The History Sphere Restored

By Katy Chalk

Olivia thought that her adventuring days in the extraordinary, mystical world of Theia were over. However, despite the best efforts of Hector, the History Keeper, five of the History Sphere’s discs are damaged. Hector has no choice but to ask for Olivia's help again – but the warlock Gillespie is determined to defeat the Earth gi

• Language: English
• Publisher: 2QT Limited (Publishing)
• Release date: Jun 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781913071059

Book preview

Chapter One

Call to Arms Again

‘History repeats itself’

George Eliot, novelist (1819–1880)

The Historeum was in complete darkness, the inky blackness pierced only by the light of a myriad of stars in the night sky, which was covered by a high, thinly veiled blanket of cloud.

In a corner of the gloomy Historeum, Hector the History Keeper sat patiently in his chair, Clio. He was an indistinct and shadowy figure, obscured by his familiar black clothing and the hoody that covered his head and face. As he drummed his fingers quietly on the arm of his chair, he leaned forward. He had heard scratching and strained breathing coming from the Accelerator Chamber in the opposite corner of the room.

Hector gave a dismal smile as he recognised that, unfortunately, his worst fears were about to realised and his patience rewarded. The scratching stopped and there was a groan as something – or someone – landed on the floor with a crash. Then there was another crash, some moaning, groaning and whispering.

Two small, dark, humanoid shapes got up and moved along the Historeum wall against which stood Hector’s shelves, cupboards and long tables. They rattled a few bottles and jars as they groped their way in the dark, which made Hector wince.

Eventually the shapes stopped in front of the History Sphere, which glowed only faintly as it had been powered down for the night. Nevertheless, the weak glimmer was enough for Hector to see who the intruders were.

He rose slowly from his chair and moved silently towards the figures, who were examining the Sphere intently. Hector clicked his fingers and muttered, ‘In lucem.’ As he did so, the Historeum was flooded with light.

Staring up at Hector with very surprised looks on their faces were a rather ugly little goblin and an even uglier gremlin.

Hector greeted his visitors mockingly. ‘Welcome, Mawron. Hello, Graham. How lovely to see you and how kind of you to drop in. I had hoped that the information I’d received about your treacherous behaviour was unfounded, but now I see that it was not. What a pity.’

Goblins are known to be tricksters: greedy, cruel spirits who love gold and jewels. Generally they are trusted by no one, but it appeared that Mawron had been particularly clever and cunning in lulling those looking after the Sphere into a false sense of security and trust. He had used spellbinding praise and honeyed words so that those guarding the Sphere thought that his main concern was its repair and welfare. Mawron had pretended to show great attention to, and curiosity about, the working of the machine in order to obtain access to it and collect the information he was looking for.

Hector felt quite guilty about his lack of perception; he held himself responsible for allowing Mawron to get anywhere near the Sphere. He would not make that mistake again. Goblins are mischievous, spiteful little creatures who like nothing better than tampering with machinery and destroying technology. Hector was a kind and generous person but when he looked at Mawron he saw a thoroughly offensive, repulsive and disagreeable creature.

Mawron was about sixty centimetres tall, with pea-green skin. His short, powerful arms ended in elongated fingers with razor-sharp claws. His face was broad but his nose was large and severely hooked; his chin was pointy and warty. Mawron’s eyes were almond shaped and a dull red in colour. He did not have ears; instead he had two web-like wings that splayed out from his forehead and down his cheeks. They were pierced with gold and silver moons and circles. The goblin’s mouth was wide and contained an expanse of needle-sharp teeth that were rotten and decayed, making his breath smell rancid and stale. This rather unsavoury character wore green trousers, shirt and cloak and had a large dagger and jagged sword tucked into his green belt. All in all, Hector thought, he was a thoroughly unappealing and very dangerous individual.

Graham the gremlin was equally revolting. He looked like a smaller version of a goblin but his ears were larger and more pointed. His skin was green but slimy and reptilian, and he had more vicious teeth. Graham’s eyes were large beneath thick, double-ridged eyebrows and his hands and feet ended in large, hooked claws.

Mawron quickly changed his look of surprise to one of indifference at the awkward situation in which he found himself. Perhaps he thought he could talk his way out of trouble or get the better of Hector – in which case he did not know the History Keeper very well.

‘Well, Mawron, perhaps you would care to tell me why you and your friend are sneaking around the Historeum late at night? What is your interest in the Sphere?’ Hector asked evenly and quietly.

‘I was just finishing some work that I should have completed earlier. I wanted to do it when the Historeum was quiet and I thought that Graham might be able to help,’ Mawron replied defiantly.

‘Do not take that tone with me because I know exactly why you are here,’ Hector replied ominously. ‘You have been observed by those loyal to me and the Historeum, but particularly by the fairy queen Cephalonia and the sisters Grumpinella and Stropinella. They say that you are taking more than a passing interest in the Sphere.’

A look of panic slowly spread across Mawron’s face; Graham did not look too comfortable either. ‘If you know why we are here, Keeper, why bother asking me?’ the goblin asked fearfully.

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Graham chimed in. ‘What are you doing here at this time of night anyway?’ Mawron tried to shut him up but the gremlin kept on in a rather aggressive, questioning manner. ‘Mawron told me no one was here at night and there was nothing to worry about, so what are you doing here spying on us?’

Hector’s hands clenched and unclenched in barely disguised rage, which made Mawron very nervous.

‘Well,’ Hector replied, ‘I am the History Keeper and therefore I can be wherever I wish to be, particularly if there is danger to the Sphere and those who protect it. Plus, I am not a child and I can go where I wish, when I wish. More to the point, what are you two doing here?’ Hector asked menacingly as he loomed over the two rogues.

‘That’s none of your business. My friend asked for my help and I agreed,’ Graham responded a little too flippantly. ‘And there’s nothing that you can do about it.’

Mawron desperately tried to put his hand over Graham’s large mouth. Hector looked at the gremlin scornfully and replied disapprovingly, ‘Oh can’t I? We will see about that!’

Before the gremlin knew what was happening, Hector pointed at him and raised him up, turning him over and over until he felt sick from twirling like a spinning top. Graham tried to protest but nothing came out of his mouth. Hector left him there, suspended in mid-air, slowly rotating round and round, with the occasional electric shock to make his life even more miserable.

Hector looked at Mawron wearily. ‘Now, back to business. I will ask you once more what you are doing here. If you do not tell me, I will find another way to get to the truth. You cannot deceive me.’ He brought his glowering face down until it was level with the goblin.

Mawron realised that the game was up. His panic became terror and he started to run towards the Accelerator Chamber as fast as his little legs would carry him. Hector sighed in annoyance, raised his right finger and shouted, ‘Adhuc stare.’ Mawron stopped dead in his tracks, unable to move a muscle.

Hector walked slowly towards the goblin, his hands behind his back like a school teacher about to deliver a good telling-off. Mawron looked at him in alarm and dismay. He tried to open his mouth to speak but Hector put his finger to his lips, indicating that Mawron should be silent. Suddenly the goblin’s lips appeared to be sealed as if by glue.

‘You were given the chance to speak and answer my questions but you chose not to,’ Hector said. ‘I have had enough of your obstructive behaviour. Therefore, to get the answers I want, I am going to introduce you to a fairy called Veritix who will have no problem getting to the truth.’

Mawron was alarmed at this prospect. His eyes were as big as saucers but he could do nothing as he had been transfixed by the History Keeper. Hector walked over to one of his long tables and returned with something in his hand. Mawron saw a jar that was full of smoke and when this cleared, he could see Veritix inside.

She was tiny, no bigger than a butterfly, and was dressed in white, the colour of truth. She had long golden hair, minute wings and perfect features. She was entrancing.

The little fairy hopped out of the jar onto Hector’s finger. He proceeded to explain that he needed her help and special talents in order to get some information from a rather obstructive goblin.

Hector placed Veritix onto the goblin’s left shoulder and she disappeared inside his left ear. It is impossible to tell a lie in the presence of a Veritix, so Hector began his interrogation.

‘I am going to ask you some questions, which you will answer truthfully. Is that understood?’

The goblin nodded.

‘You have been seen hanging around the Historeum late at night. Is that correct?’

Mawron’s mouth appeared to become unglued. ‘Yes, Your Historyness,’ he replied, surprised that he could now talk.

Hector continued. ‘You have been helping with the History Sphere, cleaning it and ensuring that it is in good working order. Is this correct?’

‘Yes, Your Greatness,’ Mawron answered smarmily.

‘Flattery will get you nowhere with me,’ Hector answered disdainfully. ‘Whose instructions have you been following?’

‘Gillespie’s,’ Mawron responded. ‘The Warlock that Brogan managed to recruit while he was in the fortress Sleetcold, before he was placed in deep-freeze suspension.’

Hector did not appear surprised by this confession and continued with his questioning. ‘What was the purpose of breaking into the Historeum tonight?’

‘Gillespie knew that there was a problem with the Sphere and that several of the discs were underperforming. He wanted to find out which ones were at risk,’ Mawron explained.

‘And?’ Hector demanded.

‘When I had identified them, I was to tell him. He informed me that he would make sure each disc was permanently damaged and the Sphere would to cease to function,’ the goblin responded quietly.

Hector stood motionless for several minutes then said, ‘I suppose Gillespie promised you gold, jewels and untold wealth beyond your wildest dreams for the information that you were going to give him.’

Mawron nodded gloomily. At that moment, Veritix emerged onto Mawron’s shoulder then flew onto Hector’s finger. He smiled gently at the little creature, thanked her for her help and put her back in the jar, where she was immediately enveloped in clouds of smoke.

Hector addressed Mawron for the last time; he was barely able to control his anger. ‘My only concern is for the safety and care of the History Sphere and those who look after and protect it. I am the Keeper and it is my responsibility to deal appropriately with any threat to the Sphere. Therefore, my treacherous little friend, there will be no reward for you except for transportation to Sleetcold. And I can assure you that, when I am finished, Gillespie will be joining you there.

‘You are a thoroughly greedy creature who has no concept of loyalty, honour or love and this has led to your downfall. You are not the sharpest tool in the box or you would have realised that Gillespie does not have access to unlimited gold and jewels, or the ability to conjure them up out of thin air. He cannot reward you for your deceit and double dealing.

‘You betrayed the trust of those in the Historeum who believed that you were helping when, in fact, you were plotting to destroy them. Now, off to Sleetcold with you and take your equally evil friend Graham with you. I hope that you will both be extremely miserable.’

Mawron tried desperately to back away from Hector, a look of terror and torment on his face as he realised his fate. In his despair, he became even more smarmy and insincere as he tried to bargain, hoping for mercy from the History Keeper.

‘If you let me go, I promise never to darken your door again,’ he entreated in a snivelling and cringing manner. ‘If you promise to release me, I can give you some very useful information,’ he added hopefully.

‘Oh really,’ Hector sighed. ‘And what might that be?’

‘Agree to let me go and I will tell you,’ Mawron exclaimed excitedly.

‘Very well,’ Hector agreed wearily. ‘I agree. Now, what do you know or think you know that will be useful to me?’

Mawron defiantly informed him that Gillespie knew all about Olivia’s ancestry. Hector immediately became alert and quietly alarmed at what the goblin had to say. Mawron revealed that Gillespie was aware of Olivia’s gifts and abilities, but would ensure that she did not triumph over the Warlock or his followers. Mawron then insisted that Hector release him as he had told the History Keeper what he wanted to know.

‘I did indeed agree to let you go,’ Hector declared ominously. ‘But I did not say to whom I would release you, or when I was going to let you go.’

He clapped his hands and the guards from the fortress prison of Sleetcold arrived as if by magic. Mawron and Graham, who had by this time stopped rotating and was just floating in mid-air, looked petrified. The wardens, who were Shadow People, picked them up, wrapped them in their pitch-black sleeves and disappeared into the dark as suddenly as they had arrived.

Hector was pleased that the matter of the goblin and the gremlin had been settled but he was also worried. He opened the Historeum door and called for Tempus, who was guardian of the Historeum and was aware of who moved in and out of it, although he could not be held accountable for the breach that had occurred within the Historeum.

Hector told him what had happened. ‘The History Sphere is under attack again,’ he reported sadly. ‘For three years we have struggled and failed to find a way of salvaging the fading discs. We have now run out of time and the situation has become critical. There is only one person who can help. I will visit her in the morning to explain our perilous position. In the meantime, can you call everyone to a meeting here tomorrow morning?’

‘Of course, Master,’ Tempus replied. ‘I know who you are going to see and I hope that she is willing to help us one more time. Goodnight, Master, and good luck.’ With that, Tempus disappeared back into the door.

‘I hope so too,’ Hector muttered as he returned to the Historeum. ‘Olivia is our last hope. Without her, the Sphere is doomed, I am finished and so is my life’s work.’

Before he went to bed for what he knew would be a restless and probably sleepless remainder of the night, Hector mentally checked off all the gadgets, devices and weapons that Olivia would have at her disposal in anticipation of his friend agreeing to help him and Theia one more time.

Chapter Two

A New Adversary

Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre – June 29th, 1613

‘He was not of an age but for all time, (preface first folio)

Ben Jonson, English playwright, poet, actor (1587–1620) said of William Shakespeare, playwright, actor, poet (1564–1616)

Olivia stood transfixed in front of the oak grove, gazing in awe at the magnificent trees that seemed to speak to her in muffled whispers. Their elongated, twisted branches were covered in rich, dark green leaves and seemed to stretch ever upwards, as if trying to touch the sky.

Olivia felt inescapably drawn towards these massive objects of strength and wonder and deep inside she felt warm, safe and protected. She noticed that the knobbly branches had leaned over slightly to form a canopy that afforded a defensive shield. She knew that these ancient trees were hundreds of years old and were considered to be the universal trees of wisdom, which was embodied within their towering strength.

As she looked at them, she noticed that they all appeared to have wrinkly old faces etched into their grey bark. Some sported beards, broad noses or prominent eyebrows; all of them had twinkly eyes and gave her smiles of recognition and acceptance. Even though some of those smiles were crooked and some very wide, all of them were happy.

Olivia pressed against a gnarled tree, placing her arms around its wide, uneven and coarse trunk. The bark looked rough and flaky, just like her mum’s delicious puff pastry, and she could hear sighing, rumbling and groaning from inside the tree. She loved the trees and she just knew that they loved her too.

Suddenly she heard whispering from the tree that gradually built to a crescendo. ‘Move on, move on! Your destiny awaits.’

Olivia