Crystals Of The Mirrored Waters

By Robin John Morgan

It is the start of the Age of Dreams, and the true heir to the throne has been found. The secrets of the past are revealed, as the truth guides everyone towards their destiny. Lord Loxley has to recover the sceptre of kings so he can legitimately crown the king and prevent Mason Knox from stealing the throne, but Mason has other plans, as he str

• Language: English
• Publisher: Violet Circle Publishing
• Release date: Sep 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781910299142

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE COLOUR OF DEATH

Look to the coming of the Bowman

It had all begun with the coming of a king, one given the task to rule the lives of all men. In a land renewed and with the promise of a mighty sword, Uther Pendragon had forged his way across the land, uniting the people of the land. The Romans were gone and the Saxons subdued.

The power of the realm had passed from the Ruling Council, who had built and maintained the realm of men, and they now sat back to rest and help guide their newly appointed king. It had been agreed since the annals of time that one day a king of men should rule the land, and so with the eyes of a nervous parent, the old wizard had watched and guided their standard in the realm, as Uther found his feet and began to take control.

None had seen the dark clouds gathering, and by the time the darkness within the realm was noticed, Uther’s son had taken the throne, and had been deceived by his own kin. Morgan le Fey, the king’s half-sister had learned much from the old wizard, and had tricked and imprisoned him. With the death of the mighty King Arthur, she began to weave her devious magic to corrupt the minds of men to her way of thinking.

The powers of the Whitelines and the lines of Fae had been caught out, and slowly the Dark One gained control, casting her captured members of the Ruling Council into the darkness of the Hidden Realm. The powers of Le Fey were crude, but with all opposition removed, she took control of the minds of men, and by using their dreams, which she modified to her will, she slowly built the world she wanted to rule.

Time passed as her powers grew in what was called the Age of Sleep, for it was during the time of sleeping men when she was at her most powerful. As her influence grew, so began the wars and struggles of mankind. Her goal took a long time, but after an age of wars and fighting amongst men, the era of machines followed, and the corruption of the world created by the first powers of the Whitelines, began.

At first, it was not noticed, but the impact of men on the world around them grew. The world of life itself was cast into danger, as animals died out and the plants and trees were infected and destroyed by an uncaring breed of men, whose lust and greed for power and money grew to match their dark unseen ruler.

The world was dying when the Green Lord and his daughter finally escaped from the clutches of the Dark One; he pulled together those of power from the age of creation, and tried to halt the endless destruction by humankind. For almost one hundred years they fought as they tried to convince man of his folly, and soon the Green Lord knew there was but one way to save the world they had all created. Man was out of control and spreading across the land killing everything, it was clear to him they had to go.

The power of life and daughter to the Green Lord, Opal the Lady of the Woods, with her husband begged for the life of those who were true to the natural world. At first the Green Lord would not listen; he was tired of seeing the world he had built over generations destroyed. He could no longer see that some men cared for his realm; the Dark One had used the Church and destroyed the old ways of the woodsmen. Opal showed him the way through the prophecies made in the old days, and she convinced him a new way of life could be restored that respected his realm. Lord Hearne finally relented, and he started to make his plans to bring back balance to the world.

An heir to lead had to be chosen to bring men back to the ways of the land, and so the scene was set. Only a seed from the lines of the one true king could grow in the world to bring back the balance, but even in that the Dark One found a way to corrupt the powers of the land and make herself the ruler. She knew that once the Green Lord agreed, he was bound by his word, and so she set to work seeking an heir to the line of Arthur. Le Fey was his half-sister, and knew much of his line, and so she found a distant cousin to the line of Pendragon, and married the young Lord Edward Michael Hesketh.

Her son Gawain was strong but weak minded, and his wife Philippa Knox, a line of distant Saxon was a sentimental romantic. Neither of them showed the power of their lines, and it was not long before the Dark One killed them both, and took their son Mason, who bore her love of power and the finer things in life as her own. With a new son of her own, she sought the lines of the king and began to kill them, her goal was to leave only the line from the true king to Mason, and once Mason was crowned the king to the land, she then would have complete control. Now she had an heir, she began her devious plots to defend her realm and face her greatest enemy, the Green Lord of the woodland Hearne, for Morgan le Fey to take all she desired, Hearne’s line too would have to die.

Once again, it looked like she would become the dominant one, but the daughter of life had conspired for many years with others. Her father had tried several times to defend his realm, and Opal convinced him that in order to win, once again he must place his trust in the lines of men. There had been one line that had been as strong as that of the one true king born to a Lord Fitzooth, the Earl of Huntingdon. The young Robert of Loxley had proven himself worthy of the task, and it was his line that had been guarded in secret by the queen of Fae and the daughter of life for many generations.

It had been seen in the prophecies of old, that a man with a talent for the long bow would return and help seat the new king, and so as the Green Lord prepared the way for the bringing of balance to the world, the daughter of life was busy preparing for the coming of the Bowman. The years slowly passed by and moved into a new millennium, and as man’s Age of Aquarius arrived, the Green Lord set his date for the removal of those that would try to destroy him.

It was the year of AD 2012 when the Green Lord was ready, and he prepared his moment for the bringing of death. The world hung unbalanced, and destruction was close, everyone knew that it was time to restore what was lost, and give the world of man his last chance to recover his honour. Destiny would play out its role, and hope was all that now remained, everything would hang on one man as the Age of Sleep ended and the Age of Dreams began. Now was the time of the coming of an heir. Now was the moment where a bowman would lead the fight and if victorious, seek out and discover the true heirs to the kingdom.

APRIL 13TH 2012. TWO MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT.

It had been a long day, John Rafe turned in the bright corridors of the city hospital, and looked back at the white faced clock on the wall above the nurse’s station, and gave a smile. Around him was the usual hustle and noise of the drunken Saturday night crowds, with their cuts and wounds from their beer fuelled arguments and brawls. It had been an exhaustingly long day, and he was now off duty. With his coat slung over his shoulder, and his stethoscope glinting as it hung from his neck, slowly he made his way down the corridor, a figure that in his first year as a new doctor, had made a great impression, and earned the respect of his fellow staff.

The skin below his soft brown eyes was black from the lack of sleep from the double shift he had pulled, as he walked into the humid air of the dark night through the silver doors at the ambulance bay. Connie smiled as she turned and watched his mousy blonde hair blow in the gentle breeze; she threw her cigarette to the floor and stepped on it, twisting her ankle as she ground the smouldering stub into the stone, with the others that lay strewn across the wide black tarmac of the ambulance bay roadway.

Hey Baby. He smiled as she slipped her arms round him and pulled him close. He was exhausted but the sight of his new biochemist wife was enough to bring him back to life. It had been seventeen hours since he had last seen the dark haired, dark eyed beauty that was the envy of the medical staff, for being the one to catch the eye of the young and handsome Doctor Rafe.

You look exhausted, come on, let’s get you home. She smiled as he pulled her close and kissed her gently, his eyes twinkling as she giggled and pulled back, slipping her arm around his waist. Quietly talking they walked down the pathway, as the screams of the sirens and the flicker of blue light flashed under the canopy, and the silver doors of the Accident and Emergency department burst open, and the staff took over the never ending stream of patients. They wove their way arm in arm through the tended flowerbeds that had the wilted stems of flowered daffodils, towards the small one bedroom flat at the end of the long housing block.

For Connie and John, it was the very beginning of their lives together, they had been married for two months and their hearts and minds were filled with the plans and yearnings of a new future together, little did they know of the fate that awaited them over the coming months. On the warm early spring evening of 2012, life was just about them and what they could achieve to realise their dreams of the future. To John Rafe he was simply happy knowing his shift was over, and the rest of the night would be spent snuggled tight in the arms of the woman he loved, for him it was enough.

APRIL 14TH 2012. DAWN.

Later that night, in a woodland to the far north of the hospital, high on the wide pillar of white limestone, the tall figure of an almost treelike man stood at the entrance to a large cave. Behind him in the gloom a figure clad in a long white robe, knelt to help another figure dressed similarly with a pale blue sash round her waist. The sitting figure looked up at her friend and gave a smile.

I am fine please do not make a fuss Opal, we knew this moment would come, my daughter bless her, gave me what life she had in her child. You know as well as I do it was never going to last. Opal gave a soft caring smile to her friend as she held her gently by the arm, and lifted Gwendolyn to her feet. The once beautiful Queen of the Fae was now a frail and white haired old woman, her long locks of flowing golden hair, now fell like the frozen crystal and sparkled like the snow on old trees on a winter’s morning. Her eyes burned as bright as ever, and although now showing her great age, the life that remained still burned with a flaming defiance.

Earlier in February, Gwendolyn had focused all her powers from the mighty stones of Carnac, and managed to summon the power of the Fae to her aid. In one massive burst of power, she had fought with all her strength, and finally, after a thousand years, she had pulled her children through a blue orb like window to the safety of their mother’s arms. Freeing her daughters had almost killed her, and the life that had been given freely by her teenage daughter Una, was now almost spent.

The three daughters of Gwendolyn and Merlin were now placed within the safety of the rings of stones across the realm, and for the time being veiled from the dark witch Morgan le Fey. Her grandchildren were still imprisoned as her daughters prepared, but Le Fey had diminished the power of the Fae greatly, and now Gwendolyn had to accept that it would no longer be her task to free the five grandchildren still trapped and held prisoner in the Hidden Realm of Sleep.

Gwendolyn smiled as she made it to her feet; she gave a long sigh and looked up to the tall figure with the sad dark eyes of her Green Lord of creation Hearne. I am ready my teacher.

The tall figure of the tree like man held up a long robed arm of leaf like covered fabric, that revealed the fine almost twig like fingers of brown flesh, and he gave a smile with teeth as white as fresh hewn limestone, his eyes like dark fruits on the vine twinkled as she took his hand. You have done well my sweet child of the Violet Isle, walk once more with me and we shall begin this realm anew. Soon I feel you will rest for a time and recover with your people before the preparation of the new coming of your line begins. His robes gave a swish like the blowing of fresh leaves, as he turned, and taking his daughter Opal on his other arm; they walked out of the cave entrance.

Out on the edge of the top of the high rock, Leenard stood and watched out over the trees of Loxley Wood. He gave a long sigh with a heavy heart, as his bright green eyes watched the tops of the trees flow over the edge of Yorkshire and into Derbyshire. There in the far distance was the rising smoke of the Lox farm, where three young teenage boys lay sleeping in their beds, awaiting their mother Alison Lox to raise them from their slumber. Alfred Lox was up and in the barn; already the fifty year old was at work preparing his tractor for the day on the farm estate.

Movement and an electric tingling in the air brought Leenard from his thoughts, and he turned around slowly to see the bright intense blue eyes of his wife Opal, as she smiled from below her white hood. The High Lord and Gwendolyn walked slowly forward from the mouth of the cave. Gwendolyn looked pale and drawn, and he knew from the talk he had with her earlier, that soon she would leave this realm forever.

Opal had released the arm of her father and come forward to him, under her hood her bright red hair shone like fire, even in the dim light rising before the first beams of the sun, cast across the white high limestone stone shelf of Hearne’s Rock. He gazed into her deep blue loving eyes and shook his head slowly; his voice was soft and held the anguish he felt. I am sorry, I cannot agree with this my darling, there has to be another way. All of those years we fought side by side to escape in hope of saving this realm of men, please do not ask it of me. I have spent ten lifetimes trying to honour Arthur and his dreams of a land at rest, I cannot destroy his dreams now.

Opal smiled sweetly and took his hands in hers. I will not ask again my love, I can feel the conflict that you hold inside. I love you too much to force you to choose this way, just have a little trust in my father and myself.

Leenard pulled her close into his arms and held her tight. I have faith in you, for you are life, but it is for that very reason I do not understand why so many have to be taken. I am guardian to the Whitelines and to the lines of men; I cannot be a part of this. She slipped back her hood and her hair shone like the fresh flames of a fire in the woodland night, her eyes shone like sapphires as she stretched up and kissed him, her smile radiated her love as she pulled away and his heart skipped, as he looked at the wonder and beauty of Opal, Lady of the Woods and his wife. Opal released him from her arms, and stepped back.

Go now my husband and rest your heart, for the time is now here as the dawn comes, the castle is protected, so go and be with our children as they rise, for they now have a destiny to fulfil, as they will lead the fight against the dark line. I will be there shortly.

Leenard gave a bow to Opal, and then turned and bowed to the High Lord and the Queen of Fae. He turned as a white light burst out from the sky, and formed into a long white tube, and without another word, Leenard stepped into the tube and it flashed, and was gone. The dim light flowed back into the air as the Lord Hearne and Gwendolyn White Circle, Queen of the Fae stood beside Opal at the top of the rock.

Hearne stood silent his eyes closed, as he summoned the great force of the Whitelines and the power of creation. The air seemed to fill with more of the sense of electric, as he held the hand of his daughter Opal and the hand of Gwendolyn. Slowly he lifted them into the air and their eyes began to flicker with blue light, the robes of the High Lord fluttered, as a breeze lifted into the air and the sound of the moving trees filled their ears.

Hearne lifted his head, to the sky as the first true beam of light came over the horizon and hit him square in the centre of his forehead; his eyes snapped open and shone with the redness of cherries, as his voice thundered into the air.

HEAR ME! I AM THE LORD OF CREATION AND OF THE WHITELINE. OBEY ME!

Animals all over the country turned their heads and went silent, birds dropped from the sky to the trees, and the breeze rose up and swirled into the clouds. Too long have you corrupted this world le Fey, too long have you whispered into the ears and minds of sleeping men, now you will feel the power of your lord and master, and bend to his will or suffer my wrath. Now I take back what is rightfully mine and return this world a new.

Lightening bounced out of the sky, and danced across the hills and lakes of the countryside, as the redness in the eyes of the Green Lord Hearne intensified. Opal and Gwendolyn held on to him tightly, as the blue light flooded out of their eyes, and across the ancient woodland of Loxley, they trembled as they felt the first huge surge of power come up through the floor and into the High Lord. With his head back and his eyes burning with red light, Hearne quietly spoke almost as if to himself.

Forgive me my sweet love, for I take the life you gave to this realm with a heavy heart, for I know there will now be less of you around me. Forgive me my sweet Eve.

Hearne opened his mouth wide, and the stream of red dust exploded into the air and sprayed like water into the clouds. It rose out of him in long bright red thickening strands, like ribbon blown into the sky on a windy day. Funnelling upwards higher and higher it separated, swirling and streaming as it travelled in every direction across the land. High in the sky, the clouds drew the red deadly gift of the Lord of Creation into its raindrops, and raced driven by the rising wind across the skies. For ten long minutes, the lord pulsated with red light, as the dust that would bring death to those who no longer remembered the ways of the land and nature, were served their sentence.

As the whole of the sun was revealed in the eastern sky, the High Lord closed his mouth, and the dust flowed away to begin the end of the old ways of modern man, and bring a new start to the world. He looked down with tear filled eyes into those of his daughter Opal. Hearne raised a soft long twig like finger to his daughters face and gave a small smile. Daughter of my beloved Eve, you know what to do, you have lives to protect.

Opal nodded at the saddened face of her father, and without a word she turned, raising her hood up over her face, she walked back to the cave, and passed through a curtain of light and was gone. Gwendolyn gave a curtsy, and with the blink of an eye, she turned into a violet spec and flashed into the sky. The Lord Hearne stood and looked out across the dawn sky as the clouds darkened; he breathed a heavy sigh and then turned to face the opening to the cave in the centre of the high rock. Slowly with legs sounding like creaking bark, and his long robes swishing like the scythe in long grass, he walked toward the entrance. Just at the opening and without looking back he clicked his fingers with a snap that sounded like a gun going off, and all over the country, suddenly it started to rain.

All over the land as it woke on the 14th day of April in the year of 2012, people hurried to work in the heavy downpours. It had been hot for four weeks now, and with little rain many had been delighted to see the liquid bounce down from the opening clouds. What felt like relief and brought hope to the fields was the hidden curse of modern man, no one knew of what was to come; little did they know that death had just touched them on the shoulder. This was the start of the turning of one age to another, now was the time for an heir of old to come forth, for it was the time of the coming of the Red Death.

CHAPTER TWO

LAST DAYS OF MODERN MAN

DEATH IS HERE, AND HE IS RED.

It had taken three days for the first symptoms to show. It was nothing to worry about as most people thought it was just a bad cold, at worst it was flu. People would run to the chemist and large supermarkets, and buy the endless sugar based products that they had grown to believe would cure them. For every moment they coughed around the many that they passed, the hidden infection was spreading quietly.

It took just one person on a plane with hundreds, and they all were sentenced to death. Slowly from the centre of mainland Britain, the virus crept hidden across the waters and on to the shores of other countries. Hearne had used the force of Nature against the patterns of a life built on greed; man had now become his own worst enemy, and as the days slipped past the Red Death spread.

APRIL 22nd 2012.

Connie Rafe sat at her workstation in front of the microscope and watched the new virus divide at an alarming rate, she had never seen a flu virus like it, they had all seen the speed and strength of the bird flu but this looked stronger, and was certainly faster. The notes of a colleague lay open on the desk, detailing the symptoms of a flu like cough and sneezes, which developed into a high temperature and diarrhoea with vomiting. As yet the rash that would become the feature and eventual name of the illness had not been seen. Connie sat back in her chair and thought for a moment, as she rubbed her tired eyes. Lowering her hands, she saw the white phone across the lab, which had caught in the corner of her eye.

John Rafe took a moment from the long line of newly admitted flu victims, most of them elderly and suffering badly, weakened by the constant diarrhoea, coughing, and unable to breathe. It had been a long morning as the ambulance’s flowed into the front of the hospital in a long stream. Concerned adults looked up from the sides of beds, looking for answers and the answer had so far been just the same. It’s alright, you must not worry it’s just a bad case of the Flu.

The loud speaker requested his name for the hundredth time that morning, and reluctantly he leaned off the wall and walked down to the brown wooden reception desk, where the smiling face of Nurse Hamilton handed the handsome doctor the phone. He lifted it to his ear as he looked at the overcrowded waiting room of sniffling and coughing patients. He spoke absent mindedly into the mouthpiece. Doctor Rafe.

John, oh thank god, John I just looked at this new flu virus, oh god John this is like nothing any of us have ever seen, it is mutating so fast we have no idea what the hell it is, everyone down here is more than a little panicked. Her tone changed as she lowered her voice.

John, London is snowed under; they are fighting to keep a lid on this. They have so many suffering, they are clearing out beds and setting up extra wards. Her voice trembled, and he knew her well enough to know she was afraid of little, Connie had been raised with four brothers, and had fought her own corner for years, and she was tough and not easy to scare. John please wear gloves and a face mask; all we know at the moment is it’s definitely air borne. The pause was not long, but it was long enough for her, and he waited as he sensed her words coming. Her voice was quiet and he felt the concern, and her fear.

John… I don’t think we can cure this, its changing every minute, I think we are looking at a pandemic greater than that of 1918.

His words of comfort to his wife had seemed meaningless, and as he handed the phone back to Nurse Hamilton, he felt a cold twinge in his spine that fluttered like a fallen leaf on a cold morning brush down his back. He looked at the desk and the three staff sat behind it; he gave a smile back to the nurse.

Might not be a bad idea if you all wear gloves and masks sat here. He turned his head towards the rows of miserable looking people who sat gathered in lines on pale plastic chairs, all holding their various patterned paper hankies, as they coughed and sneezed. If it continues like this we will be pushed, better protect yourself or we could all end up with the flu. His spine tingled as he shuddered; Connie’s scared words now began to resound with impact, and his thoughts began to open as he walked along the corridor back to the ward.

1918 killed millions; there is no way it could be that bad. He had stopped without realising, and spoken the words quietly to himself, now the impact hit him. Connie could not be right, there was no known virus that could mutate that quickly, if one could the country would be wiped out in a matter of months, she must be wrong.

The phone hung on the wall at the end of the corridor as the speaker on the wall called his name again. John Rafe walked briskly past the rows of beds with the sick pushed up against the corridor wall, as he ignored the call back to the ward, he had to make sure he had heard her right; he had to speak to Connie and confirm she was right. His pace quickened as the realisation of what he faced opened wider in his mind; a flutter of panic began to rise as he snatched the handset off the wall.

The following days were frantic, as the large Birmingham hospital strained under the growing numbers of elderly and now the young; Doctor John Rafe worked longer and harder than he ever had, most of the staff remained in the hospital as they struggled to cope, grabbing whatever rest they could in shifts. Connie was in touch by phone giving him updates, but it was useless there was nothing that seemed to control the fast mutating virus.

The press now badgered the senior doctors as London announced its problems, it was a pointless waste of public time, as the gossip and rumours began to spread, every hospital in the country was running at breaking point. The virus was taking on a life of its own, as within three days of admissions the suffering coughing and choking patients began to show the symptoms of a bright red blistering rash. Quarantine floors were now being set up and anyone suspected of the virus, was rushed to the third floor of the large city hospital, and kept well away from anyone. What had once looked like an efficient hospital children’s floor, now looked like something out of a science fiction movie, with nurses and doctors wearing full protective suits and breathing masks?

In the car parks at the rear of the hospital, a long line of refrigerated trailers were lined up. The morgue was full and bodies were being tagged and stacked in the long chilled sealed containers awaiting disposal, as the numbers of the dead was beginning to climb at an alarming rate.

APRIL 27TH 2012. DEATH HAS A NAME

It had been only five days since the first cases, and now the hospital had cleared three floors of its wards, and converted them into closely packed isolation wards. The long lines of beds were filled with the suffering, all red, blistered and moaning in agony. Most of them now seemed unable to talk, as the insides of their mouths were swollen and restricted. Morphine was being administered to help fight the pain and the quiet moaning and groaning, played like a deathly symphony around the overcrowded wards.

The Government was being attacked, and blasted from every street corner, as the masses in the country sat at home in fear. The media screamed mismanagement at a government halved by the virus as Cabinet Members sat at home and sneezed into tissues. It was mid afternoon when Alex Peters slipped on a white coat with a fake ID badge, and made his way to the third floor of the main hospital in Birmingham.

Even he was not prepared for the vision of agony he was about to photograph on the digital camera, hidden within the folds of his white pocket. The press was fighting for the truth as the senior staff of the hospitals clammed up in front of them, while they waited for the Government to act.

Alex Peters felt revulsion, as he lifted the camera and focused on the blistered and swollen mass of what was once the face of a young woman. The faintest glint of blue flickered through the slits, which had been the wide happy holes that contained the life of a young woman’s beautiful eyes. He raised the camera and swallowed hard as he pressed the shutter button and the camera clicked, almost with morbid curiosity, he moved closer as his finger twitched and he took picture after picture. He leaned over at the swollen angry red bubbles of the blisters on her face; these shots would make him famous at last. Excitement pumped his heart faster as he thought of the TV and newspapers that would fight over his exclusive photos. He gave a soft giggle as he leaned in and adjusted the lens, the thoughts of an ever-growing bank account in the back of his mind.

The camera gave a soft click, without warning two hands shot up from the bed and grabbed the front of his coat. Alex panicked with shock jumping backward, almost dropping the camera and trying to release the tight grip on his white coat. He heard the soft moan and the sadness mixed with pain and despair, in the voice that came from somewhere inside the swollen bulbous face. Kill me.

His heart raced and his hands trembled as he pulled on the wrists of the hands that held him so tightly. The skin seemed to tear and ooze as he pulled, and the smell of the rot tore at his stomach, as he retched and pulled with all his strength to get free. He staggered backward from the bed and looked down at the slime on his hands, with a huge shudder and in panic; he quickly wiped them on the sheets as the camera swung on its strap round his neck.

The red and swollen figure started to spasm, and he moved away walking slowly, his eyes now wide as he watched the painful torturous ending of the illness. The woman who was only 22, and was once the envy of every girl in the neighbourhood, was swollen and disfigured beyond recognition. She shook violently as the swelling ruptured, and oozed a thick watery red slime as her skin tore away. Her only salvation was the restriction of her airflow and the power of the morphine; her single final moment of clarity had passed as she had begged for death, and now in a daze of morphine and pain, she drew her last restricted painful breath and found peace as she slipped away.

Alex Peter’s shook with fear as he saw the end and she slumped forward on the bed. With a fast beating heart and a revulsion slopping around in his stomach he would never forget, he ran from the ward and exploded out of the door and on to the dim concrete stair. He retched and emptied the contents of his stomach, in a violent spasm of disgust.

Standing with his hands and forehead on the cold concrete wall, he breathed deeply as his heart rate slowed back down to normal. His joy at knowing he was the first to get pictures of the mysterious illness, had briefly been swept aside as he fought back his panic, and as he calmed down and wiped the last of the sweat off his face and straightened his tie, he turned and walked slowly and calmly down the stairs to the exit. He was already dead, he just had not realised it.

Alex Peters got his money, and his day of glory in the media world. He was a god for a day, the pictures exploded that night on to the news, as he stood and gave interviews on every channel. The newspapers fought over the pictures and paid millions. All around the world the sad face of a poor pain ridden tortured young girl, stared out longing for death off the cover of every paper. She was nameless, but sold to the highest bidder and stared at by millions.

John Rafe sat in the corner of the office with his wife and her colleagues, and watched the small portable television as Alex Peters talked wildly of the secretly hidden wards, filled with the red swollen masses and accused the Government of a cover up. Connie looked at her husband who had barely had a moment alone with her in four days. That’s it John the word is out, something will be done now. He gave a strained smile, and slipped his hand into hers.

He looked at the face on the small screen with contempt for the boastful reporter as he labelled this new virus with pride, and called it. The Red Death.

Look at him the bloody fool, every one of those people is now dead, not one of them understands if he has been in that ward then he has got it, he has just infected every reporter and worker there, how can he be so stupid?

Connie squeezed his hand as Michael Boardman head of the bio lab patted his shoulder. He looked up at the grey haired old man who gave him a slight smile. Don’t fret John, those we can live without, they just prey off the dead. They will scare people more, and maybe that will make them all stay at home and not venture out, which could help, but to be honest, one less reporter in this world will be no loss to humanity.

Connie smiled as she leaned forward and kissed him. Come on let’s go and get something to eat.

APRIL 30TH 2012. LAST ACT OF A FALLING GOVERNMENT

In the early hours of the morning, the last four members of the Cabinet sat looking tired and exhausted around the table in Downing Street, No one was under any illusions having spent six hours talking to the heads of the medical world. USA, Canada and Europe were now suffering the same problems; most of Asia in the intense heat was dying at a faster rate, the Red Death had swept the planet, and in one last attempt to save the country, the Prime Minister issued a statement declaring Marshal Law, and brought in the army to keep control of the panic ridden masses of the country. It was a pointless exercise, but there was nothing else that could be done.

Tanks and trucks rolled on to the streets filled with soldiers in deep green bio chemical warfare suits, they were armed and ordered to keep control at all costs, but for now the streets had become desolate places by dusk, most of the country hid behind closed doors and prayed to their Gods to help them.

Bodies lay in the road where they had staggered blindly writhing in pain and fallen, on the outskirts of every town the army dug huge pits, and collecting the dead they burned them in the night. Fear was now mixed in the evening air with the smell of the burning flesh.

As the days staggered blindly into the first week of May, calmness descended across the whole country. Industry was suffering with the loss of so many lives, and the loss of workers afraid to leave their homes. Food was becoming scarce as all the stores increased their prices fearful of when this epidemic would be over, and suffering loss of supply.

Now was the time when those who had suffered under the rule of the rich began to fight back. Gangs formed of young men, who would quietly sneak round at night breaking into stores and stealing the food, for the now rapidly growing underground market. It had been only three weeks since the Green Lord had taken the steps to halt the destruction of his world and fight back against man, and the country was a very different place, and those who tried to keep things running fought a daily battle as law and order began to crumble.

The staff at the hospital, were dying as fast as the patients, and control was being lost, John Rafe and the few members of the nursing and medical staff finally admitted defeat, and just handed out painkillers to help those who were suffering die with as little discomfort as possible. He knew he was fighting a losing cause and yet he continued, in the evenings he lived in the offices below the hospital as the Bio team tried to find some way of stopping or slowing the pace of the virus.

The following weeks of May dragged endlessly on in the slow agonising fight to maintain control of a now rapidly growing angry country. The army were depleting with their own losses to the virus, and as a result they became tougher on any who dared to defy them. The shoot to kill policy was now in full force, and anyone not standing still when called to question was instantly shot. The streets were wastelands of litter and rubbish with sad solitary half crazed figures, dragging their feet as they writhed in an endless pain, their only salvation became the bullet from the soldier that ended the torture and prevented the worst of the Red Deaths final agony.

MAY 14th 2012. ONE MONTH ON.

Connie was asleep from the exhaustion of long hours. The team of twelve was now five as others had left or died. John leaned on the table and stared into space, he had not been above the ground in eight days, as he now worked full time below the empty hospital trying to help find a cure.

He stared into space at the old Tudor House on the calendar sent to Connie by his brother from Stratford; he sipped his coffee lost in thought as the tired eyes of Michael Boardman watched him from the door. John noticed the movement and came out of his daydream; Michael smiled as he walked in toward the coffee machine. The machine gurgled as it dropped the cup, and the lukewarm brown coffee ran into the paper cup. He gave a sigh as he lifted it to his lips and turned to look at John. The coffee released his dry and clogged throat, John saw he had something important to say and waited respectfully for the old man to talk. Michael slid down into the seat placing the half drank coffee on the table, he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes, his voice carried the weariness of the past month, as he looked with his dark dull eyes up at a young man he had known only for a year, and yet somehow cared about him.

Connie was my best ever student you know? I have to admit I did favour her greatly when I taught her; I was thrilled to invite her to work beside me. She is very special John. He gave a slight chuckle and flattened his hands on the table. But you know that, you married her. John took a sip of his drink and smiled as he nodded back at the old man.

I am worried about her Mike, she has worked so hard and yet she is becoming despondent, I have never known her give up on anything. Michael gave a soft nod as his hand dropped into his pocket. There was a slight jangle, and he lifted a set of silver keys out, and threw them on to the table.

Those are the keys to my four wheel drive, I will not be leaving here, I will find a cure or die trying. He looked up at John who had leaned back in his seat. Leave here John, this city is lost, get away and into the country, take her and save her. I cannot find the cure and she will die here, she is like a daughter to me and I want her to live through this. You can save her… I can’t.

Maybe it was the tone of the old man’s voice, or just the desperate sadness on his face, but John knew that it was pointless to argue. The old man was right and both of them knew it, there was no cure and the virus would mutate until it finally burned out, only then would the land be free. There was no need for words as Michael pushed the keys, his eyes fixed on John’s across the table. Go now lad, you are both young enough to start a new life in safety, head into the countryside where there are fewer to find you and make her happy. Give her a chance to live.

The keys felt warm in his hand as he lifted them up and they sparkled.

What will you do? The old man smiled.

I shall keep trying, but I have very little hope. It will not take me, I have the means to prevent that, just take Connie and go while it is still light. They will stop you after dark, I have filled the jeep with supplies you shall be fine for a few weeks, it’s not much but it will help until you find somewhere. This city is lost John, hell the whole bloody country is, your chances of living are better out in the wilds, go to your brother, he will survive he has lived in the woods all his life. He lifted his cup and swallowed the last mouthful. Go on, go now, go and get her, and give me the satisfaction of knowing she will live. There is just enough oil in the tanks to keep the lights on here for just under a week, get her into the light and away from this darkness.

Holding the keys tight in his hand, he left the old man who was lifting another coffee from the machine. It was one hour later when the two of them had finally said their tearful goodbyes and got into the Jeep. It was filled with supplies of foods and medicines, and John drove out into the bright light, and left the grounds of the hospital for the first time in several weeks.

The city was empty as he headed out on the A435 towards Stratford upon Avon, and the small remote farm and woodland on the edge of Dorsington where his brother lived. In a way, he felt a great relief as his worst fear of losing Connie in the city lifted, Connie watched through the windows not recognising the city she had grown up in, as it was deserted, dirty, and in places burned to the ground. John drove as fast as he could to clear the city moving round crashed cars and burned out wrecks, his only thought now was of his brother in the large family farm he had grown up in, and the hope of staying alive with his wife.

They drove silently out into the green of the countryside, leaving the death of the city behind them. Connie seemed lost in thought as she watched through the window sat slumped back in the car seat. John watched the road occasionally looking across at his wife, who had always seemed to be able to smile or lift his spirits. In all the time they had been together this was the quietest; her only movement was to flick the cigarette ash through the small gap at the top of the window. He put his foot down on the long empty road, and felt a new surge of hope as he made his way towards his brother.

MAY 18TH 2012. THE LAST DAYS OF MODERN MAN.

People now had been pushed into a life fuelled with fear and panic, as the days dragged and conditions got worse, the signs of rebellion grew. It would take just one spark and the country would fall. The army had so far kept a firm control, but they too had now been weakened by falling numbers, stretched to their limit they hung on by their fingertips, and the first sparks of revolt came from Manchester.

Around the garden and tram station of central Manchester, many had gathered braving their fears as the soldiers promised food. Truckloads of tins had been brought into the city centre, and the soldiers handed out rations to the long weary queue. A fight broke out in the line as one young man tried to force his way with five friends to the front, a large burly corporal gripped him by the collar and dragged him out yelling, and ordered him to the back of the mile long line. The young man pulled a gun and fired, the corporal fell dead as his friends opened fire on the soldiers, the whole of the centre of the city filled with the screams of fleeing terrified people, as the soldiers took aim filled with fear and not knowing where the shots had come from.

Sixty lay dead on the front of the road, as everyone headed for cover. The soldiers were panicked and fired into the crowds, and soon fear became anger and then rage. The soldiers had food and the hungry had been pushed too far, scuffles broke out and bricks were thrown, and within minutes hundreds swarmed back across the city square in overwhelming numbers, and the soldiers had no hope of stopping the riot.

Manchester was the first city to fall as the tall buildings burned, and the instinct to survive at all costs took over. Once the soldiers had been dealt with, the masses turned on each other in a bid to control the food. The city fell to death and flames over the coming weeks, and the word of the riots spread on the radio networks, and as May ended, and June began, most of the country had lost electric power, and was at war. Gangs had now replaced the army and most of the large city centres, were burned down piles of bent steel, and crushed rubble.

Many of those who had survived long enough to see out the worst of the red death were killed in the bitter struggle to survive against the remaining dominant survivors. With death and decay everywhere, people fled the cities in fear, and left them to the wild gangs that ruled supreme and murdered for sport and control. Britain was a fallen land, and the ways of modern man were now dead, kill or be killed ruled every city.

It was in the small hamlets, which had been ignored for so long, that the saviours of the city folk could be found. There was no town that had been left untouched by death, and those of the country knew well that their future survival depended on the land. Living off the land was hard work, and those who had the greatest knowledge were in most cases too old to cope with the heavy workload. Young fit people from the city were welcomed as a new respect grew out of the chaos, and finally people began to lose their prejudice against each other, as they formed a dependence on each other for the survival of the few that remained.

By the time that July 2012 ended, life in the country had changed. It was mid-summer, and across the land communities of survivors were meeting, and talking and planning their futures. Through the seventies and eighties, a mysterious woman had visited many small towns with groups of people talented in crafts of old, and after some time she had left leaving the new additions behind. These people now rose up and took the lead of the newly forming communities, and the old ways known as the way of the woodsman began to be slowly infiltrated into village life.

Their saviour that year was the mild winter; although in the cities there were terrible earthquakes where the remains of a life once lived fell into rubble, and slipped into large holes that appeared in the earth. Manchester and Birmingham became flat wastelands of jagged stone as the last signs of men disappeared forever. Sheffield was flattened when it suddenly sunk into the ground, and most of the west side of London collapsed. The wild berries in the countryside grew in abundance, as all the late summer harvests were the best for years, it was not long before those who belonged to a faith known as Earth pointed out how the Green Lord and his daughter were their saviours.

JANUARY 2nd 2013. THE WALLS BEGIN.

There were a few who travelled the countryside, most of them now on horseback or in carts, with no power or fuel, the transport of the old days was no longer viable. In the far south of the country to the west from Devon down to Cornwall, it was as if the devastation of the red death had been seen coming. A new lord rose to power calling himself Cornwall, and he rallied around a new breed of troops built up from the strongest of the area. He had seized the initiative and blocked all the roads southwest with guards, and sealed the place shut. The south west of England was his to rule and his people benefited greatly, his fast thinking and preparations brought a new way of life that was built on the ways of old. For many there was little difference in the way that they lived. With the whole area in quarantine, high numbers of the population survived. Mason Knox was a hero and worshipped as the saviour of his people.

On the mild morning of January 2nd, the tall white haired figure of Mason Knox walked out into the fields with twenty five men, and several large white rolls of paper. He rolled them out on a table set up for the occasion, and then with a long white cane he pointed to the east and the west, and revealed his plan for a wall to be built. This was the start of his long campaign to protect what he had, while he moved north to claim the land as his own.

John and Connie had made it to John’s home and found his brother alive and well. The two brothers became the heart of the new community and helped gather all the homeless together and integrate them into the town.

The country had suffered a devastating blow, and now everyone looked to the task of rebuilding. Howard Rafe was a skilled man in the ways of the wild and also an accomplished swords man. He and his brother had been raised by a father who loved the medieval times, and he had passed down two swords of old from an old family line. Both brothers now took the role of shared community leaders, giving large areas of their land to the building of a new type of woodland town.

Built on the edge of the river the town was named New Avon, and the pagan beliefs of Howard, as well as his wood skills became a trademark of the town. The town prospered, as did every town that had a strong community based in the Earth Faith, and people began to see that if they paid thanks to the land and treated it with respect they did well. On the 22nd April 2014, Connie gave birth to her first child; he was delivered into the world by the young doctor John Rafe, and was seen as a sign of recovery for the people. Jonathan Howard Rafe was the first of a new line born after the tragedy of the past, and marked a future for all of the people of New Avon. He was taken into the woods at midnight, and thanks were offered to the Green Lord for his birth. As the breeze blew round the two happy brothers the sounds of wolves howled in the distance.

In the remote small farmland that was all that remained on the shelf of lime, and surrounded by woodland, the owner of the Lox Farm Estate in Loxley had been busy. The farm was a big concern and had suffered badly through the Red Death. People had wandered in infected and Jake Lox who ran the area had fought hard to keep the farm running. He made a point of searching the surrounding countryside and brought people into safety, it was the year of 2016 and four years of toil had seen the size of the farm increase. He had led many raiding parties into Sheffield before it fell into the floor and now he had fitted the dozens of homes surrounding his farms with wind turbines and solar plates, it was something his son Harold who was now 18, had shown a remarkable talent for. Harry was a little on the wild side but was obsessed with engines and electricity, Jake had built him a workshop that Harry had burnt down several times after electrocuting himself.

The small farm had grown into a village, as Jake converted the long row of cottages into shops, many of those he had brought to his farm had good skills, and he had seen the benefits to everyone of using them. Once his small village was finished and the traders moved in to start their trades, Jake turned his mind to the protection of the people who now saw him as landlord and protector.

With the aid of his son Robert and his good friend Lee Sherman, he began a project that would eventually lead to the protection of thousands and his untimely death. It was a task that would take fifteen years to complete, and would be seen in its completion only by his sons. Four five-mile long wooden walls seventy feet high would surround the new revived village of Loxley. Without machines it would be hard labour, although Harold was quick to provide a sawmill deep in the woods, which ran on a curious mix of vegetable oil and a strong alcohol like fuel, brewed by a local woodsman.

Jake’s youngest son had been working at the small forge in Hathersage. In order to help his father, he converted the old barn into a large forge of his own, and began the manufacture of steel bolts and clamps to hold the tall poles together. When Robert married Jessica Alison Whitmore, in 2020 it was John Lox who for a wedding gift managed to find and dismantle two large greenhouses from an abandoned nursery near Lincoln; he brought them back with his brother Harry, who had seen them whilst hunting for a motorbike he had heard about. They were erected and glazed behind the house on the Lox farm estate, and Jessie brought hundreds of cuttings from her mother’s vast collection and filled the houses with all kinds of strange herbs, fruits and spices.

Jake would often disappear for a weekend or two, and travel to the thick woodland in the north east of the farm estate. Agatha Patterdale who was the town’s gossip often rode up that end of the farm, and the rumours of his messing around with a woman dressed in all white with red hair, were often passed round the markets. Jake had lost his beautiful wife Alison to the Red Death, and with the help of his housekeeper Mary Wilkes; he had raised the boys alone. He was a kind and caring man, but was also a fierce defender of his family, he grew very attached to his daughter in laws especially Jessie, who he admired for her fighting spirit, who battled to reorganise and then ran all of the growing side of the farm, which gave him the time to oversee the building of the wall.

APRIL 14TH 2021. NINE YEARS ON.

As the light of the sun came over the thick dense canopy of the trees, high up at the top of Hearne’s rock, The Green Lord faced west as a smile crossed his old lined face. From the distance, in a house unseen by him, his sharp ears picked out the cries of a