole said. “We really don’t need a nanny,” he told her with a cheeky smile.

“Ah Francesca” Therold smiled a touch demonically when he returned bring in a beautifully arranged tray with a teapot and cup and saucer. Brother Belthezor and I were having a pleasant chat. No need to worry.”

“But it is good your visit is not wasted.” Therold wheezed “As you requested, I have accessed the liber deperditarum animarum. The Book of Lost Souls” he said for Cole’s benefit.

“I know what the book is” Cole just refrained from a snap and enjoyed Francesca’s concerned expression.

“No difference what it was, once its evil is announced.” Therold wheezed in his high voice “But for the sake of knowledge, the new demon Briareos used to be Pope Innocent IX.”

“That evil Bastard” Francesca snorted. “That was the most evil, unoriginal, miserable, brutal contemptible soul to rot in the pits. I remember it when it ruled.”

“The same” agreed Therold “It is quite coincidental. Belthezor and I were discussing heresy and its use at change of epochs.”

“Oh, the bastard Pope Innocent IX created quite a power base by declaring his enemies heretics and then burning the accused.” Francesca answered.

“Especially witches” replied Francesca who angel that she was sipped her tea. “Lovely” she smiled at Therold, who preened.

“I must be gone” Cole interrupted him before he offered more tea. “I thank my brother for his” …enlightenment.” he told Therold with a slight nod. “Be well brother” he added while Francesca narrowed her eyes. “Francesca” Cole said as he shimmered.

Therold stopped him “Brother Belthezor” he acknowledged Cole. “I thank you for…a pleasant conversation. It is good to share…our heritage over a pleasant cup of tea.”

Cole nodded and shimmered, noting as he went Francesca’s very suspicious school-marm expression.